It didn't matter how much river or spit he had rubbed into his shirt, and no amount of prayers or swears had made a difference; the red stain stayed in the silky linen of Yudefa's favorite smoking caftan.

He had thought cutting the sleeve, then ripping the neckline would have made him look the part at least. It was a fantasy of "toughness diluted by desperation". Being that there were worst things in the moment to pity himself over than his poor fashion decisions, he kept a smile as he stepped up to the recruitment table, presenting himself with his linen-wrapped hands behind his back. Maybe showing the red splotches where his knuckles bled would have impressed the recruiters more. It was still wet, most of it wasn't his.

The man beind the table frowned, looking Yudefa over like a disappointing catch from the sea. Losing that shirt really was a shame.

A damn shame too. Its colors spoke to the Kvill legacy. The dark ochre spoke to the fighting family ties, a touch lighter than Yudefa's own skin tone. A hazel hemline hinted at the color of his eyes, hidden behind lazy low eyelids. Even the gold filigree and facial piercings spoke to the clan's ambition, and Yudefa Kvill had such in spades. So much so that it clouded his thoughts. So much so that he killed the son of his father's rival in what should have been a simple, intimate duel.

That probably wasn't the wisest thing to do.

"You look like shit, maggot."

"Thank you, sir." Yudefa was quite sure he could hear snickers from the observing crowd, but he perked an ear. Was that paranoia, or were those conspiratorial whispers out there too? Did the Lotiko family already find their heir's corpse in that sewer grate? He really should have taken him to the sea, or got them under some hay. He just didn't have the time. And now he was here. Evading through enlisting.

"Name?"

"Moonface, sir."

"Moonface?" Yudefa/Moonface could practically hear the question being answered in the way they looked him over. The white blemishes of vitiligo were not shy on Moonface's skin. The upturned, crescent-shape wave of pink-white across his lips looked like a pale scowl, even when he was smiling. And Yudi/Moonface always smiled.

"That's a stupid name. What makes you useful to the company?"

Most anything was fair game between the fighting families. Their pseudo-duels over illegitimate businesses were a tradition spanning perhaps generations. Not that Yudefa-now-Moonface cared much for history. He'd cared more about the families martial legacy, he'd cared more about becoming a true Kvill through his skill more than blood. Killing the son of their family's rival, ruining the quiet truce, had already thrown all of that away. Especially being an adoptee, he knew his father would have simply disowned him to try and make the peace happen. Maybe the old goat would get soft, would grow a heart after beating his "son" into a weapon much like a blacksmith does a sword. Though Yudi Moonface would have preferred a dagger, small and sharp. Maybe a mace, hard and tempered by-

"Hey, shitling, answer the question."

"I can fight, sir," Moonface said with a smile that seemed to fight against the moon around his mouth. The recruiter raised an eyebrow and looked him over; his odd ripped, beautiful shirt, his camel-fur-colored pantaloons, his red velvet slippers. Never mind the arms, lean and chiseled like yew staves, or a neck with muscles taut as tow rope. The recruiter's vision seemed to glide across his snow-dusted dark skin and through to his wicked heart.

"Y'look like a damned dandy."

"I can fight pretty good," Moonface said, this time with more insistence. More conviction. His eyes opened ever-so-gently, allowing his hazel-colored determination shine out.

As long as it wasn't a fair fight, I can fight like every devil you've ever known.

It was certainly the kind of thought you kept to yourself when presenting yourself to The Black Company. He wished they would take him already. He'd have to get out of town before the other fighting families caught word of his egregious act. In the Company, they wouldn't touch him. They couldn't touch him.

Could they?

The recruiter nodded his head at something that seemed unnoticed at least to Moonface's senses, then they glanced to the others at the table.

"What do you think about this grub we've got?"

Moonface smiled.

As far as he knew, he was already in.