Chapter 2: Call the Watch! Ch.2 – Yan

  It had been a few days since Yan had talked with Caiwal about what he was going to do next. Thankfully he was in no danger of being out on the street, but he knew that the longer he took to decide what he was going to do, the longer he’d be cheating the next kid that Caiwal took in.

 

  He’d been wracking his brains for something that wouldn’t be boring, something that would give him a different thing to do every day. The problem with this was that Yan lived in Upartesk, a city-state where the main export was anything made of metal. The whole city was built for purpose, or felt like it at least.

 

  By the time he made it to the markets he’d gotten no further in deciding. The twenty kilogram sack of oats that he’d bought didn’t really hinder him much, and he was free to carry on his musing. He turned the corner and headed down towards the Reccie Bridge, the crowd of people flowing around him.

 

  He wasn’t paying attention, so he never heard the fast-approaching sounds of ‘Gerroutta the way!’, ‘Oi!’, and ‘Stop running!’. One second, he was considering life as a blacksmith that only did custom work, the next he was intimately aware of exactly what being spanked by cobbles would feel like.

 

  Thankfully his head landed on the sack of oats and not the other way around, so he had no excuse for not believing his eyes. He saw the back of a dwarf pushing through the crowd, naked from the waist down—somehow still with socks and shoes on though—and lugging a small cask of what he could only assume was ale.

 

  “What the fu-” he managed to say to himself before the knee of a chasing guard clocked him right on the temple and knocked him clean out. The people around him considered this for a full second before they collectively shrugged and carried on about their business.

 

  Now he had a right and proper excuse for not hearing the approaching sounds of ‘Excuse me’, ‘sorry’, and ‘pardon me’. Side-stepping between two opportunistic bystanders who were eyeing up the sack of oats, came what could be better described as a pole wearing a uniform than a human guard.

 

  “Huh,” he said to himself, “third time this week.”

 

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  Yan woke up confused. The last thing he remembered was sitting up on the Reccie… looking at a dwarf’s hairy backside? Must’ve been a dream, he reasoned. Except now that he looked around and realised he wasn’t back at home, but in a dingy cell with the door left wide open.

 

  He decided against calling out to see if anyone was there. Partly because they might come and decide the open door was definitely not supposed to be like that, but also maybe more importantly, there seemed to be at least three snoring lumps of muscle that reeked of ale in the other cells.

 

  He tiptoed out and, spotting some stairs leading up to a door that had been left ajar, light pouring down into the gloom, made his way up them. He got to the top, peeked down the corridor and realised exactly where he was.

 

  A Watch House. All he’d seen was some woman sat at the front desk, talking to someone on the other side, but that was enough for him to know, and to start panicking a little. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, and his mind kept going back to that one time he’d seen the Watch out in all full force, with riot shields and wands.

 

  “Oh, he’s up and about,” came a voice from behind him. Yan spun on the spot, eyes wide. The woman stood there with a disarming smile, rubbing her wet hands on the side of her uniform trousers. She looked like she’d only just waved goodbye to her thirtieth birthday, her brown hair tried back in a loose ponytail and the barest traces of makeup evident on her. She reminded Yan of one of his childhood friends’ mother.

 

  “A-am I under arrest or something?” he stuttered, wary of the awkward silence he’d allowed to coalesce.

 

  “Gods, no,” she waved the idea off, “it’s not your fault Emery knocked you clean out. He’s kind of making it a habit at this point.” Yan regained his composure and relaxed a little.

 

  “So how come I was in a cell?”

 

  “It’s the closest thing we’ve got to a guest room,” she joked, “come and get something to eat, I’ll go and get Emery. I’m Debby, by the way.”

 

  Yan followed Debby to the canteen, where she rummaged around in a cupboard and handed him a packed sandwich and a cup of coffee.

 

  “Here, whenever Emery ends up hurting a civ, he has to give up his lunch. It was supposed to be an incentive for him to stop but it’s like he doesn’t even care about it. You’d think a guy built like him cared about nothing but that kind of thing but oh well I guess.”

 

  “Right,” he said, “I’m Yan.” While he was definitely no longer scared about being locked up he was now just very, very confused.

 

  “How long was I out for?” he asked.

 

  “It’s been at least four hours. Watch policy to put you to sleep if you have a head injury. Better safe and asleep than awake and drooling. I’ll just go and get Emery, sit tight.”

 

  Like a whirlwind, she was gone, leaving Yan stood in the canteen holding someone else’s dinner. He considered leaving the sandwich, but his stomach quite promptly told him otherwise. He pulled up a stool at one of the tables and got stuck in.

