Koyl quickly helped me pick up my gear and ushered me through the building, exiting out the front door and closing it tight behind him. He was more nervous than I had ever seen him, except perhaps when he was about to be killed the night I met him. I slipped on my armor, then re-hooked my spear through the holster loops on my back before coughing up a bit of blood that had gotten into my lungs when I was struck in the pectorals. Koyl motioned for me to follow him then lead me a block down the street, then into an alley. This isn't the way back, I thought, where is he going?

“Alright, what were you thinking?” Koyl sighed without turning around.

“Please be more specific,” I requested. Koyl spun around, wearing a face of rage that I had never seen on him before. His breath came out in growls, and his teeth were squeaking from how tightly they were clenched. He then took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“You do realize that you screwed not just yourself, but also me with that stunt, right?” he asked, clearly restraining anger. I wasn't sure if it was a question or not, but it was incorrect either way. Better ask just to be sure, I thought.

“How were you affected?” I asked back. Koyl took another deep breath and let it out.

“If you had made a good impression, I might have been able to have Thaajh give me a temporary authorization for contract work and take on a guard position as well,” Koyl explained with restrained emotion. “That was the entire reason I came along today, to try to get from him what I couldn't get from Dawpvaol. By the way, you're going to have to explain yourself to her so give me the explanation first, unless you want to have even more trouble when you say something stupid.”

“He can heal from it,” I deadpanned. “He also said that the rule was that we shouldn't kill each other. I didn't kill him, so I still don't fully see the problem.” I suppose his frustration is justified, in a way, I considered, If he had an ulterior motive, it would have been safer to tell me beforehand though.

“He can't heal from that, at least not quickly,” Koyl fumed. “It's going to take a few days for his wrist flesh to grow back out since it healed over, and that's if the hand doesn't rot off. If he loses it, it's weeks before he has it back.” Well, that answers a question I had about regeneration speed of missing parts, I thought.

“I've had a similar wound,” I explained, holding up my left wrist so Koyl could see the scar. “All I had to do was hold my hand in place and then my flesh joined back together without issue. It took maybe three minutes before I had full usage.” Koyl examined the scar, furrowing his brow.

“That doesn't look more than a few months old,” he remarked, “what were you doing before you came to Vehrehr?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. Koyl frowned and took another deep breath.

“Yes, it does matter,” he insisted. “Everything about you is just off. You don't know things that you should know, even if you were foreign. You do nothing but eat, work, and fight. You barely speak, but when you do speak you're articulate even though you have a heavy accent, like you know the language but haven't ever used it before. Just who are you?”

There it is, I thought. I had been through similar situations in the past, though only when I was provided insufficient or incorrect cultural background information about a warbreed settlement. Usually, I'd just kill whoever has suspicions before they reported me, I recalled, but I can't do that here. I would be the first suspect if anyone decided to investigate Koyl's death. Besides, he is useful as a source of information. I said nothing for several seconds, looking at Koyl and watching his body language while trying to decide how to proceed peacefully.

“I'm not anybody,” I finally responded, “I can't tell you where I'm from, just that it's very far from here. Even if I told you the name you probably wouldn't know it.” I’m still not exactly sure where “here” is, I thought, but it’s certainly not near my old operational area. There were some exotic possibilities surrounding my location that I had decided to shelve until more information became available.

“And the name 'Yuwniht'?” Koyl prodded.

“In effect, it is to my name as 'Koyl' is to yours,” I told him. Technically it was a lie as I didn't have a name, but Yuwniht was the pronunciation of part of my identification. Koyl mulled over my statement visibly, and I could tell that he was grappling with conflicting impulses.

“Okay, listen to me,” Koyl sighed, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, “here's what you're going to tell Dawpvaol. Don't screw this up any more than you have already, pay attention and say exactly what I'm about to tell you.”

“So you actually thought he meant to have a... what did you call it again?” Dawpvaol asked. Her patience was running thin, or so her face told me.

“A spar under the rules of an honor duel,” I replied, using "foreign" words like I had been advised to. Koyl stood behind me, completely silent. From his breathing, I could tell that the discussion was not going as badly as he thought it would. Despite not knowing English, Dawpvaol seemed to get the point I was trying to make.

“And why would you think something so stupid?” she demanded, raising her voice to communicate her anger, but not to the point of yelling.

“Thaajh clearly stated that the only rule was to not kill him,” I explained. “In my country, there are duels with such rules, in which dismemberment is allowed. Even still I inflicted a wound which I thought was not critical based on my past experience.” I raised my left hand and showed her the scar that I had shown Koyl, which he had covered in dirt to obscure its age. “In my case, I simply held the appendage in place until it healed, but Thaajh may not have, so it's possible his recovery will be significantly delayed.” Dawpvaol sucked at her teeth, and the bottom eyelid of her left eye vibrated subtly, most likely in response to repressed emotion.

“You have made a very large mistake,” she said coldly, “I want you to know that before we talk about anything else. If anyone Uwrish came in here with that excuse I'd have them thrown out. In your case, I am going to be more merciful, because I believe you are being honest. As of now, you are temporarily suspended from working with the Steelheart Company. I will be speaking with Thaajh and attempting to explain what you have told me to him while seeking a resolution. If he demands money, you will pay it. If he demands work, you will perform it. Should you be unsatisfied with the conditions provided to you, we may involve the guard and the courts. However, I would strongly suggest that you allow us to arbitrate this without them, for your own sake.”

