The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I started walking away from the statue and towards the building behind it. That strange sense that I had trouble quantifying, the human instinct for when another human was watching them, started to scream at me to check my surroundings. Though it was extremely dark, when I checked my peripherals I quickly spotted something strange on a nearby roof to my left, around seventy meters away from my position. At first, I thought maybe my eyes were tricking me and making a chimney look like a person, but then it moved, and I jumped back, drawing my rifle.

As I was jumping, the figure snapped audibly and jerked with motion. An almost imperceptibly short time later, a heavy iron ball whipped through the spot where I had just been standing and smashed into the ground, destroying the stone path and leaving a small crater near its impact site. Over a century of reflex and practice moved through my arms to point my weapon at my target, and then my finger tightened around a trigger that wasn’t there. I quickly realized my mistake when my mind caught up with my arms, but the figure had already begun running along the roof by that point, forcing me to re-adjust my aim before firing. Magic reached inside the barrel of the musket, and a moment later my ears were briefly deafened by its bark.

Small sparks flew from the spot where I hit the target, the upper shoulder, but it didn’t slow down. As soon as my reflexes allowed after firing, I popped the back of the barrel open and began sticking a second bullet inside. At the same time, I levitated the two remaining bullets and their packets of powder along my wrist, something that I should have done as soon as I drew the weapon but failed to think of. Within a few seconds the weapon was ready to fire again, just as the figure on the roof jumped off in my direction. I aimed up, tracking its movements through the smoky haze from the first shot, and fired again.

The impact of the bullet threw off the target’s orientation in the air, but I wasn’t taking any chances about how quickly they’d recover and used magic to jump back around ten meters as I loaded the third bullet. Even after falling almost four stories onto hard ground, the target wasn’t unconscious, and it shoved itself to the side to put the base of the statue between itself and me as a form of cover. I managed to tag it again with the third shot just before it got into cover though, ripping apart one of its calves and drawing out a pained grunt.

One shot left, I thought, fifteen meter range, even with a smoothbore I can easily hit the head. As I aimed at the probable points where the target might peek out, the situation at hand rushed back into the forefront of my mind. Wait a minute, I thought, this is probably someone who works for the city. I’m not a criminal, I’m trying to turn myself in safely and explain things. In my haste, and out of habit, I had reacted to lethal force with lethal force without thinking. I’ll aim center mass, low, I decided, but before that, I need to try to talk them down.

“This is a misunderstanding,” I said, using my Uwrish accent. My voice sounded muffled, probably because my ears were still ringing from the previous gunshots.

“I thought you people were too proud to use those weapons,” a female voice growled back.

“I’m not a Rehvite,” I said. “Like I said, this is a misunderstanding. I need somewhere safe where I can explain-”

“Oh you’ll be seytoydh explaining some things all right,” the woman snapped before I could finish my sentence. I saw movement on the right side of the statue, and then she rushed out from behind the left, her feint successful. In one step, she covered five meters, force magic pushing her ahead at incredible speeds, but not fast enough to beat my aim. Just as she passed the halfway point between us, the barrel of my musket centered on her stomach, and when her foot touched down at the ten meter point the black powder in the barrel ignited.

The flash of light from the gunshot revealed that the target was an expensive-looking gown of some kind that had a simple breastplate strapped over its upper section. At such close range, however, the breastplate wasn’t nearly hard enough to deflect a bullet, and I saw a fifteen-millimeter hole form in its lower portion, offset a few centimeters to the right. As soon as I felt the kick from the shot, I let go of the gun and kicked off the ground, dashing to the left and charging up my left hand with electricity. The target hadn’t anticipated the movement and ended up having to cancel her movement with a roll.

No weapons, I noted as the target rolled to her feet, grunting and cursing under her breath. I could have moved in, but I was trying to de-escalate the situation, so I just backed up a few more steps and prepared for a counterattack. Whatever I expected, it wasn’t what happened next, which was the target physically ripping the front half of her breastplate off and throwing it at me with enough force to cut a man’s head off. I ducked, allowing the spinning metal to fly over my head, then raised my right hand up to meet my opponent as she dashed at me, quickly igniting a powerful blast of light. For some reason, she too raised her arm at the last moment, blocking the light as if she knew it was coming.

