Leor was making his way back to the Guildhouse from an escort mission when a commotion at the North Gate caught his attention. A crowd of bystanders and guards stood quietly around the repetitive cries of men. On instinct, Leor tugged on his hood to ensure his face was well-hidden and melted into the shadows of an alleyway.

“Open the gates!” the mercenary screamed from the outside of Thalesia’s city walls, banging his fist against the steel cage.

The guards steeled their weapons and cautiously spun the winch, answering the man’s pleas. A group of wounded men clambered into the safety of the Walls until they were met with the tips of spears. Some bore deep scars across their armor, while others were stripped of their gear entirely; those who no longer had their protection had stumps of skin where their limbs used to be. A deep void consumed the light in their eyes, seemingly pulling anyone who dared to gaze into it. Their flesh had lost its color and turned an ashen grey. Their faces had dried and shriveled like their fluids had been sucked dry.

“State your purpose!” shouted the lead guard as he prodded his weapon forward. His voice was weary and unconfident, seemingly it was his first day on gate duty.

The mercenary who begged for entry rocked himself and muttered, “Tis’ not my fault. I saw nothing. I did no wrong… please, have mercy on me, Lord Gwyn”. He repeated his desperate plea to his Lord and the others who followed after him cried similar words with their foreheads planted against the ground, while some shivered uncontrollably as if suffering from an eternal cold.

The guards' formation receded from the group of mercenaries. This was the first time many have seen those who came back from the Haze. Most do not return.

It was then the neighing of a horse came from above. A stallion with translucent blue skin, a Runner, descended, painting the floor wet. A guard dressed in sturdier armor with a stallion’s head carved across its backplate spoke with clear robustness. “It’s alright, everyone. The poor souls were part of the expedition team. Send word to Lord Gwyn. Tell him the Haze broke them as well.”

Leor watched the guards disperse the audience and guide the distraught men away. He shook his head at the pitiful expendables who had come back from beyond the Walls to end up empty-handed and their sanity lost, and yet, despite their condition, they continued to ask their lord for forgiveness. It made no sense. What blind fools.

A sudden shout drew Leor’s attention once more. One of the deranged men broke free from the line and grabbed a street beggar by the collar, whipping him back and forth as the mercenary shook him violently.

“Y-you! You’re from beyond the wall, aren’t you!? I could smell it on you. It bleeds from your skin!” he shouted with eyes that looked like they haven’t earned their rest for weeks. In fact, his eyes no longer resembled a human’s, carrying the same rabid aggression as a feral beast. “You Purblights do not belong here!” The mercenary pounded his fist into the beggar’s face again and again as tears welled from his eyes.

The beggar’s skin hugged his bones, starved to near death. A walking corpse. Just like the mercenary who mounted him. If not for the clothes on their backs, it’d be hard to tell who was a mercenary and who was the beggar. The beggar could do nothing, but scream and beg his Lord to save him as his face ballooned and was painted red and blue. The guards and bystanders stood by and watched the one-sided brawl, some had a subtle grin across their face, shamelessly agreeing with the mercenary’s claims.

Leor squeezed the grip of his katana sitting at his waist as he watched the mercenary beat the beggar unconscious with no signs of intervention coming from those around. Leor was no different. He wanted to help but he knew better than to get caught up with the Royal Stallions of Thalesia, getting involved would only make his life harder than it already is. Anger and disgust filled his fist until he could bear it no longer; he turned his back from the sight, ashamed, and whispered, Tsk. Some God. The sound of the mercenary’s fist striking against the bony flesh of the beggar followed him as he disappeared into the alleyway.

The sun shined over the port city of Thalesia with a cool heat that signaled the start of summer. Any essence of morning rain left on the cobblestone floor had long evaporated. Leor stood at the reception desk of the Hydrian Mercenary Guild, waiting for Rose to confirm the completed commission. She held up a magnifying glass over his signed papers and the client’s signature glowed a bright green.

