A Perverted Path to Victory

Mui Thom

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By the time they had reached the middle of the entrance bridge, Evie had had enough. Despite her wife’s protestations that it was unnecessary and rude, she had ordered Mui and his squadron to form a wedge before the Tulian entourage, physically forcing a path through the wall of humanity.

Humiliated by the extraordinarily obvious display of her importance, Sara spent her time calling out apologies to everyone she passed, even as the crowd was crushed against the railing to give way for her advance. Though Mui had never escorted nobility until this assignment, he had seen them passing through the streets often enough to recognize how utterly strange her behavior was. For those of the upper classes to apologize to their lessers was all but unheard of.

Somewhat ironically, Mui’s only surprise was at his own lack of surprise; he no longer expected anything less from the Chosen.

Despite having known her for weeks, he had not made his mind up about the woman. She was too strange. His privilege of escorting her had exposed him to dozens of her many faces, providing an intimate awareness of just how impossible it might be to truly know her. It was as though her personality was molten, flowing from one mold to another in order to fit the needs of whoever she happened to be speaking to. Had she somehow adopted a different face each time, Mui would have readily believed she was not a single woman, but dozens inhabiting the same body. She was impossible to pin down, save for when she was with her wives, where her behavior gained a certain ineffable, if incredibly crude, consistency. It was only then, when the Chosen discussed matters with her loved ones, that she never seemed to alter herself to better suit the needs of her conversation.

Yet even then, Mui could not know for certain that this was her truest self. For all he knew, she had simply established yet another of her endless personas for use with her wives. There may be nothing at all at her core, but rather a hollow husk, a mold designed to be filled with whatever is needed in the moment. Like the demon she had so ruthlessly dispatched.

While he continued to call out for the crowd to make way, Mui’s whiskers twitched fiercely, trying to flick the thought away like raindrops off his snout.

That was a pessimistic view of the Chosen, he knew. For all that her outward personality shifted like water, her deeds remained consistent. He had seen in her a constant, almost fanatical commitment to humility, as if she were actively denying the fact that she was blessed by the gods. She helped all she could, as often as she could, and not only did she not shy from labor, she seized upon it, eager to prove that she did not leave work to her subordinates. No matter how often she changed her accent, posture, demeanor, or expression, it was inarguable that her actions always aligned to the views she espoused. She was the perfect liar, yet she hardly ever lied. A strange, strange woman.

They were nearing the gate at the end of the bridge, the guards there peering over the crowd in interest at the commotion his approach caused. Mui tucked his head down, focusing on the task at hand. Once he delivered the Chosen to her appointment, his duty would be done, and he would return to his life as a sergeant in the army. Perhaps a sergeant with a very curious, prestigious mark on his record, but a sergeant nonetheless. It wouldn’t do to make a fool of himself at the very end of it all.

Recognizing that this strange group was clearly of some importance, the city guards barked out orders for the crowd to make way, clearing a path. A swathe of open bridge appeared, and Mui jogged forward through it gratefully.

“What’s yer business, er…” the civilian guard’s eyes flicked to Mui’s yellow flower.

“Sergeant,” he provided. “Sergeant Mui Thom.”

“Sergeant,” the woman said. She glanced over his shoulder at the motley collection of foreigners assembled behind him. “What’ve you got with you?”

Mui took a breath.

“I bear in my presence the Chosen of the Pantheon of Emotion, Provisional Governess of Tulian, and General of the Tulian Armies, Sara Brown, as well as her wife, the Stewardess of Tulian, Evie Brown, in addition to twenty-four soldiers of the Tulian Army who are her due and legal escort. I have been tasked with their delivery to a duly appointed representative of the Emperor’s Adjutant, and have been empowered with the authority to take all means possible to ensure this task is completed as swiftly as is practicable.”

It was a long, elaborate statement that he had practiced in his head many, many times over the last few weeks. So, too, had he imagined a dozen times reaching into the well-made leather pouch at his waist, drawing out a sheet of paper, which he now presented to the guards, unrolling it before their eyes. The enchanted ink, emblazoned in the familial symbol of a Warrior’s noble House, glowed brightly beneath the sun.

Every word out of Mui’s mouth sent the guardwoman’s eyes wider and wider, until her shock seemed to reach its peak, only to reach a newer, downright comical height as he unrolled the elaborately decorated sheet of paper.

“That’s… uh…” the woman looked at the other guards, mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. “I think I’ll need… a superior?”

“There will be no need,” Mui said, rolling the paper back up. “As I said, I have all the authority required to allow myself entrance.”

“But… I mean…”

“Thank you for your time,” Mui said, stepping past her. His squad followed along a moment later, doing a poor job of hiding their smug grins at finally being allowed to ignore a city’s gatekeeper, and then the Tulian soldiers marched behind in a precise, neat box. The guards watched them pass, silent.

“Looks like that felt good,” Sara murmured.

Mui started, darting away from the voice. She’d appeared from nowhere at his side.

Mentally smoothing his fur down, Mui nodded. “Yes. Well. It’s something I’ve been readying myself to say for a very long time.”

“Soldiers and the guards don’t get along?” She asked, nodding to his squad. “They looked pretty damn happy to see you shove past that chick.”

“Ah. Well, yes, there’s something of a sense of frustration between soldiers and the city’s enforcers, after all. That we, who have served the Empire on the fields of battle, must be beholden to men and women who have never wielded anything sharper than a wooden pole…”

“Makes sense,” Sara said, smirking. “I mean, I’m not normally all that down with soldiers, but I’m all for telling cops to go fuck themselves.”

Before Mui could parse this alien statement, Sara glanced up, taking in the streets at a glance.

“So where to next, Sarge? We going to find your squad a place to shack up?”

“I intended to take you straight to the Visya’s tower,” Mui said, mild confusion flitting across his face. “My squad could use rest, they always could, but it is nothing of consequence. You have far more pressing concerns.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Sara said. “These people didn’t know when I’d be coming anyway. Better to go to some barracks or something, let word get out that I’m in the city. That way they’ll actually be ready for me when I arrive. Plus, y’all deserve a break.”

She’s going to abandon us to explore the city.

The revelation came to him in a flash of perfect certainty. Sara was an excellent liar. But that didn’t mean much when she told a lie that was completely unbelievable. There was simply no way Sara would have spent weeks anticipating one singular meeting only to balk at the last moment, not without some ulterior motive.

“Of course,” he agreed, gesturing ahead. “I’ll ask for directions to the nearest barracks. I’ve never been to this city, after all.”

Sara nodded, starting to pull away.

Then she glanced at Mui again and frowned, putting her hands on her hips.

“Damnit. What gave it away?”

“Your habitual impatience, ma’am.”

“Huh. Good catch. Well, how ‘bout we split it, then? Because you’re not going to let me fuck off on my own, are you?”

“I could hardly stop you if you wished to be rid of me.”

“And if I don’t want to be rid of you?” She asked, leaning forward a touch. There was an odd lilt to her words. One Mui purposefully ignored.

