Small droplets of water splashed over the edge of the boat and clung to his skin. They were sailing by a small floating town. Market stalls of prepared food items as well as fresh fruit and vegetables, flowers, and spices lined the banks of the river, filling the breeze with delicious smells. The boat continued down the river until it reached the dock where the other small boat was docked.

Frinn got off the boat and walked across the wooden boards to where Valens was standing, looking at a map. Valens pointed to a spot marked in red ink.

"Is that where the Lord lives?" Frinn asked.

Valens nodded, tucking the map away and already starting to move. "He should be expecting us. We shouldn't keep him waiting."

Frinn quickened his pace, trying to keep up with Valens. They were making good time when a street stall suddenly collapsed, causing fruits of various sizes and shapes to roll into their path. Valens sighed impatiently before turning to where a young woman was yelling at a couple large, shady-looking men.

"That's 200 coin for those fruit, you bastards! How do you expect me to pay the Lord back when you keep ruining my merchandise!?"

"We don't give a shit about your fruit. If you don't have the money by dusk tonight, we're dragging you to the House."

"That's impossible! I keep telling you! How do you expect me to have the money when you keep sabotaging my business?! Are you too stupid to understand?"

One of the thugs suddenly grabbed the woman's arm, jerking her mercilessly. She yelled. Valens took a step towards them, when a small, shiny apple suddenly flew across the path and hit the man's bald head. It bounced off the back of his tattooed skull and he turned around, releasing the woman. Frinn flinched and dropped the pear he had also been getting ready to throw.

Valens sighed. "Well that's one way to get things started."

As soon as he said that, the thugs were charging towards them. Valens dodged the tattoo-headed man's swing and easily restrained him from behind, bringing him to his knees and twisting his arms behind him. Frinn was less successful, taking a blow to the cheek from the other man, who was tall and lanky, not as stocky as his partner. Frinn groaned as he stumbled backwards from the impact of the punch, slipping on a piece of fruit and landing on the ground. As the man drew closer, Frinn grabbed a wooden plank from the disheveled fruit stand. When his opponent was close enough, he lurched forward and shoved the end of the plank into the man's knee. The man yelped out in pain, stumbling forward. He let out a growl and lunged. Frinn ducked and used the plank to hit the man again, this time in the groin. The man shouted as he grabbed his crotch, rolling onto the ground.

Valens released the tattoo-headed guy, who spat on the ground between them before turning towards his thug partner. The short, stocky man slung the thin man over his shoulder before leaving, disappearing down an alley.

Valens began collecting the fruit and putting the stand back together. Frinn approached the young woman cautiously. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. She noticed Frinn's cheek starting to puff up and placed her fingertips on his chin, turning his face to get a better look. She winced. "Looks like you're the one who's hurt. Wait here."

She jogged across the path to a fish vendor, who had laid out his fish on a bed of ice. She came back with a small ice pack. Before Frinn could protest, the woman grabbed his face again, pressing the ice to his cheek.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Thanks for the help. But could you be a bit gentler?"

The woman rolled her eyes as she let go of his face. "There. You're fine. Now go and be on your way."

Valens came over, rolling the cart of fruit. "You don't sound very scared for someone who was attacked by some dangerous men just now."

"I could have handled it," the woman muttered. "Thanks for the help. Now good day."

Valens reached into his pocket for the map, but it wasn't there. He turned around and saw that it had fallen out during the commotion. He went to retrieve it right as a mule carrying goods passed by, kicking it into a puddle and trampling over it. Frinn walked over to the puddle and fished it out, grimacing.

"The ink is all blurry," he complained.