The alley exited onto a small, bustling plaza. People milled about dressed in bright textiles, and bamboo stalls covered in woven kelp in brilliant shades of blue and purple hawked a variety of wares. Just at first glance, Rylan spotted a wide collection of trinkets, clothing, and fresh catches like crustaceans and fish in every shape and size.

The buildings lining the crowded square were all at least three stories tall and clearly constructed from limestone. However, they weren't boring and grey like Rylan had somewhat expected either. On the contrary, most of them had their brickwork covered in a brightly coloured plaster, with shades ranging from orange to hot pink to mistweed green.

After strolling and gawking for a bit, Rylan realised many of said buildings had storefronts facing the small plaza as well, and that some of them even had semi-permanent firemetal grills set up that were causing mouth-watering scents to permeate the air.

By contrast, the stalls only seemed to sell raw fish and produce. Rylan reckoned that was because they couldn't get access to the city's mana grid, and therefore simply couldn't compete in prices. After all, fuel was hard to come by, and mana from the grid was supposed to be a lot cheaper than directly using Cubes.

One restaurant's stand caught his nose in particular. It sold skewers with a mixture of vegetables and frog legs that made his stomach rumble, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since leaving the ship.

Rylan fished his pouch out of his britches and checked the contents. He'd left home with a full... three bronze quarters and five copper bits. Everything he'd managed to scrounge together doing little jobs that had fallen outside of the scope of his chores back on Thistlebloom.

He glanced at the price, baulking a little when he saw that it was a copper bit for a single skewer. With a sigh, he shoved his pouch back down.

He'd heat some leftovers in his firemetal pan later. It would be a waste to let them spoil anyway.

"You sure I can't get you anything?" the woman behind the grill asked kindly, clearly having spotted Rylan eyeing her wares.

Rylan shook his head. "Sorry. Ehm... would you happen to know where I can find the Knackered Hag?"

The woman's eyes roved over Rylan's clothing and backpack, even as she expertly flipped over a whole row of sizzling, dripping skewers. "New in town, eh? Can't say I've ever been to the Hag myself, but I'm quite sure it's in the South Harbour District."

Rylan perked up. "Yes, that's right! Can you tell me where to find that area?"

She eyed him amusedly, before shrugging and pointing at a nearby street. "It's down that road. You'll know you've reached South Harbour once the pavement is covered in gull shit."

"Right, thanks!"

Rylan waved goodbye, took one last, mournful glance at the skewers, then turned around and almost bumped into someone. The man wore a dark-grey cowl that hid most of his gaunt-looking face, but it only served to draw more attention to the jagged scar under his left eye.

"Watch it, kid!" the scarred man snapped.

"S-sorry sir," Rylan stammered.

The man blinked, his dark eyes narrowing at Rylan, before he suddenly seemed to relax. "Hah, that's all right, kid... I wasn't watching where I was going either. You know, you look kind of familiar. Have we met before?"

Rylan was rather confused by the man's rapid shift in demeanour, but managed a reply. "Ehm, I doubt it, sir. I just got here."

The man's brows flew up under his cowl. "Really now? And what's your name, lad?"

"It's... Loukas."

Internally, Rylan cringed a little, but he was sure his old pal would forgive him for borrowing his name. Like Yuel had said, he should really keep a low profile for a while.

"And what brings you into town, Loukas?" the man said, by this point sounding practically chipper.

"I, eh, I'm looking for someone," Rylan said. "Supposed to meet them at the Knackered Hag."

"The Hag? Well, why don't I take you there? I'm headed in that direction anyway. Come on, I'll show you."

The man resumed walking, gesturing at Rylan to come along. However...

[Ehm, Boss, didn't the nice lady say it was in the other direction?]

Rylan swallowed, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I was told the Knackered Hag was over there, in the South Harbour District," he said, pointing at the street she'd indicated.

The man blinked, then barked out a laugh. "So it is, lad, so it is. It's just that I've just got an errand to run first, won't take but a few minutes. Why don't you come along, and then I'll lead you right there, hmm?"

"No thanks," Rylan said, shaking his head as he backed up. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, so, ehm, I'll just head there directly. But thanks for the offer!"

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Rylan didn't wait for the man's response, resolutely turning around and walking off at a firm pace. He didn't want to look like he was running, but he kind of wanted to get out of there fast. Something about the man's behaviour had him seriously spooked.

"All right, if you're sure!" the man called out after him, sounding a little bemused.

Rylan didn't relax until he'd turned the corner into the indicated street, finding it heading down a slight slope.

There were fewer people here than on the busy plaza, but still quite a few, moving at various paces from a leisurely stroll to a brisk walk. More storefronts lined the street, selling products ranging from wicker furniture, to pet frogs and fish, to frilly underthings for women that Rylan didn't feel comfortable looking at.

[Ehm, Boss,] Arphin said after a while. [I don't mean to alarm you, but that guy you bumped into earlier appears to be following us...]

Rylan stiffened, fighting against the urge to glance back. 'You're sure it's him?' he sent. 'How far back is he?'

[It's definitely him. He's about sixty feet behind you, and his eyeballs appear glued to your backpack, Boss.]

Rylan frowned, his hands tightening around the straps. What did this guy want from him? Did Rylan just look like an easy mark, with all his belongings strapped to his back? Or was there something else at play?