“Squad?” He called. “Escort our guests to the nearest barracks, and clear whatever space is necessary for them.”

“Where you going, Sarge?”

“Wherever the Chosen is, I suppose.” He looked at her, staring up at the divinely-anointed woman’s childish smirk. “I don’t suppose you know where you’re going, do you?”

“Nope.”

“I will be back at some point, squad,” Mui said, sighing. “Stay at whichever barracks is closest to this gate, so I can find you again.”

“Aye, Sarge,” a chorus happily echoed back. They were hardly going to disobey orders to find the nearest place to rest their feet.

Mui expected something more complex to the splitting of the group, mainly from Evie, who he anticipated to begin rattling off elaborate orders for her troops, but instead there was nothing at all. Sara set off in a random direction, Evie at her side, and Mui was left stumbling to catch up.

Tonlay was a larger city than Mui had grown up in, but not by a massive margin. The tall, spindly buildings were familiar to him, as were the bridges which crisscrossed the streets above, limited in their height so that they would not be visible from beyond the wall. The city was as beautiful as any Imperial example, majestic spires aligned in neat rows, crossed and summitted by the countless individuals who called them home. The heat and humidity of the jungle was weakened by the shade, helped further by wind coursing through the narrow slots the city’s towers created. It was a wondrous feeling, to be back home.

Yet for all he was enjoying the sights, Mui was privately taken aback by Sara’s utter lack of reaction to the sprawling sights. Growing up in the city, Mui and his friends had made a game of standing near the gates to spot village folk who were entering the city for the first time. They were usually standing in the middle of the street, jaw on the floor, struck dumb by the sheer scale all around them.

Sara did nothing of the sort. She set off like a natural city goer, following the flow of the crowd. She turned to squeeze past slow walkers, stepped aside with habitual ease when a cart began to rumble its way up behind her, and generally would have fit right in with the city’s denizens, if not for her ostentatious spiked leather jacket and anomalous human height. Evie was not quite so accustomed to the natural pattern of things, but she was graceful enough to follow in her wife’s shadow with ease, placing her feet on the same cobblestones Sara had stepped on an instant before.

“So they’re not full skyscrapers,” Sara said, speaking to her wife. “How wide are they at the base, you think? Fifty by fifty feet?”

“As good a guess as any. And they’re far more regular in their construction than your home’s examples.”

“Probably had some mage way back when that figured out how to build them, then they never bothered to try anything else. Kinda neat, but a bit disappointing.”

“Your home was more impressive?” Mui asked doubtfully.

“Oh, yeah,” Sara said, glancing over her shoulder to flash him a cocky grin. “Detroit had something like four million people in it. And the buildings got about twice as tall as these, and, like, ten times as wide.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Sara laughed at the abruptness of Mui’s retort.

“Fair, but if you remind me later, I can show you an illusion to prove it. Not any big deal to give you a spoiler on what’s coming. Can’t imagine we’ll need skyscrapers in Tulian anytime soon, but I’ll at least want to show people how to build them before I die.”

Sara turned down a street seemingly at random, sliding to the side of the shadowed road and, before she’d gone more than a dozen feet down this new track, turned once again, this time entering a narrow alleyway. Debris and detritus had collected in the corners, and Mui had to scrunch his snout against the smell of urine. Without prompting, Evie grabbed the back of Sara’s leather jacket and pulled, helping the woman get it off so she was standing in only her dull undershirt.

“Ah, there we go,” Sara sighed. “Looks good, but it’s damn hot. Hey Mui, want to see something cool?”

“Hm?”

Sara grabbed the hem of her shirt and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, pulled upward.

Mui spun smartly on his heel, torturing the entrance of the alleyway with a steely, unbroken gaze.

Sara laughed riotously, her amusement echoing in the narrow space, and even Evie snorted delicately, the closest thing to a laugh he had heard from the stern woman.

“What’s up, Mui?” Sara asked with perfect innocence. “Recognize someone over there?”

“I am giving you your privacy, Chosen.”

“Why? I’ve seen you shirtless plenty of times. What’s the difference?”

“Your breasts, ma’am.”

Sara laughed again. “Damn, you empire types really are prudes. Wouldn’t hurt to loosen up every now and then. Besides, I’ve got a sports bra on.”

“What is that?”

“A chest covering to help compress my breasts. Covers everything. I wear it anytime I’m in my armor.”

Mui started to turn around. There was a metal snick, then the sound of cloth hitting Evie’s palm.

“But I’m taking that off too, so now I’m really tits-out.”

Mui’s about-face was sharp enough for his boots to score a line through the cobblestones. It took all he had to keep his tail professionally still.

“I assure you,” Mui said, clearing his throat hard, “your views on propriety are not shared by those in the Empire.”

“Well that’s a damn shame. I’ll have to open a strip club or something here, help get y’all loosened up.”

“That’s… I don’t know what that is.”

“Bullshit. You’re a soldier.”

“I know what stripping is,” Mui amended, “but a club for it?” His mind conjured the image of pipe-smoking nobles high in some tower, chatting enthusiastically about the best manner of removing their elaborate garments.

“Yeah. I mean, your army probably had camp followers that danced and took their clothes off for money, right? We had plenty of them making money off the soldiers in Tulian.”

“...Some troops visited those sorts, yes.”

“But not you?” Evie asked, a peculiar sense of amusement in her voice.

“No.”

Evie hummed thoughtfully.

“Okay, well,” Sara continued, speaking alongside the rustling of clothes, “imagine those people all got together and started a business. It’s like a tavern where everyone’s half naked and musicians play, and occasionally some people come out on a stage to strip to the music while everyone else tosses ‘em money. The more coins they get, the fewer clothes they wear.”

“I…” Mui sighed, shaking his head. “I imagine you would make quite a lot of money if you ran such an establishment.”

“Run? I’d fuckin’ work there. I mean, look at these puppies!”

For some reason, Mui almost did. He actually, honestly, almost turned around. It was instinct. When someone told you to look at something, it was only natural to turn around. He stopped himself only at the last second, just after his head had begun twitching to the side.

“They are wonderful, Master,” Evie said. “But I don’t think stage performances would be the best use of your time.”

“Oh, but it’d be fun. Just a side-gig, really.”

“I thought you had plans for a brothel as your hobby.”

“Strip club up front, brothel in the back. If they can’t behave in the strip club, they don’t get into the brothel.”

Mui felt faint. He had heard these women discuss similar matters openly before, often audaciously, but he had assumed that was simply the way they were, without care for whether or not they were in public.

Now he was realizing that they did care who was listening, and what he had suffered through before was merely their most polite selves.

“Really though, Master, do you actually expect yourself to find time to service guests in a brothel?”

“I manage with the rest of you, don’t I?”

“Because you would be torn apart by a half-dozen women’s claws if you refused.”

“Look, it’s not my fault I’ve got a godly body. It’s you guys who got hooked on it.”

“It takes two to dance, dear.”

