Chapter 8: Thugs

We talked a bit more. It was a good opportunity to learn what I could about this world, but I knew I had to be careful. Asking about things that should have been common knowledge might raise suspicions, and while Keith didn’t seem the sharpest sword in the rack, I didn’t want to test the limits of what passed as “normal curiosity.” That’s why I paced myself, keeping the questions light and harmless, slowly easing toward the stranger ones only after he’d had enough to drink.

The biggest issue with that plan? The ale tasted like someone had strained it through dishwater and then topped it off with river muck. It was so diluted, I honestly wondered if either of us could get buzzed from it. Unfortunately, Keith wasn’t the iron-livered drinker I’d feared he was. He began to slur his words halfway through the fourth mug, and his once-animated eyes dulled as he lost the ability to focus on anything, let alone my questions.

Still, I made use of the window while I had it. “So… what year is it?” I asked casually, and Keith blinked as if trying to figure out if he’d heard me right.

“That’s a… what now?”

“Just wondering,” I shrugged, trying to distract him and gauge what was a safe question or not. “Also, what’s with the ankle thing?”

Keith leaned in with the seriousness of a monk. “Ankles, friend, are the perfect balance of mystery and allure. You see just enough to imagine the rest.” He hiccuped. “Yes, feet can do that too, but it’s… feet! Who cares about feet?”

I nodded, pretending to understand. “Right… So, uh, how many hours are in a day?”

He squinted. “What the hell’s an hour?”

That… was not the answer I expected. I pressed on, “Calendar system? Days of the week?”

Keith threw his arms up. “I dunno! Ask your mom!”

Okay, maybe I overestimated his grasp of worldly knowledge too. Despite that, he was surprisingly helpful with simpler things. I learned the kingdom was Movria, the adventurer system worked through a centralized guild with local branches, and nobles held more sway than any church or king. That explained the inn’s popularity among roughnecks and low-level adventurers.

“Okay, that’s enough for today…”

I unpossessed Fin with a quiet sigh, slipping out of his body.

The two friends were now hunched over their table, deep in an alcohol-induced coma. I wondered if they'd dream about feet and ankles.

It helped that both Keith and Fin would probably be too drunk to remember anything come morning. Unfortunately for Fin, his coin pouch took the brunt of my research. The pile of emptied mugs in front of him was impressive enough to win awards. I actually felt guilty as I looked at his slack-jawed sleeping face. “I’ll remember you, Fin,” I whispered like I was bidding farewell to a war buddy, “for your noble sacrifice.”

“Now, what’s next?”

Outside, the sky had begun to dim. The warm hue of the setting sun cast long shadows across the cobbled streets. It was almost nightfall. I made my way back to the edge of the city, walking at a brisk pace. When I arrived at the run-down cottage, however, my stomach dropped.

Nira was gone.

Panic hit me like a slap to the face. “Ah, come on!” I shouted, spinning around. “Nira! Where are you!?” There was no answer.

I tore through the building, searching behind every crumbling corner and dust-covered crate. Nothing! I looked around again, scanning the overgrown yard and nearby alleys. Still no sign of her.

This was exactly why I didn’t want to leave her alone. I thought I was protecting her by letting her rest, giving her time to grieve and recover. But now, she was gone. “NIRA! WHERE ARE YOU!?” My voice echoed down the empty street, but the only response was the rustling wind.

I felt sick. I should’ve brought her with me. I didn’t know if she ran away, got lost, or worse. If someone had taken her, I didn’t know what to do. She was just a child, fragile in body and spirit. I couldn’t believe I had been so careless.

Just what in the world happened to her?

I heard rustling outside the cottage. It was subtle, but not the kind caused by wind or stray animals. My first instinct was denial, but then came the low murmur of voices, too hushed to make out clearly at first. I crept toward the doorway and stopped at the threshold. Two men, both filthy and cloaked in shadows, stepped into view, holding torches that cast long, flickering light across the overgrown grass and moss-eaten wood.

These two looked like they had been spat out of the gutters of Movria’s worst district. One of them was older, with sunken cheeks and a stubble-covered chin that looked like it hadn’t known a blade in weeks. His eyes darted around with a habitual twitch, and his boots were mismatched, one made of cracked leather and the other of rotting cloth. The younger man could’ve passed for a teenager if not for the grime caking his skin and the missing teeth. Despite the filth, there was something cautious in how he moved, always glancing at the older one like a dog waiting for orders.

They walked straight through me. It should have made me angry, or at least unsettled, but I was getting used to it. Being a ghost didn’t come with much dignity or presence.

The two men slinked into the deeper shadows of the cottage. Their voices rose as they exchanged gripes like men too tired to care and too stupid to stay quiet.

“Stop being a lazy fool,” the older man snapped, adjusting his torch, “just do what the boss says…”

“I mean, why are we even here again? We already got what we came for…”

The younger one trailed off, kicking aside some loose debris on the floorboards. His voice had a sluggish drawl, like this was a conversation they’d had too many times. His eyes were red from either lack of sleep or some drug, and he scratched his forearm constantly.

“The girl,” the older one said. “She kept shoutin’ ‘Ren, Ren, Ren.’ Means she ain’t alone. Could be another brat we can sell. If it’s an adult… well, we deal with 'em like always…”

“You mean… kill them?” the younger one whispered, suddenly a little more alert.

“Don’t say that word too lightly!” the older one barked, narrowing his eyes. “What if a guard heard you?”

“Sorry, Stabs.”

Stabs. That was the older man’s name. Not exactly confidence-inspiring, but the younger one clearly looked up to him. He shifted awkwardly on his feet while Stabs planted himself like he owned the place.

Stabs grunted and squatted beside one of the broken chairs. “Listen here. We’ll wait it out. First hour, I keep watch. Next hour, you. We rotate 'til dawn.”

The younger man blinked. “We’re still lookin’ for this ‘Ren’ person, yeah?”

“Yeah, genius.” Stabs rolled his eyes. “Now make your bed out of dirt or whatever and shut your mouth. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”

I was honestly tempted to just possess one of them and snap the other’s neck like a twig. It would’ve been easy, maybe even satisfying. But killing them wouldn’t help me find Nira. At worst, it might make things harder.

“Why are you not sleeping, Ken?” Stabs asked, his voice dry with exhaustion. “Make bed already, will ya?”

Ken scratched the back of his neck and glanced around. “Huh? I don’t know. I feel nervous… like someone’s staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, kid. I was staring. If I still had a heartbeat, it probably would’ve kicked up a notch hearing that. I hadn’t made a sound and hadn’t even moved. Maybe ghosts still gave off some weird vibe, even if we weren’t seen.

“That’s just your imagination,” Stabs muttered, kicking a piece of wood out of his way. “Don’t let the dark mess with your head.”

They rotated their watch without incident. Ken dozed a little, twitching occasionally in his sleep like a dog dreaming of a better life. I waited, crouched in a corner with my eyes never leaving them, though it wasn’t like they’d spot me. Dawn crept up slowly through the cracked shutters, casting pale orange light that stretched across the cottage like some reluctant promise of a new day.

Stabs finally stood and cracked his back with an audible pop. “Looks like this was a fruitless venture,” he said with a tired yawn.

Ken rubbed his eyes, still groggy. “So what do we do now?”

“We report to the boss,” Stabs said. “Probably just post a street rat near the place in case anyone suspicious shows up. Let them be the eyes while we go deal with more important matters.”

Ken slung his cloak over his shoulders. “So…”

“So,” Stabs cut him off, “let’s go and have breakfast first. You think better on a full belly.”

They walked away, stepping over the threshold without a second glance behind them.

I followed.