"Don't approach him. The guards are on their way," the demanding voice sounded faint to Davir's ears.

A hand hooked his shoulders and he felt himself being rocked, the side of his face rubbing on grating surface. He was lying face down. As he turned around, his eyelids burned orange with light. Then the rush of that dawn's memories hit him and his eyes popped open. As he sprang upright, his spine seemed to stiffen, as if the grip he had felt on them before he passed out still lingered.

A crowd where wreathed a thick mixture of anger and fear stood before him. His neighbor, Gretta, stood by his side, holding a decorative spear. "I have warned you," she yelled when a chubby man in the front row stepped towards them. Her hand shot to the side to point at Davir, almost slapping his face.

"Pay attention to his uniform. Decide if you want to lynch a man of law and deal with the consequences. I wouldn't do that if I was any of you. The guard is on its way. We are civilized and will let the law settle the situation."

Davir stared back at the body imprisoned between the walls behind him. A towel had been sloppily thrown over it to hide the horror of it. But blooded limbs still overflew the cover, and the bowels had unrolled and fallen down a thick layer of dirt gathered at the base of the gap. Just the oppressive odor caused Davir's own bowels to stir.

Preferring not to think of the outcome of the situation had Gretta not been there to intercede for him, he recognized he had the upper hand over the crowd as long as they remained mostly fearful and scandalized. Davir scanned his limbs for any signs of blood. Finding himself clean of it, he addressed the crowd.

"If you aren't out of your wits, you'd be able to see it would have been impossible for me to kill a man and stay clean of any blood," he stated, advancing to give the clear impression of downplaying the threat they represented. "Listen to reason, listen to her." He did feel the crowd more doubtful. "Thankfully, the only voice of reason around."

Purposefully, he let the silence linger for a moment, then he yelled, "I heard the screams of this man being attacked by murderers this dawn. Came here because I am loyal to this uniform. But I was attacked. Visibly, I could have perished. How many of you had heard the screams but didn't dare come to this man's rescue?"

The crowd buzzed with murmurs. More doubt. Good. "And Now you intend to let out the frustrations of your cowardice by killing me. Step forward and do it now. But remember that you are killing, too, those I won't be able to protect. If you judge me guilty of observing my duties, step in with your sharpest blade." As expected, no one did.

Davir knew the inaction wasn't only because of his words. If one unlucky man decided to face him and the rest didn't follow, they knew they had little chance against a trained green man.

Horse hoofbeats clopped on the way at the end of the alley that opened to the streets. The crowd parted to free the way to the guard patrol that had been summoned there. Captain Ethyan led four guards behind him, all armed.

"All of you, leave," he ordered. Because the crowd had hardly budged, he unsheathed a staff and used it to mindlessly strike anyone unlucky enough to find themselves at close range. His guards mimicked him, cries and shouts echoing from the scattering gathering. They scrambled and ultimately abandoned the scene of the crime.

"I will take this from here," Davir told Gretta. "Ancients pay you."

"They can lynch you as it suits them after you pay me my due," she murmured. Her neutral expression quickly morphed into sheer, and she stepped forward. "Captain Ethyan." The tip of her fingers cupped the captain's chin, causing him to flinch; his face creased with discomfort.

"Gretta, dear," he muttered.

There was no dwindling of her enthusiasm. "We are beyond happy you came soon." She spoke half to the captain, half to those still gathered near the crime scene peering at the intervention of the patrol. "I feared I wouldn't be able to avoid a lynching in broad daylight," she said. "You must know Davir Her Arun from the barracks."

Captain Ethyan did not respond. He was looking past Gretta, at the spot where the victim lay. He advanced. But halted as the horrifying sight of the men's bowels was revealed to him.

Davir, reading him from head to toe, could feel the captain's nausea. When he removed the fabric covering the victim's head, the captain had to repress a gasp. He turned away, bent to vomit a yellow trail of junk, exerting visible effort to stare back at those still watching, eyes all ruddy. Davir knew the red eyes hadn't been caused by the vomiting. The captain was crying.