“Guess that’s true. But really, I think the brothel would be more for you. I mean, I’m the Champion of Amarat. Everyone knows I’m a slut. But getting to fuck the Champion’s wife? Now that’s something people would pay for.”

“Believe it or not, I also have a number of responsibilities to tend to.”

“Are you really trying to say that if I told you to whore yourself out for me, you wouldn’t?”

“Of course not,” Evie sniffed, offended by the very notion. “I would happily allow my body to be used however you so pleased. I am simply reminding you that your brothel dreams will likely be more complicated than you seem to assume.”

“See, that’s why we need to get all this war and government shit wrapped up. We’ve got some serious slutting around to do.”

Mui thought the brickwork of the city was very interesting. Truly fascinating work. Well-laid. Solid mortar. How long had it been since this alleyway was built? Mui tried very, very hard to consider this question.

“Alright, I’m dressed,” Sara declared.

Mui blew out a breath of relief, turning around.

Sara was dressed. That was true.

But she certainly wasn’t dressed anything like he’d expected.

The Chosen of Emotion had replaced her peculiar earthly garments with a threadbare, terribly worn peasant’s outfit. Her thick cotton shirt had once been dyed a vibrant yellow, but was so faded and moth-eaten that the only true spots of color which remained were the sweat stains beneath her armpits. Her sturdy leather traveling pants had been replaced by something that seemed to have once been a dress, at least until it had been trimmed so many times that it ended at her mid-calves. It was covered with the grime of a city, ash and dirt intermixing to hide any semblance of dye which it may have once shown. She also wore a woman’s sash across her chest, but it too was threadbare, more of an afterthought than anything else, like a woman clinging to the last remnants of long-lost wealth.

Despite the decrepit state of the clothing, nothing could truly hide the beauty of Emotion’s Chosen. Her long black hair had been tied up into a working woman’s bun, but still exuded a slick grace, clearly tied by choice rather than necessity. The tears and holes in her clothing were distributed almost stylistically, showing off strategic amounts of bare skin in just the right areas to not cause scandal, yet still drawing the eyes towards her more… prominent features. Even her musculature, once the obvious mark of a Warrior, seemed to now better resemble the build of a hard-working laborer.

Evie, too, had changed clothing, something which Mui had no idea had occurred. She was dressed in much the same way as her wife, in Imperial peasant’s clothing of awful condition, but she did not wear it nearly so well. She eschewed a skirt in favor of simple breeches, and her shirt was overlarge and puffy, likely to hide the leather chest protection which he doubted she’d allowed herself to forgo. She did not seem nearly as poor as Sara, unable to achieve the same look in a natural fashion, something which was not helped by the inordinately elaborate braids her long hair was still tied up in. Mui had only seen Evie’s hair let down once, when she was washing it in the river, and the blonde locks had reached well past her mid-back. He could not imagine how long it took to complete her braiding, and didn’t blame her for refusing to undo it in order to blend in.

“Alright, your turn,” Sara said, tossing a bundle of clothing at Mui.

Startled, he only barely caught it. Turning the clothing over in his hands, he saw it was no better than their own clothes.

“...Why?” He asked. “I can hardly be a proper escort if I’m unarmored.”

“Yeah, well, you’re officially off-duty, Sergeant,” Sara said, grinning. “You’ve been stiff as a board since we got to the city. I know I wormed my way into your head better than that. I want to see what you’re really like. You know, when you don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

“That’s… I don’t know if I can,” he said awkwardly. “I have a responsibility, do I not? To protect you.”

“Mui. Buddy. You’ve done some great work so far with us. Really made a good showing of yourself.” Sara rolled her shoulders, testing the fit of her new clothes. “But come on. You’ve seen me and Evie spar. Do you really think whether or not you’re wearing armor is going to change anything if we have to fight?”

Mui thought of the two women’s morning practice sessions. Their weapons had been nothing more than blurs, each round decided almost as soon as he realized they’d begun. Sara was depressingly correct; if something was going to be a threat to her and Evie, all Mui might contribute is another pair of eyes to spot the danger ahead of time.

“...Fine,” he said, sighing deeply. He reached beneath his armor to its straps, beginning the process of unbuckling the chestplate. “Is this what you wanted all along? To drag me along with you so you may see me ‘off duty’?”

“Maybe,” Sara said, moving forward. “The real question is, how did I know to get you a change of clothes, too?” She put her hands on his shoulders, spinning him about. “Here, turn around. I’ll help get you out of that. I want to get moving.”

Mui did as instructed, presenting his back to the Chosen. Her deft fingers slipped beneath the metal, popping the straps open with ease. She didn’t even pinch his fur as she did so, which was impressive, because Mui did that himself half the time.

He shivered slightly as her hands drifted to the lower straps, fingertips spreading to run through his fur. He had picked a poor day to forgo wearing his undershirt.

“Sorry,” Sara said, sounding nothing remotely approaching apologetic, “I’ve never felt catfolk fur before. It’s softer than I expected.”

Mui didn’t have a response for that, so instead he busied himself with his gauntlets, beginning to unstrap them himself. His ears twitched. Quietly, so subtly he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, he thought he heard Evie chuckle.

“There we go,” Sara said, peeling his chestplate off. “I’ll find someone to run this off to the barracks for you. Here’s your shirt.”

Still facing away from Sara, Mui slipped the garment over his head. It was, to his surprise, loose enough to not be uncomfortable on his fur. Most humans had no idea how to pick clothes for catfolk.

“Where did you acquire these clothes, anyway?” Mui asked. “We haven’t been in the city twenty minutes.”

“Bought them off some people on the bridge,” Sara said. “I way overpaid, too. Gave ‘em a silver coin for it.”

Mui tugged the shirt down carefully, paranoid about the cheap material tearing. “A silver piece for this? Really?”

“I was literally buying the clothes off someone’s back. Besides, look at what they were wearing. They needed the money.”

“Clearly,” Mui mumbled. He bent down and unlatched his leg armor, adding it to the large, empty backpack that Sara had retrieved from her bag of holding.

“Hey!” Sara suddenly called in Kemari, abruptly adopting a thick local accent. “Kid! Yeah, you! Want some coin?”

A young girl of ten or so years stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, staring at Sara. She had the look of a street urchin about her, greasy and half-clothed.

“Whatcha say?” The girl challenged, moving only a single step inside the alleyway, just close enough that the street traffic wouldn’t knock her aside. Her eyes darted this way and that, feet shifting, ready to bolt at any second.

Sara flashed two silver coins between her fingers, hefting the bag of Mui’s armor up. “Ya know where the nearest sodjaboy flop is?”

“Yeah?”

“Drop this bag there, two coin. Drop it somewhere else, I findin’ your dumbass.”

“Huh? Fuck you mean? You a trustin’ sort?” She spat to the side, puffing her tiny chest up. The word ‘trust’ had the air of an insult about it.

“Nah nah,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Just good at findin’ shits. Think you can hide fra me? No chance, no chance.”

