Krow stepped toward the mouth of the alley, teasing smirk falling from his face.

“Leave it…Krow, wasn’t it?” The Reeve-captain glanced at him mildly.

Krow contemplated just going to join the battle anyway. Then reason reasserted itself and he relented.

He’d just be a hindrance. Besides, letting others clean up a mess wasn’t a bad thing.

“Ilas Krow, correct.”

“Of no blood?”

“Seeing as I’m the only one left, it’s doubtful you’ve heard of them anyway.”

“An odd thing to say, for draculkar. And a gunman as well.”

All players were odd.

Krow met the captain’s golden gaze. “An odd thing for a vargvir to comment on.”

The captain huffed amusement.

The sound of fighting had ceased already.

No notification?

Krow was disappointed. Either they missed a bandit or the quest completion rewards didn’t include him.

They were Reeves. They definitely didn’t miss anyone.

“Captain.” A softly spoken word heralded the arrival of two more Reeves.

The captain nodded in acknowledgement, then met Krow and Avan’s eyes, making no doubt who he was talking to. “This way.”

“Oh hey, you didn’t see a revolver somewhere nearby, did you?” Krow asked the two Reeves who’d just arrived.

They looked at each other. The woman shrugged. The male spoke. “We don’t have it.”

“No? It looks like I’ll be checking the lost and found later.” That is to say, the information broker’s for data about the nearest pawnshop that didn’t require proof of ownership.

The vargvir woman’s ear twisted in curiosity, but she didn’t comment.

Surrounded by elites and with no way out, Krow took the time to appreciate the surroundings. To his surprise, he recognized the building the Reeve-captain was leading them into.

“This is… the Amalfi Theatre?”

Avan lit up. “You have heard of it!”

“I have.”

The Amalfi was a prestigious playhouse in Tvarglad, built by a vargvir noble of the same name. He did one quest here, as a Swordsbearer. It was one of the last before the Quake.

The job was to clear out the giant spiders in the deep basement levels. One of the theatre director’s projects to provide the theatre with silken props went massively awry. Massively.

Selling the silk had fed him well for a week, all those years ago.

Krow had no time to reminisce more as they were ushered out of what he was certain was a mistress entrance and into a private room that hid almost ostentatious wealth under plainness.

The rough leather of the seats was seedblue buffalo hide. He’d worked a lot with it in another life. The table, he was pretty sure was dragoneye teak. The cups on the table had the faint orange sheen of bones from high-level fire-natured monsters. The curtains were seaspider silk, undyed to leave the natural gold and green coloring.

All of those things were armor-grade, weapons-grade.

To use them to decorate a room…

It was extravagance.

“This is one of the theatre’s elite private boxes,” murmured the Reeve behind him. “You can use the bathroom this way.”

He glanced at Avan, who was complaining to the captain about being chased all the way to Tvarglad. Did that mean there was a bathroom another way?

Krow followed his guide. “How many bathrooms does a theatre box need?”

“You’d be surprised.”

The lamp oil in the corridors exuded a faint refreshing fragrance. …blackmint oil?

That was one of the ingredients for Revitalit potions.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the theatre box had a whole apartment suite.

Sight of the bathroom the Reeve waved him through made him pause.

He’d only seen this style of bath in film media set during his grandparents’ generation. Old school, all tile and metal, with too many knobs and levers. No electronics at all.

Nice.

He dropped his clothes in a hamper, arranged his revolver and knives on the vanity, and entered the old-school shower. The frosted glass was etched with abstract shapes.

Fifteen minutes later, he found that his clothes had been cleaned and dried.

Efficient service.

He dressed and exited the bathroom to find that his guide was waiting. He stopped in surprise, then realized. Oh. Avan’s friend was a person who was guarded by Reeves…

Of course Krow wouldn’t be left alone. Why, he might be a blackguard, a cad, a good for nothing rogue.

“This way.”

He was returned to the first room.

The vargvir in street-common vest and loose trousers rose to greet him. “You must be Krow.”

“And you are Hadi.” He’d never seen the Primar of Tvarglad, or any of the city’s ruling family, so Krow couldn’t be certain.

The vargvir smiled, pleased. “Haradios.”

“Ilas Krow.”

“There is a play coming on, called ‘Flowers for Owls’. Will you be staying?”

“To say goodbye to Avan, yes.”

He was waved to an armchair, and the drapes that fell to cover one whole side of the room opened to reveal the massive theatre.

From the workers bragging in another life, he knew the Amalfi could seat ten thousand.

From what Krow could see, the house was packed, though it was barely after noon.

It must be noisy in the seats below. The sounds didn’t reach them in the high box though.

The stage lit up.

A program and a set of weird glasses were pressed into his hands.

[Amalfi Theatre Spectaculars]

[Quality: B][Uncommon]

[All the better to see the stage. A pair of spectacular eyewear from the Amalfi theatre.]

It was branded?

Krow was amused.

He put them on. The staged jumped at him, enlarged until it appeared like it was right before him.

The curtain opened.

