Walking through a packed square, the crowds parted before them like waves at a ship’s bow. With him and Porkchop in front, towering over the common folk, people all but threw themselves aside to give them room.

  In all honesty, Kaius felt a little awkward about it. It wasn’t like they were dressed for war. Hells, he wasn’t even wearing his gambeson, and his blade was stored in his ring. Yet for all his simple tunic and trousers, they reeked of power and they were physically imposing.

  Kenva, the shortest of them, would be toweringly tall for a human woman at six strides. He himself was a head taller than even a tall man, and Ianmus was taller still. No doubt the effect was only amplified by the fact that Porkchop was large enough that many of the people they passed seemed genuinely worried that his brother might eat them.

  Still, for all his discomfort at how intimidated people were, he had to admit it was nice to be surrounded by so much life. Merchants hawked wares at every turn — some from well-kept stalls or shops lining the pavilion, others seated on spread rugs with trinkets, food, or crafted goods spread before them. Despite everything that had changed, Deadacre still had blood rushing through its veins.

  For all that life, there was a tense air to the people of the city that was impossible to miss.

  Over the crowd’s heads he saw a ramshackle collection of tents, as sturdy as they could contrive, spreading across what looked to be a tenth of the available space. One of many tent cities that had sprung up on every corner. Even the common inns — those not priced for delvers — were packed to the rafters. Hells, he’d heard a doze conversations about people complaining about having to share rooms. After a full day in the city — eating, drinking, and simply exploring while Kenva craned curiously at every ramshackle, slate, and masonry building they passed — they were making their way back to their inn.

  Through the crowd, Kaius spotted a flash of movement. It looked like someone reaching for a blade, a warning of violence that snatched his focus and ripped his head toward the motion. There, through a gap in the stalls, he saw a young man — young enough that he either didn’t have his class or had only just gotten it.

  The boy’s hands were a blur, snaking behind a merchant in richly dyed purple cotton as he slipped a cut of dried beef into his tunic. Kaius frowned.

  Another thief.

  “Did you catch that?” Kaius asked, so softly only his team would hear.

  “What, the thief?” Kenva replied. “Yeah. Has to be the dozenth one in the last two hours.”

  The ranger frowned, rolling her shoulders. “I never anticipated our growing stats would make us more exposed to what hides in plain sight. Makes me uncomfortable. I’m not quite sure what we should do about it.”

  Kaius gave a slow nod. On one hand, even a babe knew stealing was wrong. On the other, that theft, and the dozen other misdemeanours he’d noticed on their trip through the city, were not exactly pressing crimes.

  Hells, he’d almost been able to see the boy’s ribs through his tunic. These were hard times, and it wasn’t like he’d pulled a knife, just used sleight of hand.

  Still, theft wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable with. It was a confusing mess. He’d heard rumblings in the guild that the governor was hiring refuges in droves. Apparently it was to buildan expansion to the city walls in the hopes of increasing their suitable housing for the newcomers to the city. Evidently, it hadn’t come fast enough to stave of every bit of desperation.

  Nor were the guard pulling enough food from the city delve to feed every one. That, or someone was taking more than their fair share.

  There were a dozen different reasons why petty crime could have spread in times like this. Kaius frowned, when had everything gotten so complicated? Things were simpler out in the Sea — don’t take what wasn’t yours, and share what you had to so someone could get through the lean times.

  “I’d just ignore the kid — at least until somebody’s life is in danger, it’s a little excessive if we intervene.” Porkchop replied, far less concerned with the intricacies of law than the rest of them.

  Ianmus nodded. “That’s the common counsel. There’s a reason most delvers and the high-tiered in general are kept from policing the populace. Society chafes when people feel every infraction is watched by some all-seeing paragon of strength. Plus, in times like these, people are bound to get desperate. Those public kitchens we saw — the gruel looked pretty thin.”

  “It’s as Ianmus says,” Kenva added. “I’m all for stepping in if we witness something truly grotesque or harm we can prevent. But petty theft is beneath us.”

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  He understood the wisdom — hells, he broadly agreed with it — but it didn’t stop him feeling odd about letting basic crimes occur with his tacit allowance. Regardless of his feelings it was clear that she was right. With his heightened senses he’d have to get used to it quickly.

  Perhaps they’d be able to do something about it. For all he was new to it, the reality was they had quickly come into power, influence and wealth. Mayhaps they could make an investment in the city's future. At the very least, his plans with sharing a few skills should help the next generation. Those who wanted to hunt and support themselves would be in a much better position to do so.

