After jamming the lock on the chest by shoving some splinters of hardwood inside it, I cleaned up the front office as best as I could to remove the signs of a disturbance. I couldn't fix the destroyed podium, but I stashed its pieces in the back room. Then, I unlocked the door and walked back out into the street. I need to find somewhere to get woodworking tools, I thought, I'm on the edge of the slums, so if I go a bit more westward I might find shops with crafting goods. Just have to avoid the guards. It's good that they still seem occupied with the aftermath of last night, there aren't many on patrol.

“I shtill don' undershtan' what yeh wan' this fer,” the bearded man drawled as his assistant searched the back of his store for two logs that met my needs. I was being offered the choice between three sets of woodworking knives and I had no idea which ones were supposed to be better for the kind of carving I wanted. Why do humans have to make everything so complicated, I sighed, just make a sharp blade for fine work, and a saw for coarse work. It's not that hard.

“It's like a statue of a single body part.” I tried to explain. “In this case, it's the part of the leg below the knee. It needs to be durable enough to support an average-sized man's weight.”

“Shorry, ken yeh shay tha' agen? Yeh' go' a heavy ackshen' boy,” the man laughed. I exhaled, then inhaled, reminding myself that killing the man and taking the knives would only get me caught faster. Maybe he has a chest in the back too...

Carrying fifty kilograms of wood through the streets attracted some attention. Luckily for me, the logs on either side of my face blocked most of the passersby from seeing it, and they were content to part in front of me in order to not accidentally be struck by one of the log sections I was holding up. A little bit of force magic helped immensely to keep the logs still while I moved, and soon enough I was back at the inn. Getting through the door was a challenge since I was a bit too wide to enter while holding the logs facing forward and their length was almost exactly the same as the doorframe standing sideways.

“And here you told me not to spend anything,” Koyl laughed, “is that eyyngaykiyjh? That stuff costs a fortune.” I set down the logs while parsing the new word Koyl had used. The second half was the word for “wood”, but the first one was something I didn't quite recognize. Is it a color? I thought with a frown, it sounds like a color. Since the wood was much darker than average I assumed it was some kind of description of the coloration.

“The man at the store said this was the most durable wood he had,” I explained, “it wasn't that much. I got payment from Dawpvaol, and I also picked up some carving knives.” Koyl whistled.

“She paid you?” he asked in disbelief. “Didn't you say she canceled the contract?”

“She did,” I replied, sitting down and pulling the first log towards me, “I convinced her to part with the money anyway.” The incredibly sharp blade sliced through the outer bark of the log like it was clay, drawing out a long, curling strip of wood. This shouldn't take that long, I thought, maybe a few hours at most, they don't need to be perfect. “Can you come ov-” I paused, realizing how stupid the question I asked was.

“Yeah I'd love to,” Koyl snarked, “I've been sitting a little too long though, can't feel my feet.” Nodding, I stood up and walked over to the table to pick up Koyl. “Yehpweyl is next door by the way,” he said, “she's hiring some people to collect her stuff and move it to Frahmtehn. People are probably going to think she killed the nobles, so she needs to change her whole identity.”

“I figured she would be leaving as well,” I said as I hefted Koyl over my back, “the Flowing Wings weren't just those four I killed, right?”

“You killed four members of the Flowing Wings?” Koyl asked in alarm. I turned my head and saw his expression was grave. He saw that I was confused, and explained. “They're a few hundred people, mostly the private soldiers of nobility with a few nobles mixed in. They take on private security for the wealthy and contract out to the mainland. Yehpweyl didn't tell me who you killed.”

“So, most of them aren't in Vehrehr then,” I said, putting Koyl down by the log. After I was sure he had his balance I sat down beside him and got back to work on carving. Koyl shook his head as if I had said something ridiculous.

“Maybe fifty at any time,” he replied, “tell me, did any of the ones you killed have green eyes?”

“Two of them,” I replied, pulling another curl of wood off of the log. Koyl laughed nervously, then inhaled sharply.

“You have quite the talent for getting into trouble,” he replied. “Those two were probably Awsriyahn nobles. Lower status, not that it matters. They like to, uh, keep it in the family if you know what I mean. Not a lot of green eyes in this part of the world if you aren't one of them.” Inbreeding, I surmised, I recall reading that such practices were dangerous for creator humans because of the risk of genetic illnesses. Can magic fix those? Maybe it can offset the effects. I can't imagine them inbreeding deliberately otherwise, it would be self-destructive. “So what are you making again?” Koyl asked. “I didn't quite understand when you mentioned it before.”

“I'm making you some new lower legs and feet to replace the missing ones,” I explained. “You'll be wearing them on the stumps until yours grow back.”

“Aha...” Koyl mumbled. “You're going to have to explain that a bit better.”

“Just sit there and let me measure your body when I need to,” I said, “if you're lucky there might even be enough wood left for an arm too.”

