The hiss of metal brought Lokt out of his chair.

He spun off the side, slicing his dagger upwards from the gap in his cloak.

A man jerked backwards, out of the arc, short-sword falling from his grip as he fell into the crowd of people behind him.

His friends held him straight, anger swelling in their eyes.

And Lokt heard it. Whispers. A word, sweeping through the crowd on winds of hate and memory.

“Thief.”

“It’s him.”

“He came back.”

Lokt took a deep breath, resigning himself to ruin. To retribution. And laughed, lip curling into a crude smile as his heart wept. He flipped his dagger, pointing its tip at the man and watched him fumble for his sword.

“You are right. I am Lokt.”

He used the hilt of the dagger to push black hair out of his eyes as he dipped into a graceful half-bow. That’s right. They want an enemy. They want someone to blame. They want it to make sense.

So this was all he could do.

“Lokt the thief. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He looked up and sneered.

This was his kindness. Sharp, cruel and unsightly.

A sigh moved through the room as the tense pressure seemed to lighten. Gone was grey uncertainty- hesitation. It was simple. Simply black and white now. Here stood an enemy.

A villain.

Lokt watched people split off. Some stepped out of the tavern, while the ones that stayed fanned out, weapons at their sides. He bit his lip and looked to his right.

Krelnel was still seated, leaning into the table, eyes glazed over as he stared at the blue glove draped across his hand. A name soft at his breath.

Lokt saw someone unsheathe their sword. They edged closer, approaching from his side and dipping into his blind-spot. Lokt spun his knife, flaring the blade outwards, thumb pressing into its spine.

And exhaled.

Lokt lunged at him, dagger outstretched, and swiped low. The man brought his sword down after a moment's hesitation, matching the height of Lokt’s blow, deflecting steel in a shower of sparks.

And so it begins.

Lokt heard heavy footfall and tucked inwards, pulling back as a boot struck him in the ribs. The force knocked him upwards, spewing sound as he twisted in the air. He stuck his hand out, clasping the promise of hardwood floors and broke his fall with his forearm. He pushed up, throwing his dagger and springing to his feet in one fluid motion.

Lokt wobbled as he landed on top of a wooden table. He put a hand out, balancing himself, and brought the other to his rib.

Someone screamed, clutching at the dagger lodged in their shoulder.

Lokt pushed down and winced. Not broken. Good. He stood straight. He had a better view of the tavern from here and could see people drag their fallen friend to the back of the tavern. But while some pulled back, more stepped forward. Weapons drawn. There were more people than he imagined. He really managed to turn the entire tavern against him, hadn’t he?

So what now?

Lokt dipped his hand into his cloak. Krelnel had the other so one would have to do for now. He slipped it on, smiling as his arm grew heavy.

“Grit your teeth.”

He crouched low, tipping the table as he launched off its flat face and into the crowd.

4 swordsmen out front.

They looked weary. Half drunk and untrained- newbie adventurers.

Child’s play.

Someone swung down, missing as Lokt juked to the side, momentum carrying him into Lokt’s gloved fist. Lokt felt his nose crunch against his hand and brought his fist back, switching attention as he fell. He pivoted off his foot, batting another sword away by the flat of the blade, and leapt out of the path of another swing. He turned, jerking his head back as a stray blade sliced his bottom lip.

A kiss of death.

Lokt rolled backwards, red lips curling into a baleful smile.

3 swordsmen left. He saw a goblin edge to his right, she peered out from behind the fallen swordsman, holding some kind of scroll out in front of her. A spell caster?

Lokt licked blood from his lips. He’d have to take her out first.

He swung his hand back, legs tensing and glove growing heavy as he set dark eyes on her scroll.

The goblin stepped back in panic, shrinking under his gaze as she lifted her parchment hurriedly, screaming words of power.

Writing bled through the page in a deep red as she spoke.

“[Fir-]”

“ENOUGHHH!!!”

Krelnel slammed his giant hand into the table, smashing it in a haze of splinters. He shot up, pointing his finger at the female goblin and spoke in a booming voice.

“That’s enough. All of you. Lokt. Everyone else out. Now.”

A goblin wearing red scurried out from behind the bar, carrying a serving tray overhead. He looked at the table with a pained expression and waved his hands in distress.

“Ahhh my tavern! Krelnel is right. Everyone out! We’re closed, If I lose any more tables I’ll go out of business!”

The goblin put himself in front of Krelnel, scrambling to usher people from the tavern. He tried pushing the drunk adventurers back, but they resisted, swords still in hand, eyes set on Lokt.

Lokt on the other hand, pulled back, standing straight as he watched the crowd disperse.