My left hand quickly followed, ready to make contact and disable her, but her right hand came out and caught my fist. The electricity discharged, but she wasn’t affected, and I hopped back to buy myself time to think of another strategy. I didn’t have to though, because all the fight was out of her, and she appeared to be staring at me.

“Yuwniht?” she asked, her voice softer than before even though it was still a bit raspy and full of hints of restrained emotion. My new human instincts flared up and it felt like someone dumped cold water over my head, the adrenaline receding so quickly it gave me a minor headache. As I lowered my fists, I opened the left one and made an orb of light, illuminating both of us enough that we could see each other clearly.

At first, the woman’s face didn’t fit the one that I was expecting. It had so many faded scars that she almost looked like a female version of Yaavtey. Her hair, as well, was different than before, being almost fifty centimeters long and tied up in a simple ponytail behind her to keep it from her yellow eyes. There was just a moment where I thought that I might have been mistaken about who I was looking at, but then I saw the oldest scars, the ones that I had watched her put on herself with my knife, and I knew I was right about who I expected.

“Vaozey,” I said, letting the blanket drop off my head so she could see me clearly. There was silence as the seconds ticked by, and then some noise from the street pulled both of us back into the present.

“Put that out, and cover your head up,” she ordered, pointing to my hand. “Follow me inside before we draw any more attention, quickly.”

I was right about the building, it was a temple, just not a Rehvite one. Vaozey escorted me to the door, opened it for me, and then gestured for me to stand near the back of the entry room while she spoke to the receptionist. The woman behind the counter bore a resemblance to the priestess I had seen in Pehrihnk, complete with a semitransparent veil over her face, but seemed younger due to her body language and posture. As Vaozey approached the counter, she straightened up, as though being addressed by a superior.

“Zownayveht Svaaloyweyl, what is going on?” the receptionist asked nervously. “We heard loud noises, like rifle shots.”

“Is there a service going on right now?” Vaozey asked, ignoring her question.

“Um, yes, there is,” the receptionist replied. “We are holding a group prayer for the elderly tonight. Who is that?”

“Listen carefully,” Vaozey said. “I need you to get this man to a private room, out of sight of the main chamber. He is not dangerous to you, he will not harm you so long as you do not try to harm him. Send one of the aateyvaemz to my home to request that they bring the wagon here, and send another to pick up the rifle and breastplate from outside. I will address the attendees and explain things to calm them down.”

“Your gown,” the receptionist realized, seeing the blood from the gut shot I had inflicted on Vaozey.

“Focus!” Vaozey growled. “Tell me what I asked you to do.”

“Bring this man to a room and send someone to get the wagon from your house!” the receptionist chirped. “And someone needs to pick up a rifle and breastplate from outside.”

“Good,” Vaozey sighed. After a deep breath, she looked back and gestured for me to follow the receptionist. All three of us walked into the main chamber through the double doors at the back of the room, with Vaozey entering first and me going through last. There were around fifty humans strewn about, all looking in our direction. Most of them were visibly old with wrinkles and curled posture, but a few only had gray hair. Vaozey broke off to join them and the receptionist motioned for me to follow her, her movements tight and nervous. When we reached the back of the temple she picked a seemingly random door and opened it to reveal a small room with a table and chair inside, then gestured for me to enter and closed the door behind me.

For the next fifteen minutes, I sat and listened to Vaozey giving a sort of speech to the attendees of the temple, trying to ease their fears and answer questions they had. Some of the words were too muffled to make out through the door, but the gist of it was a series of lies about what had happened in the courtyard to make the situation sound like a prank by local children gone wrong. I was made out to be a vagrant who was nearby and aided Vaozey in chasing off the hooligans responsible for the ruckus. As the tension ratcheted down, the exchange between Vaozey and the attendees grew more casual and relaxed, with some laughter mixed in for good measure.

“May I enter?” the receptionist asked from outside the door, her voice so much louder than the muffled talking I was listening to that I almost jumped in surprise.

“Yes,” I replied, unsure of why she needed permission. The receptionist audibly took a breath, then opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her once she was inside. In her hands was a mug of water and a bowl of soup. We stared at each other for a moment, her breathing doing a very poor job of concealing her apprehension, and then she placed the food and drink down on the table.

