For his day's work, smelting Red Iron until the shadows grew long on the ground and the sun touched the top edge of the city wall, James was paid a wage of twenty cents. Marlie had explained to him the currency, one hundred cents to a gold dollar. It wasn't quite enough to cover the cost of the basic training course, and James could already tell he would need training beyond that as well, so they arranged for him to return for the next few days until all the Red Iron was smelted.

James waited in the lobby, looking out through one of the few small glass windows as it grew dark outside, but the Steward never arrived.

Eventually, Marlie kicked him out.

"Go on home, James! I have to lock up! You can see my beautiful face again tomorrow, don't worry!" She grinned as she shooed him out.

And so James found himself standing in front of the door. The daylight faded as shadows rose up the top spire of the Royal Castle, and when it was totally eclipsed, the lights went out in the Guildhall behind him.

He gulped, and decided to walk back up to the Knights Order Headquarters.

He knew the way, of course. Up the wide main street, then turn down a side road that was a straight shot to the entry gate.

Easy.

Until a group of six young men, roughly his age, emerged from the gloom of one of the side alleys and called out to him.

"Hey, you."

He tried to ignore them.

"Oi, you ignoring us? Think you're too good to answer us? Huh?!"

He picked up his pace, but soon they were hot on his heels. He moved up against a retaining wall that supported a small garden's level ground next to the sloped street. He didn't want to be totally surrounded.

Finally he turned and faced them directly. "What?" he said, his back to the wall, hands at his side.

The young men surrounded him. They all had the dark hair and eyes like the majority of Iberterians, but a few bore scars on their faces. They were thin, and their clothes were worn, but not dirty, and their eyes were hard.

"Oi, you new 'round here? Pretty rude to just ignore us like that… Almost like you didn't want to pay the toll."

They all took a step forward, and James raised his hands in front of him.

"A toll? I didn't know. I'll just go back the way I came then."

They pressed in closer. "No, it's too late for that, now."

"I don't have any money, and I don't want to fight. Let me go."

"Oh, no money? We'll be the judge of that."

They sensed no danger from James, because he had no combat class with which to defend himself.

They took another step, and James acted.

He shouted.

"Help! Thieves! I'm being attacked! Bandits! Help!"

One of the men lunged forward. "Oi, shut it, or I'll make you—"

He punched James in the gut. Winded, James bent over slightly with the force of the blow, but he managed to grab hold of the man's arm.

The other men stepped in and started punching and kicking at James as well. Blows rained down, but he kept his grasp on at least the one man's arm.

The gang's lookout swore. "Big danger, scatter," he called, and the gang took off running. All except the one, whose arm was grasped by a Smith with boosted strength.

James heaved, and swung the man around as hard as he could, slamming his body into the stone wall.

There was a sickening crunch.

Blood dripped into one of James' eyes, and he started punching.

It was artless, unskilled; but every third or fourth blow he heard another crack of bone breaking as the man was beaten.

Suddenly, James was pulled off. He thrashed, trying to get free, but professional hands restrained him and bound his hands behind his back, first with a loop of rope, then with metal shackles.

"Hey, stop it! You're under arrest, stop resisting!"

The voice shouting in his ear focused James' attention.

He wasn't being kidnapped again?

He sagged with relief, going limp as a city guardsman held him up.

Another guardsman swore. "This one's in bad condition. Oh… Oh crap, it's Roberto's boy."

The guard holding James swore as well.

A third voice spoke, deeper than the others.

"Get him patched up and we'll take them both to the station. You there, stand and walk. You're under arrest for assault and battery."

James stood, but couldn't see clearly as one eye was rapidly swelling shut and the other had blood dripping into it. "I was attacked, there was—"

"Shut it. We don't want to hear it. Tell it to the judge."

James clenched his jaw, and stopped talking. They walked uphill a short way and then turned down a side road, walking for a short time until they passed through a wide doorway and into bright lights and the sound of several soft conversations.

"I'm a retainer of Knight Suero Cortez and I was attacked and defended myself!" he bellowed, and the room fell silent.

"Oi, I said shut it!" There was a blow to his head, and another when James took another deep breath to continue anyway.

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A door slammed open and there was the sound of footsteps.

"Stay your hand, Perez," a commanding voice rang out.

"Boss, this one's under arrest for assault and battery! Roberto's boy!"

James felt a pressure as the man's gaze fell on him, though he still couldn't see clearly.

"I'm a retainer of Knight Suero Cortez and I was attacked and defended myself," he repeated.

"We found him beating—"

"Perez." The voice was ice cold now. "Put him in a holding cell and contact the Knights Order. Everyone else, keep your mouths shut and nobody leaves until someone from the Order gets here. I don't want—"

But it was too late, as another door slammed open and a woman's shriek cut through the air.

"Oh no! My boy! My poor boy! Who did this?! Who did this to my boy! When my Roberto hears about this they're dead! Oh gods, what are you all doing! Go to the temple! Get the healers! Move!"

"Nobody move!" There was an undercurrent of anger in the forceful order. "Atrea, do not order my men in my precinct! Your boy's not dying, so sit right there while I sort this out!"

The argument between the two continued as James was pushed and made to walk some ways away. Shackles still on, he was sat on a bench against a rough stone wall, and there was a clang as metal struck metal, and the cell door was shut and locked.

Then there was a whisper. "I'm sure that ass deserved it, but ye really shouldn't-a done that."

