The shouted argument rose up, immediately, after Srúta shouted down the stairs that the newcomer was not welcome. It sounded like a well-worn and trodden argument, one where the wheels of the anger immediately found their groove and turned along the same tracks as they always had.

Srúta continued berating the man downstairs as he walked towards the staircase and descended to the ground floor.

Faye and Gavan remained on the upper level, watching from above.

From what Faye could gather, the man downstairs was a recent arrival to Srúta’s Hamlet, but the old man himself had taken a dislike to the man.

“Your people want my services!” the man screamed.

“I don’t care what they want, you’re not welcome!”

“What for?! What could we have done to you?”

The old hamlet leader let out an almighty snort and threw up his hands. “As if you don’t know!”

Things took a turn for the worse. The man that had been arguing with Srúta suddenly charged forward, his hands outstretched for the old man’s neck. The newcomer was much taller than the hamlet leader and was able to get to him in only a stride and wrap his thin fingers around the old man’s throat.

Faye swore. She grabbed the banister and jumped over.

She vaulted it easily and dropped on top of the struggling men. The impact knocked them down in a tangle of limbs and cursing.

The angry newcomer had taken the brunt of Faye’s weight as she dropped to the ground floor, and was laid on his back, groaning.

Srúta spluttered and coughed, then pointed a bony finger at her. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

She got to her feet and looked down at the man. “Stopping him from squeezing the life out of you. Don’t like the idea of watching someone get choked out in front of me.” She turned to the other man, who was watching her with wary eyes, having now sat up.

“Who’re you, then?” he said, “haven’t seen you in here before.”

“An adventurer,” she said, tapping the pommel of her sword for emphasis.

To his credit, the man just blinked, then looked up with an apologetic expression. “Ah.”

Gavan descended the stairs in a much more ordinary way. The newcomer looked up at him and sighed. “I’m not usually one to cause trouble—”

“Pah!” Srúta exclaimed. He was rubbing his throat with one hand and holding himself off the floor with the other. He had waved off the help of the people that had come rushing in when Faye had broken up the assault.

She ignored him now.

“Go on,” she encouraged the man.

“But, he’s refusing out of… of… spite! I can’t understand why he would say no.”

Faye raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the old man, who scowled and looked away. “Does it have something to do with you grabbing him by the neck?”

“What? No! I told you; I’ve never done that before.”

“In our experience,” Gavan said, his quiet voice nonetheless cutting through the room clearly, “those that resort to that type of violence are rarely… newcomers to it.”

The man looked at the mage, then down at the floor.

“Pah, look at him,” Srúta spat out, “pathetic! No, let me tell you. It has nothing to do with him assaulting me, but you had better believe it’s another reason to add to the list. No, it’s that we don’t want a family like his here.”

Faye frowned. “What’s wrong with his family?”

The man would not look at her, now, and Srúta started coughing. So, it fell to one of the young women trying to help the old man to say something.

“We’ve heard them,” she said, looking up at Faye, “arguing, screaming at each other, in the night. There’s no love in that relationship. It ain’t healthy, and it ain’t welcome here.”

He got to his feet, rubbing his face with both hands, facing away from Faye and Gavan. She watched him curiously. He spun on the spot.

“Fine. I’ll admit that my wife and I do not get on well. But that should hardly matter. We’re raising our daughter as best we can. If these bastards don’t let us stay here, we’ll end up dying on the road!”

Then, she saw it. Faye looked into his eyes and instead of the burning anger that she had thought smouldered there from the moment he entered the manor she saw the true emotion: desperation. But he did not break out in tears, in fact, he kept his emotion in check, mostly.

“All we asked was a chance to work for a home. A place to raise our daughter away from the monsters.”

“What are you doing out in the wilderness, anyway?” Faye asked.

“Wilderness?” he scoffed. “I haven’t been into the wilderness a day in my life.”

“And you think we want vile city folk taking up valuable space in our homes?!” Srúta interjected. “I knew the moment I saw you that you were a good-for-nothing, and it was only proved right by the screeching you and your wife engage in.”

“Enough!” Faye called. “Srúta, I appreciate you’re angry, but please let him speak… I realise I didn’t ask your name.”

The man grunted and said, “Perth, I’m called. My daughter’s Stár. Wife’s Tewn.”

Faye nodded, “I’m Faye. Now, Perth, you mentioned a service the people here would need?”

The man nodded and waved a hand. “Aye, I’m a locksmith by trade. I make locks that the best thieves can’t pick.”

“Seems like a valuable trade,” Gavan said, looking at the old man, Srúta, as he scowled at Perth. “Why do you say you don’t want him here?”

“Can’t trust him. Or his wife. No place for scroungers.”

Perth’s face reddened. He stepped forward, but Faye put her hand on her sword and gave him a meaningful look. He caught her eye, then paused and carefully stepped backward, though he did not look any calmer.

“Srúta, I don’t understand,” Gavan said, respectfully, “the man has a trade, one I imagine you have yet to fill. Surely, even a hamlet needs locks. Why can’t you take him and his family in?”

The room was tense. The people in the doorways tried to keep quiet, but they could hear their whispers and shuffling feet at the old man decided what he would say. Faye watched him practically chew it over, his mouth working as he thought about it.

Eventually, he opened his mouth.

“He is not a locksmith.”

Faye frowned. “But, why would he lie about his trade? The moment you asked him to make a lock..”

“No,” Srúta interrupted, “that’s not what I meant. He might make a lock, but he ain’t no Locksmith.”

This time, Faye heard the subtle emphasis the old man had placed on the profession. He was talking about a class, not a profession at all. She turned to Perth and tilted her head a little, inviting him to say something.

The man scowled. “I’m a locksmith, what does it matter if I don’t have the class?”

