The still, steamy air of Romba was punctured by the shrill howl of a work whistle, timed almost perfectly with the sun’s setting behind the city’s skyline. Kajulan jumped at it. Although she liked to think of herself as someone not particularly prone to fright, it was damn loud. She didn’t know how people put up with it day in and day out.

She looked over her right shoulder at the gate beside her, people filing out first in a trickle and then a wave. She scanned the crowd for Tekole, tall and chalky skinned. It took a while, but she eventually recognized him, his head slightly above most others in the crowd. She shoved her way through the crowd until she ended up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” she hissed, but in a kindly, playful sort of way.

Tekole swung around, smiling. “Kajulan! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

Kajulan began to move away from the crowd, motioning with her head for him to follow. “Of course I did. I wasn’t just going to hang you out to dry. You’re a wanted man now.”

“Wait, what?”

Kajulan sighed, shaking her head as she looked away. She had thought Tekole for sure would have realized the implications of their actions. But she also thought hissing in a kindly, playful manner was something people did, so she wasn’t exactly a good judge of that sort of thing. Tekole began to panic.

“Wait, does that mean the guards will be looking for me?”

Kajulan snickered. “Of course not. The guard can’t be bothered with two hooligans knocking over a closed-down antique store. We don’t have to worry about them. We’ve got to be worried about the competition.”

Tekole looked both confused and worried. “Like, other criminals?”

“Well, the competition for crime would be other criminals,” sneered Kajulan, failing to bite her tongue for the sake of the clearly scared young man. She quickly changed the topic to something more positive, noticing that Tekole’s right pocket jingled when it moved. “It seems like you still have your share. What were you planning on doing with it?”

Tekole grabbed his pocket, the coins clinking slightly as he did so. “I actually thought I’d get ahead on next season’s rent. Seems like a good idea, you know?”

“Really?” said Kajulan, exhaling sharply. “Rent!?”

“Well, yeah. If I already have next season’s paid, I can spend my wages on pretty much anything I want.”

Kajulan hopped in front of Tekole and crossed her arms. “Tekole, you don’t risk your life committing robbery and assault against a criminal mob to pay your rent. You got to spend it on something more. . .” Kajulan stopped, trying to think of her next words. “Something more worthwhile. Live hard and die young.”

Tekole’s eyes widened. “Die!?”

Kajulan gave him a light tap on the arm, keeping her jovial energy going. “Don’t worry, it’s just something an old friend said to me once. An old friend who’s still alive, mind you!” Kajulan put her hand on Tekole’s back, guiding him from the road to an alleyway. “Trust me, if you stick with me, you won’t even look back at your old life.”

“You’re beginning to seem like a devil on my shoulder,” Tekole joked, scratching the back of his neck.

“Who’s your angel then?”

Tekole shrugged. “I guess I don’t have one.”

“Guess I win by default then,” Kajulan said, smirking. “Come on.”

Kajulan quickened her pace, but Tekole stopped.

“Wait,” he said.

Kajulan swung around. “What?”

“About last night,” began Tekole.

“What about it?” Kajulan replied, playing dumb. Dumbly.

“Just, you did kiss me. Last night.”

“Oh, that,” said Kajulan, looking away and flicking her hand. “Outlaw’s high is all. Adrenaline, thrill of rebellion, that sort of thing. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”

“Oh,” replied Tekole nonchalantly, mirroring Kajulan’s casual hand flick. “Alright. Got it. I got it.”

Kajulan quickly turned around, starting to move again. “Now come on. We’ve got a busy day if you want to get the most out of your ill gains.”

…

Kajulan brought Tekole to Romba’s shopping arcade, clearly built during the city’s initial industrial boom before it collapsed in on itself. It was aggressively modern in its design and yet almost derelict in regards to upkeep. As they entered, the building’s most apparent feature was how many of its stores had been abandoned. Meanwhile, those that hadn’t clearly weren’t seeing much business. Tekole was walking slowly, taking in the grandeur of the place, but Kajulan moved with purpose. She stopped outside a store emblazoned with a map of the Southern satrapies of the Empire, waiting for Tekole to catch up.

The two entered, a bell at the front of the store alerting the shopkeep to their presence.