So James waited in the cell. He got some of the blood out of his eye, rubbing it against his shoulder, and saw he was in a tiny room with nothing but a bench and a bucket in the corner, blessedly clean. There were no windows, and the door was nothing but a metal gate revealing nothing but a short stretch of hallway and the blank stone wall across from the door. The woman who had arrived continued shrieking for an impressively long time until, perhaps an hour later, she quieted.

James sat up a little straighter. And then, fifteen minutes later, a guard came.

"Knight Cortez is here to straighten this out. Get up, walk with me, no funny business."

They walked down the hall and into another room. It wasn't small, but felt cramped with how many people there were. The man who had attacked James was seated in a chair, covered in bruises and bandages, with both arms in slings.

James noted that there was a guard standing very close to him.

There was also four more guards, one standing apart from the other three, and also the Aspirant Knight and the Steward.

James' heart leapt at seeing the Knight, but his enthusiasm cooled just as quickly at seeing the Steward. He narrowed his one good eye at the man, standing there with a scornful expression on his face.

He had told him so.

The Knight, meanwhile, had an expression of grave concern on his face, and upon seeing James he turned to the guard standing apart and nodded. "Yes, this is indeed my retainer, and clearly something happened. Arrest that man." He pointed at the man in bandages.

Immediately, the guard standing next to him bent down and attached shackles to his legs and the chair he was sitting on.

The guard apart grimaced.

"Sir Knight, that is Precinct Captain Flores' son…"

"Captain." The Knight's voice was hard like iron. "I will determine the facts of this case, and justice will be dispensed. Now be silent."

"Yes sir," the captain responded, and then indeed fell silent.

"Sebastian, take notes for the record."

"Yes, m'lord."

First, the Knight heard from the guards, how they had heard a cry for help and came upon James savagely beating on the other man. Only when they had pulled him off had they realized he was also injured, though lightly.

Then, James told his side of the story, about how he had been walking up the street, alone, and had been accosted by six men; how they had demanded money and then attacked him; how they had run away except for the man James had grabbed; and then how a guard had pulled him off and arrested him.

He glared at the Steward periodically, who refused to meet his eye.

"And why did you keep beating him after the others ran?" He sounded genuinely curious.

James paused a moment, then spoke. "He approached me and attacked me. He threatened me. If I had let up, he could have pulled a knife, could have come back with his gang, could have done something else to get me back for getting one over on him." He turned his head and glared at the bandaged man who was glaring right back. "In fact, I think he's still a threat. I'd be better off if I'd—"

The Knight hurriedly interrupted. "That's enough, I see. Stop talking."

The captain coughed but said nothing.

Next was the bandaged man. "And you?"

He introduced himself as the son of another guard captain and lied that he had been giving James directions when James had pounced on him, beating him savagely until the guards arrived. He ended with a smug grin, looking down his nose at James.

"When my father hears about this…" he chuckled.

The Knight rendered his judgment.

"Mr. Flores is guilty. Sentencing is postponed to a later date. In the meantime, he is to be confined here and not released for any reason until I give my sentence. Is that understood, captain?

The guards were all dumbfounded, and the bandaged man paled. The Captain nodded.

"Hey, what? Do you know who my father is? He's—"

"He's the fourth precinct captain, yes? I'm aware." The Knight turned to the Captain again. "Captain Flores is to report to the Knights Order Headquarters at noon tomorrow. You." He pointed to the guard next to the prisoner. "Take him away. The rest, remain here for assignments."

Once the prisoner, who had started shouting nearly as loud as his mother had, was taken away, the Knight set the guards to work.

"Prepare a report of all that man's known associates, I want to know who the other men who attacked my retainer are, and I want them all arrested, and I want all of their associates investigated as well. Include in that report all known and suspected incidents of Captain Flores covering things up; clearly this isn't the first time."

Before he sent the guards away, he gave one last order.

"I never want my retainer put in danger again, is that understood? Spread the word that James is under my protection, and the protection of the entire Knights Order as a matter of honor."

The guards nodded with pale faces, saluted, and left the room.

Only the Knight, Steward, and James, now unshackled, remained.

The Knight looked down at James, James glared up at the Steward, and the Steward wore a stony expression, pointedly avoiding James' gaze.

Suero looked back and forth at his only two retainers and heaved a heavy sigh.

He started with his Smith.

"James, I understand your situation, but please don't say things like you wish you'd killed someone in front of city guards."

The Smith grimaced and nodded. "Yes, m'lord."

Under his breath, he muttered, "I told him it was a bad idea."

Suero raised an eyebrow and turned to his Steward. "What does that mean, Sebastian?"

He listened with increasing frustration as Sebastian explained, and when the Steward was finished he sighed again.

"This is, ultimately, my fault."

"No, my lord!" the Steward rushed to interrupt.

But Suero raised a hand. "No, it is indeed my fault. I allowed my retainer to come to harm because I underestimated the… nature of his situation. James, you have my apologies."

The Smith looked up at him, shock on his face even with one eye purple and swollen shut.

"And I have failed to communicate my priorities to you, Sebastian."

"No!" Sebastian paled.

"I have," Suero confirmed. "But this ends now. We're solving this issue, tonight."

"Tonight?" the Smith asked.

The Knight nodded. "Yes, tonight. We're going straight to Pacifica's Temple."

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