《Those Hateful Few》


 Chapter 1 - Alec

    Which of you can find the difference between a hero and a villain? Not the type from children''s stories, but real people who are fighting every day towards a goal. What made one''s actions justified but the others heinous? When the lines between just and unjust were blurred, how would you decide what was right? The spectators had all the power in the world, and they could wield it with as much power as any weapon ever made. If you take sentiments as they are or stories as they are told, you have already cast your stone, and it may be poor or good but only time will tell. If you would listen to an exile''s advice, don¡¯t choose a side, both lead to a separate hell.


    I had signed another one of my soldiers'' lives away. A young man, eager and motivated to move up in the gang. I had met him once before; he was a bit loud but I saw that as excitement. He had faithfully followed every order I gave to him, which in a large part is why I chose him for this task. Strangely, I didn¡¯t feel remorse stamping the order to send him to certain death. For the first hundred, my heart ached, but now the feelings were muted and cold.


    Tired of writing stationary, I grabbed my coat and pistol before heading to Joy¡¯s End, a place with a literal name. The streets were dimly lit, with even the street lamps seemingly longing to die. Walking through Joy¡¯s End felt akin to a graveyard, with the looming presence of death always there. Bodies and trash were piled in the alleys, junkies huddled together for warmth in the shadows of long forsaken buildings, and Qascade smoke hung in the air like sad apparitions. Even in the lowest and most depressing place in Keres, there would still always be someone selling Qascade.


    I arrived at the last place well-lit, The Drunken Swan. The namesake swan hung on one side, its white paint chipping and beak broken. Of course, nobody came here for the sign. This was the cheapest bar in the poorest area of Keres, so some low-quality decor wasn¡¯t a concern to most patrons.


    The bar seemed to sway in the night breeze, leaning on the buildings around it like a group of drunks. Most of the buildings in Keres were built with loose wood and wayside stones, not even properly bolted to the ground most times. I stood in front of the entrance for a long moment, staring at the door, getting ready to enter. I needed to keep myself completely confident, I wasn¡¯t going to have a warm welcome.


    As I opened the door, the smell of cheap ale and sweat hit me. Not the most pleasant smell before sitting down for a meal, but I¡¯ve eaten worse. The sad exterior hid a great many people inside, all laughing and talking away with their fellow poors. A strong enough drink would make anyone smile.


    No one could be sober and happy in this backwater hell hole. The floors themselves were soaked with so much vomit and spilled drinks that they squelched underfoot as I entered. Once I was inside, everyone seemed to turn to me at once. My demeanor and clothes stood out among the rest of them like a cat among mice, but I didn¡¯t let it phase me. I marched a path through the middle of the crowd, directly to the bar.


    ¡°Get me the owner,¡± I told the young girl working behind the bar, she stared at me wide-eyed.


    ¡°Y-yes sir, right away.¡±


    She ran off to the backroom, leaving behind a half-poured tankard. The atmosphere hadn¡¯t dissolved much, obviously, I wasn¡¯t welcome to stay long. I was far outside my territory, but as long as I maintained this air of superiority around me the patrons would be too scared to act. Just as I thought that, a man walked up beside me, planting both hands on the bar.


    ¡°Graceful Gods above, we have a celebrity in our presence. You sad saps have never met anyone like this, you''re standing in front of Alec Resto!¡± He said, turning to the bar with a swing of his arms. The smell of whiskey and cheap cologne on him was enough to make a man gag. He had shaky footing, which paired with his stench made me think he was drunk, and I noticed a purulent wound over his left eye.


    ¡°Get back to your friends,¡± One of my hands left the bar and hovered over my pistol, the wood hilt brushing my fingertips. I hated alcohol ever since I was a child, it made idiots like this brave and vocal.


    He mumbled something before taking another swig from a bottle in his hand, stumbling and reaching for the bar to steady himself.


    ¡°This man kills thousands, without a second thought!¡± He turned to speak to the rest of the bar. ¡°He doesn¡¯t do the damned work himself, of course, just tells people where to die. I¡¯m sure all of you have lost someone to the White Death, haven¡¯t you?¡± The crowd murmured their accord.


    ¡°I won¡¯t say it again, get back to your friends, Kalb,¡± I tightened my grip around the holster of my gun. He flinched at the insult, turning to me.


    ¡°Or what? You don¡¯t do anything yourself, you lazy dirt-fed bastard. You just send innocent people to their deaths, all while pretending that you''re strong! Somebody needs to bring you back down to earth!¡± He said, smashing the bottle against the bar. A collective gasp sounded through the bar, as well as some encouragement.


    He took a clumsy step towards me, swinging the bottle for my head. I blocked the lazy attack, swinging my pistol hilt first with all my strength to the side of his head. It crunched into his ear, sending him sprawling across the floor towards the crowd. He lay there for a long while, unmoving, before everyone seemed to realize at once that he was dead.