“Understood,” I replied as though I was speaking to a superior officer. The suspension was a blow to my income, and the promise of punishment doubly so, but I figured it would be best to see what the “arbitration” lead to before taking further action. And I have savings, I thought, if I have to, I can simply disappear and find another company to work for without paying them.

“Be back here tomorrow morning,” Dawpvaol instructed, “I will have the resolution by then.” I nodded, then left the office without incident. Koyl stayed inside and said a few things to Dawpvaol that were muffled to the point of unintelligibility, then exited and walked up to me.

“Want to go back to the inn?” he suggested.

“Just pretend it's a sword you giant idiot,” Koyl sighed in exasperation. The two of us stood behind the inn we were staying in, holding straight sticks of roughly equal length. When I asked him about sword fighting this wasn't what I expected, I thought. “Use as little strength as you can, the point here is for me to show you the techniques, not for you to break that branch across my ribcage, okay?”

Koyl and I then engaged in a mock battle which lasted for around ten minutes. Without the advantage of strength on my side, Koyl was a much more difficult opponent than he had been in the alley. Though most of his hits weren't to areas that were critical, he landed many more hits on me than I did on him. With a minimum of motion he seemed to be able to redirect my stabs, or deflect my swings to one side. By contrast, I had no such ability and my only blocks relied on throwing up a perpendicular wall against his hits. Against thrusts, I was practically defenseless if I had to block, though it was easy for me to move out of the way.

“Alright, let's stop there,” Koyl declared, putting his stick down and sucking in deep breaths of air. His whole body was covered in sweat from exertion. Mine, by contrast, was only mildly hot. “So you can't parry, not really,” he told me, “you pretty much have to rely on overwhelming power to defeat your opponent right now. That's fine because you've got a lot of it, but it'll get you killed if you ever meet somebody as strong as you or more skilled than me.”

“I agree with the majority of that,” I said. It wasn't a lie, the observations were the same ones that I came to while observing my own fighting. The part I didn't agree with was that I would be killed if I met a superior opponent. I had survived things that Koyl likely couldn't even conceive of, a single human with a sharpened piece of metal was not a lethal threat if I was prepared, especially not since I could rapidly heal.

“Okay, so I'm going to show you how to do some basic sword parrying,” Koyl said. “We'll do it really slowly at first then speed it up.”

We then spent another hour and a half going through parries with a blade. Koyl wasn't exactly a good instructor, but my skill in other combat made up for the areas which he lacked. I noticed as we were going through the exercises that Koyl smiled a lot during the process, much more than he usually did. It wasn't amusement at my lack of skill, or at least it didn't appear to be because he still was happy once I improved, he looked to be genuinely enjoying himself.

“So then I told him to make up a name for his new style,” Koyl said loudly. We were now inside the inn and eating supper at a table by the bar. Yehpweyl listened to Koyl's story about what we had done during the day with an attentive expression, but her eyes told me she was watching the other customers. That drink must be psychoactive, I thought as I watched Koyl's antics. “And he calls it... what did you call it again?” Koyl asked.

“Sword fighting,” I replied in English. Koyl laughed and took another swing from the wooden mug.

“Sowrd Fiytihng,” Koyl repeated, “I can't even pronounce that properly.” Yehpweyl faked a series of high-pitched giggles at Koyl's joke, then looked off deeper into the room.

“I've got to go tend the tables, but I'll be back,” she crooned. With that, she walked out from behind the bar and strolled deeper into the room, exaggerating the strange wide-hipped walking style that I noticed the human women had for some reason. Koyl turned back to his food and bit off some meat from the steak on his plate.

“So as I was saying,” Koyl said in a more normal voice, “you need a better backstory because 'I'm not telling you' and 'I can't say' and 'You wouldn't know it' is going to get you in trouble if you ever have to talk to a guard.”

“Okay,” I agreed, then I took a sip from my mug of water. Koyl tapped the table excitedly with his fingers.

“And, to be clear, you're sure that you're not from Yahn Gwah or Sihz Gwah?” he asked. “I know that look of exasperation, don't start. You look like someone from down there, but you're about twice the size of any of them.” I hadn't shifted my expression at all, further convincing me that whatever Koyl was drinking was affecting his mind.

“I'm not,” I assured him.

“Well, how about this?” Koyl suggested. “Your native language sounds a bit like Gwahlaob so why don't you just say you're from Yahn Gwah? You can't use Sihz because someone would actually be able to check, but Yahn Gwah has a lot of wild areas and small villages, apparently.”

“What about my size?” I asked.

“Say you're a half-breed!” Koyl laughed. “That could even be why you left, gods know the Gwahlaob aren't renowned for their hospitality to yoyzzahzhoylihmayb and their children. Maybe your mother could be Gwahlaob, but your father was from... Uwlsayniyah. Yeah, those guys are tall right? Oh wait, you wouldn't know.” Koyl continued muttering to himself for a while, then his voice perked back up. “So yeah, you'll be Yuwniht from Yahn Gwah. No family name because you never knew your father, but you think he was probably from Uwlsayniyah. Grew up in a tiny coastal village, stowed away on a trading ship, then had to jump off when you got caught. Washed up on shore here because you're the unluckiest ngaazmayjh alive-”

“Would that identity be plausible for me?” I interjected, trying to get Koyl's focus back on the practicality of his idea.

“Plausible?” he laughed. “It's your real backstory, isn't it? Just to be sure, let's go over it again...”