Alistair slipped away from the bustling crowds in the marketplace and made his way to the alley. He took a moment to glance over his shoulder just in case he had been followed by a local guard before he ducked out of sight, moving deep enough into the shadows that anyone passing by wouldn’t be able to see him. Once he was satisfied that he was fully concealed, he quickly began changing out of his wet clothes and switching into the plain, dry shirt and trousers he had purchased from the vendor. Of course, his boots were still rather soaked, but there was nothing he could do about that. It was late and the market would be closing soon. He could already hear the shouts of the knights as they guided the townspeople back to their homes. He smirked to himself. Ever since he had started causing trouble around the kingdom, the knights had begun enforcing a stricter curfew in a fruitless effort to catch their tormentor. Sadly for them, however, he wasn’t foolish enough to go wandering about in the dead of night and get himself caught. He might have been a traveler, but he still had a secure place to sleep after the sun went down.

Turning his attention back to the heap of sopping clothes in his arms, Alistair realized that he couldn’t simply walk back out of the alley with his gear in plain sight. The knights would spot him in an instant. If he wanted to keep his head down, he would have to find a place to hide it until he could retrieve it later on. Still… he didn’t want to abandon [i]all[/i] of his equipment. Perhaps he could at least find somewhere to keep some of the smaller tools.

Alistair rummaged through the pockets of his coat and pulled out one of his daggers, the pouch of metal strips that he used to pick locks, and a short length of rope. He knit his brow as he examined the objects in his hands. They weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. He slipped the dagger into his boot and dropped the pouch into his pants’ pocket, finally tying the rope around his waist in a makeshift belt. With these, he wasn’t laden with equipment, but he also wasn’t completely lacking in case he needed supplies. The dagger and rope would come in handy pretty much anywhere, and one never knew when one might need to pick a locked door. At least now he had a few necessities to carry along if he found himself in trouble before he could get back to the rest.

Alistair walked slowly along one of the alley walls, searching for a place to hide the rest of his things. A bit farther down, he found a pile of straw that looked quite old and smelled faintly of mildew. He doubted anyone would want to touch it, which made it the perfect place to stow his clothes and equipment. He knelt down and moved some of the straw aside, wrinkling his nose at the odor while he set down his things and covered them back up. As he rose to his feet again, the mercenary made a mental note to give it all a thorough washing when he recovered it later. He wore the appearance of a feral man, but he didn’t want to smell like one.

Just as he was about to turn around to head back into the marketplace, Alistair heard something that made him freeze: Someone was running towards him. He felt his heart skip a beat. The alley must not have been as dark as he thought; the knights must have seen him. Consumed by a sudden instinct to get away, he spun around to fight off whoever was coming to attack him, but the other man was faster. He stumbled as he felt a body slam into his, nearly causing him to fall to the ground. Having never fought a knight who tackled his enemies before, Alistair looked up in surprise and found that he hadn’t been struck by a guard at all. Instead, he saw a young girl standing before him. He stared at her blankly for a moment, still recovering from his initial shock, before he collected himself.

“My apologies,” he murmured, examining the girl with newfound curiosity. A dozen questions flitted through his mind at her appearance. What was a pretty young thing like her doing out in the streets so late at night? Why was she running? She didn’t look like a criminal or a prostitute, so he couldn’t imagine why the knights would be after her. Perhaps she was in danger? He took a tentative step towards the girl. Under normal circumstances, he would have brushed her off since she was of no concern to him, but she had made such a dramatic entrance that he couldn’t help but feel a bit intrigued—well, that and she wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either. A nice figure, bright eyes, and pretty blonde hair that reflected the moonlight… He supposed he could take a few moments to inquire about her wellbeing.

“Are you alright, miss?” Alistair asked.