The past comes back to haunt you. Nobody can live their life perfectly, creating no enmity or sorrow. There will always be a broken heart, or a broken skull, somewhere in the days gone by. Deviance is only natural; it follows the human spirit as closely as the tide follows the moon. Vaskir looked at Chilbrow’s walls. They were hulking things, made to keep people in, not out. The walls were thin, with no space for a soldier to patrol, no space for a gate or entrance of any kind. A thin, black mass of stone and clay.

‘Memories?’ Pravin asked, seeing Vaskir’s distant gaze.

‘Memories,’ Vaskir said. He sighed. ‘Long gone now, dead and buried. Still…’ He looked once again at the wall. ‘An old friend and I… we were planning on moving here, once everything turned out.’

‘Guess it didn’t?’ Covens said, joining them at the crest of the hill. Cradow brought up the rear.

‘Yeah. Still, I visited the city often,’ Vaskir said.

‘On work? And what did you do, again?’ Pravin pried. Vaskir ignored the question.

‘The city of thieves!’ Cradow exclaimed, finally reaching the top and seeing the city.

‘There’s an older name,’ Vaskir muttered. ‘The city of lies.’ Everyone turned to take it in again, this time from a new perspective. Cradow frowned, then cocked his head.

‘There’s no entrance,’ he said.

‘There is. We’ll be taking an old sapper tunnel,’ Vaskir said, starting down the hill, the rest followed.

‘Yes, but,’ Cradow said, scratching his head, ‘how come there aren’t any gates?’

‘You really haven’t heard?’ Pravin asked, looking at Cradow.

‘Nor have I,’ Covens said. Vaskir chuckled.

‘It’s not a pretty story, and really, it’s two events that sealed the city gates,’ Vaskir said, carefully walking down the hill in that leaned-back gait that everyone employs. ‘At first, there was a Frenzy outbreak. A man by the name of Ducon had taken a lover in the nearby village of Uennen. She persuaded him to sneak her into the city. They never checked her in as a new resident, so she didn’t have to go through the simple Frenzy check.’

‘Fool,’ Cradow muttered.

‘He was in love,’ Vaskir said, shrugging. ‘Long story short, she infected him the day after. Still wanting to fit in he continued his work as a merchant. A few weeks passed until he gave in to his urges. By the end of the month the city was half-burned, and the only reason there was no purge was the kindness of the late Duke Havering.’

‘Two fools,’ Cradow muttered. ‘I would have burned the city to the ground.’ Vaskir and Covens shook their heads at the comment.

‘Agreed,’ Pravin said, drawing curious looks from the group—Pravin and Cradow had yet to agree on something. ‘I’ve seen what the Frenzy does to a man. Prey you don’t see what it does to a women.’ Cradow gave him a friendly nod.

‘So they locked down the gates to make sure that no one escapes?’ Cradow asked.

‘No,’ Vaskir said. ‘They filled in the gates with loose rocks, then clay.’ Vaskir’s eyes went distant. ‘I was there, outside the gates; nobody was allowed close. I was watching the clansmen work. We could all hear screaming on the other side, then desperate tunnelling. You know the strangest thing? I was told that when the Ascendants went in there wasn’t a single corpse. The streets were spotless.’ Chilbrow’s walls were getting close. Covens looked at them uneasily.

‘What happened next?’ she asked.

‘Those that lived went back to their normal lives. Duke Havering poured more money into the city than anyone knew what to do with. It’s what saved them when baron Silver attacked. One of the city guards, soldier Atkins, convinced the leadership to buy as many longbows and arrows as possible. Then set about teaching everyone how to use them,’ Vaskir said. They stopped at the foot of the wall, looking up. It was 20 meters high, maybe more.

‘So we got a hero?’ Cradow said. ‘They sealed the gates and fired a massive amount of arrows over the walls.’ Vaskir touched the wall and started walking, tracing his hand against the stonework.

‘Yep,’ Vaskir said.

‘He was given a manual? Money?’ Covens asked.

‘He was executed,’ Vaskir said. Pravin nodded, having heard the story.

‘What?’ Covens asked.