    ¡°Get him to the alley, the body collectors can deal with him now.¡± I holstered my pistol, wiping the bloody grip on a rag.


    Two of his friends dragged him out to the street. Tears were welling in their eyes, but they seemed to learn from their friend''s idiocy and didn¡¯t raise a hand to me. Finally, the owner thumped down the stairs and lumbered behind the bar.


    ¡°What in the Gods is going on down here?¡± He bellowed, as his voice echoed in the quiet room. He and the crowd all seemed to turn towards me at once.


    ¡°A drunk young man made an attempt on my life, so I defended myself. Are we going to have a problem?¡± I met his eyes, smoldering with anger. The tension in the room was palpable, silent except for the crackling of a hearth in the corner.


    ¡°I¡­ see. Please come with me to my office so we may speak more candidly.¡± He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to keep composed. I suspected he wanted to get me away from the bar as quickly as possible, but it suited me just fine. He led me through the first floor to a back room. It was barely decorated, save an old rifle hung above the door and some cigars on a plain wood desk.


    ¡°Interesting customers you have around here,¡± I said, grabbing a cigar from his desk. I had grown fond of them since coming to Keres. Stress was a privilege that I didn¡¯t have time for, so I dealt with it in whatever way I could. Ruin the body, but calm the mind.


    ¡°You can¡¯t control who your customers are, Mr. Resto. As a¡­ businessman, I¡¯m sure you can relate.¡± His name was Luther Bane, an old man with an old business. He lit a cigar of his own, not even offering to light mine.


    ¡°I won¡¯t waste your time, I can see how desperately you want me away from your bar. I am looking to buy some property in this area and I¡¯m going around to see who would want to sell to me.¡± I said, flicking my ashes onto the ground. He hesitated for a moment, a good sign.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m looking to sell. I may be old, but the people I have working here depend on me to keep them off the streets, I¡¯m sure you understand.¡± He said, keeping a straight face.


    ¡°I can understand that sentiment, so I¡¯m willing to keep them employed even after my acquisition. I¡¯m sure I can find a spot for a barkeeper and some cooks.¡± I said leaning forward onto his desk. I could see a bit of panic in his eyes now, confirming what I thought.


    ¡°I¡¯m still going to have to decline. I¡¯ve owned this shop for so long that letting go of it feels wrong. I¡¯m sure you can find a better property in this area anyway, my little shack here will probably fall in the next storm.¡± He said, stumbling over his words.


    ¡°I hope you''re not lying to me, Mr. Bane. I¡¯m quite understanding to people who don¡¯t lie, otherwise¡­¡± I said, letting the thought hang in the air. He swallowed and started rapping his fingers on the desk.


    ¡°Fine. I don¡¯t own the building, I¡¯m just the manager.¡± He said.


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    ¡°See? Telling the truth is never the wrong choice. Who owns the properties around here then?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t something I am willing to tell to just anybody.¡± He stood from the desk, in what I can only assume to be an intimidation tactic. ¡°Now, is there anything else I can help you with?¡±


    ¡°No, I do think that¡¯s all for now. I¡¯m sorry for bothering you at this hour and for the scene in the bar. Please tell me if you ever reconsider selling, and I¡¯ll make you a very good offer.¡± I said, smiling. He seemed relieved when I stood to leave, but he¡¯d already told me all I needed to know.


    If he didn¡¯t own his building, and all the neighbors also didn¡¯t, then I knew what to do with this place. I had no use for businesses that wouldn¡¯t comply with my demands, they were just taking up space. I had a house near the border of Joy¡¯s End, not the nicest place but still heads above the rest of the buildings around here. I would spend the night there and get back to work in the morning.


    The night air was cool and crisp, with the smell of burning and charred bodies drifting up my nose. Graves were a luxury in Keres, and for most too expensive, so the body collectors would bring them to the cremator in the factory district. Most bodies would already be picked clean of valuables before we could reach them, but it also meant whatever was on their body was ours. A ring here, a pocketwatch there; it wasn¡¯t much but over time it was a steady revenue.


    I never felt unsafe walking through the back alleys of Keres. They were the same as the streets, the only difference being that vermin and smell. Plus, even the times I had almost been killed, something always interfered. This world had a plan for me, if only I could figure out what it was.


    I arrived at the shack, it wasn¡¯t nice by any stretch of the imagination but I didn¡¯t need silk sheets. Every night, I went over the next day''s chores before I slept; it was a habit I had since my youth. Tomorrow, I needed to get to the other side of town in the morning to sign papers with Ms. Costa and attend a funeral. After that, I would head home and deal with correspondence, and if I had enough time deal with Marke in the Center Square. I planned out all of tomorrow''s affairs before closing my eyes and falling asleep.