[D'you want me to stab him for you, Boss?] Arphin asked eagerly. [All you have to do is toss me, and I'll take care of the rest!]

'We can't just attack people on the street, Arphin.'

[It doesn't have to be serious,] Arphin muttered. [Just a little warning stab...]

Despite the circumstances, Rylan felt the corners of his mouth quirking up. 'Thanks, but there's no need. We just have to shake him off.'

[But Boss... he knows where we're headed,] Arphin reminded him.

Rylan's stomach sank. Fog... I should never have mentioned The Knackered Hag to this guy!

He licked his lips, considering his options. The man had been a little taller and broader than him, but he was no Quinthar. There was no real reason to fear him then, right?

Still, he couldn't just let the man tail him. If he really was after Rylan for something more serious than the contents of his backpack, he might come back with friends. Or guards.

Making up his mind, Rylan ducked into an alley. The moment he was out of sight, he sped up, rushing in deeper, until he reached a narrow passage between two houses on one side. There, he hid around the corner, finding there was just enough room before the iron gate to hide from view.

'All right, let me know when he's about thirty feet away,' he sent to Arphin, his heart throbbing in his throat as he put down his backpack and drew his dagger.

[You got it, Boss!]

Rylan stared at the corner of the house he'd ducked behind, willing his eyes to see through it to the spirits of the people beyond. He thought he caught a glimpse of something, but with how bright it was out, he mostly saw yellow plaster.

It didn't matter anyway. He soon heard a softly muttered curse, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

[Boss, now!]

Rylan stepped out, raising his dagger, glowing mana already coating its steel.

The man stopped in his tracks twenty feet off, his eyes widening.

"You've got a lot of nerve," Rylan said icily. "Tailing a Quinthar into an alley."

The man paled, and he raised his hands in front of him. "Forgive me... milord. I mean no harm!"

"Save it. Why are you following me?"

The man licked his lips, eyes nervously darting around. "I wasn't following you, milord. Like I said, I was heading to South Harbour as well, I just realised my errand could wait."

[He's lying, Boss! His bloodpump's going crazy!]

Well, under the circumstances, Rylan didn't think that was a very reliable lie-detecting method. But it definitely didn't feel like the man was telling him the truth.

"Nice try," Rylan said, taking a menacing step forward, casually rotating his wrist as if to loosen it for a throw. "But I can tell when people try to deceive me. It's one of my Skills. Care to try again? Tell me the truth, and I'll let you go."

There probably wasn't any Skill like that, but there were a lot of misconceptions and theories among non-Quinthar. Just a season ago, Rylan would've bought it.

The man swallowed, apprehension flashing over his face. "Apologies, I... the truth is, I recognised milord from the posters."

Rylan frowned. "What posters?"

"The wanted posters at the gates," the man explained, gesticulating nervously. "I'm often in line there, it gets quite boring, so I like to study them. Plus, there's a, ehm, sizable reward out for milord's capture, so it stood out."

Rylan's heart sank. "How much?"

"One hundred gold marks."

Rylan's jaw dropped.

That's six times my fogging debt! It doesn't make sense...

Were the Thistlethorns truly that desperate to get him back? Was it because Soren was missing as well? Or... was it not the Thistlethorns who had posted the reward?

All of a sudden, the man ducked down and launched himself forward.

Stepping back, Rylan whipped his arm forward and threw his dagger. However, having not expected the sudden, desperate attack, his reaction was just a fraction slow.

His dagger hit the top of the man's left shoulder, cutting through coat and flesh alike before it glanced off and was sent spinning down the alley.

There was a flash of white as the man's shoulder impacted Rylan's chest, and another when his back slammed into the pavement with the man on top. While his Mana Shell softened the blows, it didn't change the fact that the man was now on top of him, holding down Rylan's right arm with his left, despite the blood dripping down his sleeve.

The man's own right hand slipped into a pocket, then came out wearing a pair of worn brass knuckles.

"Sorry kid," he grunted before swinging his fist at Rylan's temple, causing another flash of white light to burst out. "It's nothing... personal!" Another blow fell on his jaw, the contact unpleasant, even through the Mana Shell's protection. "Just that my rent is... due!"

The third blow landed on Rylan's eye, the flash of white blinding in its intensity.

[Boss, should I jump in?!] Arphin called from the nearby backpack. [Hold on, I'm coming!]

Rylan didn't have time to answer, bucking up in an attempt to throw the man off, his left hand pushing against the man's chest as he tried to free his right.

There was a tug on the node in his spirit. However, his right hand was still trapped.

"Fog me," the man grunted. "How many blows does it take to wear down this fogging—"

There was a slight pop, and the man cut off, letting out a strangled noise like a strained exhale. He glanced down, and Rylan followed his gaze, only to find an ivory handle suddenly sprouting from the man's chest, somehow clutched in Rylan's hand.

In his shock, it took Rylan a second to parse what had happened, to accept the fact that he'd somehow redirected Arphin's Recall to his left hand, and in doing so, had caused the blade to appear buried up to the hilt between the man's ribs.

He glanced up, and met the man's eyes right before they rolled back. Rylan pushed the limp man off him, numbly maintained his grip on Arphin as his assailant flumped to the side, and the blade slid free.

He scrambled back until he hit the wall of the alley. For a moment, he sat there, staring wide-eyed at the bloody blade in his hand, and the twitching, dying man lying in front of him.

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