Koyl and I stood inside the west office of the Steelheart Company, waiting our turn in a line to talk to Dawpvaol. There were never this many people here before, I thought. A group of men was talking to Dawpvaol, with two more groups of men clustered behind them in a rough line, behind which Koyl and I stood. Maybe if I told her I was here to accept the guard position she would let us go to the front quickly? I wondered.

“Hey, did you hear what happened in Suwlahtk?” One of the men in the group in front of us said to another. My ears perked up, and I was instantly listening.

“What, did a bear take down one of their buildings again?” the man he was talking to responded sarcastically. “I still can't believe they make everything out of wood that far into wild territory.”

“Nah, nothing like that,” the first man replied, “apparently Jhihr's group got wiped out during their trip over there.”

“They what?” the second man blurted. “But weren't they with the-”

“Magistrate's third son, yeah, the one who went to Frahmtehn,” The first man continued. “He's dead too, along with a bunch of the villagers. Word just came in last night about it.” I controlled my outward response, but inwardly I was rapidly running through possible escape scenarios and re-planning how to proceed with getting from Vehrehr to the mainland. My body yearned to tense up and sweat in preparation for motion, but with extreme effort I kept it under control.

“Gods and spirits,” the second man remarked, “what happened?”

“No idea,” the first man answered, relieving my tension somewhat, “the village chieftains died as well, along with some of their guards. The only witness to the attack, the chieftains' grandson, is nowhere to be found so some of our guys are thinking he had something to do with it.”

“Wasn't he just a kid though?” the second man asked.

“Yeah, very young,” the first man grunted. “Whole thing is just strange. Suwlahtk's story is that some bandits followed the trader into town and ambushed them in the dead of night, but knowing them they're probably lying about it.”

“You think they did it?” the second man asked in a suspicious tone.

“Can't deny that it's possible,” the first man shrugged, “but that would be stupid to do, and the casualties don't make sense if that's the case. Who sends an old man and woman out to fight in a brawl? Nobody.” The two continued to chatter, but the noise level in the room began to rise which made further eavesdropping more difficult. I looked to Koyl, at my right, and he looked back at me.

“Did you see what happened there?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Nope,” I lied, “I must have left beforehand. I never saw any traders or anything.”

“You're a lucky guy then,” Koyl joked.

“I suppose I am,” I replied.

After taking the job officially from Dawpvaol, Koyl and I set out to find the other slum office that I was supposed to be taking a guard position for. The daytime foot traffic in the slums, while still dense, was getting more manageable as I grew more experienced with navigating it. What first appeared to me as a writing mass of chaotic traffic now showed clear openings and paths based on the trajectories of pedestrians. However, actually fitting into them before they vanished from the ever-shifting nature of the motions was still difficult for me. There are a lot of people watching buildings from the opposite sides of the streets, I noticed while we walked.

The office we were looking for was yet another building that had been repaired with wood at some point, though it had suffered far greater devastation than the inn had. The only stone pieces were some of the walls on the bottom floor, with everything else being made of wood panels including about half of the front of the office. No guards, I thought, maybe they're inside? I walked ahead of Koyl, stepping up to the thick wooden door and putting my hand against it.

“This place is a shithole,” Koyl remarked moodily, “I can see why they think they need guards here, if I was going to rob someone I'd do it in a place like this. I doubt a guard walks by more than once a month.”

“If?” I commented. In response, Koyl scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I'll have you know that we were not too far from here when we first crossed blades, my savage friend.” Koyl told me. At the mention of his sword, I noticed a detail that I shouldn't have neglected when we left the inn.

“Speaking of swords, where's your 'walking stick'?” I asked.

“I left it at the inn,” Koyl answered. “Unfortunately the item in question has been a bit 'hot' lately, so it's better to keep it from prying eyes. I still have a kitchen knife that I borrowed from Yehpweyl, so it's not like I'm defenseless.” Koyl pulled up his tunic and showed a knife hastily stowed against his pelvis. “Now get in there already,” he prodded, “we don't have all day.”

I grunted in reply, then pushed the door open. I wasn't entirely sure what I expected to see before entering, but it wasn't what I saw once I did. In contrast to the relative cleanliness and order of the west office, this office was covered in dirt and cobwebs. The lanterns had not been cleaned in some time, making the light level much lower than other buildings, and both the floors and the walls were scuffed and scratched. Even the ceiling had some scratch marks on it, along with burns and soot. As I took all of this in, the gruff man behind the counter at the back of the room brandished a crossbow in the direction of Koyl and I.

The man's face, arms, and hands were a patchwork of faded scars. If it weren't for the fact that I hadn’t seen anything even resembling post-medieval technology on the island, I would have suspected that some of the broader strokes of coloration were originally inflicted by thermal or chemical weaponry. His brown hair was greasy and short, and his red eyes glinted in the low light. His lips parted into a snarl, stretching the scars on his stubble-covered chin and cheeks, and he growled in our direction.

“You stepped into the wrong building,” he said with a voice like grinding rocks. I heard Koyl step to the left and take cover behind me. Smart move, I thought. “You have about two seconds before I put this bolt between your eyes,” he warned.

“Are you the...” I started, trailing off when I realized I didn't actually know what word to use to describe someone in Dawpvaol's position.

