Dallion had gotten in a number of fights, mostly back on Earth. However, he had never been mugged before. He knew friends who had been, and from what they had told him, it was very much unlike what was depicted in shows and comics. The only talk that had taken place was after they’d received a few punches in the face and stomach—a hint of things to come should they cause any trouble. Compared to that, all this seemed fake, almost rehearsed.

“What’s the matter? Too good to share a few coins with the less fortunate?” the band leader asked. His greasy brown hair almost glistened under the rays of the sun. The rest were no different. The epitome of riffraff, they had already drawn their weapons—swords, daggers, as well as a massive nine-foot chain.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Arthurows said. “Don’t pretend to be from here. Get lost before you get into some serious trouble.”

“The guildy can talk the talk,” another of the thugs snorted. “Think that emblem will save you?”

“From you?” Arthurows laughed. “Come on.” He opened his arms, inviting them to attack.

“There’s five of them,” Dallion whispered. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem particularly worried, either. For one thing, they seemed much less threatening than a chainling.

“Just stay back and don’t worry about it.”

“Last chance,” the leader said. It was obvious he didn’t want to fight, but things had escalated to the point that he had no other choice. “Whichever your guild, we’ll be long gone before they show up.”

Arthurows’ response was immediate, darting forward faster than the human eye could see. However, he wasn’t the only one. His enemies were also awakened and charged forward just as fast. Only Dallion hesitated a few seconds before joining in.

His right hand reached for his dartbow, only to realize that it wasn’t in an easily accessible place. On second thought, that could have been a blessing in disguise—in the real world the dartbow had no bolts to shoot with.

I have to be careful, Dallion reminded himself. This wasn’t the awakened world. Here, wounds had consequences. In his mind, went through several possible ways of action. From what he could tell, Arthurows was going for the leader, and everyone else was going for Arthurows. The solution was to pick one of the weaker ones. When in doubt, always go for the right.

Thinking of the techniques used recently, Dallion decided to go for a defense attack. He kept running forward, almost until the point of contact, then twisted his body, taking a few sidesteps in the process. The action felt natural, despite the lack of markers.

Finishing off the imaginary sequence, Dallion then spun around and leapt towards the back of the ex-attacker. One strike at the back of the head and the man fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

What? Dallion wondered. That had been far too easy. Even if they had just arrived from the wilderness, they had to be a bit stronger than that. Even Veil would have mopped the ground with them. Glancing at the rest of the fight, it turned out that the enemies were, in fact, extremely weak.

In the time it had taken Dallion to knock out one of them, Arthurows had dealt with three. All that remained was the leader. Clearly more competent than his crew, the thug managed to evade almost as many attacks as Arthurows did. Watching the battle was mesmerizing for those who could keep up. The closest thing Dallion had seen to this was combat scenes in old kung fu movies, only less flashy. Thinking about it, breakdancing was a better example. There was an unspoken choreography involved, and the one who didn’t keep it got punished by a punch in the face or a knee in the stomach.

Maybe I should help? Dallion thought. Intervening could end doing more harm than good. Then again, maybe there was a way to change that.

Dallion ran to one of the unconscious bodies and grabbed the chain from the person’s hands. Judging by the distance between him and the fighting duo, he then swung it in the air above his head.

“Protect the echo!” Dallion shouted, and released the chain forward.

The phrase received exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Aware of what that meant, Arthurows broke off his attack and jumped back. The thug leader, on the other hand, turned around to determine what was going on, only to receive a rather hasty smack in the head. A few seconds later, it was all over. Five unconscious would-be-muggers lay on the ground, while Dallion and Arthurows hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“That was easy.” Dallion fought to counter the effect of adrenaline pumping through his veins. The victory had whetted his appetite, wanting to continue with the battle. “Think there are more?” he asked with a note of hope.

“Nah.” Arthurows brushed off his clothes.

“Who do you think they are? Thieves? Members of a rival guild?”

“Drifters,” Arthurows replied with disgust. “Probably not even registered.”

“You sure? I was told that there are underground awakened who pickpockets and—”

“These aren’t them. If they were any good, they would have chosen a better neighborhood. Only cowards and the desperate come here to mug someone. There’s no guard fort nearby, and no awakened, so they thought they could stay low for a bit. I still can’t believe they attacked us. They should have known they can’t win.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half of them were not even fully awakened. Even the boss was a level six, or seven at most. From the way he fought I’d say he stacked everything on reflexes.”

Not all of them were fully awakened? Dallion hadn’t felt that. Clearly, he had a lot more to learn as well.

“So, what do we do now? Wait for the city guard to show up?”

“Why bother? Just leave them here and move on. When they come to, they’ll leave the city, anyway. Meanwhile, the “less fortunate” could pick a few coins from them.”

There was some poetic justice in that. Despite the nagging feeling of guilt, Dallion decided to go with Arthurows and continue on. For the first minute or so, he would look back every now and again to see what had happened. After a while, he stopped. Whatever was, was.