“Can't you make me a bit taller?” Koyl asked. Three hours had passed and I was finishing up the basic shape of the prosthetic legs. Yehpweyl had come back to the sight of her inn's ground floor covered in wood shavings. She looked like she was going to yell, but then stopped and just sat down beside Koyl, exhaling slowly and tightening her jaw. I didn't understand why she would be upset anyway, considering that she was planning to flee Vehrehr.

“Changing your height will throw off your balance,” I explained. “As far as I know, this will be hard enough to get used to quickly. Have you ever used... I don't know the word for these in Uwrish.” Stilts were used by some warbreed tribes to cross areas with deep mud and get a height advantage on opponents, but the Uwrish language had no concept for such a thing as far as I knew. “They're like long boards with outcroppings that you stand on, and you move them using your arms and legs in tandem,” I tried to explain.

“Oh I've heard of those,” Yehpweyl said, “they use them in Dahmpiyah in some traditional theater performances. We call them zmoyvmz.” I shrugged, then re-measured the leg I was carving again to make sure that it was the right length.

“The point is that you can't move your ankle or foot so all of your balance will be coming from your thighs and knees,” I said. “Let me put this on you to see how it fits.” I slid the leg towards Koyl's left stump and pushed the cap I had made over it. The fit was snug, but not tight enough to hold in place on its own.

“Not very comfortable,” Koyl remarked.

“Do you want to walk or not?” I countered. “In fact, it's not a question, you will be using these until we board the ship out of this city regardless of comfort. I'm not carrying you.”

“Point taken,” Koyl replied with a grimace.

“I feel like I've eaten some rotten fruit,” Koyl said as he teetered around on his legs. Yehpweyl had helped me affix them firmly to his legs with belts so that they wouldn't come off. For the third time since we had started, Koyl tumbled forwards and smashed his face on the ground.

“Do you need help?” Yehpweyl asked. Koyl grunted and used his arm stumps to push himself back into a sitting position, then used a nearby table to get back into an unsteady standing position.

“I just need to get used to them,” Koyl assured her, “they hurt quite a bit, but it's better than being legless.” While Koyl practiced walking with Yehpweyl nearby to catch him, I was using some of the leftover wood pieces to fashion a basic right forearm. It wouldn't be very sophisticated, essentially just a stick with a cup on one end and a fork on the other, but it would be enough that Koyl would be able to get back to his feet without having to climb up something.

“That doesn't look much like a forearm,” Yehpweyl remarked when she looked at my work.

“It's triage,” I said, “I can't fully repair him, but I can restore enough functionality that he isn't helpless.” Yehpweyl looked at me funny, then gestured to the fork.

“Add a hook between the fingers in it so he can stuff a cloth or some leaves in,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“So he can wipe his own ass,” she laughed. Koyl scowled at her from across the room, but then coughed out a few breathy laughs. I grabbed some of the remaining wood and began cutting the requested part. I can tension it with another wooden piece here, then it will have the ability to simulate grip, I thought.

“You two should sleep now,” I instructed, drawing looks from both of the humans.

“Why?” Koyl asked. “The sun is barely down, and I don't w- I'm not even tired.”

“We're leaving as soon as this is ready,” I told him. “I can stay up for another day without much issue, but you should rest while you can. I'll come to wake you once I'm finished.”

Koyl lumbered towards the docks as I walked beside him and kept a hand on his shoulder in case he started to fall. The pace was agonizingly slow, even with the extra practice Koyl had insisted upon before we left. I knew he couldn't help it, and he was learning rapidly, but it was annoying to me nonetheless. Maybe I should have just carried him over, I thought, the sun will be up in an hour and the streets will be full. Koyl stumbled for a moment and I moved to catch him, but he caught himself using his fake arm to counterbalance his weight. The long cloak he wore to hide his injuries shifted about, and a man passing by us on the other side of the street glanced at him, then hastily looked away.

“I have to say Yuwniht, I've never heard of praasthehtihks but this is a lot better than being carted around like a baby,” Koyl remarked. “Is this sort of thing common where you're from?” That's an oddly probing question, I thought.

“In Yahn Gwah you mean?” I asked. Koyl snorted, then looked back at me with a knowing stare. “Yes, but not like this,” I said, seeing no harm in replying honestly.

“Not every day someone loses four limbs is it?” Koyl joked darkly.

“What I mean is, normally they would be metal or plastic,” I explained. “They also have the ability to move so that their user can operate them. They're a lot better than the inert wood I made for you.” Koyl raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them in thought.

“So they have wires or levers inside that someone can tug on with force magic?” he suggested.

“Something like that,” I replied. We rounded a corner and the marina came into full view. Half a dozen ships sat in the docks, humans scurrying across them loading and unloading cargo. Ten more ships were visible half a kilometer away, sails furled and holding position in the water. Blue birds not unlike seagulls swarmed around the place, picking at anything that looked edible. We both stopped as I took in the new visual information.

