I followed the man through what seemed to be an endless sequence of twisting and turning alleys, sometimes crossing streets to exit from one alley into another. The width of the spaces varied dramatically, some were narrow enough to be barely traversable while others widened to be street-width in parts. The illumination also varied like the terrain, with some alleys being brightly lit from lanterns hung outside overhead windows and some being pitch-black because of overlapping roofs blocking out the light of the night sky. Various humans sat, and stood in some, eyeing both the stranger and myself up with gazes ranging from caution to barely-disguised contempt.

Is he really leading me to the docks? I asked myself half-jokingly after fifteen minutes had passed. I didn't see a single person waiting in ambush around us despite my suspicions, which led me to start believing that I might have come across a human who was actually being genuine. We rounded a corner and the stranger looked back over his shoulder at me, then sped ahead. Ah, here we go, I thought as my body smiled in anticipation. The alley widened into a large room-sized dead-end, illuminated by not much more than the moon and a single lantern hanging from hastily-nailed boards preventing exit on the far side.

“Why are we stopping?” I asked the stranger who was still facing away from me. He took a few steps toward the makeshift wall, slowly and dramatically. I don't see anyone waiting on the rooftops, I thought as I checked quickly, the windows are too dark to tell but it would surprise me if they could get a good shooting angle from there with a crossbow or other weapon.

“I was going to joke about how you looked like one, but wow. You're about as gullible as a forest man too, aren't you?” the stranger asked, turning around to face me with both of his hands on his walking stick. Well if I hadn't already spotted it, that would have told me it was a weapon, I thought. My own right hand was resting comfortably on the hilt of my sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. I should just kill him, I thought, but I'd rather have the excuse of self-defense.

“You know, I've never actually seen a real forest man,” I replied sarcastically, “I wouldn't know what they're like. From what I've heard they're even stupider than you, so that would certainly make them more gullible than I am.” The stranger smirked and drew his blade from the walking stick, revealing a thin, straight blade around eighty centimeters long. He took a frankly ridiculous stance, holding the blade out straight in front of him but inclining it by thirty degrees or so with his elbow bent.

“Please, anyone in the world could see that you're nothing but an uncultured savage,” he mocked. “I could certainly believe that you're a shoyt from Suwlahtk, but your size and appearance are all wrong. I mean, just look at you. What kind of idiot dresses like that? Is that thing on your hip even a sword? It looks like you just picked the biggest slab of metal you could hold in one hand and sharpened it.”

“I'm certain it's more than enough to handle you,” I replied. With considerably less flair than my partner, I drew my sword, letting it hang down on my right side in a relaxed position.

“Typical savage,” the stranger scoffed, “I'm surprised that you can even hold that 'weapon' properly. How about this? You give me all of your money, all of your weapons, and I might not skewer you for the fun of it.” As if to emphasize his point, the man jabbed the sword towards me threateningly.

“No,” I replied. The stranger opened his mouth to form a rebuttal, but I dashed towards him and threw the first strike of the fight. His face twisted into surprise and effort as he contorted his body to dodge out of the way of a right to left upwards diagonal chop, barely managing to escape having his organs spilled. With two more rapid spins the man jumped backwards, then dashed towards me with a straight stab. I moved out of the way and he turned the stab into a slash, grazing my neck and cheek with a circular motion he made while he withdrew the sword.

To my surprise, the withdrawal of the sword was followed up by another rapid poke to my chest again, which I avoided. That poke chained into four more pokes, limiting the distance I could close between myself and the stranger by requiring me to move laterally to avoid them. Each time he pulled his sword back the man would flick the tip of his blade and nick some part of my body, drawing small amounts of blood. I could tell from his face that he thought he had the upper hand, so I decided to prove him wrong. I bought armor, after all, I thought.

I kicked off of the ground, jumping to the stranger's left, then quickly redirected my momentum when I touched the ground to jump towards him instead. The stranger once again tried to stab me with his sword in the center of my chest, but the blade failed to penetrate as it impacted the steel plate in my armor after slipping through the leather. The whole force of my weight and momentum bared down on the stranger's wrist, forcing it to bend away from me at an awkward angle. I took my opportunity and struck, swinging a vicious diagonal blow at his shoulder. The stranger once again contorted to get out of the way, but my blade clipped the front of his collarbone and ribs, cracking them and tearing his skin apart.

The stranger gritted and bore his teeth, pulling his sword arm back and replicating a very similar strike to the one I had just used, a wide one-handed chop. I pulled my sword up, knocking his comparatively lighter weapon flying out of his hand easily. Good thing the strike was so obvious, I thought. With his eyes wide, the stranger watched as I stepped forward and then pulled the pommel of my sword back down towards his face. Bones crunched and blood sprayed as the metal pulverized his nose and right cheekbone, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap and screaming out in pain. The stranger's sword clattered to the ground behind him, out of reach.

With a swift kick, I broke more of the stranger's ribs and flipped him over onto his back. His face was already regenerating, clicking and popping from the bones re-setting themselves back into place. I put my foot on his throat and applied enough pressure to make breathing painful, but not impossible. I could kill him right now, but will they believe me if I tell the guards I was attacked? I glanced to the sword on the ground and saw some of my own blood on it, but concluded that it probably wasn't enough evidence. The stranger tried in vain to lift my foot, then started tapping my leg to get my attention.

