Treven spun theatrically, annoyed by the unceremonious welcome. One of the two guards at the door was making a big deal patting him down. Amateur. If the Amata wanted to kill he would not have sent Treven, all of Gorias knew that. The man was frustratingly thorough but finally seemed content to let him pass and ushered him inside.
It was dark within, gloomy, for one unused to such dealings it would have been intimidating. It would have been very intimidating in fact. Treven however had spent his whole life in places like this. Likely why he had been picked to deal with the new upstarts. They deserved a chance to comply, earned it after clearing out their Quarter of whatever other little gang had reigned before. It made no difference to the Amato. He didn’t care who ran the districts so long as they paid homage to him. As long as these new players did that then they would be permitted to continue in their new found positions. If they didn’t, then they would be wiped out immediately for a more approachable client.
Treven wasn’t worried about these two. Twins, they were only supposed to be nineteen or so. If that was the case then Trevan was impressed.
Even taking a lone Quarter required men behind them, for whatever reason they had been given support, enough to kill off the last Clan Chief at least.
Treven was marched down the steps until finally they came to a larger room, spacious and surprisingly richly decorated. Treven glanced around admiringly before fixing his gaze on the mock dais in front of him. There the source of his task today sat in crude thrones. Already Treven could tell these would be difficult to deal with. They had all the airs of youthful arrogance, and a reputation that had grown so fast that the Amato had felt compelled to intervene, to ensure that the pair knew their place.
The room was too dark for Treven to make out the faces of the people sitting before him.
He coughed, he had been working as the Amato’s emissary between rivalling clans for over ten years, a scene like this was one he had encountered hundreds of times before.
“The infamous Twins. I am glad to be standing here before you. I and my Patron have been most impressed by your recent activity in the lower Quarters. So much so that the Amato sent me here personally to address you.”
Treven saw the larger of the two figures getting to their feet. Averan.
As the young man stepped into the light Treven had to admit the rumors of the boy’s daunting appearance were justified. A tall, strong man stood before him, Treven was not small, but the newly anointed Clan chief was a head taller than him at least. His eyes were a deep golden color. They caught Treven’s own immediately. The Twins were said to have the golden blood of the Inner circle running through their veins, enough to give them a regal appearance if not enough for them to live like ones. He certainly looked the part, dressed in fine armor and with a large axe drawn across his back he looked every inch a Warrior King of old Gorias.
“The Amata did not think us worthy enough to come himself?” The Boy raised a brow, “Some might call that disrespect.”
Treven shrugged, “Some might call what you do an even greater disrespect Chief Averan. The Amata is the ruler of all Gorias’ streets, so far as you are concerned he is your King. You want to remain in power down here then you best do as he says. And right now he says that you two must do him homage. Starting with a gift. Old Rertan knew his place, you have done well to dispose him I’ll give you that, but what was required of him now falls onto you.”
“Old Rertan was an underling of the Amata. We are not.”
Treven sighed and looked towards the other twin still sitting on his throne, he could only make out the deep blonde hair of his features. This one was named Sandorn he knew.
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Ignoring him he turned back to Averan, “Listen Boy, if you think-”
“Are you dismissing my Brother?” Averan frowned.
“What?” Treven laughed, “Oh I see, he’s the Boss then is he? So what then, you''re the Pitbull and he the brains is that it? Best sit down then, I don’t have time for explaining. I already grow weary.”
Averan put his hand on his weapon and took a step toward Treven.
He didn’t flinch.
“Enough Averan.”
The other twin finally got to his feet, Treven raised his own brow when he saw him. He had seen those of the Inner city before, those of the Forty Houses which lived there. Their beauty was renowned, the Blood of the Beast giving them appearances which rose far above mere mortals. Yet even still the one before him matched if not bested any of them. He was tall and lean, he too wore armor but it was less heavy than his brother’s. His eyes almost glowed in the shadows, his face was expressionless but Treven had never seen one so divine before. Such a face would never need to pay for the wills of female’s attention.
“Return to your Master. Tell him the Twins are the underworld’s new Rulers. And we do not wish to share. We offer him what he would offer us. A chance to swear fealty and donate to our cause.”
The boy smiled, “One chance mind you.”
Treven shook his head, “You are young, I understand that. But you know as well as I do the Amata will not agree. Cannot agree. And why would he? You are high on your success, I can see how a Quarter might seem a fine victory to you. But the Amata controls all eight Quarters. All eight. Why would he bargain with the likes of you. He was generous sending me here. But we have spoken enough. It seems to me you have no interest in Peace and prosperity.”
He waited a moment but hearing no rebuke he bowed mockingly low, the Twins would regret their hubris soon enough. Everyone always did.
Smiling he turned and headed for the door.
“The Amata will be most intrigued to hear of what I have said.”
An older looking man blocked his way, however. Treven glared at him and looked back to the Twins.
“The Amata?” Averan asked puzzled.
He looked to his brother and shook his head laughing, “Oh no forgive us I believed you had understood this situation and your mistake coming here. You won’t be returning anywhere Treven, though the Amata will have an answer. Just not from you. You, you shall be heading to an altogether different audience.”
“Are you mad? I am an Envoy. We are granted safe passage between all Clan Chiefs. You break that then you bring down the wrath of every man woman and child of the Underground. You’ll be forever cursed, without ally or friend. An envoy is sacred, even amongst us.”
Sandorn nodded, “A true envoy yes. But you can hardly count yourself one of them now can you Trev. An envoy is neutral, an unrewarded go-between financed by every Clan chief. You, Treven Undeen. You are a pawn of the Amata’s and have been for too long. You reaped the benefits and lost any privileges of your past position. You and your Amata think you can pick and choose what is to be deemed right and wrong. No more, from now on the Twins of the Depths make those decisions. We are above all of it. You will see, as will anyone else who challenges us. Taking this Quarter was merely the first step, we do not just wish to have the Underground, we want all the city.”
Treven saw the crazed look reflected in the young man’s eyes, “You think yourselves Kings? You truly believe you can withstand so many enemies. Fools.”
Averan drew out his weapon, an axe, the steel gleamed eerily in the darkness, a silver so bright it almost blinded. Arronian Steel, Treven realised, Impossible, even the Amata could not afford such weapons. Who are these kids? And who guides them?
“Fools no. We are Kings.”
Treven didn’t get to speak another word before Averan moved to him, fast, unbelievably fast. Treven did not see or feel the blow. Suddenly he felt the world spin to the side though he made no move. His body stood still as his head crashed to the ground. He would have cried if he still had the function to do it. He was surprised his conscious was still intact.
The last thing he heard before he lost it came from his killer above him.
“Swishh.”