"Ahh, whatever! I don't care anymore." Keziah stood up from the bard and scratched the back of his head. "Do what you want."

The young man, awaiting what was to be his death, raised his head from the ground and blinked a few times, looking at Keziah. "You are not going to kill me? You are showing mercy even though you won the duel?"

"I would hardly call that a duel, kid." Keziah snickered. "And I've been wanting to give you mercy from the start. You just wouldn't listen."

The bard looked to be thinking over something that must have been confusing to him, given his expression. He rolled to the side, then started standing up slowly, supporting himself on his knees. Once he was up, he didn't bother hiding his injuries anymore as his right arm was on his stomach — the place where Keziah hit him.

"You would give me life when you could give me death. I owe that life to you now. It is in the Code."

"Of course, it is…" said Keziah, resigned.

"This gift I will work to repay. My duties… will be joined by paying back to you what I've been given."

Keziah grabbed his forehead in exasperation. "Look, I don't want whatever it is you are suggesting. I'm not a slaver, nor do I ever intend to be one. Just… go back to your… duties and let's both forget we were ever here, alright?"

"You wanted to know the justification for this trial, yes?" asked the bard, completely ignoring Keziah. "Now that you've become my Ashish it would be acceptable to disclose that information, I think…"

"...I'm not even gonna ask what that word means." Keziah crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't even care about those guys being killed anymore, but sure, let's hear your reasoning. Maybe I will at least feel better about myself…"

"These men were becoming quite infamous along the towns on the Rim in Minyth and Thabinat. Went from town to town and trouble and mysterious disappearances followed them. They would often stir trouble in taverns and leave the next day, rarely staying in one place for longer. The disappearances always happened during their stay in specific towns. It would never get connected to them because the investigations would start days after they have already left and they used multiple names, making it hard to track them. The law had their hands tied, with poor communication between communities and with no incriminating proof, they couldn't accuse or apprehend any suspects. That's when my brotherhood got involved. Them being relatively minor offenders, they assigned me to this case, which I have been working on for the past two months. I tracked them down here, after learning that they were working as sailors now, mainly on the eastern coast of Midarior. Possibly escaping any law enforcement that might await them on the coast of Minyth and Thabinat. I found them, and I tried them, giving them a chance to prove their innocence by combat. They failed," he finished his long explanation that bordered on being a short story. "Will that suffice?"

"It will have to 'cause I have the feeling that is all I'm getting." Keziah sighed. "The fact that whatever organization you are part of feels it has the power to judge and execute whoever they feel is guilty of something is a little concerning. I'm not gonna lie."

"The Masters of the Withered Mastiff would never act without absolu—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Keziah put up his hand as if to stop the bard from speaking further. "Tell me at least what's your name?"

"Scoyl Vardo, Ashish."

"Don't call me that. It's honestly kinda creepy. My name is Keziah. I'm telling you it so that you know who to avoid in the future, got it? Just finish whatever you need to do here and let's be in our separate ways."

"That won't be possible, Ashish," said Scoyl with a straight face.

"... What?" Keziah blinked.

"I'm indebted to you. I have to be by your side until the debt can be considered repaid."

Keziah palmed his face and voicelessly screamed inside his head. "I'm… going to sleep. Just… don't go into my bed. I'm uncomfortable enough as is."

"Yes, Ashish!"

Keziah grumbled to himself in annoyance and headed back to his bed. This time he decided to use the normal entrance to the inn. He walked past a few remaining guests that were half-asleep after the evening of drinking and had either no strength or desire to go back home. The innkeeper gave him a confused look, having not seen him leave, as he was slowly cleaning the tables. He gave him a nod nonetheless, still remembering how Keziah saved him from the trouble of cleaning after a brawl. Keziah climbed to bed, truly tired, and fell asleep quickly, having no strength to ask Augustus about him, not warning him about the presence of another mage. His boots still on, he slumbered into a dream, the kind of dream he was already used to, but which made him feel unease quite frequently.

*****

Keziah was standing on hard, flat, rocky ground, a dagger in his hand. His whole body felt in pain, lots of bruises covered his arms and probably even more were all over his body, but he couldn't see them under his loose linen shirt and trousers. He looked through the eyes of whoever the body belonged to, although he had a suspicion as to who it was.

The owner of the body put his arms forward, the blade of the dagger pointing sideways and slightly downward. Looking ahead of him, he spotted a man with a long beard and mustache that stretched over the beard and beyond his face, almost to his chest. His hair was mostly white, with some brown and pepper still remaining on top of his long hair. His clothes weren't ornate or elaborate, but still somehow made an impression of power. A red robe, tied at the waist by a wide leather belt to which multiple pouches were attached, reached his ankles. His shoes resembled something that an older woman, walking only around a house, might, rather than the common leather boots, worn by most people in the lands of the former Empire. They covered only the soles and sides of his foot and were made of a much softer material than leather. His trousers were slightly baggy, similar to what the child, whose body he was seeing through, was wearing.

"Three duties of a recruit," said the older man, before quickly dashing towards the young child with his daggers before him.

"O-obey…" stumbled the recruit, struggling to defend against the vicious — although non-lethal — attacks of who was probably his teacher or master. "Observe…"

"Too slow. Too much indecision," flatly stated the elder, dressed in gray-and-red robes. He struck the recruit across the head with his palm, so fast that the child wasn't even able to react. "Again. If you can't even learn the basics, then I might have to convince the Elders we shouldn't have taken you in."

"No! I… I will learn. I am learning," replied the child.

"Are you? Talking back is the opposite of 'obey'. At this rate, you will never join the main group," said the older man, and started attacking again. The recruit defended clumsily. Some hits broke through his guard and struck painfully on his body. The child struggled for breath while still cautiously waiting for the next attacks.

"I don't hear anything, boy," the master reprimanded.

"O-obey, observe, lis—"

He couldn't finish as the next attack, once again too fast for him to react, struck him across the head. "Too slow," said the master.

Keziah felt every blow the child felt and couldn't believe that someone so young could endure so much. Some emotions also leaked from his host to him, but it was faint and fleeting, not as strong as the physical pain. He could only scantily feel desperation and despair.

The "lesson" continued for some two hours, during which Keziah was trapped in the body of the young recruit. The dream ended along with it and made him wake up. Surprisingly, Annie was already on her feet, her ear placed to the door of their room. Intrigued by this, Keziah rubbed his eyes and slowly stood up. Looking out of the window, he noticed the sun was already up, and must have been for a little while.

He started to approach Annette but was promptly stopped by her. She put her finger to her mouth, signaling him to be quiet. Surprised, but happy, with her confidence, he joined her at the door, with little, short steps to make as little noise as possible. He put his ear to the door as well.

He did not like what he heard.