1.

“If you’re searching for a good mercenary, she’s your best bet,” said the bartender, pointing towards one of the tables. “Clever as a rat and strong as a bull! Mind you, she ain’t human, but you can’t have everything.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” replied the man wearing a hooded cloak.

It was already late at night, with the twin moons shining in the night sky, but the bar was still bustling with activity. A group of scarred old veterans played cards in the corner while another group of young fighters wearing ragged and patchwork leather armor shouted, drank and sang, sometimes all three at once. The barmaid was busy carrying tankards to and from each table while ignoring the hooting, catcalling and insults from the drinkers with an air of resigned experience. The air was thick with tobacco smoke and the floor was filthy; spilled food and drink mixing with the mud brought in from outside.

It was in this inn that the cloaked man approached a leather-clad woman who was eating and drinking by herself and asked, “I’ve heard you’re looking for mercenary work. Is that true?”

The woman looked at him up and down, then grinned. It was not a friendly grin. “Sure. You hiring?” She asked.

The man sat down across the woman and placed his hands on the table. He was dressed in coarse peasant clothes and his cloak was made of simple, heavy cloth, although the hood of the cloak was pulled back, revealing the sunburned face of a man in his fifties. His hair was black mixed with grey, cut in a short, military style, while his chin had a stubble that hadn’t seen a barber for a few days. Most noteworthy were his eyes: they were gray and steady, calm as a frozen winter lake and unbothered by the noise and smoke. “I have a contract that might interest you. If you’re the right... person for the job.”

The woman chuckled at his hesitation over the word ‘person’ and grabbed a chicken wing. She bit it, snapping the bones in half with her teeth, and cheerfully chewed it, ignoring the crunching of bone. “Shpit it out zhen,” she said, her mouth still full of food. She towered over most other people in the bar and her leather armor, though shabby and worn, was in better condition than many of the other patrons’ clothes. Her face, on the other hand, was a frightful thing. Her skin was greyish green, and dotted with warts, like pimples on a teenager’s face. Her hair was brown and greasy, tied into a braid that ended with a tuft at the end and her teeth were large, yellow and crooked, giving her smile a menacing look. Her eyes also had a jaundiced yellow instead of white in their sclera, and they glinted with humor as she stared back at him and chewed on her chicken, deliberately making noise.

“You seem, hmm, to have different blood in you,” said the man. If her display of poor table manners bothered him he did not show it in his expression, which remained carefully neutral.

“That’s one way to put it.” She snorted in amusement.

“And what kind of blood would that be?”

She made an amused grunt, before replying, “troll blood.”

“Oh. Troll. Really?”

“I’m afraid so,” she replied.

“Interesting. I didn’t know there were any trolls this far south.”

“I’m the only one for miles, most likely.” She puffed her chest, grinning. “You won’t get another half-troll mercenary around here.”

“Hmm, I see,” said the man. “I’m not familiar with half-trolls, does their blood hold any Gifts I am unaware of?”

She shrugged. “I’m hard to kill.”

His only reaction was to raise one eyebrow. “How so?” He asked.

She let out a sigh. “Look, I’m a damn good mercenary and I have the rep to prove it. I know how to fight, and I keep my client’s secrets, which is what you want in a merc. Why don’t you tell me what’s the job and the pay, before asking if I can shoot fire out of my ass?”

The man blinked. “Very well. I have a contract that requires professionalism and discretion. It will also take you out of the city for a while. Maybe a month or so. Would that be a problem?”

“No, not a problem,” she said with a grin before taking a swig of her tankard.

“We’re a group of people traveling in a bit of a hurry, and we don’t know the city very well. Which is where you would come in. We need a guide and bodyguard, preferably one that knows how to travel without, hmm, attracting too much attention.”

“Smuggling?” She asked, grinning. “Huh, didn’t expect that from the likes of you. Or are you just running from the authorities?”

