Keziah looked at the carnage before him. He was used to seeing — and dealing — death, but it never brought him pleasure. He detested unnecessary murder, as it was something that could never be undone. Life was the ultimate price that was rarely justifiably paid. He also hated doing anything to the bodies. They could no longer defend themselves, and it sickened him to think of disrespecting them. Even if the person was the most heinous criminal, it still felt wrong to Keziah.

Taking the coin off of dead bodies or other necessary items to survive didn't bother him as much. He placed the well-being of the living above that of the dead. He drew the line on the intent. If there was anything that could even suggest disrespect toward the dead bodies, then he was strongly against it. He had to take the coin from quite a few of his enemies when he was younger and was trying to survive, but when he could learn something from the marks on the assassin that was sent after Annette, he couldn't do it. It would mean undressing the corpse just to satisfy his curiosity, and he couldn't justify that to himself.

The bard must have finally noticed him for the first time. He stood up from his half-kneeling position and addressed Keziah, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Keziah, standing at the end of the alley that meets with the main street, raised an eyebrow at that. "Who am I? That's a rather bold first question to ask after murdering five people." He crossed his arms. "You should probably start with 'let me explain' or something like that. I could easily report you to the authorities, you know," Keziah knew that there was a chance that any watchmen station or patrol in the vicinity of Avinea could already have his likeness posted on the wall, but the bard didn't know that. It was safe to bluff for the moment.

The bard studied Keziah more carefully now. And so did Keziah to him. The young man was trying to hide an injury to his right arm and some damage to the torso. He was holding the dagger in his left, but at the start of the fight, he was attacking with his right. He also slightly winced every time he moved.

"You could have, but you didn't," the bard replied. "And you didn't attack me yet. What do you want?" His eyes now looked more like those of a cornered beast, anxious, but ready to strike.

"Only that which is logical. An explanation. I don't exactly pride myself on delivering justice to the have-nots, but if I'm already here, it would be a shame to just let it go," replied Keziah.

"Then you are late. Justice has already been delivered. By me eliminating these targets."

Keziah noticed the use of "target" instead of "people" or "sailors". "Has it? And who judged them guilty and deserving of their life taken away? You? I know that they weren't the most friendly of the bunch, but death? I don't know about that."

"You don't need to know. And you won't know. This is my final answer. I can't disclose more." The bard looked to be steadying himself for Keziah's answer. "Do with it what you want, but be prepared to pay with your own life if you dare to get information out of me."

"Hmm. I don't think I will be dying anytime soon, boy. Especially not by the hand of a half-fledged, idealistic, and injured brat who is but a pawn to his masters."

"You do already know, then?"

"What do these lordlings like to say? 'Knowledge is power'? Well, then you can say that I'm more powerful than most. But no, I'm afraid I can only speculate as to the nature of you and what you are doing," Keziah calmly replied.

"Then leave me to my work and speculate some further, just away from here."

"You know, ever since I was a kid, whenever someone said 'no', it just made me want it more," Keziah smirked, and stood in a more ready position, knees slightly bent.

"Then, for your own sake, I hope there is more to your arrogance than just provoking words."

The cloud of shadows grew stronger once more around the young blonde. He must have really used a lot of his mana earlier because now it did little to disorientate Keziah. Maybe a lesser-skilled opponent would still struggle with so little vision, but not Keziah. He waited for the bard to strike, confident in his ability to counter it, and trying to wear his mana reservoirs even further down.

The man who claimed that he killed the sailors in the name of justice must have realized that as well after seeing Keziah standing still. He approached the adventurer quickly, faking a stabbing attack and aiming to kick him in the side of his knee, trying to bring him down. Keziah didn't fall for it and instead stepped into the bard, calling his bluff, and delivered a quick punch to his face.

The blonde fell down on his back, his nose twisted. The shadows immediately dispersed and left a still-dark but less dense blackness. The light of the moon was allowed to shine in more, offering some respite for the ever-bigger pupils, trying to discern the sights.

Keziah looked at the lying bard, then at his fist, then at the bard again. "Well, this was easier than I thought."

Just as he was about to dust off his clothes, the young man regained consciousness with some coughs. He started standing up — which Keziah allowed — and gaining more stability in his legs.

"You still wanna do this?" asked Keziah. "You can just explain to me why you did this and spare yourself some pain, you know?" He pointed at the bodies.

"The trial is done in the shadows. It must not be revealed what we do…" he spoke it like a mantra that was repeated a multitude of times.

Keziah noticed a heaviness about the bard once he spoke those words. A load on his shoulders that was more than just wounds and mana exhaustion. He didn't know why, but apparently whatever the bard was doing must have been something he dedicated his life to. Something he truly believed in.

Or it was something he couldn't escape.

"In the shadows, you say? Is everyone that is a part of that 'we' also a Light mage that has the affinity for shadows? It's really rare after all. Do you just pick anyone with this affinity?"

"Mock all you want. There is… no point… in trying to make you… understand," he said between breaths.

Keziah thought to do with the bard. He clearly wasn't going to give up. Nor was he going to tell him his reasons for killing the sailors. He would probably sooner die than break whatever code his masters put into his head. With no options to avoid further bloodshed, he was left with only one course of action.

"Well, have a good night, then. Good luck with whatever it is you are doing. Hopefully, you are not going to cut their heads off for proof of killing or anything like that. I might take issue with that then." He waved at the bard like it was the most normal thing in the world to do and turned around to leave.

"Stop!" yelled the young man.

"Hmm, what is it?" asked Keziah, turning around again.

"You can't leave. You have witnessed me delivering a trial. The shame of letting someone go after that is too high. I have to kill you to rectify that mistake, or you have to kill me, to punish that mistake. There is no other way."

"I can think of a few other ways to end it…" he said under his breath. Noticing that the bard wasn't going to let go, he continued, "Look, you aren't gonna kill me, and I don't feel like killing you. Let's just forget it happened and move on yeah? It was my mistake to interfere, to begin with." He then quietly added, "Damn this curiosity of mine…"

"If you are not going to attack, then I will," said the bard, his breath strained. He moved to attack once again, following his words.

Keziah shook his head in resignation. "Haha, have it your way, then. Don't say I didn't warn you."

He once again rushed the bard. This time, though, it wasn't one step, but a few yards. The increase in the distance didn't do much to cause the bard to be less surprised, but it did give him more time to react. Or so he thought because a few sparks jumped on Keziah's legs and he was on him as soon as he blinked. With a punch to the gut, followed by a leg sweep, the young man was on the ground again. Keziah kneeled, with both of his knees on the bard's arms, and was ready to knock him out for a longer period. He still didn't feel like killing him.

He stopped himself when the face of the still-conscious bard was that of relief, and not panic or resignation. He was ready to die. He was expecting it. It's like all the heaviness previously about him was suddenly gone, replaced by bliss and a weird sense of freedom. Keziah stopped his hand, and stood up, cursing his curiosity and annoying sense of compassion in equal measure.