‘When asked where he learned to fire a bow, Atkins let slip that he used to be a poacher. Before the Consortium or baron Havering could intervene, the local guardsmen hung him,’ Vaskir said. The group stopped at the sudden noise of impact behind them. They all turned to look; Cradow’s fist had left a dent in the wall.

‘He saves their fucking city, and what? Gets hung for his troubles?’ Cradow said, staring at Vaskir.

‘The guard captain apparently didn’t like getting shown up by a guardsman. If it makes you feel any better, the city’s underbelly gave the people their revenge. The captain and his inner circle were all found choked to death with bowstrings,’ Vaskir said, distracted by the wall and the path he was leading them. Cradow nodded.

‘That does make me feel better. Promise me that none of you will let shit like that happen around us. People deserve the things they earn, good and bad,’ Cradow said. Covens tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Promise,’ she said, smiling. He nodded, appeased.

‘We’re close,’ Vaskir said. He crouched down next to the wall and started running his hands through the top layer of grass. ‘Here,’ he said. He wiped away the top layer to reveal a hatch. He pressed his hand down on top of it. The material dented inwards, then sprung up.

‘What is that?’ Covens asked.

‘Chilbrow secret,’ Vaskir answered, then pulled on the material, revealing a small hole.

‘I’m not going in there,’ Pravin said. ‘Besides, I don’t think I can even fit.’

‘I’ve seen bigger men go into tighter holes,’ Vaskir said innocently. Covens and Cradow snickered. Vaskir shook his head. ‘Come on,’ he said, dropping in. ‘We’re wasting time.’ Pravin looked at the others uneasily.

‘I’ll take the rear,’ Pravin said. ‘More space.’

‘Now even the big man is doing it!’ Cradow said. ‘This is going to be fun.’ He hopped in. Covens followed. Pravin looked at the pitch-black pit uneasily. Covens' head popped up out of the void.

‘Come on, big man. It’s nicer in here than it is out there. And Vaskir promises to light some kindling if it gets too dark for you,’ Covens said.

‘It’s not the darkness that scares me, it’s the fact that Cradow’s lurking inside it,’ Pravin said. He gritted his teeth and got on his knees. Then entered the pit with the same show of unease as an old woman sliding into cold water.

It was small, so much so, that Pravin could feel the edges of the pit with his shoulders. It smelt earthy, but also, there was that thick, humid smell that you get after lifting a bug-infested branch. Pravin flinched when he felt something touch his hand.

‘Come on,’ Covens said, giving him a reassuring squeeze. ‘Vaskir’s leading the way.’ Together, they followed Vaskir’s voice and footsteps through the darkness. Only occasionally did Cradow’s face pop out of the gloom, screaming bloody murder. After 5 minutes, the group stopped.

‘We’re close,’ Vaskir said, grimmer this time. ‘If we’ve any luck, the old Haversack is right above us.’ Covens could hear voices coming from above her. They were… jovial and friendly.

‘A tavern?’ Covens guessed. Vaskir nodded, then realised that they couldn’t see him in the darkness.

‘Yeah. Home away from home, whenever I visited Chilbrow,’ he said, followed by a forlorn, almost exaggerated sigh. But really, it was the sigh of a man so desperately unwilling to follow through with his next action that it forced a verbalization. Vaskir looked up and started feeling for something. He finally found a small wooden lever, hidden amongst the dirt, and pulled it. Something came unstuck above them. Vaskir pushed on the ceiling and the entire thing gave way, revealing an opening. Covens noticed the voices stop.

‘I think they heard you,’ she warned.

‘I hope so,’ Vaskir said. ‘They’ll feel more comfortable having us at bladepoint, instead of being ambushed.’ Covens was starting to worry about Vaskir’s diplomacy tactics. Vaskir climbed through the hole he’d made. Cradow recognized the feel of wood as he followed after him. As Cradow settled behind Vaskir, he felt him stand to his full height. Cradow did the same then touched the walls of whatever small container he was now in. ‘It’s a wine barrel,’ Vaskir said, noticing Cradow’s curiosity. ‘It’s a wine barrel owned by the single worst drunk in this damned city!’ Vaskir shouted, then rapped his knuckles against the wood in front of him. He then pushed open the circular door. As he stepped out, two crossbows were levelled at him.

