I left the temple after picking up my weapons and did not give a donation. The priestess was disappointed, but I halfheartedly told her that I would give her money once I found a job. Of course, I had no intention of doing any such thing, but it stopped her from trying to coerce funds out of me. The sun was lower in the sky, so I began to make my way back to the inn where Koyl and I were to meet up. I took a few wrong turns, owing to the identical-looking buildings, but being able to read the names of roads helped greatly with city navigation. Now if only someone could convince them to arrange their cities in grids and name the roads based on their coordinates, I'd never get lost again, I thought.

Back at the inn, I paid for another night in the room and waited for Koyl. The chatter of the dining room was loud enough that I had little difficulty scanning it for conversations that might lead to a way out of the city. Twice I approached a table where humans were loudly discussing some trading business which was to send them to some other city, and twice I was told to get lost when I informed them of my intentions. It seems like nobody wants to hire a worker who isn’t associated with an official company, I surmised from the context of the refusals.

A few minutes after the second refusal, a dejected-looking Koyl entered the inn, saw me, and gestured to a nearby table where we both sat down.

“I paid for the room already,” I informed him. Koyl grunted, then reached into his tunic and inhaled some of his medication. Instantly, the tension left his body and he appeared more relaxed.

“I’ll pay for the food then,” he said, waving down one of the servers from nearby.

“I’ve already eaten,” I replied, “I will be fine until morning.” Koyl raised his eyebrows, then gave the server some money for food.

“So while you were waiting around, I was out trying to figure out a way to get some money in this gods-forsaken city,” Koyl griped flatly. “As you can probably guess, it didn’t go well. You know, you could also do some searching. Who knows, they might like you more than me, considering most work outside the walls is mercenary work.”

“I searched as well, no results,” I stated. “I also visited the local temple and ended up asking the priestess for work. She had none.” Koyl hissed, and the server returned with a plate of heavily-oiled meat and vegetables along with a mug of water.

“Let me guess, they don’t want to hire a freelancer?” Koyl grumbled.

“Exactly,” I nodded, and Koyl rolled his eyes.

“Figures,” he sighed, “Steelheart has an office in Pehrihnk, you still haven’t told me exactly what happened with Dawp but we could maybe go-”

“Not a good idea,” I interrupted.

“What did you even do?” Koyl prodded. “I know I’ve been a little bit off lately, but I really should have asked earlier. She paid you, obviously, so it couldn’t have been that bad.” Well, she certainly didn’t want to, I thought with an inhale.

“Once the organization gets her reports, I will have to avoid Steelheart,” I said. “Dawpvaol also believed you to be dead, so it’s unlikely that they would accept that you aren’t, if she told them about you. If not, then you would probably still be… what was it?”

“Banned from the majority of work,” Koyl said, taking an oversized bite of food with a fork. “Courier ships are usually about the speed of the one we took, it’s just chance if they think I’m dead or just a thief.” Good thing they don't have radios, I thought.

“You are a thief,” I replied. Koyl huffed, but didn't say anything more.

The next day, Koyl and I both went out early in the morning to visit a number of caravan companies to try to find work. Koyl had drawn a crude map of the city based on a larger map he saw, and marked out where each of the companies in question was situated. I copied the map down myself, then added a few more markers for places of interest I had spotted during my walk the day before. I took the route to the west, and he took the east. Now let's see, an optimal route would involve taking Fisherman's Street here...

“Get out of my building, doymztoyl,” a short man with sharp orange eyes spat at me. I blinked, wondering why he would have such a hostile reaction to seeing me for the first time. That's the first time today I haven't been rejected based on being a freelancer, I remembered, maybe he just dislikes people with an appearance like mine. If I press, maybe I'll get somewhere.

“I am looking for work,” I began. “Specifically I wish to join a caravan as a guard in order to head east. I'm not here to cause any trouble, just the opposite.” The man paused, as if my response wasn’t something he was expecting.

“Company?” he asked.

“None,” I replied.

“Get out,” he grunted.

“I am more than willing to demonstrate my-” I tried to continue.

“No deal, get out,” the man demanded. So much for that, I thought.

“I am sorry mister Lihyveyz, but without a contract with an official mercenary company guaranteeing your efficiency for guard work we cannot possibly accept you into any of our caravans,” A mild-mannered man behind a desk said. His long brown hair was tied behind him with a piece of leather, and his clean-shaven features more resembled a woman than a man. It must take an extraordinary amount of work to remove facial hair so completely, since it can't be plucked without regenerating, I thought.

“Is there some other job I could perform for the caravan then?” I asked, “I suggested guard work because it fits with my skills, but I can perform other functions, such as carrying luggage or hunting food.”

“All of our porter positions are filled,” the man told me apologetically. “We do need someone to fill a position loading and unloading goods at the north gate, however, if you would be willing to do that sort of work.” Better than nothing, I supposed.

“What’s the pay?” I asked. If I can save some money and cover my expenses, I can at least solve my immediate problem, I thought.