“Zownayveyt Svaaloyweyl’s wagon should be arriving within ten minutes,” she told me stiffly. “You appear quite exhausted sir, please help yourself to this awvyb.” Right, there was free food given out at temples, I recalled, reaching out for the water carefully so as not to reveal my prisoner uniform. I was more thirsty than hungry, and seconds later the mug was empty. Good thing soup is mostly liquid, I thought with a mental shrug, reaching for the bowl. The intense look of the receptionist stopped me just short of picking it up, and I examined her again, trying to figure out what she wanted.

“Thank you for the food,” I said, hoping she was just waiting for manners.

“Sir, I am aware that you may not know this, but it is considered very rude to cover your head in a temple,” the receptionist remarked. I blinked, looking at her head covering and veil, then inhaled softly.

“I assume this doesn’t apply to priestesses?” I asked. The receptionist’s glare intensified, and I sighed. It’s not like she’ll recognize me anyway, I thought, I wonder why Vaozey wants to keep it a secret though. I’ll have to ask her. Letting the force magic on the sides of my head go, I allowed my makeshift hood to slip back, revealing my head. The receptionist looked satisfied but still insisted on watching me closely as I gulped down the strange vegetable soup mixture she had given to me. It was light on flavor, but it had enough water to qualify as a second mug of liquids, so it was exactly what I needed.

“Would you like more?” the receptionist asked.

“Just water,” I replied. “Do you know if I could speak to Vaozey?”

“Zownayveht Svaaloyweyl is currently leading a small sermon,” the receptionist informed me while taking the mug and bowl, stressing the title she put before Vaozey’s last name. “If you wish to speak to her, you should wait until she is finished.”

“Right,” I nodded, and the receptionist left. For a minute or two I listened to Vaozey telling some kind of strange story about a monkey and a bear who were competing over food. I had no idea what sort of lesson it was supposed to be communicating, and I didn’t have time to figure it out before the receptionist returned, once again asking for permission to enter before letting herself in and putting down three mugs of water on the table for me.

“Are you not warm?” the receptionist asked while I gulped down one of the mugs. I finished drinking, set it down, then raised an eyebrow. “That blanket, you have been wearing it since you arrived,” she elaborated. “If you are cold, I could bring you to a warmer room.”

“I’m not cold,” I said, picking up the second mug and drinking from it. My thirst was finally subsiding, so I wasn’t sure I would be able to finish it or the third.

“Then why-” the receptionist began.

“I’m pretty sure Vaozey doesn’t want me to tell you that,” I said, cutting her off.

“You speak of her like you know her,” the receptionist said in a tone that sounded almost like she was chiding me.

“I do know her,” I replied. I probably shouldn’t have said that, I chastized myself immediately.

“If that is truly the case, then please allow me to take the blanket,” the receptionist requested.

“I’m also fairly sure that she wants me to keep wearing it so I don’t scare anyone out there,” I said. “There’s been a big misunderstanding, probably bigger than I realize if her actions are any indication, so I think I should keep it.” The receptionist glared at me again, and I glared back. We stayed like that for a few seconds, then she reached out to grab my makeshift cloak from me. Her hand didn’t make contact, instead being stopped by an invisible force around eight centimeters from my body. It took her a moment to realize what was happening and pull her hand back.

“Why would she bring someone like…?” she breathed, trailing off mid-sentence, her eyes scanning across me quickly. All of a sudden, there was a flash of recognition, and her eyes froze, going so wide that it looked like they might fall out of her skull. I wasn’t sure if the reaction was fearful or not, but I wasn’t about to sit and wait to find out.

“Listen,” I began, standing up from the chair. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re probably not correct. I’m not a Rehvite or anything-”

“You are the ihlzheyv of Roydlow, Yuwniht Liyveyz,” the receptionist said, stopping me in my tracks. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again, trying to think of what to say. The first thing that popped into my head came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Have you seen the statue out front?” I asked sheepishly. “I don’t look anything like him.” She didn’t look like she believed me at all, and took a knee in front of me with her head lowered.

“Honored ihlzheyv, please forgive us for portraying your likeness incorrectly,” the receptionist apologized. “The artist did not consult any who knew the true details of your story before creating that statue, and as such it was based upon the various folk tales about you. Zownayveht Svaaloyweyl was livid when she first saw it, but we have not yet had the opportunity to have it replaced.” I had no idea how to react, so I just said nothing, slowly sitting back down in the chair. Folk tales? was the first thought to become coherent enough to break the mental noise.