 

  By the time Yan was halfway through the second half of the sandwich, in walked Debby, closely followed by who Yan could only assume to be Emery. Just looking at him, he was thankful his jaw was still attached to his face. Emery looked like he formed minor winds every time he threw a punch. His mahogany skin shone under the light of the magic-imbued stones in the ceiling that Yan had been staring at while he ate.

 

  “How’s it going Yan, enjoying the food?” Debby asked without waiting for an answer, “This here’s Sergeant Paul Emery, or just Emery. He’s here to apologise for earlier today.” she explained, not so secretly nudging him in the ribs (to no effect).

  “Sorry about your sandwich, si—Sergeant.”

  To Yan’s great surprise, Emery looked very abashed, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke.

 

  “Ah don’t sweat it about the sandwich, it’s the least I could do,” he said, then nodded towards Debby, “she probably told I do it all the time. Shes not wrong, but that really doesn’t make me any less sorry. I just get a little one track minded sometimes.”

 

  “It’s fine, don’t worry about it Sergeant,” said Yan, “I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realise there was a chase until I woke up.”

 

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  “Just Emery’s fine then, Yan. Must’ve been something important.”

 

  “Uhh.. Honestly? I was thinking about what I’m going to do for work now,” Yan said sheepishly. Emery and Debby both considered this, their eyes running over him and silently conversating with each other. Yan took the opportunity to finish off the sandwich and the last dregs of cold coffee.

 

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” Debby asked once he was done.

 

  “Sure.” Yan guessed where this was heading, and he was interested about it himself.

 

  “How old are you?”

 

  “Just turned twenty.”

 

  “Oh congratulations!” she enthused, “Mind if I ask what Level you are?”

 

  “No problem. Finished my Basic Levels, but I haven’t started with anything past that. I got Dexterity as my first Skill.”

 

  That raised both their eyebrows. Emery stayed quiet and just tilted his head, a calculating look on his face.

 

  “Oh wow. Normally it takes kids your age at least a year or two to finish off those Basic Levels nowadays. Um, about your Skill. Was that Minor Dexterity or just Dexterity?’

 

  “Just Dexterity, why?” Yan asked, a little self-consciously.

 

  “Uh well it’s just that that’s a very rare Skill for your first is all. What did you do before you turned twenty?”

 

  “I’ve been working in a forge since I was young. I was taken in, my… My master takes kids off the streets and gives them a proper upbringing in exchange for work.”

 

  “You’re one of Caiwal’s boys?” Emery asked.

 

  “Oh, uh, yeah. How do you know him? I’ve never seen you around the forge before.”

 

  “The man’s a saint in a city full of scum, word gets around a lot quicker than you’d think,” Emery explained, “How does a smithy apprentice get Dexterity then. I’d assume it would’ve been Minor Strength for sure.”

 

  “I was surprised myself,” Yan admitted, “Only the Gods know how many times I’ve bust my ass beating on iron or feeding the fire. Only thing I could think of was that I started on smaller side projects like a year ago, got bored with making the same old shit every day. Maybe that’s what it was?” The pair considered this.

 

  “Honestly I doubt it,” said Debby, “but I don’t see how else you end up with Dexterity.”

 

  “Mind coming down to the House with some of your work one of the days when you’re free?” asked Emery, “I’m quite intrigued to see what you’ve got.”

 

  “Sure thing. Is uh, is Dexterity really that good though? I haven’t felt any different since I got it.”

 

  “Have you been working on any of your projects since?” asked Debby.

 

  “No, Caiwal’s been letting me do less in the forge so I can focus on finding work.”

 

  “I’m not offering a job or anything, but how does working as a Guard sound?” asked Emery. Debby looked a little surprised but didn’t say anything.

 

  “It depends,” said Yan, nodding his head towards the desks outside the canteen’ “would I be behind one of those all day?”

 

  “No no no, definitely not,” said Debby, “I mean, sure, you’ve always got to write a report after every patrol and shift, and after every incident or everytime someone comes in and asks you for help. But, a lot of the time you’d be out patrolling the street, just being a visual deterrent. Honestly though it’s not a cushty job, you will be tested. A lot of the time, the recruits we take on quit after a few days of chasing people through dark alleys and dodgy neighbourhoods, and especially after seeing dead bodies. You’ve got to be made of strong stuff Yan.”

 

  “Sounds better than making picks and shovels all day,” Yan reasoned, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.”

 

  “Follow me,” Emery said, leading Yan past the open office area and into his office, “and grab a seat. Let me and Debby have a talk with the Captain and we’ll have a chat after.”

 

  Yan did as he was told, silently twiddling his fingers and wondering if he’d ever see that sack of oats again.

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