Rezkin stripped off his armor and gathered up the remainder of his dirty clothes into a pile before placing them outside the door. He would have to find something else to put on after his bath. People wore nicer clothes in the city, so he could get away with wearing his dark grey night stealth breeches. He was left with a dark blue silk shirt and a simple white linen tunic. Since he did not want to appear too wealthy and attract attention, he decided to wear the tunic. Few people in the city wore armor, aside from the guards and city watch, and he did not wish to stand out. He could clean and oil the leather gear tonight and forego the armor. It was a risk to expose himself so, but he had to get used to blending in with society. He had known there would be many times when it would not be considered appropriate to don battle gear and had trained for such instances. His masters had made him wear ridiculously flamboyant court dress while dueling, battling insurgents, or conducting stealth operations.

Once he was finally washed and dressed with his damp hair combed back into a queue, he strapped his swords to his hips, tucked his dagger into his belt, and secreted a number of knives about the rest of him. The room had a long mirror in one corner, a luxury he was surprised to find in this moderate inn. He surveyed himself to make sure he was fit for his role.

After a moment, he realized he no longer knew what role he was playing. When he first left the fortress, he thought he would play the role of a mercenary, but thus far no one had asked for his occupation. Perhaps he did not need to play a role. But, if I am not playing a role, then what am I?

Considering his reflection in the mirror, he wondered what he would think of the man in front of him if he were to see him on the street. The man in the mirror looked like someone who had money but did not care to show it. His clothes were of excellent quality but simple enough that most people would not notice. His weapons were plain and unadorned, despite being priceless masterpieces. The man’s silky black hair, pale skin, and pale blue eyes might have been startling if he had not been used to seeing them all his life. His above average height, broad shoulders, and cut physique made him look older than his nineteen years, and he could see why he might appear intimidating to smaller folk.