The midday sun had cut through the morning chill by the time Cesar stepped out from the chapel’s side gate. The crypt’s shadows still clung to his skin, and for a moment the light felt too sharp, too bright.

  His thoughts briefly went to the quiet Paladin. He wondered what life must be like, every day to put on an armor power by faith and Gods. He looked down at his hands and sighed, his Uncle had told him when the Empire fell all possibility of self powered magic by anyone but the church went with it. Now only old leaking runes or the Church held that power.

  He squinted up the street. The tannery was already in full swing—steam rising from open vats, the smell of bark and hide mixing with sweat and boiled fat. Most people gave the place a wide berth. Cesar had never minded it much.

  A figure stood on a crate outside the main awning, elbow-deep in a wooden drum. Leather apron, hair wrapped in a bright cloth, hands stained a deep rust-brown.

  Anya.

  Cesar couldn’t help but smile as he got closer. She was a comely girl, a year older then him, she had just turned eighteen a few weeks ago. Her father had hinted to Cesar that she might enjoy a rare phesant for a meal, a rarity in this part of the world. Cesar had spent nearly a week hunting one.

  She had a soft face with light brown eyes that burned with passion in all that she set out to do. She was lean as most in the town were but had visible muscles from her work. Cesar stopped himself with some effort from staring too long.

  Seeing her smile at him like she did was worth it.

  She looked up as he approached, narrowed her eyes, and flicked a soaked strip of hide at his boots.

  “Back from hunting ghosts already?”

  Cesar stepped aside, just late enough that the splash hit his boot anyway. “I prefer to think of it as pest control.”

  “Sure. That’s what we all call it when the Church sends in a Paladin.” She raised an eyebrow. “You get stabbed?”

  “No.”

  “Cursed?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Shame.”

  She turned back to the drum, tossing another strip into the liquid with a slap. “Would’ve made a better story.”

  Cesar leaned against a nearby post, crossing his arms. “You seem in a good mood.”

  Anya smiled without looking at him. “Well I’m not, I’m bored.”

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  He watched her work for a moment. Her hands moved quickly, confidently—rinsing, folding, tossing. There was a kind of rhythm to it. Like she was part of the tannery’s machinery.

  “You going to the festival today?” he asked, surprising himself.

  She paused, just for a second.

  “I might,” she said, interest flickering in to her eyes. “If you’re not too busy chasing rats and spouting prayers.”

  He tried to smile. “I’ll bring a trap. Just in case.”

  “You’ll need more than a trap,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I would rather fight something.”

  He laughed, and for a moment, the weight of the crypt fell away.

  “I’ve got my knife,” he offered, casually pulling it out and flipping it around in his hand, “I’m sure we can find some field mouse or something for you to try your hand at.”

  “My father would flip,” she said, moving the barrel over with ease, when she paused, flashing him a smirk, “he bought me a sword.”

  “Thats awesome!” Cesar said, excitement in his voice as he grinned. “You have to let me give it a swing!”

  “Fat chance,” she said with a laugh, “I’ve seen how you treat your rifle.”

  Cesar felt a small warmth on his face as he bashfully looked down, “well I can do better. I’m trying!”

  “Yes you can church boy,” she said, finally finishing her work and beginning to wash her hands in a nearby basin, “if I hand you a sword I expect it back in perfect condition.”

  “Stained handle included,” Cesar remarked, earning a light, affectionate tap on the shoulder.

  After a few minutes of waiting for Anya to clean up, the two of them set off toward the fairground at the center of town. They talked as they walked, though nothing of importance came up—small things, familiar things. The kind of talk that didn’t need weight to feel good.

  They turned a corner—and nearly got run over.

  A man in uniform barreled past them, boots slamming against the packed dirt.

  Cesar instinctively reached for Anya’s arm, steadying her.

  Wait.

  A soldier?

  He watched the man run, brow furrowed. The armor was unmistakable—Halrith markings, the red-and-blue sash, the polished crest. But what was a soldier of the Church doing sprinting through Humvalt?

  Maybe he was from the chapel. Visiting. Carrying a message.

  Still…

  Cesar shook his head and continued walking with Anya, though he glanced back once more. The soldier was already gone, swallowed by the crowd.

  A small, uneasy thought settled in the back of his mind. He tried to push it away but something almost spoke to him.

  Danger.

  He kept glancing behind them as they walked but eventually the feeling faded.

  They were nearing a corner where the bakery stood when a young man, looking near to their age burst out from one of the town shops. He had a necklace held tightly in one hand.

  He quickly ducked into a side alley and disappeared.

  A thief. Cesar realized. He was about to chase after when Anya’s voice cut through.

  “You got right here and force him further down!” She said eagerly. Suddenly taking off down the street.

  With a small laugh you ran down a parallel alley just as the shopkeepers voice called out behind you.

  “Stop that thief!”

  Running as fast as he could Cesar exited one street over. He caught sight of the young man who made eye contact with him. Eyes widening the thief turned and booked it down the street. As he neared the corner Anya burst out and half tackled the boy.

  They wrestled on the ground briefly, with both throwing blind fists at the other.

  Just as Anya began to get pinned Cesar reached them and tackled the boy and off of her.

  The thief, scrambled to his feet before bolting away, his prize was clutched in Anya’s victorious hand.

  Cesar went over to her and noticed the quickly forming bruise on her face.

  “Are you okay?” Cesar asked worriedly.

  “War wound,” she joked with a wide grin, “here lets go take this back to its owner before the fair!”