"Gretta, dear, you should leave and let us work," he said, then addressed the guards of the patrol, "get all citizens out of here, please."

"I hope to see you soon." She sauntered away, graceful as if she was actively working not to let all the decay, horror, and dirt in the alley taint her carefully fabricated image. Same fit she had accomplished with her chambers.

Davir had understood right away the captain had wanted to be left alone with him. "I know the victim. He's—" he gulped, "was a close friend. Unfortunately, he was involved with the organization of illegal combats. To spare his family from the pain, it's best not to report this to the barracks of the city. Lest all the suspicions will fall under your shoulders."

"I'm innocent."

"But will the barracks believe you are? For all I know, Brigadier Kerm has you under his watch. Now for your own good, I know the culprit. Well, suspect I know. But regardless, as your patrol captain, I won't ask you for a report of this mishap. No investigation of the circumstances of death will be carried out. But you will investigate the likely culprit undercover and report to me: Anya Dalyr's."

Davir knew the captain was probably protecting the victim's family as much as he was protecting himself. If the captain knew the likely culprit, it suited Davir to have a name fall on his lap effortlessly. But he wouldn't be anyone's patsy. Shaken as the captain was, this was Davir's best occasion to gamble. "Perhaps the barracks will turn against me. But what difference would it make if I report the incident? You mentioned the Brigadier already distrusts me."

"You risk prison," the captain spat out.

"And I suppose you risk nothing if I inform the captain about the murderer," Davir said.

"As for me, I have the name of the likely culprit, if the barracks are inclined to suspect me. Ancients pay you for providing me with the means to cast out any doubts on that matter. What do you have in your favor?"

"Bastard's excrement." Ethyan's grip tightened around the pommel of his sword.

Davir pursed his lips, relishing in the anger radiating off the captain. "Won't contradict you if you think so of me. But I wouldn't go down a path of violence if I were you. I have my interests you have yours. We prioritize what we value most and meet halfway?"

"I am offering you the easiest way out. What else do you want from me?"

"Why is Brigadier Kerm watching me?"

Ethyan huffed. Glanced over his shoulders. "There's a theory that there are Gulgra in Ceres who have been murdering citizens. Brigadier Kerm is convinced you are one of them. "

He did speak. "And you?"

"What does it matter what I think?"

Davir shrugged. "As much as me investigating Anya Dalyr's does to you."

"I haven't taken time to think about you, honestly. But if Brigadier Kerm's theory is right, then you see it by yourself. Because Anya Dalyr's is one of the suspected Gulgra."

"That means the Brigadier is behind her as well."

"It's to me you will report," Ethyan came on strong. "I have asked your questions. Now you will do as I ask: You'll investigate this Ancients forsaken noblewoman and get rid of this body before mid-solar arc today."

Davir stared at the captain in silence for a moment. Purposefully to cast doubt about his next move. Just to assess what he could let out next. "Alright," he finally said. "The sooner you leave the area, the quicker I can deal with the body." The thought of it almost made Davir gag, but Davir needed to keep his posture of assurance.

Ethyan nodded, pained. He turned to his guards, and soon the area was deserted. Davir turned to the body. One step forward and his body seemed to protest against all of it. The drained flesh, the smell, and the sight of horror were still engraved in Davir's mind. He stepped back. Far enough that the sight of the body left some mind space for him to reflect clearly. He counted. He had earned fifteen silver from his work in the domain, plus thirty from Sir Salmior. Twenty of it all already belonged to Gretta, theoretically. Because Davir would ask her to track Anya Dalyr's, ten more of it would go to her. Regretting he didn't ask more money from that old bastard of Salmior Goluna's, he thought he could afford to pay a boy in the borough three silver to deal with the body.

Davir left the alleys and approached the first girl who didn't turn her gaze away from him. Nut-brown-skinned, clad in greenish new garments that seemed stolen when one inspected the unkempt short hair and the rusty earrings she wore. But when he finished what he thought was a great deal, the girl, looked at him defiantly and said, "five is the minimum I can take."

He was already late for his duties in the barracks. He paid, pained to know that six silver was all he had left.