‘Good to see ya, lad,’ an old man said, not dropping the crossbow.

‘Who is this, pa?’ the young girl holding the other crossbow asked.

‘A damn leech,’ the old man answered. He used his other hand to smooth down his thick moustache.

‘Didn’t take you as the adopting kind, Mr. Ken,’ Vaskir said.

‘Now how’d you know she ain’t from my own loins, boy? I been mighty, mighty virile most my life. Maybe she’s just a late sprouter?’ Ken said.

‘Because I didn’t take an immediate dislike to her,’ Vaskir said. The rest of Vaskir’s group filtered out of the wine barrel. Ken shook his head.

‘Well then, w’as stopping me from gettin’ my new daughter to put a hole righ’ in your heart?’ Ken asked.

‘Human decency?’ Vaskir answered, shrugging.

‘Not much of that ‘round here,’ Ken said, sighting his crossbow on Vaskir.

‘Then how about the fact that if you try I’ll shove those bolts up your ass,’ Cradow pitched in.

‘Fun company you now keep?’ Ken asked.

‘He’s decent,’ Vaskir answered. There was no amicable pause or friendly smiles between the two men. A thick, angry energy grew between them.

‘Tabbathy’s gonna have your head’ Ken said solemnly…

‘Not if he doesn’t know we’re here,’ Vaskir said softly…

Ken relaxed, unsighting the crossbow. The girl quickly followed suit.

‘You couldn’t leave this place well enough alone, huh? Come back to ruin more lives, Vaskir?’ Ken said, taking the other crossbow from the girl's hands and placing both inside an inconspicuous crate.

‘I’m just here helping a friend,’ Vaskir answered. Ken let out a scathing laugh.

‘You couldn’t help a hunk of pig shit stink up a room, son,’ Ken said. ‘You unloading some relic? Something that’ll set you up for life?’ Ken walked right up to Vaskir, getting in his face. ‘I hope you die. I hope you die offloading wha’ever ya got tucked up your backside, boy. ‘Cause I had enough of you. This city! Has had enough of you.’ He spat at Vaskir’s feet, then turned and walked upstairs. The girl looked at Vaskir.

‘If pa don’t like you, I don’ like you neither,’ she said, then spat and rushed upstairs.

‘You make good friends,’ Cradow said, amused. Vaskir shot him a dirty glare, in no mood. ‘No really. Most of my old friends would kill me on sight.’ He smacked Vaskir on the back. ‘You’re a great charismatic figure, Vask. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’ Pravin glared at Cradow. Covens snickered. Vaskir sighed.

‘Let’s head up,’ Vaskir said. ‘Before they change their minds and turn us in.’

The upstairs tavern still had a few lingering guests, but Ken sent them on their way, saying he was closing shop early because of his back. Once Vaskir heard Ken send the last patron off, he opened the cellar door and stepped into the main room. It was exactly how he remembered it. A thin layer of dust held permanent residence on every exposed surface. The girl walked around, cleaning and stacking used flagons and dishes, but as soon as she had wiped down a table or shelf, the dust resettled, shaken loose from the rafters, and blown in from the outside. Ken walked to the windows and hung up some loose linens, then locked the door. He walked behind the bar and took out 5 glasses.

‘The three of you drink?’ Ken asked, looking at the group behind Vaskir. They all nodded. ‘Good. I wouldn’t trust no Ascendant that don’ drink.’ He started pouring them all a cup. ‘I remember tha’ you wouldn’t let this stuff touch ya lips, Vasky boy. Times change?’ Ken looked up from his pouring. His gaze was judgmental, searching.

‘Times change,’ Vaskir agreed. Ken poured him a glass.

‘Can I have a sip, pa?’ the girl asked.

‘No,’ Ken said. ‘Luce, bring up some cheeses and tha’ like. Meats. Nibbles. We have mighty important company, don’ we?’ Vaskir took the filled glasses and looked at the thick, black liquor inside. He sipped. Ken shook his head as if Vaskir had just disappointed him.

‘We need to get in touch with a skeever, Ken,’ Vaskir said. ‘And I know you’re still working.’