His face remained blank, but he leaned in and lowered his voice. “We can discuss the details later. Would you be willing to accept such a job?”

“Sure, it’s no big deal,” she said.

“That is good. Very good,” he said while nodding. He raised a hand to his chin and looked down for a moment, lost in thought.

“So what’s the pay?” She asked, interrupting him. He looked up to see her slouched back against her chair and leering at him. “Don’t tell me you forgot about that part?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “We will pay for basic expenses while traveling, food and the like, until we arrive at our destination, where you will be most handsomely rewarded.” He leaned in and lowered his voice even more, whispering the next part. “You can triple your usual rate. We will pay it.”

“Hold up, hold up. What about upfront pay?”

“Ah. Hmm. I’m afraid there isn’t. But the end pay will be, I must stress, very generous.”

Her grin slowly faded as he explained, and now she was looking at him with an expression of pure contempt. She snorted and then spat a loogie on the floor. “Yeah. Sure. Goodbye.”

“... I’m sorry?” Asked the man, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“We’re done here,” she replied, waving him away with another piece of chicken. “You can go bother someone else.”

“I don’t understand… Do you doubt my word?” Asked the man.

She let out another amused snort. “What you’re asking, basically, is for me to spend a few weeks of my time traveling with you guys, risking my ass, and only getting paid at the end of your little journey, when I’m no longer useful to you and you got no incentive to pay me. Does this sound like a good plan to you?”

“I give you my word that...”

“Oh you can promise, on your family’s blood, that you’ll do it. But you got someone here that will vouch for you? Someone who has a rep in this town?‘

“Me and my associates are… Hmm. Not from this city...”

“Riiiight... And can you at least show me this huge stash of gold you’re carrying around to pay for my services once we split?”

The man was becoming more and more hesitant. “The money is, unfortunately, at our destination. I do not have it, but if only you come with us - ”

“See? So you’re asking for me to leave my town, follow you guys for days at a time, risk a lot of my time and energy, and with no money to back it up! Maybe trolls don’t have the best rep when it comes to brains, but I’m not that fucking dumb! Go look for a druggie or someone really desperate, because no merc with any brains would take your chickenshit contract.”

“But… If I was speaking the truth, this would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, wouldn’t it?” He countered.

The half-troll woman chuckled. “Look, I dunno how you blue bloods do it with your people, but down here? With the common folk? You’re gonna have to offer more than words for people to do stuff for you.”

The man subtly changed his posture, slowly lowering one hand to his crude rope belt, from which hung two daggers. He whispered, “and why would you think I am a noble?”

She smiled at him, clearly unimpressed with his threatening tone. Instead she pointed to him and said, “your clothes are nice and common, and you haven’t bathed in a bit - good touch by the way! - but your daggers there are really expensive looking and polished. Dead giveaway. Could have stolen them, of course.” She shrugged. “But you’re also looking really healthy and well-fed, which we don’t get much around here, and your baby face don’t even have any scars or a broken nose. Also, and this is important, you’re in a dangerous bar, don’t know anybody in here, talking to a dangerous half-breed,” she gestured at herself for emphasis, “yet you’re not afraid. Not even one bit. Real confident.”

She leaned in, her smile still there but with a new edge to it, and whispered: “But you know what really clued me in? First topic you asked me. Not how good I was, not how ugly I looked. No, you asked for my fucking pedigree. Asking about my blood. About my Gifts.” She spat at the floor, as if the idea disgusted her. “That’s typical nobles for you, to look for blood and nothing else,” she scoffed.

She smiled a large, shit-eating grin at the man, who remained poised with one hand gently hovering over the dagger. There was a brief lull, broken by the man. “You are very perceptive. Is that part of the Troll blood as well?”

“No...” She said with a sigh. “It ain’t the blood. I got my skills the hard way, by fighting, bleeding and surviving day after day. I earned them.”