    .   .   .


    The bright sun shone through the window straight into my eyes. I had the urge to close the curtains and go back to sleep, but the day''s duties roused me.


    A small light blinked in the corner of my room, signaling a message. I walked over to the brass tube and opened it, taking the parchment from inside. On it was a short message,


    I¡¯ll deal with Ms. Costa, you¡¯ll be needed at the Arena for three today. Try not to be late, he is in a foul mood as of now


    -Lourence


    A message from my assistant, scrawled quickly in Miletan script. His printing was almost illegible, I needed to hire him a proper tutor one day, but at least my day was a little less cramped now.


    I dressed in proper funeral attire, a black shirt and dress pants with a crow''s feather tucked behind my ear. I applied a little Lefmelon oil to my hair and wrists, its sweet floral scent almost covering the lingering blood stench on me. I turned to a mirror leaning against the corner of the room, now I looked presentable enough to leave the house.


    On mornings when the sun broke through the smog and smoke, it almost seemed like I was back in Iotus. I hailed a passing transport, tossing a small coin bag to the driver, and started on the road across town. The streets were barren at this point in the morning; everyone was either hungover or too lazy to wake up.


    Seeing Keres in the morning light spoiled a lot of the magic it had at night, there were no neon lights to distract you or street vendors yelling their prices. It did have a strange sense of serenity, or perhaps desertion, but no one in Keres was here for a relaxing experience. I¡¯d typically enjoy a morning like this with some Kaffe and breakfast, but business came before everything else.


    It was a short ride to the funeral home, where a soldier¡¯s service was being held. They must have been quite wealthy, at least for a family in Keres, and so they were holding a real service on the border between Keres and Iotus. I¡¯d met him once or twice and he seemed like a decent man, devoted to the gang and respectful, so I wanted to attend.


    I had requested some assurance since I knew no one there, they were a little down the street from the funeral home. Normally I tried to travel as inconspicuous as I could, wearing things like a cloak and mask where applicable but when I was going to be surrounded by people I didn¡¯t know certain precautions were necessary. Dressed in all black with knives and pistols covering them, they were enough to deter anyone who would want to harm me.


    I arrived in front of a brick building with a sign of two black roses inscribed on it. A greeter stood outside dressed in all black, eyes nervously darting back and forth down both sides of the street.


    ¡°Hello, Mister Resto, thank you for coming to my son''s service. He always raved about how much he respected you and how you would take over the underworld one day and he would rise the ranks to stand beside you.¡± He spoke with a sad smile. The man stood hunched over, thin gray hair brushed to one side of his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the loss of your son. He was a great soldier and an even better man.¡± I said to him. It was the line I used for most dead soldiers.


    ¡°Please, follow me to the hall where it''s being held.¡± He said, relying on his cane and leading me into the drab building.


    The stale scent of dust permeated the entrance hall, which to its credit was well-kept. The walls were a dark wood, coated with a light layer of lacquer, and some antique furniture was placed on the left side. A shabby reception was set up in one corner, which the father limped over to and talked for a minute with the woman working behind it, before waving me on. We walked for another minute, passing a dozen or so funeral halls all filled with family, before coming to the entrance. The room was in the same style as the rest of the building, with wood walls and cheap seating, which were all filled with grievers. In the front of the room, a small stage was set up with a black stained coffin set up next to a simple raised pulpit.


    ¡°Please make yourself comfortable, the service will begin soon.¡±


    I nodded to the father and took a seat on a vacant aisle. The room stank of smoke and cheap whiskey, the choice drink of grievers. I did a quick check around the room to ease my mind, but nobody seemed suspicious at first glance. Soon, a man dressed in a black robe with a shaved head walked to take his place at the pulpit. I wasn¡¯t particularly knowledgeable about the religion, but even to me, it was clear he was a Shaibean wandering priest. They occasionally came through Keres, spreading their religion and taking residence wherever, but most chose to stay away.


    ¡°Thank you all for attending the funeral of Julian Feyton. I will begin this service with a short prayer, so please bow your heads.¡± Around me, everyone slowly lowered their heads. ¡°Merciful lords above, please take pity on our ignoble souls. Let our actions be in praise of you, and let our time of mourning be fruitful. Loleth, our venerated shepherd to the lost and gone, please watch over Julian and guide him with grace and care into the next world. Zai, the last destination for those who have left this world, treats Julian with kindness and open arms. Ymamn.¡± Everyone slowly raised their heads once more, signaling the prayer was over.


    ¡°Charitable son, loyal soldier, and a truly good person. He may have lived his life in the streets and slums, but he was still always willing to give to the needy and help anyone no matter their background. We will not remember him as a soldier for a devil, but as a lost young man looking for guidance, who happened to find himself in poor company. ¡±


    I flinched a bit, it always made me feel strange to hear people like him look down on me. I stared at the father, making eye contact with him. He seemed to jump a bit, signaling the pastor to stop.