“It would be best if you just kept this quiet,” I said, and the receptionist looked up at me before looking down again. “Stand up,” I ordered with a sigh. “Act normally, like you don’t know who I am.”

“As you request,” the receptionist replied, standing up stiffly and facing me, looking above my head to avoid eye contact. I’m getting the feeling that this is why Vaozey didn’t want anyone to see me, I sighed again. Just as I was about to send the receptionist away, the door cracked open and Vaozey looked inside.

“Hey, we need to g-” Vaozey started, freezing mid-sentence as she assessed the scene. “Gods, if I wasn’t in a temple right now…” she grumbled, stepping inside, shutting the door, and grabbing the receptionist’s shoulder. “You didn’t see anything,” she told the receptionist firmly.

“I will keep the existence of the-” the receptionist began.

“You,” Vaozey said, looking at her with an intense stare. “Saw. Nothing.” The receptionist audibly swallowed, then nodded forcefully.

“I saw nothing,” she said. “But Zownayveht, this is a miracle. You must know as well, you were his companion.” Vaozey grimaced, exhaling slowly and tightening her grip on the receptionist’s shoulder enough that it definitely hurt.

“I need a bit of time to figure out what is going on here, regarding him,” Vaozey said to her very slowly, pointing to me. “You and the temple will not spread rumors or stories about this until we make an official announcement about it. We do not need the political shitshow that will cause right now. Do you understand?” Vaozey’s tone practically dripped with implied threats.

“I need to tell high priestess Zrahm-” the receptionist started to protest.

“Woman, this is a holy temple of the gods, do not make me commit a murder in it,” Vaozey warned. “Keep your mouth shut until you are otherwise instructed. That includes when you are speaking to other members of the temple. Understand?”

“Y-yes Zownayveht Svaaloyweyl,” the receptionist nodded again.

“Good,” Vaozey sighed. “Yuwniht, put the hood up and follow me. Don’t take it off until I tell you to, and don’t speak while we’re in the wagon. You never know whose ears could be listening.”

“That bad?” I asked.

“You don’t know the half of it yet,” Vaozey huffed. “I seytoydh knew these last few weeks were a bit too peaceful. Far be it from Yaytgayao to give me a break every now and then, the npoyt.” Even through the veil, I could see the receptionist looking mortified at her remark. Vaozey noticed where I was looking and rolled her eyes. “I’ll apologize later,” she said to the receptionist before turning back to me. “Let’s get going before I say something the gods might actually care about. I’m quite out of patience with them right now.”

The “wagon” turned out to be an ornate carriage with enough room for at least six people, drawn by one of the strange pack beast animals the Uwrish sometimes used. Vaozey led me inside, closed the door behind us, told the driver to bring her home, and then systematically shut every single shutter and curtain on every single window before lighting the lantern with a twinge of magic and sitting back. She’s gotten better at that, I noted.

“We’ll be at my home in a few minutes,” she said. “When we get there, follow me out and don’t look at anyone. I’ll lead you into the guest room where we can have some privacy.” I nodded, then leaned back, closing my eyes. I was already a bit tired from working during the day, but after my escape and the events at the temple I was feeling mentally exhausted as well. Vaozey was content to let me sit in silence and relax.

Four turns, I counted as the wagon slowed down, Looks like we went about a kilometer or two. I expected Vaozey to tell me to get out, but then we started moving again for another few seconds. Finally, we stopped again after a gradual turn and Vaozey stood up. I opened my eyes, blinking a few times, then made sure my face was still hidden.

“We’ve arrived at your estate, Miss Svaaloyweyl,” the driver said.

“Thank you,” Vaozey replied over her shoulder, then she turned to me. “Just follow me, keep your head down, and if any of the servants are out and about, avoid eye contact.” I almost replied verbally, but then held up my hand and lit up a dim word with light magic: Understood. “I almost forgot you could do that,” Vaozey smiled. “Come on.”