She huffed angrily, one hand still flat on the table while staring at the man opposite to her. He blinked, then relaxed his posture and let his hands drop to his sides. “I see. I am sorry we could not come to an agreement then, and I apologize for wasting your time.”

Having said that, he got up from her table and was about to leave when three other men approached, all walking fast. They ignored him, instead quickly surrounding the woman in leather armor.

“Hey, Troll Girl,” said the one in the middle, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “Still peddling your services to whoever takes pity on your ugly face?” His tone was light, as if having a friendly conversation, but his eyes and posture told a very different story. Him and all of his friends had the typical patchwork leather and cloth armor of the locals, along with big, heavy clubs hooked to their belts that meant business. The scars on their faces and muscle on their arms completed the picture: these were men used to fighting, and hurting others.

“Hey, Victor!” She replied. “Still licking the balls of your boss in the hopes that he’ll grow a conscience and start paying you better?” She grinned back at him while pushing his hand away.

Victor chuckled, still leering at her, while the two other men’s hands went to their clubs. “I wouldn’t run your ugly mouth about the boss if I were you. He’s really pissed right now. At you!”

She made an amused face at that. “For what?”

“Are your brains turning to rock now, Troll Girl?” Said Victor, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Don’t you remember fighting a few of Nelos’ lads? About a week ago? Kicking one so hard he puked blood?”

“What, he’s pissed about that?” She scoffed. “If the boy didn’t want to puke blood he should have not attacked a client while I was protecting him, should he? I gave him fair warning, but they still tried waving their dicks at me. If they had some common sense they could have avoided getting their asses kicked.”

“And you think the boss is gonna sit there twiddling his thumbs while you rough over his boys and fuck his plans?”

“He can always hire me on his side if he doesn’t want me getting in the way. He’s done it before, he knows my rates,” said Kinari with a shrug. “I got no beef with him, do I? It’s just business.”

Victor laughed at that, a full, throaty holler that rose above the other conversations. The man who had discussed hiring Kinari just moments ago was still there, although he had retreated into a corner, looking at the events unfold. He noticed the other customers moving away or looking warily at the trio and the half-blood mercenary. Despite the surface friendliness of the conversation, the locals were clearly bracing for a fight to break out any time.

“Oh? You have no beef with him?” Victor laughed again. “Oh, I’m sure the boss will be very relieved to hear that, Troll Girl. He’ll sleep real sound tonight. Like a baby. Knowing he got your full pardon. No grudges, huh? He laughed, putting his hand on her shoulder again. She moved her hand to slap it away but instead he shoved her hard against the wall behind her. Her head slammed against the brick with a dull thud and he pressed his elbow against her throat. She wheezed as all air was squeezed out of her throat. Victor was still grinning with a friendly expression throughout all this.

“Truth is, he don’t have any beef with you either, filthblood girl,” he said. “But problem is, you’re disrespectful. So now we drag you back to Boss Nelos to teach you respect, while we to fucking watch! I’m getting a front row seat -”

Victor’s monologue was interrupted by a swift knee to his stomach, which was followed by another kick from Kinari that shoved him away and into his two friends. They all hollered and took their clubs off their belts. One of them swung at her, but instead of trying to dodge, she charged into it. The club cracked viciously against her head, but it did not stop her from punching the attacker in the face.

The man reeled back with the impact, while Kinari lifted her head and grinned. Aside from a trickle of thick, black blood flowing down her forehead she was unfazed.

“The difference between you and me, Victor,” she said, “is that I don’t beg at the table for scraps of respect like you do. I only respect those who respect me. You go and tell your boss that.”

Victor spat at the floor and grinned while glaring at her. There was murder in his grin. “Why don’t we bring you along? Then you can tell it to him in person.”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she said, grinning as well while crossing her arms. She had an iron mace on her own belt which she did not bother to take out. “But the thing is, I already have company for tonight, with the gentlemen right there.”

