A foul stench hit you right from the gate. The Golden Boar tavern always reeked of piss, but after the rain, it was even worse. Rainwater dragged all the filth onto the main street, and people froze in horror seeing kids running barefoot through the muck.

When Hili got to the tavern, she bumped into a very drunk goblin at the door, who was shouting at the top of his lungs about how badly he needed to piss. She never complained, but even her stomach revolted at that. She slammed the door behind her, scanned the room, and nodded at the regulars. They nodded back; another tipsy goblin gave her a slap on the ass.

The loud laughter faded into a low murmur. Bits of conversation floated around: “That jerk’s gonna get it... Gods help him... He just slapped her; the last jerk wouldn’t let her go.” Everyone was on edge, waiting to see what would happen. Hili slowly turned toward the direction the doomed blow had come from, gave the poor guy a grim look, snatched the grimy jug of foul liquid from his hands, and drank it down in a few gulps. The goblin looked relieved and started laughing. Then Hili smashed the jug over his head and shouted to the tavern: “They should do something about this beer. You can’t tell the dive from a whorehouse anymore.” She grabbed the stunned goblin by the collar like a mangy dog and threw him out into the street.

The tavern buzzed again with drunken chatter and fake singing. Most of the drunks sobered up by noon, some left, and some kept drinking happily. Shortly after midday, the musicians arrived, and the proper ruckus the place was known for began. Amid all the noise, a werewolf leaned toward Hili at the bar and nodded toward a corner: “Look what crawled in here, some fancy pants. Says he doesn’t like our beer and thinks the soup tastes like pig slop.” Hili frowned at the werewolf, silently topped off his rum, and headed toward the stranger.

When she got to the table, she realized he was a Khajiit. She just stood there staring at him. She hadn’t seen one in years. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and stepped closer. “I heard our beer and soup don’t suit your taste. If you want, I can have a few goblins piss in it—maybe that’ll help,” she sneered. Finally, he looked at her. He studied her for a moment. She could almost feel his gaze roaming up and down her body. “Now, now, kitty,” he said, “don’t frown. Wrinkles aren’t pretty.” Hili leaned on the table; the Khajiit paid attention to her slightly exposed breasts. Reality hit him when Hili grabbed his muzzle and forced him to look into her eyes. “I’ve already smashed one jug today; I don’t need to break another,” she said. The Khajiit shook his head and, apologetically, invited Hili to join him for a bit.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in this lousy dive?” he whispered in her ear. “What else? I slave away like a donkey while you just lounge here and turn your hairy snout up at the best soup in town,” she snapped. The Khajiit gave her a confused look and pointed at the bowl’s contents. In the cloudy, milky liquid with the consistency of jelly floated something that once was a piece of meat. Judging by the smell, it was an old ram. When he scooped some up with a spoon and then poured it back from a height, it made a disgusting splash. “And what did you expect for a few lousy coins?” “I dunno… somewhere else I’d get a warm bed and a girl almost as lovely as you.” “Around here, whores cost extra,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. The Khajiit leaned closer, whispered something in her ear. His whiskers tickled her cheek, and a shiver ran down her spine from his warm breath. He reached for her, placed his hand on her thigh, moving slowly higher and higher. Hili realized what he was after. “And how much would I have to pay for you?”

A hollow thud and a girl’s scream echoed through the tavern. Everyone looked toward the corner table. Hili was just stabbing a dagger dangerously close to his pride, saying, “Next time you’ll be a few centimeters shorter.” A few tipsy guests smirked, amused by the Khajiit’s pale face. He immediately regained his stone-cold expression and barked at the regulars: “What’re y’all starin’ at?” Suddenly, he fixed a sinister glare on Hili, who barely held back laughter. Her spiteful look made the Khajiit’s face go white hot. “Shut up! You half-breed bitch.” Hili’s eyes went wide in shock. But very quickly, shock turned to anger. She’d heard all kinds of insults before, but being called a “half-breed bitch” was way beyond her limit. She raised her arm and jabbed him in the nose with all her strength. A few drops of blood fell onto the oak table. Attention snapped back to the corner table. The Khajiit wiped the bloody mess from his nose and lunged at Hili, baring his teeth. She dodged swiftly, there was a thud, and with laughter in her voice, she said, “You’re pretty clumsy for a Khajiit. I expected you’d be harder to take down.” Then she turned and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Anyone else wanna fight… the half-breed bitch?” Taking advantage of the moment’s distraction, the Khajiit struck Hili in the kidneys. She dropped to all fours. The crowd didn’t like that, and one of the regulars hit him on the head with a chair, sparking a brawl.

The Khajiit was back on the ground, but this time his fall was softer than before. His massive body pinned poor Hili. He lifted himself slightly, and she struggled to roll onto her back. Feeling his superiority, he couldn’t resist a sneer. He stroked her cheek and added, “Not so tough now, huh? I could take whatever I want, and no one’d notice in all the chaos.” She gave him a cheeky grin and kicked him in the balls. The Khajiit collapsed to the side, and Hili managed to wriggle free. Just then, guards burst into the tavern. The regulars barely bothered to pay them any attention. But even in the chaos, they noticed Hili. She immediately knew what was going on. She jumped up, kicked the fallen Khajiit one last time, and started stumbling toward the back exit.

