Keziah couldn't exactly see what happened at first. He expected the sailor to punch the bard, boast about, kick him while on the ground or be satisfied and leave. He certainly wasn't ready for a strike that fast and precise, right in the exposed neck. He also didn't anticipate was that strike to be done by the bard. The handsome, albeit frail-looking blond, young man was supposed to be the helpless victim.

The other four sailors looked confused at what had happened, struggling to comprehend it. Keziah was similar at first, but recovered quickly and studied the fight more intently now. Keziah also thought fast, opened the window wider and jumped onto the shorter building's roof, three yards away and two below his window. He let himself be carried by instinct. There was no other reason why he would do what he did. He sought to be closer to the action, sensing something might happen. He didn't know what, but he felt it nonetheless.

Nobody noticed his silent descent. Once the other four men shook off their stunned expressions and charged the bard. Their comrade was lying on the ground, blood streaming from his throat. They must have judged him unsavable and decided to avenge him while he still drew his last breaths. Keziah continued climbing down on the ledges and window sills; out of the view of the brawlers. He watched the fight with increasing interest as the blonde man started showing more of his skills.

He also had to focus more, as the light seemed to be more and more sparse in the alley, replaced by shadows.

The bard used it to his advantage, dodging the clumsy — but strong enough to knock him out — fists and kicks. The young man looked to strike some cuts in their arms and torsos with his dagger, now stained by the sailors' leader's blood. He ducked under one strike and was ready to plunge his knife into the second sailor, but he got overwhelmed and kicked in the side by the other man. He didn't let it stun him and used the shadows to momentarily disappear from their sight to collect himself.

Keziah continued observing as he was on the ground level now, the same as the fight that was going on. The bard clearly had some skills. The way he used the dagger as well as his speed and precision wasn't something that could be achieved without a considerable amount of training.

What the bard had in abilities, though, he lacked in experience. Fighting against multiple opponents wasn't something to do willy-nilly. Even if one would be to have an overwhelming advantage in skill, a danger of being overrun, a strike coming from any direction at any time, and an inability to commit fully to a single attack often proved too much to handle for many warriors.

Even mages thought twice before going in alone against a group of enemies. Only those with spells and affinities that suited such combat could safely undertake it. That is — unless they were Keziah, who used to do it for fun, often placing his life on the line. He was a mage, but his abilities barely suited it. Maybe before his core was crippled, he could manipulate lightning to strike his enemies. Now — and for most of his life — his abilities put him more into the duelist category, preferring one-on-one battles.

His extreme reaction speed and agility, combined with a lifetime's worth of fighting and surviving experience, made him able to hold his own against a bigger group of non-mages, and even a smaller one with mages involved. He had to take a lot of beatings and life-threatening moments to get there, but he got there.

Thinking of his abilities, Keziah remembered that he had to try one new skill that could become his new spell. He did it by accident when he was battling the assassin sent after Annette, and wanted to try it again ever since. He hasn't found the time or an excuse for it, though. Until now. With the darkness encroaching onto the alley and becoming denser, Keziah wanted to know the movements of the fighters better.

He tried to repeat in his mind what he did then. With a swift movement of his arm, he sent some of his created electricity — well; it wasn't exactly electricity, but mana in shape and form of it and acting as one — in a wide arc. After a flash, the wave surged forward and Keziah could no longer sense it, just like the last time. No one else seemed to have noticed the flash. Whether they were too concerned with the fight, or the darkness — which must have been magical, Keziah surmised — was so thick around them that they couldn't see anything outside of it, he didn't know.

A few seconds later, and some more grunts that were almost stifled by the sounds coming from the still open taverns on the other side of the street, the wave returned. Just like the last time, the feeling of receiving information straight to his mind and in such a quick manner was hard to get used to. After calming down, he analyzed the received information. He now knew the exact layout of the alley and was around a dozen feet beyond it on both ends. It felt like watching it directly from above, but all that could hide from such a view was also visible. He noticed that it wasn't constant. He only knew what was there the moment the wave passed through it. He realized that after having information about the fight in his mind, that was almost frozen in time, but with his eyes he still could see some faint movements in the cloud of darkness.

Keziah thought that the spell had potential, but needed more work first. He had to eliminate the flash of electricity at the beginning of it, as it would most likely be used only on reconnaissance, in a more stealthy manner. He doubted it would get much use in the fight itself. He also had to find a way to make it more efficient, showing not just a single moment in time, but something that would be more accurate. It was all to be thought of later, though. Perhaps on their ship cruise to Nardan. Now he had to focus on the fight before him and decide what to do with it.

Keziah sensed that the bars were still in there somewhere, cloaked by the shadows he must have created. Or did he manipulate the already existing ones? Keziah wasn't sure, but thankfully it didn't matter to him either way. Without his new spell, he would almost guess that the bard had escaped. He must have shrouded himself completely for the moment; only the sailors were somewhat visible in the unnatural cloud. They bumped into each other and one was even knocked out by his ally by accident. They acted more carefully after that.

It was good news for the bard that he had one less opponent. He was starting to struggle with four enemies. Come to think of it, it was weird that the sailors had picked on probably the only bard in a 100-mile radius that was a mage skilled with a dagger. It was also weird that the bard would allow them to do so, and even corner him in an alley. What did the young man hope to achieve? Keziah didn't know, but curiosity would soon provide him with an answer.

Finally, the bard decided to attack again. It was smart. His best option was to take them out, one by one, unexpectedly, just like the first one. He was fast and precise, but clearly couldn't hold his own in an extended fight. He would have to strike fast and retreat into the shadows, hoping it would work three times in a row. There was also the option to flee, but something told Keziah that it wasn't in the bard's mind.

The bard moved with the shadows, which left him still shrouded in them, but the blur in which the movement left was easily seen once someone looked straight at it. The sailor didn't, and found himself with a knife in his ribs, as his guard was high, protecting the head and neck. The other two didn't catch the bard in time, and he slipped back into the darkness once more. The two that had left were less sure of their action now. Realizing that a moment of lost focus could lead to their death, they must have been contemplating leaving their allies' bodies and running away. Their decision was soon made for them, as the bard moved again, sensing their uncertainty and dispatching yet another one.

Once it was one on one, the fight didn't last long. After a dozen or so frantic attacks, the last sailor had fallen, a knife wound in his heart. The bard stood there, panting heavily, atop the mess of the five bodies. It must have taken a lot out of him to maintain the shadows. Keziah wondered why had Augustus not warned him that the bard was a mage. He was quiet most of the evening, ever since entering the tavern. It was unusual for him not to mention that there was a mage nearby. Keziah would have to ask him that when he returns to his room, where he temporarily left Augustus near his bed.