“...can’t create Forged Beings? What stops you, if your civilization is all high and mighty?”

“Software can only follow specific commands and patterns. It can’t think for itself like a person, it needs a guiding hand all the time. The technology was progressing with each year, but was never close to the true sapience.”

“...Slow down on the grand terms, kid. This old man can barely catch up, and I just learned what ‘software’ is a couple of minutes ago, and still can’t grasp it fully…”

“Well, the software is basically a list of commands, that…”

Their spontaneous patrol underneath the mid-day sun continued forward with lazy steps. They began as hawks, looking for a lamb to kidnap. They ended up as turtles, crawling beneath the searing eye of the sky. The morning wind retreated, leaving the battlefield for the opposition to reclaim. The heat took the chance and brought down the summer-hammer of judgement upon the despondent sailors.

So they exchanged a few words on the way, which then shifted into the conversation about Earth. Ralf carried the stunned look on him the entire time, but to the armsmaster’s credit, this self-proclaimed old man was taking the unknown words that Joe threw at him in stride, only asking a couple of questions of his own on rare occasions.

Another reason for the change of pace was pathetically obvious.

The crowds. The friend of the hidden, the enemy of the seeking. With the filled passages and alleyways of Ghastly Wail, the chances to stumble upon any suspicious events crashed even before they got a moment to establish themselves. Joseph could tell from his very first glance at busy streets that the number of people he saw yesterday was but a small teaser for the two-legged ocean of today.

So far, they spent almost two hours ambling around, sharing anecdotes, stories, and just loafing for their own pleasure. During the entire time, Joseph kept the impulse to ask Ralf about the important bit he threw out back in the ‘Rattlebones’. But, each time, the promise he made before stood up as the remainder to be patient. Even then, the curiosity kept circling the cook’s careless words in his mind.

A veteran of Northern Horn Revolt. Xander dropped the same name before. He dug deeper into his memories and dragged Alchfrid’s words from the junkyard of discarded thoughts.

Instability and destruction. Civil war. Seven years. He didn’t want to say that he unravelled the timeline, but he felt like he was coming damn close to the final solution. So close, he breathed down its neck. Still, without the actual proof, he would not confront Ralf. He didn’t find any rationale in doing that.

“A test for you, Joe,” he heard a distant voice from outside of his headspace. “How many gates Ghastly Wail has?”

His handler should’ve picked a harder question.

“Five, of course. Three on the western side, two on the eastern side. The ‘Morning Star’ docked at south-west.”

Ralf grinned.

“Do you know where they lead to?”

“Ports?…” Wasn’t that pretty obvious?

“Which ports?”

That, he had no idea about. Joe shrugged.

“The north-west has a ‘sparrow’, I remember. No clue about the other ones.”

“Then let me read you a small instruction,” Ralf pointed his index finger up and pushed invisible glasses with another hand. “There are only a few caves on Ghastly Wail that are big enough to accept a monster of the size of the ‘Morning Star’, the ‘dragon’ class warship. Both of them are on the western side, the middle-western gate and the south-west one, you know that. The small ships, like ‘sparrows’, ‘falcons’, and ‘eagles’, dock in the north-west, or any other three that got space for it. The last two can take ‘albatrosses’ and ‘wyverns’, the middle-sized vessels. Got it?”

“Was it a trivia on the ship classes?”

The cook sneered.

“Trivia, he says… do you want to become a ship pilot, or not?”

Joe had to admit that the point stood as a very valid one.

“You are right, Ralf. I apologise, do give me more from your endless well of knowledge.”

Judging by the sigh the armsmaster released, his joke didn’t land.

“I am trying to help you out here, kid! You’re killing me!”

Joseph threw his hands up. Ralf held a dramatic pause and let out a snicker.

They continued ploughing through the loaded alleyways when Joseph noticed a familiar group in black. He tapped Ralf on a shoulder and pointed in the direction of their targets. The cook answered with a short nod.

The people in black strolled down the passage leading to Kon’jar statue, throwing short lines and banter at each other. Periodically, one of them exploded with laughter, followed by the others. The group didn’t emanate the appearance of scheming villains, but as Joseph learned the last night, appearances were the biggest gamble. This lesson drilled into his head the hard way.

The crowd shifted from being an annoyance to being their greatest ally. Among the forest of motley clothes, the black patches screamed ‘I am here!!!’, while Ralf’s middling outfit could take a while to discern. Ralf and Joe split a bit, to avoid the unnecessary suspicion - the programmer’s black costume made him stand out just as much as the people they followed. He slowed down and let Ralf take point, keeping an eye on his handler’s wide breadth and nearest passages, in case the group in black slips away from the street.

None of his suspicions came to be true. They passed by the Deity and emerged in front of ‘Rattlebones’. The group of five people approached the entrance to the tavern and disappeared inside. One of them had horns, Joe noticed.

He and Ralf stopped at the door and glanced at each other.

“So… now what?” Joseph had no idea how to proceed.

The giant man furrowed his brows and pushed the door.

Well, that answers that question.

In the horde of faces, the black group stood out like clowns at the business meeting. They commandeered the very same table that Joseph sat at this afternoon. And the day before. Did it become his trigger point now, or what?