“Alright, Leor. Everything checks out!” Rose smiled as she stashed away her tool. “Here are fifteen gold coins.”

“Fifteen!? I thought the payout was twenty-five!” Leor said with fire burning in his eyes.

“Sorry, Leor. That’s all we could offer you. The client demanded a portion of the reward to be returned when they found out you were their escort. They called you a liability.”

Leor pinched the wedge between his eyes and scooped the coins into his air-filled pouch. It dawned on him that he’ll be short on rent again and he could already hear Gerald’s sarcasm. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“Don’t worry about it, Leor,” said Rose. She smiled at him with a gentle expression and brushed her crimson hair behind her ear. “At least you have another commission tomorrow, right? It’s rare for you to have back-to-back days of work!”

He wasn’t sure if she was trying to insult him or not, but he gave it little attention. Rose was one of the few people who treated him like a person, so he ignored the comment. If not for her hiding his identity from prospective clients, his coin purse would house nothing but air. Matter of fact, he wouldn’t even have one. She gave it to him out of pity. Or perhaps generosity.

At that moment, hearty laughter filled the lobby. A trio of men clad in light armor swaggered towards them. Afzal Gwynevere led his two men, Frederick and Gord, with his nose pointed up. The pride in his walk matched the lion crest carved into his chest plate. He was one of the few in Thalesia who were agents of the Licht Order, a pretentious group of soldiers who believe wielding Gwyn’s light makes them superior in every aspect, at least that’s Leor’s own view of them.

“Rose, no need to comfort the heretic,” Afzal said with a smug grin. He glared at Leor with icy, blue eyes, and nudged him to the side with his steel gauntlets. ”His lack of work is of his own doing.”

“Yeah, no idiot from the Seven Realms would dare hire the likes of him,” shouted Frederick as he positioned himself behind his larger companions.

Gord stood quiet for a moment, then bellowed a deep laugh. His only addition was blind agreement. Compared to Fredrick, Gord was herculean in size and had muscles to complement, but where there was an abundance of muscle, it seemed like he lacked intellect.

Leor held his tongue and attempted to ignore the same claims he’s heard more times he could count on a hundred men’s fingers, but they were right. He was a Purblight, one who has denounced the Gods and has thus been deemed a social outcast. The faithful believed it to be inconceivable and nonsensical for humans to reject the Gods who had given them freedom and so much more. When Leor first spoke ill of the Gods, he didn’t think much of it, but gossip had spread through the city like wildfire. Now, no one would hire him outright in fear of also being labeled a heretic.

“Serves him right,” spits Afzal. He turned to Rose and laid a bag of broken arrow tips, shattered blades, and torn armor onto the countertop. “Here, Rose. It‘s what I gathered from the Eastern Front.“

Rose’s eyes brightened. “Ooh, you collected a lot! I guess you’re not a top mercenary for nothing!” She picked up each piece and examined them with her magnifying glass. Through the lens, black mist bled from each trinket, invisible to the naked eye. She nodded. “Indeed these are authentic. Your efforts will be noted and on behalf of Lady Naiomi, I thank you for your services. I’ll take these and send them off to Lichtwerth right way!” Rose dropped two hand-sized bags filled with coins. “Here’s your reward. See you next time!” smiled Rose before she disappeared into the backroom.

Afzal snatched the bags off the counter and left a single gold coin in their place. “It is unfortunate your blades never see battle when they cry for blood. Take the coin and get yourself something nice. I must excuse myself, for I need to cleanse myself at the church. Some of us do actual work for our Lords” chuckled Afzal before exiting the guild. “May the Haze consume the unfaithful.”

Leor watched them walk away with their chest puffed out and the bags of gold in their hands. Maybe I should go out and grab some useless items too, he thought, but then immediately shook his head. He knew if he went out beyond the Walls, the bastards at the gate would give him a rough time reentering. A low rumble shook his stomach, crying for attention. In these moments of hunger, the weightlessness of his coin pouch felt heavier than ever.