Many left right away, at the behest of the tavern owner, while others stayed a while longer to carry their fallen friend.

The drunken adventurers however, were visibly hesitant, and as was the female goblin, spell scroll by her side. It was clear they were still out for blood. But under Krelnel’s unyielding stare they too acquiesced, grumbling under their breath. Lokt was one thing, but antagonising Krelnel was another. Rumours of his exploits had travelled even to the most remote corners of Isfan. No one was stupid enough to test their might against a living legend.

Lokt exhaled, dropping his shoulders as he picked up his fallen chair, scooting back to the broken table. He brought his hand to his mouth, wiping blood with the back of his thumb.

Krelnel softened as he looked at Lokt’s bloody mouth and the streak of red on his hand. He reached out and hesitated.

“Lokt do you really have to antagonise everyone? If you just explained it-”

“Explained it?!”

Lokt whirled toward Krelnel, blood pooling in his mouth as he spoke.

“Are you serious Krel? They wouldn't have believed a word I said!”

“Give them a chance. You can’t keep this up, Lokt.”

“It doesn't matter.”

Krelnel watched Lokt wipe his mouth again and sighed. It was clear he couldn't change his mind. He’d been that way since he was a child. But why couldn’t he see he was destroying himself? That he was ruining any chance of normalcy. Of friendship. He folded the blue glove gently over his forearm and handed it back to Lokt.

“You can keep it, Krel. It’s safer with you.”

Krelnel shook his head, staring at the soft blue fabric.

“It’s too heavy for me.”

Lokt exhaled, head dropping low as he spoke in a soft voice.

“It’s heavy for me too, Krel. I can barely lift it.”

Krelnel smiled quietly, putting his hand over Lokt’s head as he placed the glove in his lap.

“I’m here to help, Lokt. Let's go to the Witch. I’ll set up a meeting.”

Lokt looked up, past Krelnel’s giant hand and bit his lip.

“The Witch… is gone.”

---

“She’s contracted to stay within the Cresna Covert. How can she be gone.”

Lokt looked up into Krelnel’s eye. Why were they still talking about this? His head still throbbed from before. He wanted to fight. To shout. To rage. But for Krel, he reeled it in. It wasn’t fair to him. To his friend.

And if he didn’t know about the Witch, then Aiken probably doesn't either.

“Her house was trashed. That’s why I came to Vandryl. I need a tracker.”

Krelnel nodded slowly.

“We should go to Aiken. He can help. The city will spare no effort to find her.”

Lokt grit his teeth. He knew that. He knew Aiken was the best person to come to with this matter. But Aiken was also vindictive. And cruel. It was better to find a lead on his own before alerting him. Just a day or two couldn’t hurt.

“I'll tell him but…”

Krelnel saw Lokt scrunch his face and sighed. So it was like that? He knew Aiken and Lokt had a contentious relationship but wasn't this important enough to set aside ill feelings? He closed his giant eye and nodded. He was sure Lokt already knew that- but he’d remind him later if he had to.

“Trackers? Hmm I don't know any trackers. But I think I know where to find one.”

Krelnel looked down at the broken table and winced when he saw his tankard side-up. He sighed again, pushing himself up from his chair with a huff.

He could really use a drink.

“Let this old drunkard lead the way. I’ll slay any that point their blade at you.”

Lokt wavered, gloves under his cloak warm at his side. He’d heard that once before. And knowing Krelnel he knew he said it in earnest.

“These are your friends. I can’t-”

“And you are you.”

The cyclops stepped out of the tavern, hiding a smile as Lokt muttered a soft thanks.

---

Lok felt weak as he walked, barely able to keep up with Krelnel stride. He ran his tongue over his cut lip and winced.

With adrenaline gone all he had left was anger. Empty anger. Why did he have to be the villain? Why did- why did they not know the full story? If they would just ask. If they would just listen.

He shook his head.

That would never happen.

The shop wasn’t far from the tavern. In fact, they were partly connected. They left the tavern and immediately rounded a corner to the Sleepy Lion, a small store with jewellery, luxury clothing and various ornamental weaponry sitting out on display.

They slipped in, through double doors big enough to fit Krelnel’s full height, and ran into a small green man.

The goblin tried to side step out of the way, but he tripped backwards, stepping onto the back of his long red cape, and falling on his side.

“Gah! Careful boy! Are you trying to crush me?!”

He rolled over in a spool of green and red, flinging his opulent cloak out of the way as he rubbed his backside.

“I guess youre type is murderous even when they don’t mean to be huh? You may not know this but being unknowingly crushed is the leading cause of death for goblins.”