The girl licked her lips. “Two coin? Those two coin you holding?”

“Yeah-yeah, these. Stole ‘em off some bitch back in the downway, don’t know what they is. Funny-lookin’, see?” Sara flashed the face of the Tulian-minted coins towards the child, showing off how blatantly unlike any Imperial currency they were. “I’m too good with my day to find a fence, but you got the time, dontcha?” She snapped her fingers, holding the bag out. “Two coin, yeah or nah?”

The street urchin licked her lips again, looking between the three strangers who had called her over. Then, without a word, she darted forward, snagging the bag and coins with the speed of a viper, retreating just as quickly. The weight of the armor started to send her teetering sideways. She just barely slung the bag over her shoulder before she fully tipped over.

“You said nearest sodjaboy flop?”

“You hearing good?”

“Hear fine,” the girl spat. “But I ain’t tryna get tough with someone throwin’ two coin like that. Who you with?”

“With me and mine, which means none of yours,” Sara said, making a shooing motion. “Get on. ‘Member, that bag not there when I get back, you’re pieces.”

“I get it, I get it,” the girl said. After one final adjustment of her heavy load, the girl darted out of the alleyway, tucking her shoulder against the crowd.

“...is she really going to deliver my armor back to the barracks?” Mui asked as the child disappeared. “She could sell it for far more than two silver coin’s worth.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.” Sara picked her own clothes off the ground, stuffing them into her bag of holding. “She doesn’t like screwing people over. She’ll fuck me over if she has to, but she’s quick. Someone tries to jump her, she’ll get away.”

Mui had no idea how she could be so confident of that, but he had no choice other than to trust Sara’s word. The child was already gone.

“Now,” Sara said, strolling out of the alleyway. “Time to go to the real city.” She looked over her shoulder at Mui. “When you were growing up were you a street type, or were you down lower?”

“Street,” Mui said, the answer coming reflexively. He had no idea how she knew to ask the question. “Never went down low. My parents would’ve killed me if they heard I did.”

“So you’ve never seen your real city?”

Mui gave her a look. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sara chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see.” She looked up at the beautiful city surroundings, a profoundly dissatisfied scowl on her face. “I hate this shit. Just a bunch of fucking lies. Let’s find out what your Empire’s really like, Mui.”

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They found a stairway down into what Sara called the “real city” soon enough. She walked as if she knew the way, confidently taking turn after turn, eventually finding themselves in the exact sort of sordid, hidden alleyway Mui had been taught to avoid for all his young life.

Right in the middle of the shadowed street was a hole cut into the earth. Ancient stone stairs that were worn on either side of their steps, the right side from people going down, the left side from those heading above. Mui could not help but notice that the grooves of the right side were deeper, smoother. As if more went below than ever returned.

“Hey, Mui?” Sara said, stepping aside. The flow of individuals up and down the stairs was constant, and she moved their trio out of the way. “You know you’re not here to guard me anymore, right?”

“I can’t just abandon my responsibilities like that,” Mui insisted yet again. “You’re descending into Tonlay’s underworld. If ever there was a time when you would need a bodyguard, it would be here.”

Sara scoffed. “If you think that the poor bastards down there are the ones that want to kill me, you’ve got a whole lot to learn. I’ll be safer down there than I’ve been since I left Tulian.”

“She’s right,” Evie said, shocking Mui. The Chosen’s wife spoke in a simple, matter-of-fact tone. “I am far more concerned with Warriors and assassins than I am thieves and muggers. If any fool from some street gang wishes to try their luck against my Master’s sword arm, they are welcome to attempt it. Better yet, they should target me. It could be a satisfying distraction.”

He had nothing to say against that. If Evie, the physical embodiment of paranoia, was barely concerned with her wife’s safety, what point was there in Mui arguing?

Instead, he asked a question.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Sara countered.

“Why do you so desperately wish to convince me to relax? To not treat you as my duty dictates I should?”

Sara paused for a moment, considering. She was leaning against the alleyway’s wall, arms crossed over her chest, with her lips split by a small, unreadable curve.

“You’re interesting,” she eventually said. “I kept you around at first because I knew you were a nobody. Someone the Empire couldn’t have put in place as a spy. An easy, safe bet.” Her eyes flicked across the alleyway, taking in the faces of everyone who passed. “Then you started getting interesting. You got yourself a fancy job, so you started talking fancier. You had a squad to take care of, so you didn’t do anything but. You found out a kid needed help, and you dropped everything for it. I don’t know many people that would’ve done all the things you’ve done, and that’s counting back on Earth, where people were a hell of a lot kinder.”

Sara pushed herself off the wall, stepping closer to Mui. She had a half foot of height over him, and used it to look down on him, smirking. “So yeah. You’re interesting. Unfortunately for you, that’s got me interested in you. You seem like a good sergeant, Mui Thom. So now that you’ve finally got nothing better to do, I want to see what you’re like when the uniform comes off.”

Before he could say a thing, she stepped closer, her chest almost touching his, her words coming in a searing whisper. The walls of the cramped alleyway seemed to recede with her every step, until he was trapped in place by nothing more than her sheer proximity.

“And besides,” she purred, “you’ve been on your game for months, haven’t you? Working your ass off. Maybe it’ll be hard to relax around me, maybe it won’t. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re tired of it, yeah? After so long keeping it straight, your back’s gotta be sore. Slouch a bit, Mui. Put some beer in your gut and your hands in your pockets. Aren’t you tired of being all fancy? How long has it been since you told someone to go fuck themselves? Too long, I bet. You need to blow off some steam. You’re gonna have plenty of opportunities down there.”

Her words rolled over him like a heatwave, a furnace’s fire fanned by the almost manic gleam in her eyes. Her grin had become something sloppy, almost slovenly, and he could no longer ignore the way her chest rose and fell with each eager puff of her lungs, her lips so close he could not help the way his muzzle was filled with the heady, dizzying scent of her breath. His fur was standing on end, his ears twitching between flattening away from her overwhelming presence and leaning forward, straining desperately to soak in her every word, while his tail had frozen as if he were staring into the eyes of some ancient, primal predator.

“Well?” She asked, impatient, teeth flashing. “Come on, big boy. Decision time. You want to come with me, or you want to head back home?”

Mui swallowed, tongue running over his teeth. He shook his head, a rumbling chuckle rising out of his chest.

“Fine. Lead the way, Sara.”

“Fuck yes!” She cried, pumping a fist. She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, pushing him toward the stairs. “Alright, let’s go, let’s go. Fuckin’ bar crawl, bitches. I want to get wasted.”

Instead of subjecting himself to the treatment as he might have a few minutes earlier, Mui spun in place to get her hand off his back, letting her stumble forward.

“If you’re wanting me to relax,” he told her, “don’t be shoving me around like that.”

“Ooh!” Sara cooed, eyes alight with delight as they waited in line for the stairs. “Look at that! Am I seeing a bit of a spine right there?”