The old hamlet leader snorted and threw up a hand. “Oh, for heavens’… it’s not the fact you lack the Locksmith class, you bloody fool, it’s the fact that your actual class is Thief! Why would we invite you into our community?”

Perth’s face bleached of colour for a second, but he flushed red a moment later. His eyes promised murder, so this time Faye did actually unsheathe her sword. As it came loose of the scabbard, she encased it in mana and ignited it, as well, so it looked like it had been flaming inside of the scabbard.

She levelled it at Perth’s chest, bringing him to an immediate halt, fear and anger warring in his eyes.

“Now,” she said, “being accused of that must have been a shock. But, I will not let you harm him.”

Turning to keep Perth in sight, but addressing Srúta, Faye then asked him to clarify what he meant.

“He came here,” Srúta said, standing half-hidden behind her, “telling us that he was a tradesman, with a decent trade and was willing to set up here. Well, it sounded great, other than the fact that he practically fled the damned city. He’s bringing his problems here. With a class like his, I have no doubt that we’ll have angry former jewellery owners showing up in weeks’ time, trying to find their stolen belongings!”

Perth muttered something and shook his head. His eyes were wide, but he did not refute the old man’s words. He was still angry, he was clenching his fists so hard they shook, but he was not threatening to attack. Faye lowered her sword, but she left the blade lit as a warning.

“Gavan,” she called.

The mage stayed quiet a moment, but then he addressed the old man.

“In the villages and hamlets, the word of the village head is often law. However, we would be remiss not to point out that even if his class is as you say, it is not illegal.”

“Of course it ain’t,” the old man grumbled. “Half the nobles’d go to prison if that were the case! Bah.”

“However,” Gavan continued, as if the old man had not spoken, “Perth has assaulted the village leader. That is grounds for Srúta’s wishes to be upheld.”

Perth’s anger drained away. He deflated, almost. His posturing was gone, and he looked at the floor. He was quiet, despite the satisfied grunt of happiness Srúta had no problem letting out.

“What if…,” Perth said, quietly, still looking at the floor, “what if my daughter stayed here, with her mother? I’ll leave. But, just let them stay.”

Srúta’s scowl deepened. “What good would that serve, man? She’s not got a trade. Would a city woman know how to fit into the work around here? Would she even want to?”

Perth flinched, shaking his head. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Before Srúta could say anything else, the woman by his side laid a hand on his arm. He looked at her, then back at the distraught man. With a sigh, he lifted his head to the ceiling.

“Ugh, girl, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“You know it’s the right thing to do, grandpa.”

Srúta brought his head back down, then stalked toward Perth. “Now, listen ‘ere. My granddaughter has more heart than I do, that’s her prerogative — she’s young, she’ll find out the truth of the world one day — but for now, that heart is tellin’ her that you should be allowed to stay. And, by the gods, my heart tells me to listen to my granddaughter.”

Perth was confused. Faye could see it written across his face.

“But… what about?”

Srúta lifted a finger into the man’s face. “Oh, don’t you worry, sonny. You’re going to be so fucking busy, you won’t have a spare second to steal anything. You hear me?”

“I wouldn’t, not if you took us in, gave us somewhere to live…”

“And I swear to all listening,” Srúta added, sternly, “if trouble follows you here, I’ll have you out on your arse before you can say anything. You understand me?”

“Yes, of course!” Perth said. It looked like he had started to believe what the old man was telling him.

Faye let the flames licking the metal of her blade to extinguish themselves. She pulled the remains of the mana into herself again.

Srúta waved for Perth to go with one of the men at the side of the room, who would set up the man and his family in temporary housing until they could get somewhere more permanent. Then, when they were mostly alone again, he came back over to Faye and Gavan.

“That was… interesting,” Faye said. “What really changed your mind?”

The old man stared at her for a second, then his face split into a wicked grin. “Saw through that, did ye?”

Faye shrugged. “It was too easy. You’ve said no how many times, then suddenly you were okay with him?” She narrowed her eyes and looked at his throat. “I’m guessing the strangling wasn’t part of the plan?”

Srúta grumbled and rubbed at his neck. “Gods, no. Almost went back on me own plan. I wasn’t lying, my granddaughter was the one who came up with it. I was about to throw him out.”

Faye looked over at the young woman, who smiled at her. “Well, I’m glad there is some humanity here. Tell me, is Thief really his class?”

The old man nodded. “Aye, it is.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s a speciality skill, given me by the system for operating this place,” the man said, waving a hand around. “Anyone that asks to join the hamlet automatically gives information, they don’t always know they do, of course.”

Gavan frowned at that. “That’s… a fine line.”

“Aye, but it’s on the right side of the law, don’t you worry.”

Faye had to assume that if it was illegal, Gavan would have known and would have said something more concrete about it. As it was, she guessed it made sense to set up something that the system would be able to help filter prospective candidates through.

“Well,” Srúta said, “I’ve got a lot to be getting on with, and there’s nothing else requires your help.”

Faye and Gavan exchanged a look, then nodded to the old man.

“Fair enough,” Faye said, “we will leave you to your work.”

They turned and strode toward the door back outside. Just before they crossed the threshold, the old man shouted out.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Faye looked over her shoulder, but did not say anything and swept out of the manor.

“Took his time,” Gavan murmured. “Was tempted to jam ice in his doorway.”

She laughed, the image of the old man trying to get back inside his office but for the mana-dense ice in his way highly amusing.

It was not until they were back to the trail leading to the cultivated land the road that Perth caught up to them.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said, as they stopped to speak. “I really appreciate what you did.”

“You were very close to murdering that man,” she said, “I was protecting you both from a mistake.”

Perth nodded, then looked over his shoulder before turning back and whispering.

“I would appreciate it if you were able to help me one more time, as well.”