  Wading through the masses on their route back to the Dusty Stables, Kaius looked around. Desperation wasn’t the only thing his sharpened eyes and ears picked up. People were stretched thin, sure, but there was zeal too. He’d never seen so much fight suffusing the citizenry in his life.

  He heard the meaty thwack of sticks hitting flesh as paupers and working men alike flocked to impromptu fighting rings, brawling with fists and improvised weapons as they sharpened their skills. On one hand it was the clearest sign of how hard people had been pressed — even seamstresses and beggars were learning to fight.

  On the other, he found it inspiring. Even those with none of his advantages could have a little fire ignited in the right circumstances.

  Exiting the square, they followed the main thoroughfares for a bit. Kenva craned her head all the while, eyeing every stacked grey-stone house as if it were the first she’d ever seen. Eventually, Kaius slowed at the head of their pack, spotting an alleyway wide enough for them to pass. It looked like they could save some time by dipping through the back streets and, more importantly, escape the crowd that had at least a hundred people staring at them at any given moment.

  “Feel like getting away from the noise?” Kaius said, nodding to the gap between buildings.

  Ianmus shrugged, while Kenva nodded gleefully.

  Porkchop gave the alley a cursory look. “Why not, it looks wide enough for me to fit.”

  They set off, picking their way around the detritus of city life.

  It didn't take long before Kaius heard frustrated panting and the swish of something cutting through the air. Whoever it was sounded young and still far off — perhaps a bend or two away. His curiosity piqued as they approached.

  Turning the final corner, Kaius found the source: a boy, sixteen at most. In his hands was a crudely shaped wooden blade hacked from an oak stick. His chosen battlefield was a crossroad where three alleyways met, creating a secluded pocket of open space in the warren of buildings.

  The boy flailed, whipping his stick through the air as if it were a snake that had sunk its fangs into his palm.

  As a group they stopped, watching.

  The boy’s form was atrocious. His feet were planted flat and close together; his knees were locked, and his shoulders were hunched.

  It was the worst showing Kaius had ever seen. Despite that, he could see the passion there, in the boy’s anger at his failings. The urchin was ratty, dirty, skinny — but trying.

  Kaius wasn’t sure where the impulse came from — pity, charity, or the familiarity of that expression that said he’d keep swinging until his palms bled and his legs trembled.

  He slowed his approach. “Mind if it takes us a few more hours to get back to the Dusty Stables?” he asked.

  “No. Not really,” Porkchop replied, his tone softening as the confusing bundle of emotions in Kaius’s chest crossed their bond.

  Ianmus only shrugged, while Kenva gave him a curious look. “Are you sure this is wise?” she asked.

  “Almost certainly not — but is it any more or less wise than sharing everything we know about aspects and honours with the Guild?” Kaius snorted.

  “Besides,” he continued, “what’s the point of being strong enough to do what you want if you can’t use it to make someone’s life a little better?”

  “A fair point,” Kenva replied. “In which case, no — I don’t mind waiting in the slightest.”

  Kaius nodded, and they approached. Absorbed in his pitiful excuse for bladework, the boy didn’t notice them until they were barely steps away. Stumbling into a barely controlled fall — it could almost be called a lunge if Kaius squinted — the boy caught sight of them and yelped, his dirtied face going pale as he leapt nearly a full stride. His stick clattered to the ground as his back went ramrod straight.

  “Sorry, m’lords, m’lady — sorry! I didn’t see you there — I’ll…I’ll get out of your way,” he stuttered.

  “None of that, boy,” Kaius said, giving him a warm smile. “We’re just people, same as the rest. You trying to learn a blade skill?” He tilted his head at the stick.

  The boy froze, then his head fell, crestfallen. “Aye, yes, sir. I am.”

  Kaius nodded. “I imagine you’re having some trouble. What’s your name?”

  “Niles, sir. And I am. But how could you tell I was struggling?”

  “Because I know a fair bit about the blade. And that was some of the shittest form I’ve ever seen,” he said, chuckling.

  Blade Mastery was one of the most basic sword-mastery skills that existed, and the kid’s form wasn’t close to the quality needed to earn it. It was clear that for all of his spirited attempts, Niles knew absolutely nothing about the blade.

  Niles’s face fell and his shoulders slumped. “Aye, I know, sir. But even if I could afford a tutor, they’re all booked out for years.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Kaius said. “This one’s free — on account of how offensive your stance is.”

  Freezing in place, Niles gave him a blank look. “I…what?”

  Kaius summoned his scabbard from his ring, holding it as he would his blade. “Pick up your stick, Niles. And bend your knees! One kick and your joints will snap with your current stance — more importantly, you can’t swing for shit if you don’t pivot through your hips.”

  The boy remained frozen, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “What?”

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