“Why are you surprised, Master?” Evie asked. “You did just complain he kept his back too straight.”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

“Why do you still call her that?” Mui asked, instinctively ducking his head as he began to traverse the stairwell. “‘Master.’ I know she used to own you, but she doesn’t anymore, no?”

Evie met his eyes with an unblinking, owlish expression, one slowly covered by shadow as they followed the descending crowd.

“Because the thought of being her slave turns me on like a bitch in heat. Why else?”

Mui coughed. Looked between Sara and Evie, who were appraising his reaction.

And laughed.

“Gods!” He swore, still laughing. “Is your other wife just as bad?”

“Sometimes,” Sara said, smiling at some fond memory. “She got a lot better once I knocked her up. ‘Course, now that she’s had the kid…”

“We are not ready for another child, Master.”

“Well you two are making it real fuckin’ hard to keep it to just one.”

“I thought you used spells for your child?” Mui asked. Freed from the chains of formality, dozens of questions were bubbling to the surface of his mind. “That’s how you explained it before. Seems like it would be hard for three women to accidentally end up pregnant if they have to cast a spell beforehand.”

“Yeah, I used magic,” Sara said. “A magic cock that Amarat lets me grow whenever I want. We did it the old fashioned way.”

“...You’re screwing with me.”

Sara wiggled her eyebrows at Mui. “Nope. Want to see?”

“Oh, would you look at that,” he replied, pointing ahead. “We’ve reached the first level.” Mui stepped out of the stairwell, carried along by the endless parade of citizens. “Another question, then. How did you even know about the lower levels?”

“Easy enough,” Sara said, graciously allowing him to dodge the topic. “I saw that fancy ass city up there and thought to myself ‘is there any way they can build this without fucking someone over?’” She scoffed. “The answer of course, is yeah. But they fucking wouldn’t. So here we are.” Sara stepped out of the main walkway, taking a long, deep breath. “Here we fucking are.”

Mui joined her, looking down the long, dark corridor.

The Empire was a titanic creation. More ancient than any save the elven could fathom, its earliest days were written in the walls around them. A time when a space in the jungle had been carved by desperate settlers, digging deep beneath the earth in their bid to hide from the calamities which sought them from every angle. Mui could see the hasty chips torn by tens of thousands of chisel strikes, untold hordes sent to gather stone for the walls which were their only hope for protection. They had not mined for gems or ore, but for safety, desperate for a life spent without a blade in hand. They had not known that their descendants, their numbers ballooned by that very same safety, would someday be forced down into the tunnels they had dug.

The only light came from dull quartz embedded in the ceiling, steel cages hammered overtop to cast a shadow of their bars across the mingling crowds. Even here, in this main thoroughfare, the pathway was not but a half-dozen steps wide, just tall enough that the orcs passing through only had to tuck their heads. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, front to back, walking in a shuffling procession.

Much like the roads above, there were vendors standing beside the street, hawking their wares to all who passed. Unlike the sunlit streets, where chalk marks and designated awnings had been declared as the place for a cart of goods, these sellers stood in narrow cubbies that had been chiseled from the stone, with all they had to sell pinned in a display across their chest. The closest of them were selling skewers of unidentifiable meat, lashes of rope, and dull, half-rotted fruits, the rejects from the markets above. Those that wished to purchase from them did so as fast as they were able, bumped and shoved by the crowds as they tried to stand still long enough to pass coin from hand and good to pocket.

The disruption to the flow of traffic was not welcome. The floors of the twisting pathway rose and fell at random, sometimes rising a single inch, other times falling half a foot. This place had never been intended for human habitation. It had been forced into it. The natives of the city strode over the lumpy terrain with unconscious ease, but the roads were so dark, the obstacles so common, that it was inevitable someone would trip. Thankfully for them, the crowds were dense enough that they only ever landed against the person in front of them, who usually shoved them off without even a grunt of acknowledgement.

Amongst those endless crowds, there were inevitably crossroads. These were the site of battlegrounds as the two sides shoved past one another, the right of passage won by force of might as often as deft maneuvering. Gender, class, age, none of it seemed to matter. All were shoved aside by those who had the strength to do so, turning each of the countless intersections into a very dangerous place to be for the weak and infirm.

And there were far more of those than he had expected. Moving through the stagnant twilight were not just the elderly and young, but the injured and ill. He had never seen so many people with wrapped wounds and limping gaits, save only for the hours after a battle. It seemed whichever gods peered into this hidden space had not seen fit to bestow their gifts of healing to the number of faithful needed to tend so many. That or the place was so inhospitable, so dangerous, that the healers could not hope to stem the tide of constant injury.

Despite the misery which choked the air like magefire ash, there were small patches of light. They came from the holes that had been cut in the walls which poured steam and smoke, rivers of which were carried away by subtle enchantments carved into the stone ceiling, eventually floating up narrow chimneys to be released above. The smoke carried with it the scent of frying food and sweaty bodies. The steaming cubbies were brighter than others, often accompanied by a line of people pressed to the sides of the street in a bid to enter, and it was only there that Mui saw strangers speaking to one another with a smile on their face. True, it was often the smile of the drunk or high, or at least those with the hope of abandoning sobriety soon, but it was a smile. His heart latched onto these individuals with a fervor, to prove to himself that he had not been tricked by a demon into wandering into one of the pits of the damned.

“You’ve really never been down here?” Sara asked.

“No,” Mui answered honestly. “Why would I?”

“It’s where most of the city lives.”

A reflexive answer came to Mui’s lips- that it was where most of the city’s criminals lived, not its citizens. It was what he had heard all his life. Staring down the weaving streets, he found that sentiment suddenly harder to summon.

“How did you even know about it?” He asked instead. “Most don’t speak of this place. Even those that live here and work above.”

“I’ve got good ears. Better than yours, believe it or not. People talk.”

“You haven’t been in the city for more than an hour.”

“Really good ears. Now come on, let’s see what people actually live like in your Empire.”

“It’s not my Empire,” Mui argued as Sara rejoined the crowd, filtering easily into the press. “I just live here.”

“You fought for it, you killed for it, it’s yours,” she said, distracted as her head turned towards every point of interest. “If the people who are willing to die for a cause aren’t the ones who can really claim ownership of it, you’re not in an army, you’re in a scam. And besides, anyone in an army who’s not a conscript is both endorsing and enforcing its progenitor’s ideology.”

“Why is it that only now, when you’ve insisted I act casually, that you speak like an actual noble?” Mui turned sideways to slip past an orc carrying a large wooden crate. “You never used language like that on our journey.”

“Because I’m actually talking about the shit I care about now,” Sara replied, taking a sudden turn. Once more, seemingly at random, they descended another stairwell, this one so steep Mui couldn’t fit more than his heel on the steps. Sara’s explanation was unbroken as she deftly navigated the perilous terrain. “Back home, I read all kinds of fancy shit. Political theory, history books, Marx. I know how to talk nice and proper. The fact that I don’t when I’m in important meetings says more about the image I want to project than it does about me.”

