The midday sun's orange-red glow was at it's brightest, smudged with an overtone of white. A few vendors still remained trying to sell off their merchandise to whomever would buy. They had concentrated themselves on the main road closest to the city walls, about a block and apart.

  There were enough guards to enforce w and order in this corner of the city, receiving a little extra peshwa from the merchants. The money often returning back to their hands when the guards in turn bought consumables and gear. A couple of the civilians could be seen throwing away what little peshwa they have at the vendors if only to enjoy a momentary delight from the cruelty of their situation. A few intrepid braves attempted to ransack the vendors and run off with their loot only to have their pleasure pummeled down in short order.

  Becker himself enjoyed some meat kebabs and "yarapi," a locally made drink that tasted like ale but was not alcohol. He counted how many peshwa he had on a table and took a bite from one of the kebabs. At close inspection they resembled fantasy guineas, if a little thicker. Apt for theatrical py or petty decoration. *Clink* *cnk* they went back into their sack as Becker looked on to the picturesque scene. A patrol of brown armored guards walking by every now and then, bored faced sellers tending to customers or taking a break however they see fit, and small crowds of gossiping acquaintances. Such an ordinary looking zy pace of life belied the deeds done the night before, and presumably the nights and days before Becker arrived. In his mind he did not wondered how it is that these people do not continue to just tear at each others' faces and shed more blood, but rather what is everyone waiting for.

  As he ate his meal he contempted the situation.

  Becker: [They're a rather unorganized lot if they waited until now to try and organize the mercenaries, and they must be desperate if they just grant citizenship to any old cutthroat. Those jockeying for their own interests will be in for a sticky situation, and whomever organizes their deaths might just be winging it until they can make it so. Who needs those types of surprises?]

  He poked the table with the stick of the second kebab as he pondered what else he did during the morning.

  Becker: [Still, the few others hiring for additional muscle don't have much of a sense of direction. They just want to end their deals permanently... And then what? Running around like a maniac to gun down strangers and nick their treasure might pay something, but not the payment I need most. The only ones who might guarantee that type of payment are the invaders. The younger brother Harko takes more from his father, sure, but at least his firm is established, stands to reason. Still, such an unruly character!]

  A rge cart came into left view coming along the road, driven by a pair of bipedal creatures. Even from afar they could be estimated to be nine meters tall with segmented reptilian undersides and covered in thick, orange scales with red and yellow highlights. Their faces resemble the features of an Asian dragon with feathers in pce of whiskers. On their heads there are two rge horns and two smaller ones almost forming a crown. The plumage on the wings swayed slightly with a passing breeze, as did their big feathered tails, resembling a rge burning fme. Behind the cart driver the unmistakable tips of spades and picks could be seen poking out of the wagon.

  Becker: [On the other hand, his older brother has potential for aggressive expansion. Not a popur chap...much less now. Certainly in need of anyone who can offer dynamic options to keep his host unscathed. Such an unpredictable rhythm of payment. Sarjenko could drive his followers straight to hell Bonnie Prince Charlie-style. A most exhirating offer.]

  As the cart came closer, there were more guards coming along forming a line behind the cart and weapons drawn. With anxious faces they scanned side to side expecting for someone to do something stupid. People were clearing off the street and heading towards the square further up the road. Becker drank the st of the yarapi and returned the empty pte and cup to the vendor behind him, grabbing his gear and heading along with the crowd.

  Curious onlookers posted themselves wherever they could, be it abandoned buildings or on top of containers piled about. The square faced the main gate on this side of the city fnked guard towers on either side. They resembled cones with cubes in pce of the tips. The square was a little bigger than the size of a supermarket parking lot with only a main road going north or south on the left edge of the pza, crossed by narrow streets and alleyways on its other sides.

  Becker made his way close to one of the narrow streets on the south side, climbing onto a red metal crate with the help of boxes piled around. A few citizens coming from the road saw enough space avaible on the crate but shied away when Becker looked in their direction giving them a disapproving frown and hand read close to the grip of his sub-machine gun. The cart made its way to the center, followed by the guards pushing people further down and quickly creating a perimeter and beating anyone close enough to not move. The cart driver had his weapon at the ready - a tube with a wooden stock in it with a few contraptions above the trigger. A crudely built garage weapon but a functional one nonetheless. At st, the main procession arrived lead by a particurly big warrior with mutton chops on the side and a scarred gash across his face.

