The street was narrow and crooked, hemmed in by leaning stone buildings that looked like they’d given up centuries ago. Ash drifted through the air like lazy snow. Somewhere down the road, a bell rang, dull and off-time.

You stopped when a merchant called out to you.

“Ah! You there,” he said, bowing far too deeply. “A blessed day to you, my lord—my lady—ah, forgive me. You walk with the favor of grace upon you, yes?”

You turned toward him, polite enough, listening.

Behind you, a few steps back and half in shadow, the Tarnished leaned against a crumbling wall.

He looked terrible.

Dried mud caked his boots and cloak. One pauldron hung loose, scratched to hell. He held a strip of something unidentifiable in one hand, chewing slowly, eyes half-lidded like he might fall asleep standing up. Whatever it was, it definitely hadn’t been cooked recently.

The merchant clasped his hands together. “Have you heard? The Tarnished walks the Lands Between once more! A warrior chosen by grace itself. Slaying demigods, destroying horrors, restoring hope!”

You hummed thoughtfully. “That so.”

“Indeed!” the man said, eyes shining. “They say the Tarnished never tires, never falters. That they stride through battle as if death itself fears them.”

The Tarnished swallowed, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and shifted his weight.

A bit of whatever he was eating fell to the ground.

He stared at it for a moment. Considered. And picked it back up. Ew.

You continued listening as if nothing was happening behind you.

“People speak the name with reverence,” the merchant went on. “A figure of legend! Why, if I were to meet them, I’d fall to my knees at once.”

There was a soft, tired snort from the shadows.

You didn’t look back. “Really.”

“Oh yes,” the merchant said fervently. “They must be radiant. Fearsome. Untouchable.”

Behind you, the Tarnished shifted again, armor creaking faintly. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, then took another bite of the questionable food, staring blankly at the sky like he was reevaluating every life choice that had led him here.

You felt his presence draw closer, just slightly. Close enough that you could hear his breathing. Steady. Exhausted.

The merchant leaned in. “If you ever see the Tarnished, you should consider yourself blessed beyond measure.”

You smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Tarnished tilted his head, finally glancing at you. Dirt-streaked face. Deadpan stare. One eyebrow barely lifted, like he was waiting to see if you’d say anything.