“One ngoywngeyt per day,” the man said placidly. That isn’t even enough to cover an inn room and one meal, I thought with a frown, but, maybe it's intended to be worked with other, similar jobs at the same time.

“The hours?” I asked.

“Sunup to sundown,” the man replied. Ridiculous, I grumbled.

“Get off my property before I have the guards throw you out,” an elderly woman snapped at me, gesturing to two armed and armored men in the back of the room. Well this broke down quickly, I sighed.

“Come on big guy,” the guard to my left said, putting his hand on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him with a warning, but as I did the man on my right tried to grab my right arm. Entirely by reflex, I punched the man on my right with a force-magic-enhanced fist, winding him and sending him two full steps backwards. The guard on the left yelled and tried to wrap an arm around my neck before screaming and falling back as I scorched every square centimeter of his skin within my range.

“Guards! Guards!” the woman yelled, pulling out a sword of her own and taking up a defensive position behind her desk. The guard on my right, who had recovered from being winded, roared and tried to tackle me, earning him a broken neck when I caught his head and twisted it violently. The left guard thought better of fighting after seeing his partner flop to the ground and stayed down. He'll recover, I thought as I glanced at the right guard, seeing his shallow breathing.

“I’ll walk myself out,” I declared as another man burst into the room behind me. A swift kick reversed his knee and turned him into a moaning heap.

The day was not productive. Most places outright refused to even allow me entry once I told the doormen what I was after, and those that did nearly always kicked me out once they realized I was a freelancer. Thankfully there was only one violent altercation, a clear-cut case of self-defense with no fatalities, so I didn’t expect a visit from any city guards. It feels strange to leave humans alive after a fight concludes, I thought as I walked back to the inn, something about it just isn’t right.

Inside the inn, Koyl was waiting for me at a table, and I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t had much luck either. My money was rapidly running out, so I decided not to eat to conserve resources. Koyl evidently had the same idea, and had only ordered some water for the both of us.

“So, I have a plan,” he said quietly after taking a sip from his mug.

“You want to rob someone,” I replied, just low enough that my voice wouldn’t be audible from the neighboring tables. I had already figured that Koyl would turn to criminal activity once the legal means of earning money were exhausted, but I hadn’t expected him to go to it so quickly considering the moralistic streak he had been developing. Could be the influence of his znahdeyvtih, I thought, it’s making him more rational, at least temporarily.

“While I was out getting shit on by egotistical caravan owner in the entire east end, I was also looking to see which ones had the worst security,” he explained. “There was one that stood out above the rest, and it was this one.” Koyl put his map down on the table and tapped a company in the far east end with his finger.”

“Dkehpmz... Mercantile?” I stumbled, trying to figure out the exact pronunciation and meaning of the label above it.

“Yes,” Koyl said, tapping the spot again for effect. “Owned by one Shaydeyv Dkehpmz, it’s a small but apparently quite successful company that mostly runs supplies between here and Owsahlk, the next nearest city to the east. Oddly, it doesn’t do so by ship even though that method is faster, and instead takes exclusively land routes.”

“So then how is it successful?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer. Koyl smirked.

“They have a reputation for gray-market goods, for one,” he replied. “I suspect they also smuggle illegal goods in along with legal goods. I mean, sure, I don’t have any real proof of it, but there’s no way they’re not smuggling if they're still in business and can afford an office here. That or they’re the pet service of some noble, but Dkehpmz isn’t Uwrish and, well, he’s low class. That, to me, says semi-legal business.” Sounds logical, I thought, it's absurd that laws on goods can vary so much by region, however.

“So that means they’re less likely to inform the guard if anything goes missing,” I inferred.

“Exactly,” Koyl said. “Not only that, but they probably keep most of their money in coin, rather than relying on assets that would draw a lot of attention to their finances. The only reason I even knew they were successful is that I know how much it costs to run even one caravan, and they’re running four.” Well, I guess the worst-case scenario is that Koyl is wrong, and in that case we’re not much worse off than we are right now, I figured, prisoners are fed here, which is better than starving in a few days.

“So when do we do this?” I asked.

“Let’s order some food,” Koyl suggested.

Later that night, when the streets were much less populated, Koyl and I exited the inn and headed into the east end. Without narrow alleys to hide our movement, we had to take the streets and look as innocuous as possible. People stared at me when I passed, but only insofar as they were surprised by my size. Soon enough we were at the location, a small but well-maintained one-floor warehouse building connected almost directly to the city walls. The street it was located on was small and totally dead of foot traffic with the exception of us. I looked to Koyl, who handed me a rag and proceeded to cover his face with one of his own after taking a whiff of his meds.

“We’re not going in the front, right?” I asked once I had applied my face covering. It was a rhetorical question, mostly. If there was any other entrance and Koyl intended to use the front, I was going to split up from him.

“No,” Koyl said, “there’s a broken window near the back left. It should be boarded over, but that won’t be a problem for us, right?” I thought about it, then gave a gesture of affirmation.

“How did you find out about the window?” I wondered aloud.

“I broke it,” Koyl deadpanned through the haze of his medication. Of course you did, I sighed, something tells me this is going to be a disaster.