"We cannot let outsiders water down our resolve and our trust. The guild is all that stands between us and the rest of the city. And without us the city cannot survive, we must remind it of that fact every single day."

Cheers and claps complemented Herg's statements as he spoke. Men wer standing all over the room, unable to contain the rising fervour.

"That is what we have fought for and some have died for in the past weeks. The right to have our value paid in full, right down to the last guilder. The right to make an honest and decent living in a city of sin. They won't force us out and we will get the fruits of our labour, or we will burn down the whole cursed city!"

The crowd had erupted into cheers and howls of joy, all too familiar on Suiddock streets of late. The spirit of the Suiddockers could not be broken. They had a firm grip on trade, the lifeblood of the city, and were more than willing to use it to their best advantage. Their
wild expressions of brotherhood regularly kept their strength at its peak. Herg and the other headmen of the guild were masters of the art of rabble rousing.

Murich, on the other hand, felt they were best used for covering his escape, as they did now. With Gerk carrying him in tow, they stumbled out into the deserted street. What adrenaline Murich had left from his spurt of fear was running out. The pain in his head was setting in from Herg's blow.

Quickly and quietly, the forlorn duo lurched into an alleyway before the Black Caps rounded them up for breaking the riot curfew.

Murich could still remember the guild headman and toad-in-residence, Jorgen Rijuur, delivering the bad news. Murich and Gerk had been called in for a coach job along with several others. After the workers had stowed their gear and assembled for the work, their
severance notice and pay was delivered from the top of the offload dock by a leering and amused Jorgen. The warehouse doors were opened. Outside lay the bleak future of no job and no guild for protection.

Some had stepped up to the dock to protest, but drawn daggers and spears quelled any argument. Jorgen had taken the precaution of a few good men to back him up. A few good, burly, scarred and thoroughly immoral men at that.

Their gear had been dumped into a pile outside, in the street. The small group of twenty men rushed forward and fought each other desperately for whatever they could grab. With his reliable Norse friend Gerk by his side, Murich had managed to shove, kick and knacker his way towards most of his trappings.

Murich recalled the weedy little Tilean with the stilleto. Nicko his name was, a greedy little bastard if ever there was one. He dodged around one of Murich's patent goolie smashers and struck out at Murichs exposed and vulnerable kneecap. Gerk had shoved Murich aside
at the last moment then smashed the Tilean square on the jaw. The greasy little bastard was launched bodily out of the fray.

Without the guild to back them they all had a harsh and bleak future as beggars or thieves ahead. Work in other parts of Marienburg could be found easily enough. But the costs to one's self and ideals was often hard to pay. The guild only asked for loyalty, the new collection of rejects had obviously failed to pay that price. In Marienburg, failure to pay was probably the only thing regarded as a true sin. Hand in hand with that was the ultimate virtue, not getting caught.

That seemed an age ago now. There were more immediate matters to focus one's attention on. The Suiddock streets and alleys are not a good place to be at night. The Black Caps, Marienburg guardians of the law, never ventured into the alleyways of the Suiddock warrens,
Most are loathe to walk the main streets. But the haze of alcohol and crushed pride distracted Murich and Gerk from the inherent dangers involved.

Four such dangers approached them now, amusedly listening to their drunken slurring.

"Ya know Gerk me old matey, I reckon we'll get new jobs in no time. Yeah, two big lads like you an me be great as advennta. mercanaanan. lads wi swords like, a hackin and a slashin all over!"

"Sure is right."

"I mean, even Handjob Harry back there wuz scared of ya. Don't preten I did'na notice matey. What was up with tha anyway?", Murich punctuated his question with a wet and enthusiastic burp.

"Smacked him down a week ago."

Murich waited for his friend to cough up more details. Gerk was not particularly obliging. He noticed the silence and gave Murich a quick, hard look.

"Oh? Tha all. Yeah well, I reckon I could do it if you can. He only got me jus now cos he was dead dishonooorro. dishonouibbbes.. Unfair an all. I wasn't ready ya know."

The effort of his tirade forced Murich to stop and lean against a wall. His breath rushed in and out noisily, drowning out the sound of a mugger scuffing the cobblestones. Gerk seemed unaffected by the brisk evenings exercise. He stood and waited while his friend panted
away. Beyond the edge of his vision, two shadows stirred.