Lokt blushed apologetically as the goblin narrowed his eyes at him.

He huffed in indignation, scurrying to the back of the shop, and jumped onto the countertop. The goblin turned, hoisting himself forward and hurriedly pulling the thick blanket of red from under him. He shuffled down until his legs dangled from the countertop, and straightened his back, muttering softly under his breath.

“Okay, okay and was it maybe? Yes. It was like this, wasn't it.”

He coughed loudly and met Krelnel and Lokt with a strong gaze, spreading his hands wide as he spoke in a much deeper voice.

“Welcome! Ahh the smell of my brother's famed ale. I do enjoy business from his side of the pond. So to speak.”

He made a gesture with his hands, soft clinking of his golden rings emphasising his point as he smiled magnanimously.

“So tell me, what can I do for you Krelnel? And your friend?”

Lokt stepped closer and the goblin flinched, pulling at his gaudy necklace as he hid behind a nervous smile.

“Don't worry Gren, he's with me.”

Gren the goblin cocked a brow as he looked up at Lokt’s bloody lip and turned to Krelnel.

“Well, a friend of a friend is a friend to me. But would he have something to do with the large crowd of people leaving my brother's tavern at this time of day?”

Gren nodded as Krelnel made no response, keeping his face level. Silly Krelnel. Doesn’t he know that’s a response in itself? The goblin rubbed his hands together, rings clanking loudly.

“No matter. Gold is gold, no matter whos’ it is.”

Krelnel smiled gratefully and gestured to Lokt, who stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“We’d like to speak with your best tracker.”

“My best tracker? Interesting. Speak to him? No.”

Lokt hesitated. No?

“But I nee-”

Gren flicked his hand impatiently, interrupting Lokt mid-sentence.

“That’s not how this works. Anonymity. You don't meet him and he doesn’t meet you. You tell me what type of tracking you need and I relay the information.”

Lokt hesitated, looking over at Krelnel, and swallowed his complaints. Krelnel wouldn’t have recommended this man if he didn't think he was trustworthy.

“Okay Gren. We’ll do it your way. I need help to track who this belonged to.”

Lokt pulled out a small parcel, wrapped tightly in a white handkerchief and put it gently onto the countertop beside the goblin.

Gren peered closer, leaning over and unravelling it with his hand.

“Aegh!”

He squealed, abandoning his spuriously deep voice and slid down the counter, bumping items in his panic.

An ornamental pot wobbled dangerously, before falling off the countertop and shattering loudly, spraying fragmented glass pieces across the floor.

Lokt coughed, smothering a blooming smile with the back of his hand, desperately trying to keep face levelled as he stared at pieces of glass across the floor.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure exactly how long it’s been detached- months maybe- but I need to find where the person is as soon as possible.”

The goblin brought his hand to his nose and used the tip of an outstretched finger to flip the handkerchief back over the charred chunk of flesh.

“Months you say…okay. I think that will be fine, so long as the owner is still alive.”

Lokt nodded graciously.

“Thank you.”

Gren waved away his thanks, drawing himself up as he eyed Lokt.

“Lets see hmm. You said you want it done quickly. Okay. That’ll be 10…11. No, 13 gold for immediate dispatch. The tracker may take up to 3 weeks before any conclusive result but I vouch for their efficacy.”

Gren saw Lokt's face drop and hesitated. Appearance aside, he assumed he was from an affluent background, given his association with Krelnel. But if that were not the case, would he be able to afford such a service?

Though Gren watched colour drain from Lokt’s face, some part of him knew he would be able to. This was a boy at the end of his rope. A boy that would do anything. Pay any amount.

He could practically smell the gold off him.

Lokt dipped his hand into his cloak and gripped his coin pouch. 13 gold. There was a time when he wouldn’t think much of that valuation. But his travels corrected his understanding. That was indeed a lot of gold. Vastly more than he imagined it would cost. Lokt squeezed his pouch and felt metal shift in his fist. And after subtracting the gold that left… not much. Not much at all. Lokt swallowed hard and decided not to think about it. Either way, he would gladly pay any amount if it meant more time.

Krelnel on the other hand, groaned loudly.

“You can't be serious. 13 gold Gren! That’s daylight robbery!”

“You’re welcome to try and find someone else, but there aren't many who are willing to work with something like this and fewer that are as tight lipped as me. And I’m assuming that is something of importance, no? So naturally, that factors into the price.”

Lokt shook his head as Krelnel opened his mouth, stepping forward and pulling out his pouch.

“No. 13 gold is fine. Time is of importance so I’d like this to be resolved sooner rather than later.”