“So you’re saying that using phrases like ‘enforce its progenitor’s ideology’ is how you naturally speak?”

“No. But it’s how I talk about politics.”

“Master’s mind is frighteningly fragmented,” Evie said in Continental, not bothering to try and explain herself in shaky Kemari. “She does not know basic facts about how her original government operated as intended because she had no interest in its successes, yet she has an encyclopedic knowledge of how and when it failed.”

“Yeah, well, wasn’t much point learning how to fix the shit that was already working fine, right?” Sara countered. She stepped out into the new lower level, which was even cooler and more damp than the layer above. Mui did not know how many more existed even lower. “Never expected to have to rebuild everything from scratch.”

“Your father claims that knowledge of your country’s operations should have been a matter of ‘civic pride.’”

“Fuck does he know about civic pride?” Sara scoffed. “Dude’s been a leftwing professor since the Reagan era. He’s probably on half a dozen government watchlists. Or was, I guess.”

“You both know I have no idea what you’re arguing about, yes?”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re arguing with each other, not you.”

Mui shook his head, blindly following in Sara’s wake. He had lost track of their many twists and turns minutes ago, and had begun to suspect she’d never bothered to track her progress in the first place. She seemed to gather more satisfaction from the thumping of her boots against the stone than any actual destination, her narrowed eyes inspecting the city’s underlife with an alchemist’s precision.

They passed door after door to homes, shops, and anything else which could be stuffed into the terribly limited space. Many were dark, the iron cages which protected the crystal lighting bent and broken for the nigh-worthless quartz within. Those alcoves often held nothing more than the whites of someone staring back at Mui, sitting atop some shadowed figure crouched low. They sat with arms wrapped around their knees, lips pressed into a thin line. Men, women, and children of all sorts, gaunt and hollow-eyed. The crowds had thinned enough on the second level that each of these hidden figures afforded the time to look up as Mui passed, tracking him with a dangerous, hungry expression.

“Still loving the city life?” Sara asked. “Not quite as glamorous down here, is it?”

“No,” Mui replied simply. “It is not.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll look better through some beer goggles.”

“And where, exactly, are we going to find something to drink?”

“You don’t hear it yet?”

Both Mui’s and Evie’s ears perked up, swiveling from left to right.

“What am I listening for?”

“You’ll get it in a second.”

As they continued down the corridor, the lights came less frequently, the darkness stretching longer. The ethereal twilight began to fade into a cloudless midnight, the stars of single crystals creating pools of white that just barely merged at the furthest edges of their puddling light. The crowd thinned further and further, the walls growing damper, drops of water running in muddy streaks from the crease of the ceiling to the joint of the floor. Soon it was empty enough that those few who remained no longer had to speak up to be heard, but rather quieted themselves, unwilling to break the echoing silence.

Or, perhaps, they were listening to something. Long after the Chosen had somehow heard it, a distant rattle caught Mui’s attention. His and Evie’s ears both flicked forward, straining towards the sound.

His first thought, strangely, was of Tulian’s industry. The distant metallic crack of steel against steel, tool against material, the chorus of a dozen craftworkers side by side. But as they approached and the sounds grew sharper, he began to pick up… something. A rhythm, maybe. It was hard to tell. Every time he thought he could predict a certain pattern, he began to hear more underneath, quieter undertones that required more of his mind to dissect. With every step closer, he became more convinced that it was intentionally created, but less certain it made any sense at all. It was complex to the point of randomness, layer upon layer of rattling pops echoing down the stone corridors.

“What is that, Master?”

“A sick-ass drummer,” Sara said. “Check it out.”

They turned one final corner, revealing…

The dirtiest, grimiest human man Mui had ever seen. Shirtless, sweat dripping from ragged, matted hair, his wiry muscles were wrapped so tightly around the frame of his body that Mui struggled to understand how he still had the strength to move. His elbows were thicker than his forearm and biceps, his ribs pressed hard against his skin, and every knuckle of every finger was white with ashy callouses. Mui could see his face only in the brief flashes when his hair parted, and what he saw there should have been an empty, listless individual.

Yet his hands moved in a blur, wooden sticks bouncing off a dizzying array of dented metal. His ‘instruments’ were pots and pans, pieces of scrap metal, and even the occasional strike of a mallet against the stone. The crystal above gave the dull metals the slightest sheen, highlighting the drops of sweat which dripped off his body to land on the pots and trace a meandering path through the bent iron, only to be shattered to mist when his next strike arrived.

“See? This is the kind of bar I was talking about,” Sara said, waving to the man. “Quiet area, live music, the works. Let’s stop here.”

It was only after a great deal of effort that Mui could tear his eyes away from the man, realizing that another one of the thin slots of the wall was just nearby. Beneath the rhythmic cacophony was the sound of muttered conversation and wood sliding across stone, emanating from the faintly lit alcove.

He followed Sara into the slip of light, but he couldn’t quite peel his eyes away from the peculiar drummer. There was something about him that was indescribably captivating, even if he was the spitting image of those who Mui had once disparagingly imagined to live in the lower levels of the city. The music- and he wasn’t sure if it could really be called music- was an extension of the madness he saw in the man’s eyes. Someone like that man could never exist up above. He would be locked away, brought to a healer, cured of whatever illness which had inspired him to cultivate such narrow talents. Down here, however, his madness had flourished into something truly unique.

“The hells are you doing here?”

A gravelly voice finally snapped Mui from his reverie, drawing his attention to the cubby he’d all but walked backward into.

It was, as he’d suspected, a tavern, but not of any sort he’d seen before. It was perhaps twenty or thirty feet long, dug deeply into the stone, but just barely wide enough for him to spread his arms without hitting either wall. It had clearly been carved for its purpose, the bartop being simply a slab of stone which had not been cut away. Wooden shelves contained unlabeled containers of what he could only assume to be alcohol, in the form of a motley collection of glass bottles and sealed wooden mugs, with a few tapped barrels of something else visible at the end of the slot.

The voice belonged to an orcish man behind the stone barrier, one whose brow was furrowed in profound irritation. There were only three others sitting in the long row of chairs, each of them staring at Sara with obvious displeasure.

“Here for a nap and a drink, ” the Chosen replied, sliding confidently into a seat.

The orc’s brow furrowed. “In that order?”

“Always.”

As if she had passed some secret test, the bar’s occupants relaxed, returning to their preoccupations. The metallic music continued from outside, captivating as ever.

“What’dya want?” The bartender asked Sara.

“Get me drunk.”

“Two copper.”

Evie slid the coins out of a hidden pouch within her ragged clothes, setting them on the stone. They disappeared into the orc’s palm, replaced by three mugs on the counter. Something foul smelling was poured into each one. Sara happily grabbed her mug and pulled it to her lips, taking a large swallow.

“Don’t worry,” she gasped, setting the mug back down with a hiss of pain. “I won’t talk any more politics. I’m not that kind of drunk.”