‘You shouldn’t trust this broken mutt,’ Ken said, ignoring Vaskir and looking at the 3 people taking their seats and their glasses around his table. ‘This man has a ba’ habit of hurting the people closest. Don’t you, Vask?’

‘Fuck you,’ Vaskir responded with a surprising amount of venom. Pravin looked at him oddly, he had seen his friend in the midst of rage, but this was something else. Not anger, but… he couldn’t place it. ‘I chose my path. Tabbathy knew me. yet he still acted like a distrustful dog. And I bet you didn’t even try to help! Did you? You just sat back and watched as everything fell to shit.’ Vaskir took a deep breath, either beginning to centre himself or fuelling up for another outburst; the group couldn’t tell. Cradow slammed his empty glass down on the table.

‘Ahh,’ he sighed happily. ‘Tastes like dog piss.’ Cradow said and Ken nodded.

‘You have a good palate,’ Ken said, ‘it’s Dog Piss.’

‘What do you mean?’ Cradow said, frowning. Ken looked at him oddly.

‘That’s the brand,’ Ken said, turning the bottle around to reveal the label, ‘Dog Piss.’ Cradow looked at the black and white image of a scrawny dog pissing into a bottle and chose not to press the point any further.

‘Well, it’s nice and all that the two of you are catching up, but I want to get paid. Vask said that you can swing 25 queens each for our little goody. That right?’ Cradow asked. He nodded at Covens and she unhooked the small box from her belt and slid it across the table. Ken stopped its momentum and took a peek inside.

‘The Gentle,’ Ken read, his eyes distant. ‘Saint Vinnow… he was quite the figure, back in the day.’

‘You actually know who he is? I couldn’t find anything about him in the Consortium archives,’ Covens said, leaning in. Vaskir had leaned back and was enjoying his Dog Piss. The taste was familiar, and seeing his allies take control of the encounter was letting him relax.

‘Yeah, I know. And I ain’t su’prised, girly,’ Ken said. ‘Sacarus don’t much like people knowing about all the folks that went against him.’

‘Who’s Sacarus?’ Pravin asked, frowning.

‘He’s the leader of the Consortium,’ Cradow answered, offhand.

‘The Consortium is a congla—conglomer—conglimer—is a group of merchant clans. They don’t have a leader,’ Pravin said. Ken and Cradow burst into laughter. Covens looked grim, whilst Vaskir slid back into his stoicism.

‘Oh, he’s real,’ Cradow said.

‘And he’s a mean son of a bitch,’ Ken said. ‘Obsessed, truly—obsessed—with Ascension. He believes that there’s a tier beyon’ the 4th. A place of strength that only gods lie.’

‘Is there?’ Pravin asked.

‘Knowing our luck,’ Ken said, ‘yeah.’ Ken poured everyone another drink. ‘Your little manual can be skeevered off for about 90 queens.’ Cradow nodded, grinning. ‘If, you were known sellers. Nobody’s gonna believe this is real. At best, revealing you got this will only bring desperate thieves.’

‘Not if you back it,’ Vaskir said. Ken looked at him, really, looked at him.

‘I ain’t got half the clout I used to, boy. And who da ya think I got to thank for that?’ Ken said, leaning across the table.

‘Tabbathy’s in Gralos,’ Vaskir said. ‘Why are you acting like he’s got you in a noose from 100 miles away?’

‘Cause he does, boy. Your best friend Tabbathy had got ‘is foul hooks into this city, and it don’t much look like he’s letting go. He’s set up shop along the south wall, and he hasn’t sent no enforcer to watch over his new turf. He went personal,’ Ken said. Vaskir got to his feet, looking at the doors and windows like someone was going to crash through them at any moment.

‘He’s here?’ Vaskir asked. Pravin got to his feet; Vaskir looked scared. ‘Why the fuck is he here. This city’s a literal shithole.’

‘This city is only a 3-day journey from Port Basker. An’ the Consortium’s taking charge of the new land. New land…’ Ken gave Vaskir a harsh look, ‘means new prospects.’ Ken polished off his drink. ‘And you and I both know how much Tabby loves new things.’ Vaskir grunted in derision. He walked over to the hung-up linens and took a peek outside.