A big guy stepped in her way: “You’re wild, but I’ll teach you obedience,” he said, grabbing Hili by the throat and starting to choke her. She gasped helplessly, trying to find her dagger. Suddenly, the wood cracked. The guy turned just in time to see the Khajiit holding a table leg, right before it hit him. “I saw her first, you bastard,” the Khajiit yelled triumphantly. “I almost had him,” Hili panted as she caught her breath. “Yeah…” bonk A metal sound. One of the drunks smashed the Khajiit on the head with a piece of a tap. “Give me a moment, darling,” came muffled from the floor.

It took Hili a few minutes to reach her brown stallion. She was ready to leave Florian and hide for a while until the royal guard stopped hunting her. She mounted her horse, ready to ride out through a side alley. But she had to stop — she just saw the Khajiit being dragged away in chains along with the others from the fight. When a group of drunks turned the corner, she nudged her horse forward slowly to avoid drawing attention. Once on the main street, she glanced back at the guards and their prisoners. A pang of guilt bit her. “If it weren’t for him, that jerk would have strangled you,” the voice nagged. “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be in this mess,” she muttered. The brown horse snorted in dissatisfaction, as if to say, “You owe him.” Hili cursed and steered the horse into a side street. She pulled a rope from her saddlebag, quickly tying a noose. When she finished, she urged the horse forward, looking for the right turn to lose the guards.

When she hit the main street again, the horse was trotting. The guards started jumping out of the way of the rushing animal. Hili took the chance to throw the noose over the Khajiit and tied the other end to the saddle. The Khajiit watched helplessly for a few seconds as the rope tightened around his torso. “It was nice knowing you, gentlemen, but I gotta runnnnnnnnnnnnn,” the Khajiit squealed just as the noose fully tightened and flung him forward. Startled, the guards chased the Khajiit as he slid on his rear.

It was early afternoon. The Florian market buzzed as usual. The smell of fish filled the air. Wealthy merchants tried to sell all kinds of exotic goods. In the middle of the square stood a fountain, where the wives of richer citizens gathered, sharing saucy stories from their youth. Morgan, a young girl who’d just turned nineteen, vividly described her affair with a young miller. Mid-story, the old Bonenffant rudely interrupted to grab the attention of the listeners. “Tss... that’s nothing. Baron von Lorenz himself courted me,” she said grandly, “and that was when I was only thirteen,” she added without shame. “Ah, those were the days,” came voices from the crowd. Everyone turned with disdain to the woman washing laundry in the fountain. “Why are you eavesdropping, you lousy washerwoman? Mind your own business,” snapped old Bonenffant. The washerwoman splashed water with her scrub brush and waddled toward Bonenffant. Just as it looked like she was going to hit her with her soapy, calloused hand, Hili burst through the crowd on horseback. The ladies barely managed to jump aside. Seconds later, the Khajiit dashed past the small gathering. Morgan caught his eye and blushed. “He said he’d have to leave Florian,” she murmured. All eyes turned to her again. “That Khajiit snuck in my window yesterday. If Madam Bonenffant hadn’t interrupted, you’d have heard all about it.” Moments later, the royal guards charged in, chasing the fugitives.

Hili rushed through the marketplace. She barely noticed the curses of the Khajiit she was still dragging behind her. She tried to find a spot where she’d have at least a little time to get him properly into the saddle. He had tried to grope her and made his intentions very clear, but she couldn’t keep torturing him like that anymore. Her past simply wouldn’t allow it.

She was already halfway through the market when a vegetable cart suddenly blocked her path. By the time she saw it, it was too late. The horse was running too fast, and a collision was unavoidable. At the last moment, she urged the horse to jump, but the Khajiit wasn’t so lucky. His legs crashed through the side of the cart, scattering its contents everywhere. Several heads of cabbage even landed in the nearby fountain.

She quickly looked back and saw the stunned Khajiit with a piece of melon stuck to his head like a helmet. He’s got nothing in that head anyway, so why bother with the melon? She smiled to herself.

However, this stunt didn’t impress their pursuers one bit, and they were still hot on their trail. Their last hope was to lose them for a while in the sewers. The horse was already at the edge of its strength and refused every further spur. She pushed forward, the Khajiit still unconscious.

Her gaze suddenly fixed on a nearby bridge crossing over a canal. She immediately changed direction. The brown horse was already starting to slow, and the guards’ horses’ hooves were dangerously close to the cargo they dragged behind. "Come on, just a little more," she urged the stallion. All it took was a turn, one last burst of speed, and they could be in the water.

She hit the animal hard in the flank. She regained the lost lead again, and the bridge was just around the corner.

At the last moment, the Khajiit woke up and shouted confusedly at Hili: “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hold your breath,” came the reply.

When he got his bearings, panic took over. “Don’t do a Šemík!” he yelled at the top of his lungs — but it was too late.

The horse reared and jumped over the stone wall lining the bridge, falling into the water. The Khajiit followed just seconds later.

The guards arrived at the bridge. The angry captain dismounted and threw his helmet. “Band of incompetent good-for-nothings! Find those two criminals within the hour, or you’ll never set foot in a brothel again. IS THAT CLEAR?” he thundered.

There was silence for a moment, then the captain snapped, “Then swim after them, you idiots!” and the guards followed Hili’s example, jumping into the canal.

However, the captain mistakenly believed the fugitives had fled downstream, out of the city. And that day, they didn’t find them.