---------------------------------

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“Butchyou don’t geddit!” Sara bellowed, slamming her drink down. “Nationsh evolved from the shity- shity- cities- that organized.” She waved her hand emphatically, stabbing it into Mui’s chest. “Governments are shupposed to be the people, not just in charge of the people.”

“Don’t make no fucking sense!” Mui yelled back, grabbing her wrist in a vain attempt to shove her point finger off of him. “A thousand years! A thousand fuckin’ years of peaceful… peaceful times. That’s what people a-are fighting for. The war’s gotta end the right way, or else that thousand years ain’t gonna happen again!”

“Thousand years of fuckin’ bootlicking,” Sara slurred, pushing her hand back into Mui’s chest. He couldn’t budge her arm for the life of him, but her wrist was warm and felt nice to hold, so he kept jerking it around anyway. “Don’t matter what it was, who was in charge, a thousand years or a fuckin’ million, doesn’t matter at all! None of it! People living down in the dirt when- when they’ve got gold towers up above ‘em!” Sara slammed her mug down, emphasizing each word. “Gold. Fuckin’. Towers! Literally! Gold!”

“Least they’re not getting stabbed in some fuckin’ field!”

“Nah, they were just starving to death in their own fucking house!”

“Y’weren’t there! Y’don’t know that!”

“Fuckin- how old are you? Thirty? You weren’t there either!”

“I’m not thirty!”

“Y’look thirty-one.”

“Bullshit!”

And so the shouting match went, Mui’s blurry, blurry world filled by the swimming apparation of Sara’s face. His left hand was holding onto his chair for dear life, the only thing keeping him from toppling over with every impassioned cry. He didn’t know how long it had been; only that the city had come to life around them, even this once-empty portion of the narrow streets having slowly filled with other people. Up above it was probably evening, maybe even night, judging by the number of people who now had the time to spend at a bar. There was a line outside the bar, but they hadn’t ceded their seats.

Well, not really. Evie was currently kneeling on the floor, limp limbs wrapped around her wife’s knees. Her eyes were stapled shut, but she occasionally stirred long enough to incoherently mumble and bob her head around, alternating which cheek she rubbed against Sara’s bare skin with a lighthearted trill. Every now and then the Chosen had to shove the feline’s head back down, as it showed a remarkable tendency to slowly creep its way further up her dress. In her drunken stupor, it seemed Evie had become convinced that moving slowly enough would hide the fact that she was aiming to plant her tongue right between her wife’s legs.

“Hey,” a voice rumbled.

Mui’s muzzle swung around towards the noise, his ears and eyes following along a second later. He squinted at the green blur which was leaning over the countertop, eventually discerning a not-very-happy tusked face.

“You three aren’t with us, are you?”

“W-what gave it away?” Sara asked, hiccuping her way through a laugh. “You just figure it out, brighteyes?” Sara blinked several times, frowning. “Wait. Not brighteyes. Bright… bright guys. There we go. I figured it out.” She beamed a smile up at the orc. “What were you saying?”

“Get out of my bar,” he growled.

Sara hummed thoughtfully, bobbing from side to side as she considered her response.

“Mmmmmno.”

“Get. Out.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Fine then,” the orc said, pulling their fist back.

Mui held up both hands to stop the nice bartender, flopping forward in a panic.

“Wait, she’s-”

The orc’s fist shot forward, aiming for Sara’s jaw.

Halfway through its trip to her face, his elbow took an unplanned and very abrupt detour towards the bar’s entrance, bending out of place. It was disturbing in a way that was very unhelpful for Mui’s ability to keep his drink down.

The bar was filled with a loud CRACK as the limb was snapped, lower half left dangling uselessly from the orc’s bicep.

“No means no,” Sara slurred, ignoring the man’s shriek of agony. She shook out her hand. “Damn, boy. You got some thick meat on your bones. Or thick bones. Whatever.”

Every other patron in the thin bar slid out of their chairs as one, many drawing knives from their belts.

“Sara,” Mui whispered, leaning close, closer, until he almost fell out of his chair, stopped only by his jaw landing on her shoulder for support. “Sara. Sara, I think they’re gonna try and fight us.”

“Evie!” Sara yelled, kicking her wife in the ribs. “Bar fight!”

The feline made a decidedly unpained groan at the impact of Sara’s boot, briefly tucking closer to her leg. A moment later, the words filtered through to her half-drowned mind. Her eyes fluttered open.

“You promise?” She asked, clawing her way up Sara’s legs. Literally clawing; she left bloody pinprick trails in the flesh, something Sara didn’t seem to notice.

Evie got to her feet just as a vanara woman stepped up to their little trio, teeth bared in a hostile grin.

“I don’t think you three understand who you’re dealing with here,” she hissed. “And you’ve had too much to drink to know better. I think we’re going to take you back somewhere quiet and find out just how you knew what to say to get in here, yeah?”

“Mui!” Sara called, spinning around in her chair to face him. She hadn’t realized his head was already on his shoulder, so they ended up slamming faces together briefly, furry muzzle against pale skin. “Mui-mmghf.” She pulled back, blinking. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Remember what I said you should be saying more? Y’know, earlier?”

Mui frowned, the sludgy cogs of his brain grinding in place.

“Mmmmaybe?”

“I think you should say it to her.”

The vanara scowled. “If it is not an apology or an explanation-”

“Oh!” Mui’s face brightened. “That was it.” He turned to the vanara, grinning wide. “Gooooo FUCK yourself!”

A knife appeared out of thin air, driven towards his eye by the woman’s muscled arm.

Mui’s head lolled to the side, letting the weapon slide past him. He watched the furry arm trundle along past him, so slow, so much slower than he was used to in the war, and considered what to do.

And since his hands felt so far away at that particular moment, he opened his mouth, fangs glittering in the crystal light.

His jaws snapped shut over her arm. The taste of iron rolled over his tongue. A screech of rage blared in his ears.

The fight began.

Sara’s fist came up into the vanara woman’s jaw, dropping her with a meaty thud. She dangled for a moment, hanging from Mui’s mouth until he spat her arm out, letting her fall.

The orc bartender’s unbroken arm came swinging around, this time for Mui.

He stepped out of his chair to let it sail past him like a mighty river barge, wobbling his way until he felt the cool stone against his back.

Everyone else in the bar rushed forward, clogging the space, and things got complicated.

Mui punched the person in front of him right in the nose, breaking it as gently as he could. He wasn’t really sure how hard he could hit these people. Maybe they weren’t that bad, he reasoned. They could’ve been workers, or a gang, or who knew. None of them were soldiers with five years in the field though, he felt pretty sure about that, so he didn’t want to just kill them too easy. Really, if they were drinking the shit that was rolling around in Mui’s gut, drinking it on the regular nonetheless, they barely deserved to get punched, fight or no fight. It was awful stuff. Torture, really.

Had done a great job getting him drunk, though.