Gren smiled, eyes fixed on Lokt’s coin pouch as he brought it out of his cloak and plopped it onto the countertop.

“I suppose you’d like the gold now. Or should I pay after?”

The goblin smiled wider, barring rows of sharp teeth as the sweet sound of shifting coins filled the air.

---

Krelnel turned on Lokt as soon as they exited the shop.

“13 gold! 13 gold pieces Lokt! You should have let me pay.”

“I still have some coin left, Krel. Don't worry. And Gren said I could pay half now and half after the tracker gets a lock onto whoever it belongs to.”

Krelnel sighed.

“Alright Lokt, have it your way.”

Lokt smiled as he walked, ignoring the noticeably light pouch that hung at his side. They turned the corner, moving back toward the tavern. Where to now? He hadn’t eaten yet since yesterday, so perhaps stocking up on supplies was next. He didn’t want to stay in Vandryl any longer than he had to.

Lokt frowned. There were more people outside than before. They crowded along the street, creating a wall of bodies beside the tavern.

His stomach churned. Although they didn’t seem to be vying for a fight, especially with Krelnel by his side, they shuffled in callous anticipation, eyes fixed on him.

“Oh no.”

Lokt breathed, stopping in his tracks as obnoxious blue peeled from the middle of the crowd.

“Aiken.”

He stood tall, striding confidently across the grey path, his blue surcoat flapping over silver armour. A thin, golden rapier hung loosely at his side, sheathed within a black leather scabbard. He rested a hand on its looped hilt, lips opening nefariously as he studied Lokt’s face.

“Hello Lokt.”

Aiken spread his free hand wide, scornful eyes flashing behind black rimmed glasses, and spoke loud enough for the crowd of people to hear.

“I've received several complaints that your presence here in Vandryl is unwanted. And well, I do serve the people.”

Lokt rolled his eyes, feeling for his gloves.

“I'm surprised you managed to say that with a straight face, Aiken.”

Aiken grinned wickedly, no doubt guessing Lokt’s train of thought as his arms disappeared into the brown folds of his cloak.

“I speak the truth.”

“I’m sure you do. But unless I commit a crime you can't just eject me from this city.”

Aiken sighed, running a hand through his black hair as he turned, addressing the crowd behind him.

“So he refuses to leave the city that hates him. Whatever shall we do.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong Aiken, but you can't exactly kick him out for no reason can you?”

Aiken spun back around, meeting the giant cyclop’s eye and levelled his voice, reeling back his smug attitude.

“Yes, you are right Krelnel. I can’t kick him out for no reason. However, it is well within my right, as Captain of the Watch, to eject or imprison any known criminal that wanders this great city.”

Aiken turned his head, lenses flashing as he faced Lokt.

“He is a dangerous criminal isn’t he?”

Lokt grit his teeth, hands clasping around two blue gloves under his cloak as Aiken sneered.

“You are, aren't you?”

He spun, hand still spread, and spoke louder, inciting the crowd.

“What city would allow a criminal to walk their streets, free and unbound. Did you think the proud city of Vandryl was any different?”

The crowd shouted their piece, hurling insults at Lokt, some even throwing bits of half-eaten food in his direction. Aiken, in the midst of their fury, only smiled wider, baring his teeth as he laughed at Lokt’s distress.

Krelnel stepped forward, knocking a piece of red fruit from the air, and putting a protective arm in front of Lokt.

“Lokt is not a criminal.”

“No? I would think being a thief would qualify him as one?”

“Aiken.”

Lokt growled, veins popping as blood rushed to his face.

“Begone. We don’t tolerate your kind here, thief.”

Lokt bit down, grinding his teeth audibly as his lip split open. Hot pain streaked down his chin, dropping onto the ground below as he forced his eyes closed.

“Aiken, I'm warning you.”

His head throbbed violently, pounding with venomous rage. He felt gloves constrict his fingers, wrapping over them with flexile muscle as they snaked up his forearm. One more word. One more word and he would rush out. One more word and there would be blood.

“Warning me? Oh, you don’t like being called a thief, do you? I apologise. Perhaps murde-”

His eyes shot open in a swollen red and-

Snap.

Krelnel blurred forward, in a rush of yellow, pushing Lokt back with a flick of his wrist. In an instant he stood in the middle of the street, a hulking giant towering over Aiken. The Captain of the Watch spluttered, falling backwards onto the ground, his face locked in a sudden stupefaction.

“Get up.”

“I said get up boy. I didn't hit you yet.”

Aiken sat up slowly, sweat dripping from his forehead as Krelnel grabbed him. His giant hand seized him by the shoulder, crumpling silver armour as he yanked him to his feet.