“Administrator,” Koyl muttered behind me.

“The administrator of this office?” I asked, finishing my sentence. It was then that I noticed that the man's sleeveless tunic was the same shade of burgundy as Dawpvaol's uniform was, and that he was wearing some sort of badge in the shape of the Steelheart company's symbol.

“Last warning,” the man growled, “my finger is tightening.”

“Is this the wrong location?” I asked, directing the question to both the man and Koyl.

“Let's just go before this idiot puts a hole in one of us,” Koyl said quietly, but before I could reply the sound of a bowstring twanging rung out. I barely flinched out of the way in time to hear the bolt impact the doorframe where my head had been just an instant before.

In one smooth motion, I reached down and threw my knife out of its leg holster in the man's direction, then began running towards him so that I could intercept before he had a chance to reload or draw another weapon. I heard the man grunt harshly as my knife stuck into his left shoulder, then I drew my own sword and crashed into the wooden podium, smashing it into bits from the force of the impact. The man jumped backwards, obviously predicting my course of action, and grinned wildly. I chopped, overhead, aiming for the maximum possible area because I knew my attack would probably be avoided. As I suspected the man dashed and tumbled to his right while I hit nothing but air.

“Well now, this is going to be fun!” the man roared. Ignoring him, I grabbed onto the man's burgundy shirt with my left hand and smashed him backwards into the wall, only to have my elbow shattered by a grip-breaking strike from the man in response. I thrust my sword towards his chest, but barely scraped the edge of his ribs before stabbing the wall behind him. Two hard impacts rocked my head but did little to dissuade me from further attacks. Seeing as my sword was now stuck in the wall, I let go and changed to unarmed fighting, which I had more experience at.

We traded blows, the man deftly avoiding my more damaging strikes while I in turn blocked, dodged, or ignored his attacks in order of decreasing danger. A few minutes later the man, looking only slightly tired, stepped back and spoke again. “Damn, been a while since I've fought a guy like you,” he spat, with blood hitting the ground at my feet. His hands flashed down to his belt, and on pure reflex I snapped out a punch and struck the man in the jaw, rattling his brain and making him stumble backwards and land on his rear. Despite his position, the man kept his eyes on me and began moving to take on a ground fighting stance.

“Yuwniht, stop it!” Koyl yelled. I had heard him yelling a few times during the fight, but I was too busy trying to land hits on the man to listen to exactly what he was saying. I looked over, seeing Koyl standing near the door with the kitchen knife drawn in a ready position, facing the man. “We're not here to piss off Steelheart,” Koyl reminded me. “That's definitely the administrator, look at his clothes.”

“If you're not here to fight, why didn't you seytoydh say so?” the man swore. I breathed out and calmed myself, seeing that the man's own aggressiveness had abated somewhat. He's wearing two combat knives, I saw when I looked at his belt, He dropped his hands to try to draw them, but why wouldn't he have used them from the start?

“You tried to kill me,” I said bluntly, “keep your hands off of those knives if you don't want me to break your neck.” The man glared at me, then wiped some of the blood off of his face. My own skin hadn't split open from his punches, but my nose had bled into my mouth after taking a hit, so I spat on the ground in the same spot he had. I backed up, making sure to keep my eyes on the man, then pulled my sword out of the and glanced around for my knife. It sat atop the ruins of the podium, having fallen out of the man's shoulder at some point.

“Why don't you put that thing away and we'll talk,” the man suggested, starting to get to his feet.

“Stay seated,” I instructed, then I squatted down and re-sheathed my knife to where it belonged with my left hand. “Are you the administrator, yes or no?” I demanded.

“Who are you?” the man shot back. “Yaavtey's men are total niyzaob, but you aren't, so you can't be Hatchet Crew. You on a job?”

“Dawpvaol sent us over,” Koyl explained hastily, “rather, she sent Yuwniht here over, and I came with him because I was pretty sure something like this would happen. He's here for the guard job.” Looking at Koyl, I could see a hint of disappointment in his face. Was he hoping I would kill the administrator? I wondered, If so, why would he tell me to stop? I resolved to ask him about it later.

“Ah, shit,” he sighed. “Sorry, it's been crazy around here lately, you gotta understand. When I see a giant armed yeyhhayseytay like him walking in it makes me nervous.” You're the same size as me, I thought, I don't see why it would be an issue. The man rubbed his forehead, then grinded his teeth together and looked back at me. “I'm standing up now,” he announced, “point that sword somewhere else.” After a moment's pause, the man stood up and dusted himself off. He looked at the pile of wood that used to be a podium, then sighed again more deeply. “You just had to break the podium,” he muttered.

“You tried to kill me,” I repeated as a justification. Since the man's body language didn't indicate that he was going to be hostile again, I sheathed my sword, earning a grunt of approval from him.

“Barely, and you returned the favor with enthusiasm,” the man countered with a growl. “You can certainly brawl, but I didn't even use my knives and we stopped before the good part. I'm pretty sure I could seyvih you in a serious battle. You'll need to be tested properly, I don't trust the main office's methods.”

“You're still going to give it to him?” Koyl asked, sounding shocked. The man grumbled something inaudible to himself as he walked over to pick up his crossbow.

“I need all the help I can get,” he finally said. “Yuwniht, was it? What kind of stupid name is that?”