After some time, the sun hid behind Thalesia’s skyline and the summer wind brushed across Leor’s cheek with gentle strokes. Leor had stopped by a secluded shop in the shady part of town and used Afzal’s donation to buy a bottle of cheap liquor. It irritated him that he took his sarcastic charity, but he knew beggars can’t be choosers. He inhaled the summer air and steeled himself as he entered the rundown inn on the outskirts of the city.

“Look who’s back,” Gerald said jokingly, sitting behind the front desk with the orange glow of an oil-lit lamp illuminating only a portion of his face. “You know what I want, right?” He was a large man with scars that ran up his arms and had a scowl that mothers would use to scare their children.

There was silence for a brief moment as Leor made his way through the dusty, cob-webbed lobby. Gerald cleared his throat as loud as he could and Leor rolled his eyes and threw his pouch onto the counter.

Gerald squints at the deflated bag. It was obvious that it was nearly empty with a single glance. “That’s it?” asked Gerald without counting the contents.

Leor sighed and nodded his head. “You of all people should know how bad it is.” He gestured his hand at the empty lobby. “Is there any dinner?” asked Leor as he popped the cork off the bottle of alcohol and poured two glasses.

“I’ve made bread. Meat as well.”

Leor’s ears pointed up. “Meat?” he said in disbelief. They hadn’t had meat in a while; His mouth salivated at the thought.

Gerald chuckled under his breath as he brought a plate over and watched Leor examine it with lustful eyes. He wanted to savor his face when he realized.

“... This is not meat,” said Leor in the most monotone voice he could muster. He forked his food and lifted into the dim light. “This is just grilled lettuce, chopped into slices, covered in brown sauce... ”

Laughter broke through Gerald’s scowl and he hammered his fist against the table. “We’ll be having more of that if I continue to get paid like this! Pass me that cup. I need it to wash this garbage down.”

After dinner, the two men stood on the roof with their final serving of liquor in hand and watched the city’s nightlife glow in the distance. The booze flushed their cheeks with a warmth that differed from the summer breeze. It was quiet between the two. A silence they were used to when they shared a bottle. Leor thought back to the mercenaries from the gate. He wasn’t sure why they came to mind, perhaps the alcohol numbed his thoughts.

“Say, you ever been beyond the Walls?” asked Leor in a low voice. He kept his eyes on the clocktower in the distance, studying the second hand’s ticking. Something was off. He squinted his eyes and observed each hand. 4:44. That’s impossible, he thought. Leor gazed up at the night sky, it was neither bright enough to be the afternoon nor orange enough to be early morning. Damn thing must be broken.

Gerald broke his thought with a loud swig and sigh of satisfaction. “Haven’t been since Ludwig sent me in. Why?” His words began to slur ever so slightly at the tail end.

Leor shrugged his shoulders. “Just a question, I guess.” He paused to think. Gerald was another person in the city who treated him well, mainly because they both were outcasts, but Leor didn’t think he could ask about his past since he refused to share his own. Instead, he said something he knew would interest Gerald. “I got another job tomorrow”.

The wood creaked and shook as Gerald jumped to grab Leor’s shoulders. “Really? Two days in a row!?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” responded Leor as he peeled his hands off. “Yes, another escort job, but this one said it’ll take about a week. Suppose to take someone to Lightendale. Pays well, I hear. ”

“Finally some good news! Maybe taking in an alcoholic bum like you at a discount will finally pay off!” Gerald slung his arm around Leor. His musty breath tainted Leor’s nostrils. At this point, Leor knew Gerald was wasted. He’d only get touchy once he had enough to drink. “Neither of us pray, so let’s just celebrate with another bottle! My treat. How bout it?”

Leor smiled and caved in immediately. It was always like this. Whether coming home from a job or just coming back from whatever life threw at him, Gerald was there to offer him a drink. To celebrate whatever excuse he came up with. To celebrate the little things. He stumbled forward and supported Gerald as they headed back downstairs to share another drink.