The city was filthy. The main street’s gutters were filled with dirt and Yillow shit. Every building was raised using the blackstone that the city was built over. The material gave the shops and homes a cracked, web-like exterior, as every weathered crack and crevice shone white from the blackstone’s inner gloss. Vaskir bit his lip as he looked out. The streets were active with carts and miners, working men, women, and the usual buskers of cheap goods and food. This city liked to hide its success behind the veneer of dirty streets and a cheap reputation—but you could make your name here if you were strong enough. Vaskir let the linen settle back into place.

‘I always feel like I’m being watched in this city,’ Vaskir said, moving back to the table and taking a seat.

‘Hmm, you took the tunnel,’ Ken said. ‘No one knows you’re here except for the gods, and me.’

‘And Lucy,’ Cradow said. Covens shot him a look so direct and overbearing that he slunk back in his seat and was forced to look away. Ken studied the man carefully.

‘Only way someone could know yo’re here is if you was followed,’ Ken said. Lucy came back in with the food. She set it out in front of everyone. Covens took out a knife and cut into the cheese block gratefully. ‘Any chance of that?’ Ken said after sending Lucy upstairs.

‘No,’ Pravin said. ‘We took a trade ship across the blue. We’re probably 3-4 days ahead of Mon—um. Ahead of anyone who knows we got the manual.’ Vaskir nodded. He looked around the room warily. It felt as if there was a fly, buzzing about his ear. Vaskir instinctually rubbed the back of his neck as his hackles rose. He couldn’t place the sensation he was experiencing.

‘Can you please try getting us in touch with a… skeever,’ Covens said, looking at Vaskir to make sure she had used the term correctly, but he was preoccupied, looking around as if searching for something. She shook her head and continued. ‘Even if we don’t get half as much as this manual is worth—’

‘You ain’t gonna get a third, hell, a quarter of this manual’s real worth in this city. Not with Tabbathy choking every competitor out their little corners of the city,’ Ken said. Vaskir’s gaze settled on the door leading to the basement (the one they had come from).

‘We just need to get rid of it. The longer we hold onto it, the more scum is going to rise up to try and take it from us,’ Covens said. Vaskir slowly reached out, and without looking at him, grabbed Cradow’s arm. He looked over at Vaskir, then followed his gaze to the door.

The door opened; there was no one on the other side. Cradow frowned.

‘How’d you do that?’ he asked. Ken looked behind him to the now open door.

‘Lucy must ‘ave forgotten to shut it right,’ Ken said. He started to get up. Vaskir snapped his fingers and pointed at Ken. Covens, instinctually understanding the action, quickly reached out and grabbed Ken’s arm, pulling him back. The buzzing in Vaskir’s ears had gotten louder. He had pinpointed the sensation to be coming from the door that had opened. But now, it was surrounding him. Vaskir got to his feet and drew his longsword. His face had twisted into a controlled snarl that the group had only ever seen in combat.

‘Something is in the room with us,’ Vaskir said, slowly turning. The rest drew their weapons. Ken got as close to Covens as he could. The buzzing was reaching a fever pitch, almost a screech. Vaskir’s instincts were beginning to scream as well, telling him to strike out at the air in front of him. He stopped turning and focused on where the screeching was loudest. It was right in front of him, in the direction he had taken to walk over to the window. His arms twitched again, begging him to cleave the air. Vaskir wasn’t one to not listen to his instincts. He let out a primal shout and cleaved downwards, figuring that the worst he would have to suffer is the constant ribbing from Cradow for being so paranoid as to check the air for invisible assailants. His sword met resistance, and the clang of steel on steel rang out through the tavern. The strength of the blow blew through the guard of whatever had tried to block it, and Vaskir felt the now-familiar sensation of his sword sinking into flesh.

The group watched in horror as Vaskir’s sword seemingly started to bleed. Vaskir pulled the blade out, grabbed his flagon of Dog Piss, and splattered it on the section of bleeding air. As the liquid hit the target a black-cloaked figure suddenly appeared, as if he was standing there all along. No glimmer, no burst of energy or Chi--just sudden presence. Three more figures appeared, each one in the middle of an attack, and all hell broke loose.