Mui stepped over the person he’d just punched, a fellow who was now screaming on the ground, and punched the next guy in line.

Or at least, he tried to.

This one was probably in a crime gang or something, because he actually dodged Mui’s swing, ducking under it. He also had a real long knife, almost long enough to be a sword (over the forearm length that marked it legal for a civilian to own, Mui’s muddled mind helpfully informed him) which he was currently swinging for Mui’s gut.

Mui stepped back, bumping against Sara. The knife-sword swished through the air uselessly, because the guy was dumb enough to swing it instead of stabbing, which would have been way better up close like they were. Really, he should’ve just used a proper knife. Would’ve been a lot better.

Mui’s leg swung skyward, or roofward as the case currently was, aiming for the knife-sworder’s crotch. He was drunk enough that he missed the delicate bits with the tip of his shoes, instead slamming his shin right beside the guy’s manhood.

There was a scream as the man recoiled, pelvis fractured. Mui shoved a palm against his chest, pushing him up against the other ones behind him, using him as a shield to push them out into the street.

Somehow, Mui had no idea how, Evie was already out in the middle of the road- er, walkway, or whatever it was called under the city. He didn’t know, though he bet Sara did. She knew so much. More than she should.

But the point was, there was already a body slumped at Evie’s feet, some man of some sort face-down on the stone. Evie had a very, very wide smile on her face, and the other two people that had been surrounding her were halfway through an about-face, getting ready to run right the hell away from her.

Then the bundle that Mui had been shoving managed to untangle themselves, and Mui realized that actually, the street wasn’t a good place to be, because there were now a bunch of people on either side and all around him, and they all really wanted to punch him. Probably more than he wanted to punch them, as a matter of fact. Wasn’t ever a good idea to get in a fight where the other side had more to lose. He remembered that from his Sergeant’s handbook.

A knife came for his ribs off his right, which he swatted to the ground, sending the blade bouncing off the stone.

Another swung from his left, so he stepped towards the girl who’d just lost her knife, practically stepping up into the lady’s arms, like he was going for a hug.

Sara came out of the bar behind him, laughing wildly. There was a trail of groaning men and women in her wake, and none of those left conscious seemed interested in stomping all over their friends to make their way to join them on the floor.

The woman Mui had shoved up against tried to grab his forearms, twisting to hold him in place for her buddy to knife. He didn’t want that to happen, so he grabbed her arms in turn, swinging her around.

She went not-quite-flying towards the fellow who’d been rushing onward, who had to pull up short so he wouldn’t stab his friend in the face.

While they found the time to not kill each other, Mui took the opportunity to lash out at one of the women who’d been standing near the one he’d just tossed, his knuckles popping something in her cheekbone.

Maybe it was her cheekbone.

Cheek. Bone.

Why is it called that? Is there only one cheekbone? Surely there’s two, on both sides of the face? Or does it go all the way around?

Sara laughed with delight as she sprinted past Mui, lowered shoulder ending up slamming into someone across the way. She drove them all the way to the far wall, driving the air from their lungs, then she stepped back, throwing her hands out wide, like a performer who had just completed a trick.

Beside her, Mui noticed, a second body had joined the first at Evie’s feet. He hadn’t seen when or how.

Mui put his hands up as the two people he’d just thrown at one another came for him again, apparently too distracted by being angry to notice what had happened to all their other friends.

Mui’s left fist hit the one on the right, breaking something important, then his right fist hit the one on the left, their feet flying out from under them.

He heard a thump. Another body had just dropped at Evie’s feet.

The last of the bar’s occupants, and those that had been waiting in a line outside, made the wise decision to pause for thought.

Judging by their faces, they all seemed to be thinking different things. The ones looking at Mui’s bloody muzzle were angry. The ones looking at Sara’s wildhearted laughing were confused. And the ones looking at Evie’s cheshire grin were just plain afraid.

They all came to the same conclusion, though:

Time to run away.

The street cleared in a few rowdy seconds, the crowds of evening traffic sprinting away from the commotion.

“Whoo!” Sara cried, holding up her hands. “Hell yeah! Been so fucking long since I fought someone that was mad at me! Do you know how bad I- oh, hold on.”

Sara put her hands on her knees and bent over, promptly spewing a fountain of foamy vomit over her boots.

“They’re not dead,” Evie said to Mui, unprompted, dragging his attention over to where the feline was pointing at her collection of piled bodies. “I think.” She nudged one with a foot. There was no response. She shrugged. “I didn’t stab them, at least.”

“They don’t look very alive.”

“They’re not bleeding,” Evie pointed out.

“I don’t think that means-”

“Whoah!” Sara shot back upward, stumbling to one side. She wiped her mouth. “Okay. There we go. Always feel better after puking. How ‘bout you guys?”

“I’m fine,” Mui said.

“I would probably feel better after puking, too.”

“Okay!” Sara said, pointing a finger at her wife. “Throw up.”

The collar on Evie’s neck- Mui had no idea when that thing had shown up- flashed. The feline abruptly bent double, a horrible gagging noise filling the street as she spewed her own vomit onto the stone.

“Why did you do that?!” Mui cried, moving forward to take Evie’s hair in his hands. It had come out of its braid slightly in the fight, and he held it out of the path of her vomit.

“She asked me,” Sara said. “Wait. Are you holding her hair up? That’s so fucking cute.”

“What-”

“Oh!” Evie exclaimed, popping back up. She grabbed Mui’s sleeve and dragged it around to wipe her mouth. “I do feel better. You were right, Master.”

His head was swimming in far too much shitty beer to make sense of anything that was happening right now. To make this clear, he took a deep breath, pounding his chest to hold back a burp.

“...I want to go to sleep,” he announced.

“If I hadn’t just puked, I’d already be sucking you off so fucking hard-”

“I think I know where we can sleep,” Evie declared, tearing off a piece of her clothing to wipe her shoes of vomit. Then she frowned, freezing halfway through her cleaning. “Wait, were you saying something, Master?”

Sara stood there, staring at nothing. Then she slowly swung her head around to Evie.

“Huh?”

“What?” Mui asked.

“I know where a place to sleep is,” Evie repeated.

“A bed?” Sara asked.

“No. But there’s a door, and I think it locks. I saw it earlier.”

“Good enough for me,” Mui said, imagining the horrible climb he’d have to do while drunk if they wanted to get back to the barracks.

“Okay,” Sara said, wobbling her way over to Evie. “Let’s go. I want to sleep.”

“Me too,” Mui said.

“We know. You already told us.”

Mui blinked. smacking his lips. They still tasted like shitty beer. He hoped they’d stop tasting like that sometime soon.

“...Huh?” He asked.

“Sleep.”

“Good idea. We should.”

“Good gods,” Evie muttered. “You two just… just follow me.”

Mui stumbled off after the two women, one of whom was leaning on the other. They seemed like such a nice couple.

Behind them, the drummer played, the pattern of his music etching a line in Mu’s mind. Those tinpop rattles of his had never stopped. Not for a single moment.

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