I kept walking for two days, taking my time and staying off of the road as much as I could while keeping in its general direction and feeding myself. Much to my annoyance, my brief contact with the rats triggered another set of bacterial growths on my hands which had to be removed. Thankfully, since they were in a more sensitive spot and I knew what to look for I caught them before they grew very large. Everything was going well for the most part, with the exception of a single issue: I couldn't find any large body of water anywhere. Flowing water wasn't exactly uncommon in the woody grasslands I found myself in, but it mostly took the form of streams that were, at most, ten centimeters across and around five centimeters deep. Fine for drinking, impractical for bathing.

As afternoon came on my fourth day of travel I began to notice that various small insects were crowding around me as I walked. It's the smell, I thought as I sniffed the air. The constant mild exertion of walking continually while covered in clothing caused me to sweat out water at a slow rate from my whole body, the smell of which was now so bad it was attracting animal attention. Sighing, I kept walking, occasionally swatting any of the insects that were stupid enough to try to land on me to feed. At least they can't regenerate, I thought, and my body let out a small chuckle of amusement.

The trees began to thin out in front of me again as another hour passed, and then the sound of flowing water caught my ears. I broke into a jog, following along the road and looking well ahead to see if anyone was coming from the other direction. As I crested the small hill in front of me I saw that the terrain ahead resembled a grassland, and that the road had a bridge around a kilometer from where I was standing. Hurriedly I ran towards it, and the sound of water, anticipating the cool relief of jumping into whatever it was made to cross.

Oh finally, I thought as I stood in the neck-deep water and let it slowly absorb into my skin. The bridge, as it turned out, was made to cross a river that was around fifteen meters across and deep enough that I could stand on the bottom of the deepest point without my head being above water. The flow rate was slow as well, making it ideal for swimming without getting dragged by current. I rubbed my body all over, physically feeling dirt and other grime melting away, and looked at my pile of clothing by the bank. Maybe I should just pull it in with me, I thought as I treaded water, it would certainly make washing it all off easier.

The sun was setting when I began putting my clothes and armor back on. It had taken hours for them to dry out enough that they weren't waterlogged so much as damp to the touch. I feared what the water might do to the unprotected iron of my gear but not enough to sleep naked for a night. I'll just have to observe it over the next few days and scrape off any rust I see, I thought, wincing when I remembered that I had also forgotten my whetstones in the cabin while it burned. I can probably walk for another hour or two before stopping, I judged as I looked at the position of the sun, it'll help me dry out too. After one final full-body shake I trudged up the hillside and back to the road, just in time to see three humans approaching to cross the bridge.

Those uniforms look like the ones the merchant guards wore, I thought as I stared at the humans. They were still around a quarter of a kilometer from me, and clearly not bothered by my presence. I should just act casual and let them pass me by, I thought. I crossed the bridge, walking at a pace that was more in line with the human average, and averted my gaze away from the group to avoid any conflicts. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them look at me once we were within a few paces of one another. They then looked away and I thought the encounter would end, but I was wrong.

“Hey, you,” a male voice said from behind me. I took a deep breath and turned around to see the group of mercenaries had stopped and were now facing me. The one in front who had spoken was a young male who was a few centimeters shorter than I was. He wore the standard brown/black clothing of humans in the region, as well as a simple iron helmet, breastplate, and set of thigh plates. On his hip was a sword whose design I was now intimately familiar with.

“What?” I asked back curtly, instantly regretting it as I saw the reaction of the mercenaries to my words. I need to speak more carefully, I thought, these idiots are aggressive. The two mercs behind the first one both slowly began stepping out to positions that were more advantageous for combat. Both were dressed the same as the front man, though both were smaller and the left mercenary, who looked to be a woman, had a crossbow strapped across her back.

“Where're you from?” the man asked. His words had a lilt to them which I quickly realized was an accent that differed from the people in Suwlahtk.

“Nowhere,” I replied, “I'm just going to Frahmtehn, I don't want any trouble.”

“Why are you all wet like that?” the man asked, his tone light but with an implication of a threat behind it.

“I just had a swim in the river to clean off,” I said, “is that a problem?” The mercenary on the right frowned, and the one on the left scratched the side of her head. Did I say something wrong? I wondered.

“What kinda accent is that?” the front merc prodded, stepping forward towards me. I wanted to step back but refrained from doing so because doing so might have appeared confrontational.

“I need to be going now,” I said as politely as I could, “unfortunately I don't have time to chat.” I turned around to walk away, straining my ears to listen for any footsteps behind me that might indicate some kind of hostile action. Instead of movement, I received another question.

“Where'd you get that sword?” the front merc demanded. Unlike his previous questions, this one sounded more like an accusation. I stopped and looked back to see the female mercenary had pointed her crossbow in my direction. Over a sword? I sighed, Possibly the stupidest reason I've ever had to kill someone.

“Family heirloom,” I lied as I turned around, smiling to try to appear friendly. The front mercenary spat on the ground and scowled.

“Yeah, right,” he snorted, “it's one of ours, so I'm going to ask you again: where'd you get that sword?” His phrasing made me think of the last conversation with the leaders of Suwlahtk, and I frowned.