  There was a warrior with a serrated sword, robust chested and primitive facial features with the hair combed back slick. With his other hand he yanked at a chain connected to the colrs of the unfortunates, arms shackled by the waist. Three other files were rushed along forward by the impatient taskmasters. On their fnks guards in bck robes and circur simple breastptes caned them irrespective of conduct. The sad lot could be distinguished as to how they ended impressed - those from the sve market were branded with a mark that covered half of their left hands and had nothing but shredded cloth, while those punished with imprisonment wore a simple thin tunic with a red "X" painted on the chest. Here and there were other sves with civilian garments and some women dressed in no uncertain way that meant they were used for carnal pleasures. These were either indentured servants or personal sves unlucky enough to be left behind by their owners and confiscated by the authorities.

  Frightened and tired faces snapped with twitching pain as the sticks shed at their flesh - pretty sounding strikes with a clear reverberation after the initial blow.

  On and on the custodians abused their chattel when one of them was knocked cold to the ground. Another one of the brutes close by made his way with his stick poised to strike the one responsible when he was kicked in his groin. A few more guards reacted and went after the sve in retaliation and the others chained close to the commotion braced for the violence about to be unleashed. The one behind the would-be rebel, a girl in red-pink long hair with twin tails, closed her eyes in a pained expression anticipating the blows she may receive.

  From where he was sitting Becker took notice of the one raging for a fight - a tall slightly tanned man in a sinewy lean build with thick scar tissue on cuts and punctures across his frame, wearing a breach cloth, worn out moccasins, and shoulder length bck hair.

  Whatever his status, his skin was not branded.

  Becker had heard of these before but never saw one in the field. Neither had the other spectators, as their curiosity spiked by the intensity of the sve's hardened, grim stare.

  There are barbarians, and then there are these fellows. Some settlements across the archipego report an uneasy feeling of hungry gazes at night over the mountains an on top of the hills. Whenever the gaze felt heavy, they heard the call of the local wildlife that just did not sounded right.

  Stealthy murders could be carried out at any time of the day. Their victims are often lonely or with a few trusted individuals, never knowing who it was that spilled their blood. Supplies and tools would go missing, especially if they were weapons or specialty items. Sporadically an animal or someone goes missing. Anyone trying to rescue their kidnapped kin won't find footprints or evidence of a campsite, and those that persist, or worse, do something to offend them, may find their loved ones turned into dismembered scarecrows, their body marked into a patchwork of surface cuts.

  So the stories go. And here was the evidence of their existence. How this individual ended in cuffs is an achievement in of itself, despite he guards cursing themselves having to keep him in line.

  Even in this world, they were simply referred to as "savages."

  The more they cracked their canes upon his body the more enraged he became and the more vicious his headbutts and kicks. At st, a few brown armored guards drew their projectile weapons at him and pced a pause to his fury. The leader of the procession ordered that he be released from the file ad taken away ahead of the others past the gate, with the weapon pointing at his back ready to perforate him. After unlocking the chains attached to his colr, the others in the small entourage yanked him onward out the gate.

  By now the excitement of the crowd slowly dialed down. Becker stretched his neck to get a better view of the sves being released from their restraints, one by one per file. They grabbed a tool out of the cart and marched off to the gate with an overseer assigned to a small group.

  From his right peripheral vision Becker spied on a particurly well kept youth in a white coat with tails and bck trousers standing close to the nearby custrophobic narrow street. His spiky, clean bck hair partially covered his face, but Becker noticed his eyes were keenly fixated towards a specific point at the crowd.

  One of the sves colpsed to the ground and soon enough a guard started beating him to rise up. A few of the sves gasped in shock. Since the stick did not do enough of a job the guard kicked and stomped on him. Another guard screamed at the unfortunate wretch to get up, but he did not reacted. A few on the outside looking in were sickening of the abuse, though none dared to go in the old man's defense, so the blows cracked upon his weakened body.

  At st the tension snapped.

  The girl with the twin tails, cd in the red "X" tunic, forced one of the guards to the ground with a forceful shove and pced herself between the old man and the other one standing. She opened her mouth to say something, however, not wanting to deal with another rebellious dispy, a guard brought his cane across her, marking her once beautiful face with a hot-red abrasion. She colpsed and brought the sve chained behind her down as well.

  Staring at the guard with murderous intent and tears in her eyes she got back up but was made heed at the point of a quickly drawn dagger. The offended guard recovered his composure with his face spelling out that it was not over. His partner with the dagger stabbed at the arm of the fallen sve and received no answer, so he quickly unfastened the chain and proceeded to drag him out of the file. The tools continued to be distributed. The girl with red-pink hair got a spade.

  The young man gritted his teeth at the sight. He crept towards his belt with his fingertips slowly parting his coat. He eyed down at the crowd and looked onward to the left, where the gate was.

  Becker: Don't do that.