A sharp swishing sound, and the ring of a blade. Blood spattered.

Eh?

A corpse rose from a grave, and started to sing. More blood spread.

Krow took off the theatre glasses, bemused. The sound of the stage cut out.

He peered at the stage.

Yeah, even from this distance, the crimson splashes on the set were evident.

It wasn’t the glasses being defective.

He glanced at the program. ‘Flowers for Owls’ was the first of three plays the Amalfi had scheduled for the day.

‘A tale of blood and longing’ it introduced.

“Huh.”

He peered through the glasses again.

Gore exploded on stage. Oh, whoa. There was definitely blood.

Norge, what the hell.

“Not an enthusiast?” Hadi had his eyes trained on the play.

He had been. People didn’t like watching movies at his place for a reason. “I was.”

“Not anymore?”

“It’s not the same.” Not after seeing the aftermath of actual battles.

“Old memories now?”

“The best.”

“Hm.”

They fell silent, mutually focusing their attention to the stage.

Krow put the glasses back on and let himself imagine simpler times.

On stage, the protagonist, feathers fluttering in his hair, sang about yearning for something he couldn’t explain while searching for the perfect flower to put on the grave of his owl and murdering those who gave or suggested subpar flowers.

He met a clever florist, who stalled his murderous impulses by telling him stories based on flowers, in the style of Scheherazade.

They realized a deep connection, but their growing closer was interrupted by the authorities searching for the serial killer main character, who realized he couldn’t stop, can never stop, and triggered a grand pursuit scene ending in him jumping to his death, arms out and flying.

The florist buried him, sang a song wondering what flower would encapsulate the totality of the experience, to honor the memory of the main character. The curtain closed as the florist caught a falling feather, lips still open from the last note.

It was a simple story.

No plot surprises, full of tropes, the music was mediocre. It could be better.

But there was something about it that made Krow want to give up another hour to rewatch the whole thing.

Something more than the subtly-hidden social commentary the actors made with pretty patterns of blood and gore. That was hilarious; he’d only caught it after one of the actors sprayed blood in a pattern that briefly made an abstract emoji in the air before splashing against various surfaces.

Krow made a note to save the record.

“Hadi! How do I look?” Avan burst into the room, freshly washed and changed into an even more flamboyant outfit. The Darkfall Cape was slung over one shoulder. “Do you have any jasperwine left? I’ve been beset by troubles. Oh! Krow, you’ve met Hadi?”

“We’ve introduced ourselves.” Krow flipped the program into his Inventory as he stood. “And then we watched a stageplay.”

Avan grabbed a program. He beamed. “‘Tartuff’ is up next! Phenomenal, we can—”

“The director has allowed my request,” Hadi interrupted idly. “The next play is ‘Ambergris and Celia’.”

Avan grimaced. “I hate that play.”

“Yes. I, on the other hand, hate that you are constantly reckless with your safety.”

Avan huffed. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You just told Elston you were beset by bandits!”

“That was not my fault!”

A hand offered Krow a cup. He eyed it, then the Reeve-captain, who nodded at the two men arguing like five year olds. “They were friends as children.”

“Are you sure they stopped being children?”

“I heard that!” yelled Hadi over his shoulder.

“Blast your vargvir ears,” Krow called back.

“What, what did he say?” Avan eyed them suspiciously.

“He said you were a child.” Hadi smirked.

“I said you were both children.”

“Hah! Who’s the child now!” Avan snorted at Hadi.

Hadi ignored him and turned to Krow. “I must thank you for bringing him safely here.”

“Don’t ignore me!”

Krow took the cup from the Reeve-captain with a nod of thanks and tossed back the cloudy liquid inside. It was some kind of juice, cool with a slight bite of fermentation. Jasperwine?

“It was my duty. I’d love to stay awhile, but I still have to find a ship.”

The tides should be favorable. Ebry said a lot of ships dispatched from Tvarglad at night.

He had several hours to find passage on one to the city of Galbrane.

“You’re leaving the city? But there’s so much I want to show you.” Avan came up beside Hadi.

“I have a meeting in Galbrane that couldn’t be missed.” The tigercat quest was a moonset quest, and only triggered whenever Orveterne, the second moon, was full. That was in six days.

The journey from Tvarglad to Galbrane took three days on a fast ship, five days on average.

“Will your business there take long?”

“A few weeks.” Should he visit Duryndon Gate-city while he was in the area? Hm. He’d see how the Tigercat and storage item quests did first.

“You seem to be someone with potential, my Reeves tell me.” Hadi arranged himself on a comfortable chair.

Avan poured himself a cup of the wine, leaning on his friend’s chair.

“Are you familiar with Levian Fortress?”

Krow choked on his drink.

“You have heard of it, I see. It happens that bandits are increasing in the area. They are in increasing need of soldiers. A captain’s commission, what do you say?”

Krow opened his mouth, closed it. He could almost feel the blood leaving his face.

Levian Fortress.

What a name.

It had thundered through the gossip of the playerbase, even months and years after it was over.

The first Legendary quest to be cleared.

And he was about to decline it.