And she pointed at the hooded man who was still watching with interest, although from a distance, the events unfold. He did not betray any emotion from this turn of events, although he did adjust his cloak to cover his face more, but Victor made a face and turned to him. “Piss off if you know what’s good for you, friend! This filthblood here is going to have a busy night.”

“Sorry boys, but he hired me first,” she said, talking to Victor while pointing at the hooded man. “And you don’t want to mess with him. Trust me! Not unless you want to pick a fight with a noble?”

Victor screwed his face into a scowl and looked back at the man again. He said nothing, but one of his fellows, a large, tattooed man, laughed and said, “you think you can fool us, filthblood?” He snorted. “Look at how he’s dressed. That ain’t no noble!”

The hooded man was still calmly observing the scene, a few steps away from the table. At last he looked at Kinari and asked her, “Do you mean what you say?”

She shrugged while making a pained smile. “You know what? Yeah, I changed my mind for some reason,” she said while looking at the trio. “Leaving the city doesn’t look too bad now. Yeah, I’m your girl.”

“You got rocks in your head if you think - ” said the tattooed man, before being shushed by Victor, who was now looking intently at the hooded man without blinking. The bar had grown quiet now.

“Did you really hire her?” Asked Victor, his voice low and his anger tempered now by caution.

The hooded man looked at the half-troll, who grinned confidently at him, then back at her three opponents, then at all the bystanders looking at the commotion. All eyes were now on him, and he let out a sigh. After a moment of hesitation, he seemed to reach a decision and took a step forward. “Yes, she is with me. I hope the two of us can leave this place together without further conflict?” He left the question hovering in the air while lifting one of his hands and letting it rest gently on one of his daggers. Another brief silence followed.

“Come on, Victor!” Said his tattooed friend while smacking his club on the table. “Look at the guy! Ya really think he could be a Blue Blood? And him coming personally down here and employing a filthblood?”

Victor was still looking at the man with the hooded cloak, which covered most of his face. His clothes were coarse and the man was dirty and unkept. However he stood calmly and faced the three men without a hint of concern. Kinari was grinning now, with her hands on her hips.

“Feel like gambling it, Victor?” She gloated. “Or are you going to run away with your tail tucked under your legs?”

The tattooed man raised his club at her, only for the hooded man to take another step forward.

“You will not harm her. I will not allow it.”

He had taken one of the daggers out, and stared at the three men with the same expression as when he had first approached the mercenary. One of the thugs turned to him but Victor quickly put a stop to it by grabbing his arm.

“We can’t be sure he’s a noble or not, Henryk,” Victor said to his companion, not taking his eyes off the hooded man. “But if he is, he could kill us all before you finish swinging that club.”

Another silence followed, Victor glancing at Kinari and her new companion while growing increasingly nervous. The hooded man was still calm as ever, while Kinari sported an enormous, shit-eating grin as she watched the drama unfold.

“Fuck it,” muttered Victor at last, hooking his club in his belt and taking a step back. He pointed at Kinari and added, “if we see your ass by yourself in this town, you’re fucked, Kinari! Consider this your last warning!”

“That’d be a lot more threatening if you three weren’t crawling away like dogs with their balls chopped off,” she replied with gleeful scorn. The men ignored her, two of them dragging their injured companion while leaving as fast as they could. Victor, the last one, slammed the inn door on his way out.

The inn seemed to collectively release their breath, conversations slowly starting again and people sitting back at their tables although some still glanced at the half-troll woman or the hooded man. He took his hands off his knives and his posture relaxed, ever so slightly. A moment later the barmaid approached Kinari with a tired expression.

“You need to pay for your meal and leave now,” she told Kinari. “Before you start a fight and break something. Again.”

The hooded man looked at the half-troll, who rolled her eyes. “They started it,” she muttered.

But she did pay and leave, in the end.

“Did you see their faces?” Kinari let out a booming laugh as she slapped her new employer on the shoulder. “Trying to look tough while shuffling sideways to the door like a bunch of crabs. He he hee!”