“Hey, stop,” he wheezed frantically. “Look, we can work something out alright?” In response I pressed down slightly more, causing his breathing to take on a high-pitched squeaking. Why doesn't he just kick out? I wondered, If he was willing to break his neck, but not fatally or in a disabling manner, he could escape this and be fine. “Please don't kill me,” the stranger squeaked, “I'm sorry, okay? I just needed the money.” He wasn't that hard to beat, I thought, unconventional fighting style but I doubt he could have killed me even if I didn't try to avoid his strikes and went for the kill myself.

“If I take this foot off of you and you go for that sword, I'm going to kill you and I will ensure you suffer for the entire duration of the event, understand?” I threatened.

“Yeah... yeah please...” the stranger coughed, “I get it... just take the foot off.” Is that a hand gesture? I noticed, seeing that the stranger's right hand how had its ring and pinky finger curled in and was moving back and forth towards me.

“No magic either,” I growled. The stranger's gesture increased in intensity, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Wait, I saw a few people using that gesture in the street, I recalled, some kind of symbolic gesture of acquiescence? No, I think it means 'I want to talk'. Reluctantly, I released my foot and stepped back to let the man cough out the fluids that had been building in his throat.

“Seytoydh shahv,” the stranger croaked. “Gods and spirits I thought that was the end of me.”

“It might still be,” I said, pointing my sword at him. “Give me all of your money and I'll let you live.” The stranger looked at me, still on all fours and clutching his throat, and coughed out some pitiful laughter.

“Just my luck,” he groaned, “you might as well do it if you're going to, because I don't have any money left at all.” The alley was silent while I considered how to respond. He could be lying, I thought, but he would have to be incredibly stupid to do so in this situation. My assessment of the stranger's intelligence was not charitable, but he didn't seem the type to try something so idiotic.

“The sword then,” I replied.

“You can have it, but I stole it,” the stranger coughed. “Why do you think I hid it in a walking stick? You try to sell that and you'll be fighting guards, not me.” He could be lying, but there's no real benefit for him if he is, I considered.

“Do you not have something of value?” I demanded. “Those boots maybe?” The stranger inhaled and stood up, then showed me the bottom of his right foot. His boots were worn straight through, a detail I hadn't noticed before.

“As you can see, I am flat broke,” the stranger declared. “Not even one ngeyt to my name at this point. You have more than I do, definitely. Walking around wearing brand new armor and weapons, they must have cost a lot even if they look ridiculous.” I don't really understand what looks ridiculous about them, I thought.

“I have sixteen ngeyt,” I replied. The stranger froze with his mouth half-open, his head tilted ever so slightly to his right, then he closed his eyes and began to laugh again. The laughter grew more intense until it was almost howling, and the stranger threw his head back to the sky before flinging it forwards. A few tears left his eyes before he hung his head low to his chest and finished laughing.

“The gods must hate me,” the stranger mumbled. “Surely I have committed some greater sin than just robbing and swindling, because this level of misfortune is just unfair.” Why would he assume that his bad luck is the fault of some god? I wondered, Doesn't the very notion of such a thing existing imply that the affairs of humans are below their notice? “You know what, just get on with it,” the stranger mumbled. “Just make it quick, I'm tired of being the gods' punchline.”

“If I kill you the guards will come for me,” I said. The stranger laughed again, without any joy in his voice, and looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

“You really are a complete idiot,” he sighed. “We're in the slums, unless you dragged my corpse into the streets to show it off there's hardly a soul who would care. Even if you did, if the right guard saw you they might buy you a drink instead of punishing you, once they figured out who I was.” For some reason, my urge to kill the man in front of me had dissipated. His entire form radiated defeat and resignation. There was a long period of silence as neither of us moved or said anything. Then, with a sigh of my own, I put my sword back into its sheath. I should at least try to avoid giving the local law enforcement an excuse to pay attention to me, I said to myself.

“Attack me again, and you will regret it,” I told him, then I turned around to leave the alley. I probably can't afford a room to sleep in tonight, but I saw a few buildings I could climb on the way here, so I could rest on a rooftop, I thought as I glanced up at the sky.

“Who are you, really?” the stranger asked, causing me to pause and look back at him. The leather tunic, now with a large tear in it, was hanging down revealing skinny ribs beneath it.

“I told you already,” I replied.

“My name is Koylzmeyl Zae'ey'yaob,” the stranger said, bending over into a flowery bow with one arm extended. For some reason, his tone was sarcastic and mocking, but the only person he could have been mocking was himself. “Koyl for short,” he added, then cleared his throat and drew in a breath through his nose. His eyes were still puffy, but his mood seemed to have improved. To think he was just begging to be killed, I scoffed.

“Okay,” I replied, turning back to the exit. I began walking again, but then stopped when I heard the sound of metal on rocks. Glancing back I saw Koyl picking up his sword from the ground and putting it into its sheath. He noticed me looking and smiled nervously.

“Don't worry,” he assured me, “I'm not planning anything.” I continued leaving, but Koyl jogged up beside me and tapped me on the shoulder, halting me again. I very nearly attacked him, but managed to restrain my reflexes. “Where are you staying tonight?” he asked.

“Planning to assassinate me in my sleep?” I asked bluntly. He can't possibly think I'm that stupid, I thought.

“Was it really that obvious?” Koyl asked in a facetious tone.

“Yes,” I replied bluntly before walking away, opting to ignore any further nonsense.