“Is this a game to you? You dare use his death. Her name. Her name, for this?”

He shook Aiken violently with one hand, his limp body flopping like a ragdoll.

“No…I… wouldn’t.”

He hadn’t used it. He never mentioned her. But he couldn't say that. Krelnel wouldn't see sense. One look in his eye told him as much.

“No?”

Aiken shook his head, swallowing dryly as Krelnel brought this face close. His hand twitched down. He could unsheathe his rapier and swipe upwards in an instant- and every instinct of his told him to- but he knew better. He could not hope to defeat Krelnel with any tiny piece of scrap metal.

“You forget. You owe her. You would not be alive if it weren't for her mercy.”

Lokt hoisted himself up, dizzily pushing himself off the ground. When had he fallen? He watched Krelnel lift Aiken up by his armour, legs dangling in the air. Faint wisps of rage curtailed off Krelnel’s swollen shoulders. Physical manifestation of his anger.

He had only ever seen him like this once before.

The crowd of onlookers stood still. Not daring to make a sound. Completely paralysed in the presence of matchless strength. They had only known his reputation by name. And his years spent as a drunk had only obscured this fact. But here he was. In his true form. A war hero’s might.

“-aler!”

A bolt of blue broke out from behind the crowd, rushing from the direction of the gate.

“The inspectors! They've come early! The Scale-”

Hanley stopped in his tracks, breath caught in his throat as he saw Aiken- his Captain- suspended in the air by his shoulder.

“What is this?”

Hanley breathed, looking at Krelnel warily, hesitating to step forward. His hand wavered to his sword as he looked at Aiken.

Krelnel turned his neck stiffly, flicking his giant eye down at Hanley.

“The inspectors are not due for a few hours, are they not?”

“One came early. He did. The Scaler.”

Hanley answered quickly, licking his lips nervously. What happened? Why was Captain- Would he have to fight Krelnel? He gulped, praying it wouldn't come to that.

Krelnel closed his eye and nodded, releasing his grip, letting Aiken fall to the ground. So the inspectors have arrived. Yvain.

That changes things.

“I’m disappointed, Aiken. Have you not a shred of dignity? Perhaps your father’s only failure is where you are concerned.”

Aiken lifted his head, looking up at Krelnel as he swallowed his pejoratives. Krelnel was not one so quick to violence. But he had set him off. An unfortunate miscalculation. He straightened himself, hand wobbling as he adjusted his glasses. There was no point in making it any worse than he had to.

Krelnel looked down at Aiken, challenging him to respond. When it was clear he wasn’t going to, he nodded, turning back and walking over to Lokt.

“It’s time to go.”

“What?”

Because of one human? What should he care what the inspectors think?

Lokt's’ clouded expression hardened to a sneer as he opened his mouth.

“I co-”

Krelnel shook his head, leaning in close as his voice deepened.

“I know you still have business here, but this takes precedence. The Scaler is here. He may recognise you. Take the second gate and leave Vandryl. For your own safety.”

“I’m not a child. I can handle one human.”

Bleh shook his head.

“Yes, you are not a child anymore. But you’re Roseate's son.”

“Her last living son.”

“And I am telling you to go.”

---

Lokt grit his teeth.

He called him Thief. Him. Anger bubbled through him, tinting his vision red. He was different from the others. They did not know better. But Aiken? He was there.

He knew.

Lokt sped faster, kicking mud behind him as he ran along the path.

Krelnel had been too easy on him. And he had been angry for the wrong reason. Roseate? His mother? She abandoned them. Why should anyone care for such a selfish person?

Vandryl was far off now, out of his line of sight. Yet he was still trapped. This tyrannical city, with its great walls, caged him. Suffocating. Like he wanted to be there. Like he had a choice. Home. Ridiculous. Has Krelnel forgotten so soon? Even someone like him?

His boots squelched noisily as he stormed down the mud road, his cloak dragging behind him. Lokt squinted at the sun. That inconsiderate sun. His face reddened as a blistering heat bubbled from his chest, spreading down his arms and legs. He had to do something.

His pace quickened. Where was he going? His skin itched. He had to do something.

Where was he going?

He ran past a familiar tree, its crooked arms beckoned him forward. Into the forest.

She was here. She was close. That human.

She was one of them. Those belligerent, greedy creatures. How could he stand sharing space with her? That one of them had taken up residence so close. Even breathing the same air as them was indictable- no more.

Wrath balled his fists as he stepped up to the tree. What was he going to do? Kick her out?

Like he had just been?

Lokt didn’t know. All he knew was-

Anger.