“Why do you think it's one of yours?” I asked. “I'll admit that the design is similar, but I have no idea who you people are, and I did receive this weapon as a gift.” Before giving it away and then taking it back after killing the person I gave it to, I added mentally.

“Did you take it from a dead yayz or not?” the mercenary on the right snapped. I quickly reasoned that yayz was probably some kind of short-form for yayzeylahpao, which was Uwrish for “mercenary”.

“Taev, shut it,” the front merc snapped back at his companion before turning to me. “Listen friend, we can tell you're not from around here. That sword has the symbol of our company on it, so we know it's one of ours. We're out here looking for a couple of our clanmates who were escorting some rich merchant npoyt out to a pahjhlaht village called Suwlahtk out west. If you took that sword off of a corpse, we need to know where you found it.”

“My apologies,” I stated in a very respectful tone, “I can't help you. I was given this sword as a gift, and I have no idea where the person who gave it to me acquired it.” The group of mercenaries all sized me up, each of them doing some mental evaluation of my lie. At once, each of them relaxed, starting with the front man and ending with the woman, who lowered her crossbow.

“Will you give it back to us?” the front mercenary asked, holding out his hand. I thought about it for a moment. I don't really need it, I considered, but swords seem to be the most common weapon for human to human combat in this area so not having one may attract hostile attention, even more than having this one will. Besides, I have no currency and it may be worth something.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized again, “I need it for my journey, I can't give it away.” Micro-expressions flew across the faces of all three mercenaries, signaling anger, disappointment, and determination. The front mercenary sighed and held his hands up submissively.

“Sorry to have bothered you,” he said, giving me a nod and turning back to his people. I nodded to them and turned around to leave. He didn't ask where I was given it, or who gave it to me, I thought as I took my first step away, that can only mean one thing. The instant my ears heard the twang, I shifted my body to the side and upwards, tilting my head at far to the right as it could go. A hard impact struck my left lower back, easily piercing through the metal plate covering it and the skin underneath. Pain blossomed out from the wound and I felt wetness building around it. And just after I bathed, I grumbled, at least the river isn't very far. I was really hoping to avoid combat for at least another few days.

I sighed deeply and turned around to see the three mercenaries staring back at me, somewhere between stunned and confused at my reaction. The two men had drawn their swords but held them at odd, relaxed angles. I took a few steps toward the group, gauging their reactions and preparing to draw my knife at a moment's notice. Did they just expect me to keel over and die? I wondered as I studied the varied and complex expressions of the group.

“That weapon, the crossbow,” I said, using the English word for crossbow, “I'll trade the sword for it.” No reply came from the humans, so I reached behind myself with my left hand and pulled out the bolt, examining it before dropping it on the ground. Bodkin tip, I thought, I would have thought they would prefer a larger wound channel with serrations, or perhaps something spring-loaded to extrude spikes on impact. The sound of the bolt dropping broke the trance that had been placed on the mercenaries, and the two men advanced towards me, tightening their stances, while the woman backed up and began the process of reloading the crossbow.

“Who are you?” the front mercenary demanded, “I don't give a shit how tough you are, you're not going to win a three on one fight so just give up now and we won't kill you.” It's the same fighting style that the merchant guards used, I noticed while backing up and observing the men. My right hand gripped the handle of my knife, practically vibrating with anticipation. I'll try to take them out quickly, I thought, no need to use the sword if I don't have to. I'm better with the knife anyway. I need to try to make sure I don't end up half-dead after every combat.

“You don't look so strong,” I taunted with a smug half-smile, “I think I'll take my chances.” Take the bait you stupid monkey, I thought, but the mercenary was experienced enough not to be manipulated so easily. My eyes shifted to the woman for a second, watching her slowly winding up a wheel on the side of the crossbow, before shifting back to the main mercenary. One meter closer, I thought, I just need a bit more, but not too fast. I couldn't simply stop moving, but the difference in the rate at which I was retreating and the rate at which the pair were advancing meant that the distance between us would close.

“So you're a bandit just like I thought,” the front merc hissed. “What crew are you with? Can't be one from around here if you look like that, and you’re not one of the Hatchets. You alone because friends get killed when you tangled with our boys?” The second man was spreading out, trying to put more pressure on my movement and get me onto less favorable terrain. These ones seem to have better co-ordination than the merchant's guards, I thought, I need to take one of them alive and get some information. If my sword, or anything else about my gear or appearance, was going to cause more violent encounters I needed to know before entering a new settlement. I should also try not to lose all my weapons this time, I added silently.

“The only ones who died during that encounter were your 'boys',” I continued to grin, “but if you'd like to join them I'd be more than happy to oblige you.” My eyes shot back to the woman again, who was now taking off a contraption from the string of the crossbow and setting in a bolt. I began circling around, putting the men in the line of fire between myself and the woman. She held the crossbow up, then hesitated for a moment before pulling the trigger. A bolt whizzed past my face, the front mercenary yelled, my knife left its holster, and birds fluttered up from the nearby grass in fright.