  The young man reacted to Becker's warning, taken aback slightly as he did not hear him get close.

  Becker: Whomever it is you're trying to rescue, you and yours will get killed and maybe others in the crowd.

  White coated young man: Why do you care?

  Becker: It does if your actions put me in danger.

  Becker grabbed the young man by the arm and brought him into the narrow street to have a more private conversation.

  Becker: I'm sure you're capable of fighting on your own but aren't you being rash with whatever pn you have in your head?

  White coated young man: This is the first time I've seen my beloved since she was taken away from me. I can't just leave here there, especially since hings are going to get worse.

  Becker: The red-head, right? Why is that sve important to you?

  White coated young man: We were to be made as one.

  Becker: Yes I'm sure she wants to service your every need as well....

  The youth's face contorted with indignity.

  White coated young man: It's not like that! My father purchased her years ago. My mother wanted her out of her sight, so she relegated her to filthy work. I didn't took notice of her at first but...one day I was moving some stuff around our pace, I got curious. We just started talking, but soon enough we each longed for our little private encounters....

  He closed his eyes briefly, struggling to try and expin himself.

  White coated young man: I swore I would keep her safe. We would join together as husband and wife. Not even my father would y his hands on her!

  Becker puffed air out of his cheeks and rolled his eyes slightly.

  Becker: Until she went to prison.

  White coated young man: I was the one who ended his life. He assaulted Sta one night, but I woke up just in time before... I had killed him in the struggle. My mother would have none of it. She handed Sta over to the authorities as the killer. The only thing that saved her from being decapitated was all this...anarchy.

  Becker sighed in disbelief over all of this. Looking at this cleanly dressed individual made him think of someone heading over to a boarding school, but here he was, about to throw his life away over a girl while far away the fate of the city was being decided. He pondered what would happen if he somehow succeeds in being the sve girl's savior. Their chances of escape were almost null, so naturally this would end in double-suicide by any metric if they were lucky.

  If they were pressed into anyone's war host, it would still be suicide, albeit a prolonged, lonely one.

  Becker: [I can't believe what I'm hearing - this sounds like something straight out of the "literature" my brother would read!]

  Then again, he is wealthy.

  Becker: What is your name?

  White coated young man: Iku.

  Becker: Well Iku, do you still live with your mother?

  Iku: I sent her off on one of the ships heading to the Mayku Isnds. She'll be fine.

  About a month and a half away due southeast from where they were, this small isnd chain was still big and empty enough to accommodate mild colonization. Sure it will still be a rough life at first, but Iku's mother would be fine.

  Becker: If you want to free her, you best go the far end of the docks, close to the city walls. One of the warehouses has a secret hatch somewhere on the roof. There's a ledge that you can easily roll over onto It is sandwiched between the coast and the ridge with the wall behind it. You follow it and you shall reach a heather from where you can spy on the sves doing earthworks. I presume they would be doing trenches or moving boulders as barriers. You won't be seen, not even by the ones on the walls. The heather is that thick. Of course, you won't be able to go down or you'll break you legs upon the rocks.

  Iku: Then what? You just want me to look on?

  Becker: You'll need help if you want to free your beloved, but I need to find if the project is feasible. If it is not I'll let you know, but I'll need information first. How many guards? Routines? How are the sves grouped? Potential hiding spots? I can work out an exfiltration route from here, but that's time I can't spend looking onto the status of the sves.

  Iku was weighing Becker's proposition. After all, he is a mercenary soliciting for work.

  Then again, he did not have to stop him earlier and let him act hot-headed.

  Iku: Very well then, Outsider. I'll do as you say.

  Becker: The name's Becker. I'll be around the city during the day, and I'll stay at the merchant-house by the docks down south during the night, though I'll make sure to get there before sundown.

  Becker turned around to head further into the narrow street.

  Iku: Don't you want to discuss payment?

  He stopped and turned around to face Iku.

  Becker: Depending on what the next days bring, your payment will change, so I will not bother discussing that now. I will not take advantage of your situation, but the price might be steep all the same.

  With that, he headed onward into the soft, dark orange light of the street, contrasted by dark shadows near the ground.

  Returning back to the merchant-house, Becker reached inside his coat and took out a rge coin pouch. He pced on the table four "tandi." This is the much-sought legal tender hailing from the Mainnd to the west of the archipego, referred to as the "Empire" by many who come from Earth. A translucent crystal gem encased in a psychedelic jade colored rim, obtaining them was as dangerous as it was rewarding. A peasant could feel like a king with a handful of these.

  The haka attending the bar expected to hear what was being proposed.

  Becker: Now, does your kind need excitement and if not provided will incite violence?