We exited the wagon beside a decently sized house with two floors. I didn’t have a good understanding of the exact levels of wealth in Uwriy, but my rough estimation of the house’s value put it squarely in the upper third. I was still confused about the presence of servants until I happened to glance to my right and spotted the rest of the estate. A building that was at least the size of Aavspeyjh’s mansion in Kahvahrniydah sat a hundred meters away, with an immaculately groomed garden out front. Oh, that explains it, I thought, turning back to the house and following Vaozey inside.

I was a bit too tired and generally thrown off by the whole situation to pay much attention to the details of the interior of the house, but it was mostly made of dark hardwood with lacquer to protect it. Vaozey led me up a staircase, then down a hall, then into a nice, clean room with a bed, desk, and a second door that led somewhere I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about. As soon as I was inside and the door was shut, I let the sheet fall off and revealed my prison uniform. Vaozey, on the other hand, grunted and reached down to where I shot her in the gut, then pulled her hand away a few seconds later and dropped some shards of bloody metal on the desk nearby.

“If I wasn’t convinced you had those things in your homeland before, I am now,” she huffed, wiping off her hand on her clothing. “Seytoydh four hits in a row while I was jumping around like a paangeym, I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t feel all of them.” She finally turned around, looking at me in the light, checking out the prison uniform. “Tell me you didn’t kill anyone on the way out, please,” she sighed.

“I just knocked one guard out and stole his gun,” I said, plopping down on the bed. It had the perfect amount of softness to support me without feeling too squishy. The fabric, too, was extremely fine and had no hint of coarseness. “I used light magic to blind him, so he might be an issue for infosec, er, secrecy.”

“That’s the truth,” Vaozey said, pulling the chair from the desk and sitting across from me. There was a long, awkward silence that neither of us knew how to break. Vaozey’s expression grew more and more troubled, then she finally rubbed her forehead and exhaled. “When I heard there was some escaped prisoner running around I literally ran out to kick his ass in my nightclothes,” she scoffed, apparently amused at herself. “If I had known I was about to meet up with you I would’ve worn something a bit more… formal.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, unsure of how to respond.

“You… probably don’t care though,” Vaozey muttered. Another long silence followed while both of us instinctively avoided eye contact.

“Where did the second shot hit you?” I asked, trying to change the topic to something else. Vaozey raised an eyebrow, and I continued. “The first got you in the shoulder, the third was in the calf, the fourth was in the belly, but you were in the air for the second shot and I didn’t see where it hit you.”

“You clipped me in the moym,” Vaozey snorted, gesturing to her chest. “Didn’t go through the plate, but hurt well enough. If it wasn’t for that healing trick you taught me I’d have been down longer.” Again, there was a period of silence. Why is it so hard to talk right now? I wondered.

“Which one?” I asked finally.

“The, uh, the lung thing,” Vaozey said. “It works on a lot of stuff, actually. Helps you heal faster in general if you do it right.” Looking at Vaozey, I saw dark circles under her eyes, and I knew I probably looked the same, if how I felt was any indication. “You tired?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“Well, there’s a tub of bathwater in the room back there,” Vaozey said, gesturing to the second door in the room and getting up from the chair. “Get washed up and take the room for the night. I’ll have a servant leave you some clothes outside. I’m seytoydh exhausted so I’m going to bed too. We can talk in the morning, we’ll both need to be fully awake for it because there’s a lot we need to discuss.”

“Right,” I nodded.

“Uh… good night, I guess,” Vaozey mumbled, then she left and closed the door behind her. One bath later, I slipped between the covers of the bed and fell asleep before they even finished absorbing the heat of my body.

“…”

“Using the twelve still images provided, identify if the subject is likely to attack, or simply performing a threat display.”

“Attack, display, display, attack, attack, display, attack, display, display, display, attack, attack.”

“Eleven correct, one incorrect. Explain reasoning for assessment of second image.”

“Weighting was approximately even, but stress markers on forehead and eyes were deemed insufficient for genuine motivation to violence.”

I couldn’t see it in the eyes, it was just the mouth that looked angry.

“Subject in this image had been treated with botulism toxin for aesthetic purposes. Paralysis of facial muscles inhibited normal indications of stress around the upper portions of the face. Adjust analysis technique accordingly.”

So it was a fucking trick question then, how was I supposed to know?

“Using the provided gait profile, identify the matching individual from the following segment of security camera footage.”

“…”