One of their targets removed the hood from his face. The grey rhevalian turned his head around and met eye-to-eye with Joseph.

Joe instantly recognized the person.

And the one at the table seemed to remember him too.

“Well-well, look who it is… c’me here, mate. Let’s talk.”

Joseph had a sharp temptation to flip a bird in their direction. He inhaled and looked at Ralf.

The bald guy that slouched on the ‘Danger’ crate the last night followed his line of vision and landed his eyes upon the armsmaster of the ‘Morning Star’. His jaw fell down for a moment.

Joseph didn’t like how all five braced themselves right after. He had only three opponents between him and the handle of his pistol - the numbers disadvantage, the people around, and the presence of Ralf, who stood right beside him.

He felt his handler peeking at him from the corner of his eye.

Then Ralf did the unexpected.

He laughed.

“What’s with your mugs, gentlemen? Have you seen a Daemon, or something? If you need anything from this man, you should untie your shacking tongues and blurt it straight out. I know you had some fun last night. I want to hear all about it!”

This loud boulder of a man grabbed the nearest wooden chair and slammed it down on the floor near the table. Joseph couldn’t help but grin with all his teeth at the perplexed expressions of the arid, the guy with brown hair (also known as ‘the barrel thug’), and the bald human (of the ‘Danger’ fame). The grey dragoncat and the last human, who sported the wild long hair, only showed a mild concern.

Ralf fell down into the chair and dropped his legs on top of the table. Joe chuckled, took another free chair nearby and joined their impromptu meeting.

The situation quickly deteriorated from intense to ridiculous. Here he was - the rookie, who had smelt the powder combined with salt only twice in his life, roleplaying a hardened menace of society by placing his palm on the thigh and menacingly leaning on the same arm, with his sharp elbow stabbing the air aside. For added effect, Joe slightly bent forward and produced the worst grin the possibly could.

Joining forces with him was the grotesque combat veteran, who waltzed right into the den with five sleazy individuals like he owned the place, with his legs still on the table, not showing any intention to leave their private space.

To their credit, the mentioned individuals recovered very quickly. The crate thug even smiled, not showing any hostility.

“Some rude manners you’ve acquired, Ralf Howlung. They suit someone like you.”

The person in question only raised his brow at the mention of the name.

“I don’t remember your face, mate. Only friends can call me out on my manners. Watch your own.”

Despite the callous wording, the ease that followed these words confused Joseph to his core. Was Ralf picking a fight with them, or not?

The silence fell over the table. The mercenaries didn’t show any reaction after Joe’s demonstration, looking only at Ralf. Joe scowled.

It scrabbled his self-assurance a bit…

But that would be the prime opportunity to inspect the appearances of their opponents. He had enough confidence to say that this group was definitely part of ‘Firelight’, as their presence the last night made it obvious. But he could not scratch off the feeling that he knew their faces from somewhere else, even before their supposed first meeting…

He tried to scavenge the memory. He could only find a vague recollection without any concrete clues. Why, where, and when remained as the unanswered questions. But where had he noticed them? He saw them before his first encounter with Evalyn, he was sure of it.

Ralf, meanwhile, took the initiative to break the iceberg of stillness.

“You wanted to talk,” he pointed at the grey rhevalian. “Why the long eyes? If you have something, lay it out. Be a man.”

The person with long hair suddenly began to cough. The dragoncat grimaced, as if from sudden agony.

“I just wanted to ask - why did he run away from us? We meant him no harm. It is not written in our books that we are allowed to attack anyone indiscriminately, we are of no danger to honest sailors.”

Honest sailors, my ass...

Ralf sneered at the words.

“What is written in your books, then? Forcing people under Mind control? Last I heard, it was still a crime in the Empire, with a very peculiar punishment. One, that makes you forget who you are and where you were.”

“We are not within Sumeilien,” the man with a long hair spoke up from the furthest seat.

Ralf slid his eyes up and down, scanning the mercenary.

“So, this means you can shit everywhere, and no one is allowed to squeak a word against it? You never said you didn’t do your Mind tricks either. What would happen if I were to whisper a couple of words to necessary people? About such ungentlemanly manners that you have shown?”

The group exchanged glances between themselves. The man with brown hair leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

“What are those Mind tricks you are speaking about, friend? This man here… Joseph, was it? Right. He was simply enamoured by our lady, and I can understand that. Absolutely! She is the bomb! She is the fire and the life! Her ass is very plump too, you know.”

The bald man put both of his hands on his mouth, with his entire body shaking. The grey dragoncat shook his head and the guy with the wild hair joined him. The arid caught Joe’s side glance and grinned.

Ralf didn’t utter a single word in response.

Joseph felt a slight tug inside. He had no idea what this conversation could lead to. He wasn’t fooled by the outward indifference of the mercenaries, not at all. The arid, who sit closer to him than the rest of the people in black, had his hand near the belt this entire time. The poses of the other four seemed less conspicuously suspicious, but Joe could practically read the unseen words of a threat, lingering in the middle of their little circle.

Mexican standoff would be less intense than this encounter. And they didn’t even point guns at each other yet!