“Welcome,” she said. She was tajkin, and dressed in a long, darkly colored tunic, like those from Tajlynd were known to wear, but her accent betrayed her as clearly local. “Welcome to Spirit and Stone, a little bit of Dwymar and Tajlynd here in Romba, Aslacka.”

She gestured broadly outwards, drawing the two’s attention to her wares. For a place with a name as peaceful sounding as Spirit and Stone, there sure were a lot of weapons and armor on display.

Tekole nudged Kajulan. “It’s a little tacky here, don’t you think?”

Kajulan ignored him, placing both hands on the desk in front of the tajkin woman.

“I want to see your knives,” she said, with a thirst that implied she should not be allowed to see the knives. The shopkeep, clearly not one to deny a paying customer, obliged, taking out a display stand filled with a collection of increasingly ridiculous looking blades. While Kajulan eagerly began observing them, Tekole wandered to the back of the store, taking notice of an idol. It was carved of stone, and actually featured a stone carver, featureless and with chisel in hand.

“Tell me about that one!” shouted Kajulan eagerly, pointing out a knife with a bronze finish and much too many points. The shopkeeper picked it up and spun it around her finger, making sure not to lose Kajulan’s interest.

“This one, um,” began the shopkeeper. “This one is a knife from the, um, Three Duchies of Dwymar.”

“Which one?” asked Kajulan.

“The, um, second one?”

As the two began to haggle over price, Tekole came up, the idol in hand.

“Don’t you already have a knife?” he asked, as Kajulan began to hand over way too much money for what was a glorified trinket.

“Don’t you already have a shirt?” snapped Kajulan, her eyes not as aggressive as her voice. “Yet I see you’re not wearing the same shirt as yesterday.”

Tekole shrugged, before moving up to purchase the small statue.

The two left the store, Tekole carefully carrying the statue, and Kajulan playing with her knife.

“What is that thing?” she asked, unintentionally dismissive.

“It’s the Carver,” replied Tekole. “He’s a big thing in Dwymar, I think. My parents had one of these, actually.”

Kajulan crouched down, observing it closer. “Is he like a god?”

“Yeah,” replied Tekole. “I’m not a follower, though. I was too young to really pick it up. It just reminded me of them a little.”

There was a moment of silence, before Tekole broke it with a lighter mood. “So, why’d you choose that knife?”

Kajulan held it up, wielding the grip upside down. “Isn’t it obvious? Look! It has knuckle dusters on it!”

She assumed a mock fight position, bobbing back and forth. Tekole placed the statue on the ground and raised his fists awkwardly, copying Kajulan’s exaggerated movements.

“So you can be like, “ooh, watch out, I’m gonna stab you!” and then when they’re getting ready to defend from a stab, you can be like,”psych!” and then punch them in the face!”

She whiffed a few stabs and punches, which Tekole pretended to withdraw from. She got closer with each one, until Tekole grabbed her arm and flipped her around. Kajulan responded by falling backwards, leaning her head on his shoulder as she did so.

“Hey!” shouted a man, dressed in what they assumed was a uniform and armed with nothing but a disapproving, pointed finger. “I don’t know what you two think you’re doing, but you’re going to have to lose that knife!”

Tekole withdrew and quickly went to grab his statue, while Kajulan pocketed the knife, staring down the guard with malice in her eyes. The guard walked away, muttering and shaking his head, while Kajulan nudged Tekole.

“Hey, what do you say we go and teach him a lesson?”

Tekole looked at her incredulously. “What? No!”

Kajulan sighed. “Fiiiiiiiine.” She put her hand to her chin, thinking, before it suddenly sprang upward. “Hey! What about gambling? Have you ever gambled before, Tekole?”

“No,” he replied.

Kajulan put her arm around him as the two started to walk. “There’s this place nearby. It’s not much to look at, definitely caters to a rougher crowd, but it’s kind of fun.”

“Al, alright,” replied Tekole, not being able to think of a reason to reject the idea

“Good! Now the trick, at least as Rudim used to tell me, is to not get too greedy. Now, I’ve found you leave with more money if you don’t get greedy, but you have more fun if you do.”

She broke away, gesturing with a quick jerk of her head for Tekole to follow, and the two left.