“Enemies of yours?” Asked the man.

“Eh, they’re small fry. But I don’t like all the attention. It’s getting too hot here! Time to move,” said Kinari as she followed her new employer through the city streets. It was already late and the two moons gave most of the dim light they used to navigate the alleyways aside from the odd oil lamp. Most hard working people were already in bed. “Didn’t catch your name yet? Or at least something I can call you other than ‘hey’ or ‘my dude’.”

“My name is Abraxas,” he replied in a quiet voice.

“Right. Posh, fancy name. It fits,” she said, grinning. “Got any family name to go with that?”

There was a longer pause. “I am not ready to disclose my family name. And… Be careful not to disclose that I am a noble with others around you. I would like to keep it a secret as well.”

“Right, you’re in hiding, right...” She chuckled while the two turned into an alleyway. “What did you do anyway? Get the maid pregnant? Jack off over the family emblem…?”

Kinari was interrupted mid-speech by Abraxas as he slammed her into the wall and whipped out one of his knives in a quick, fluid motion. The dagger hovered inches away from one of her eyes, while his other hand held her firmly against the wall. Her grin disappeared but she did not struggle or flinch, staring at the blade near her eye.

“You seem to be treating our contract in a rather, hmm, cavalier manner,” said Abraxas in his usual calm voice. “So I must stress to you the importance of your duties… As well as what should happen if you do not take them seriously.”

Kinari remained silent, glaring at the dagger, so the other man continued.

“If you work for us, you must be discreet and loyal. We might not have time to train you out of your ill-bred peasant manners, but you will not tell anyone else about who we are, the location of our hideout or even our very existence. Do you understand?”

Kinari rolled her eyes in response.

“Do you understand?” Repeated Abraxas, bringing the dagger a centimeter closer to her eye for emphasis.

“Sure,” she replied angrily, closing the eye closest to the dagger.

“You will also not betray us or leave our employ before it is finished. Attempt to do so, and you will face severe consequences, you understand? The option to back out is no longer available to you.”

“Great,” was her reply, followed by a grimace as if she had swallowed a lemon slice.

“Finally, you will pay appropriate respect to my master, above all others. It might be too much to ask proper manners from you, but you will absolutely NOT insult him, and will show appropriate respect for him, under penalty of death, do you understand?”

At this Kinari sighed and looked straight at Abraxas with her one open eye. She did not look impressed.

“Back at the bar, I said that I don’t give my respect to just anyone,” she said, her voice now eerily quiet. Not just angry, but deadly serious. “You think this has suddenly changed because you’re the one demanding it now?”

Her hand moved slowly towards her mace, gripping it with her hand. The two went deathly still, each focused on the other’s weapon.

“I’ll say it again,” whispered Kinari. “I give my respect to those who respect me. And you’re not going to earn it by waving a sharp thing at my eye. So… Unless you plan to romantically fingerbang me right here in this alley, you better back the fuck off”

He frowned slightly, betraying a hint of emotion for the first time in their entire conversation.

“Confident. Do you truly think you are stronger than me?” He asked

“Whether I am stronger or not shouldn’t matter,” she replied. “If you can’t respect me we’re not working together. You want me on your side? Back. Off.”

They stood on that alley, frozen in place, while Abraxas seemed to consider his possibilities. After a tense moment, he backed away and put the dagger back in his belt.

“I can see how you would have trouble with past employers, if this is how you treated them,” he said, his voice calm once more although with a hint of reproach.

“That’s because they were shitheads,” she replied. “I’m sure your master isn’t a shithead, so no reason to fear, right?”

Abraxas shot her another stern look, and his hand again went to his daggers without saying a word.

“What?” Said Kinari. “All I said is that your master isn’t a shithead. That’s almost a compliment, isn’t it?” She grinned.

“Please refrain from any further compliments,” he replied.