“You’re pretty good in real life combat as well,” Arthurows said all of a sudden. “Most aren’t.”

“Thanks.”

“Try to avoid it. You’re an Icepicker now. All your fighting must be within items, not outside. Besides, you never know who you’ll stumble upon.” There was a slight pause. “These were drifter scum, but there are really dangerous people out there.”

Nothing more was said on the matter, but Dallion got the hint. As everywhere else, this city too had its underworld, even if it wasn’t apparent.

Drunkard’s end continued on for another half hour, right up to one of the city forests. At first Dallion thought they would go through, but instead, Arthurows turned left, continuing ten more minutes before ending in what seemed a rather high-class neighborhood. The houses were slightly smaller here, but meticulously kept, and at larger distances from one another. According to a quick consultation with Dallion’s library echo, the neighborhood used to be a patch of military field tents decades ago, during the War of Inheritance. Because of their help in achieving victory, the surviving soldiers were given a plot of land and the means to build a house where they could live with their families. As the decades passed, and the city engulfed the area, the neighborhood became a clear representation of the city’s lower-middle class. It also remained home to a lot of military families, quite a few of which had members in the city guard as well.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t what I expected. Dallion thought.

Within the neighborhood, Arthurows continued until they reached a far larger structure, similar to a closed baseball field.

“Here we are,” Arthurows said. “The combat arena.”

“They hold tournaments here?” Dallion asked.

“Nah. The name is just for show. This is where the moderately well off get together to gossip, discuss important matters, and occasionally spar a bit in the awakened realm. Mostly gossip, though. Come along, I’ll introduce you.”

A military tent village… Dallion couldn’t help but wonder if his grandfather had been part of it once? He had taken part in the war, and was known, if Aspion’s memory was to be believed. Since no one had removed his grandfather’s name, he must have remained in the history books in some form.

Passing through a large set of double doors, Arthurows flashed a token of some sort to the pair of massive guards, who didn’t even react. Judging by the silvery hilts of their weapons, Dallion could assume that they were awakened as well.

A surprisingly modern looking lobby awaited on the inside: thick carpets covered the floors, not to mention the hundreds of portraits that filled up every inch of wall space.

“Welcome to the Combat Arena,” a fury in a butler’s outfit greeted them. Unlike Jiroh, her skin was milk white, just a shade darker than her hair. “Could I be of any assistance?”

There was a smile on her face, but Dallion’s keen sense of perception, combined with his music skills, told him that she couldn’t wait for them to leave.

“Can you take a message to General Balall?” Arthurows asked. “Let him know Art is here.”

“But of course. Would you like to sit down and rest in the meantime?”

“No, I’m good,” Arthurows said dismissively.

The fury’s smile didn’t falter. Dallion could sense she wanted to kick him in the face—the bubbling anger in her was almost palpable, almost as much as Arthurows’ pleasure of ordering her around.

“Thank you,” Dallion said in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “We appreciate the offer.”

It wasn’t the best line Dallion could think of on the spot, but it did the job. A faint sensation of understanding appeared in the cocktail of anger, after which the fury nodded slightly and went off towards the oak door leading further in.

Dallion waited until several seconds after she had gone, then looked at Arthurows.

“Don’t worry about it. She just works here. As long as you have an invitation token all the servants must treat you with “respect and dignity.”

Yeah, I can tell, Dallion thought.

“She’s a fury?”

“There’s a few of them around the city. Not as many as in the imperial capital, but enough to be noticed. Don’t give it too much thought. They are bound by Nerosal’s rules like everyone else. Besides, she isn’t awakened.”

Come to think of it, Jiroh wasn’t awakened either. Or was she? Nothing indicated it, and Jiroh herself had denied it, but her speed was much faster than a normal person. Even with all his improvements in body and reflexes, Dallion could hardly keep up to her pace of serving people at the inn.

“Don’t freak out when we get to the general,” Arthurows said. “His title is hereditary. There haven’t been real generals in this city since before I was born. He just keeps it for show. Try not to contradict him, though—creates a bad first impression and in the eyes of people here impressions are everything.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind. Is he a noble?”

“Nah, nobles wouldn’t be seen dead talking to riff-raff like us.” Arthurows let out a dry laugh. “He’s just rich and connected—the type of commoner that nobles would actually talk to on occasion. For our purposes, he has quite an impressive collection of awakened weapons and armor. Part was inherited, part he got by buying stuff here and there. Not all of it, from shops.”

Now things made sense. The general was a rich “collector.” Dallion had heard of such people even back on Earth. They had amassed a fortune and spent part of it in a useless hobby—in this case, apparently, collecting awakened gear that would never be used.

“Anything else I should know?” Dallion asked. He was starting to regret agreeing to this.

“Just one. Avoid looking him in the eyes.”