“Quite a sight, isn't it?” Koyl smiled, seeing my reaction.

“I was just shocked that you actually told me the right direction to go the night we met,” I replied. “I wouldn't have risked it in your position.” Instead of replying, Koyl yawned, then motioned for us to keep moving.

“Yeah that's enough money for sure,” the scraggly-looking captain of the boat we were trying to board said after seeing our wallets, “just got one question b'fore you board, who'd ya kill?”

“I assure you sir, this is a request for legitimate transportation,” Koyl said.

“Oh I'm sure it is,” the captain replied, “I just wanna know who ya killed, because there's only three kinds of people who board ships like mine with cash like that. Nobles, business owners, and mercs. You two ain't noble for sure, and neither of ya looks smart enough ta own a business, 'specially not him. That means you're mercs, and if you're boardin' like this without a proper bank note that means it's your own cash. Only mercs I've ever seen who got cash like that on hand just made a big kill, so who was it?”

“Why do you care?” I asked.

“Wanna know if it was somebody I give a shit about, obviously,” the captain retorted.

“And if it was?” Koyl asked.

“Then ya can kindly take that money and go seyt a noypaalshey until it rips your tawt off,” the captain said. His tone suggested that the response was intended to be funny, but not entirely unserious.

“And the guards?” Koyl asked. Reflexively, I looked around, spotting no guards nearby.

“I'm not likin' where this is goin',” the captain warned.

“Yaavtey,” I said flatly, “I believe his family name was Tawl.” Koyl and the captain both looked at me. Koyl looked like he wanted to slap me, while the captain was pondering something.

“Where have I heard that name before...” he mumbled. “Wait, was he the guy from the... chopper boys? The one with the axes and the red hair? Looks like he got eaten by a bear, shat out, and put back together?”

“Hatchet Crew,” I corrected. “Yes, him. Also... a few others from his organization were killed in the process.” The captain grinned widely and beckoned us forward.

“Welcome aboard boys,” he laughed, “ya just got yourselves two first-class rooms.”

“We only paid for-” Koyl began nervously.

“Oh I'm sure I'll make up the diff'rence now,” he interrupted, “if you'll excuse me I've got some letters ta send.”

The boat rocked back and forth as the wind carried us to speed. Koyl and I both stood on deck, watching the city of Vehrehr slowly shrink in the distance. The crew worked nearby, pulling on ropes and doing other sorts of tasks that I didn't fully recognize. It's almost incredible that these kinds of vessels can be used at all, I thought, the level of maintenance required to keep such flimsy materials from degrading is far above what I would consider viable. I suppose the lacquer on the wood will keep the rot away for the duration of the journey, so long as the crew keeps everything clean.

“Do you think Yehpweyl will be alright?” Koyl asked to break the silence.

“Does it affect us in any way?” I asked back. Koyl didn't reply. So long as she manages to leave the city, I doubt anyone will catch her, I thought, the state of these people's forensic ability is extremely poor. All she would have to do is add a few facial scars, change her hair, and speak with an accent.

“Looks like I'll have my arms and legs back in order when we disembark,” Koyl finally said over a minute later, once again trying to start a conversation. “Not much to do until then besides wait around.”

“I have some ideas of how to occupy our time,” I replied.

“Oh?” Koyl chirped, half-smiling. “You know some games? We can play for money if you want, just don't get mad if you end up owing me.”

“You already owe me for saving you,” I countered. “And since you do, I need something from you.” Koyl's smile vanished and worry replaced it.

“Yuwniht, I'm not sure what-” he began to reply.

“Teach me to read and write,” I requested. Koyl looked back at me and blinked a few times, opening and closing his mouth once, as if he wanted to speak. “Illiteracy has been a constant disadvantage for me and I can't figure written Uwrish out on my own at a reasonable pace,” I explained. “Thirty days is more than enough for me to learn with an instructor. There are paper notebooks and writing tools on board, we can request to use some, or pay for some using my extra money.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Koyl laughed nervously, his smile coming back. “I can walk you through the basics, they're not that hard. We can get started right now if you want.” He moved to gesture with his right hand, then remembered it was currently a wooden fork. “Actually, I'm going to need to figure out how to do this without, uh, yeah. Give me an hour or two. We'll meet in your room, alright?”

“Understood,” I nodded. Koyl lumbered off as gracefully as he could with two wooden legs, drawing curious looks from the nearby sailors. A gust of wind, filled with mist from the sea, pushed wetly against my face, and I felt a similar sensation to when I stood alone in Yehpweyl's back yard. The sun peeked over the horizon, and the sensation crested into a wave, culminating with my lips curling up into a smile.

VOLUME 1 END