    ¡°I cannot help but lament the life he may have lived if he wasn¡¯t led astray. A bright and caring man, shot down in his prime for the gain of another. Truly sick-¡± He stopped mid-sentence. Behind me, my bodyguards must have drawn his attention; he stared open-mouthed over my shoulder.


    Then, I noticed the dry choking sound behind me. I whipped my head around; my two bodyguards lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling on the floor, and a masked man stood over them pointing a pistol at me. All the attendees quickly rushed out of the building, including the scrawny priest. They sure did love to preach helping one another, but when it came down to it they were just as bad as the rest of us. I stood out of my seat, as the man forced his gun to my forehead.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not,¡± He seemed to be twitchy, most likely on Qascade, "My boss would like to see you breathing.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth, Kalb. Do you know who I am?¡±


    He gave me a jittery nod and grabbed my wrists, wrenching them behind my back and tying them with rope.


    ¡°Consider this karma, Mr. Resto. You have many enemies and few true allies, in the future, you may want to choose the latter more carefully.¡° He produced a rag from his jacket and covered my mouth. I bit down on his hand, feeling warm blood gush in my mouth, but it didn¡¯t matter. I could feel my head getting lighter, small lights dancing in the corners of my vision. My final sight was the stained glass mural above the pulpit, the seven gods staring down at me in contempt. Then, my head struck the ground, and darkness closed in.

 Chapter Two - Marth

    It was a crisp autumn day, with the sun shining through beautiful trees of red and yellow. The fallen leaves crunched underfoot, a cool breeze lazily ruffled the treetops. Jovial men and women walked through the streets, enjoying the scents coming from bakeries and the sight of fall decorations strung up on buildings. Marth strode confidently through the middle of the street, drawing the scorn from a few nobles who moved for him.


    ¡°Excuse me, of what house do you belong to?¡± A particularly annoyed man asked, holding one frail arm in front of Marth to bar him from moving.


    ¡°Oh, I belong to no house. Rather, I live in Keres,¡± He said, wearing a mock smile. The man noticeably recoiled, staring at him with apprehension.


    ¡°I¡­ see,¡± He said. The audacity for a derelict from Keres to walk in the middle of the street. Marth nodded, and continued on his way, bumping shoulders with the man as they passed each other. He didn¡¯t turn, leaving the man even more angry than before.


    Walking in Iotus as a Keres citizen was like walking in a set for a play, it could be a beautiful and serene picture, but there was always a sense of being out of place. Even wearing an outfit that seemed to fit those around him, Marth seemed to stick out by aura alone, some unforeseen force drawing attention to him. A mask of false perfection was worn by the citizens and the city, always being maintained for the pride of Tia.


    Eventually, he reached the border of Keres and their familiar streets. The air, thick with sweat and smelling of Qascade, the derelict carts flying past him. It was like the city was emanating an aura of its own like a beating heart. Thick smog rose in plumes from the factories, turning the suns light into gray beams. Marth reached his destination, a weapons shop, and entered.


    This was his main dealer of weapons. He had a more industrial supply for his soldiers, but for personal use, he always went here. The sign out front had long been illegible, and the windows were bullet hole-ridden and board-covered. The inside was no better, the strong stench of Quel in the air and glass displays forsaken for a simple stack of items for every category; blades, guns, and ammo.


    ¡°You again? How many weapons does one man need?¡± The man at the counter belted out to him, with a hearty chuckle. He had a few scraggly hairs around his chin and cheeks and his bulk took up most of the counter, but in Marth¡¯s eyes there wasn¡¯t another man as trustworthy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about my affairs old man. I¡¯m in the business for some swords at the moment. Would you happen to have any of Nahk origin?¡±


    ¡°Of course we do,¡± He said. waddling into the back. On display in the front were rifles, pistols, and some shoddy swords. All decent options for most people, but of piss poor quality. If you needed a quality weapon in a rundown place, you asked for one from Nahk. They would always be of passing grade at the least. The country prided themselves on quality weapons, with the highest quality ore and smiths around.


    Out from the back came a pile of swords with plain black hilts and scabbards. Nahk blades weren¡¯t a decoration piece, they were a tool for killing. Marth rummaged through the pile and produced a small sword with a curved blade. He unsheathed it and looked at his reflection in the blade. It was perfectly polished and the right size for concealment, the scabbard falling away without effort.


    ¡°This is perfect, I¡¯ll take it,¡± Marth said.


    ¡°One hundred Smithe.¡±


    He let out a sigh. ¡°Gods and their Trials but you''re not getting any damn cheaper. Should I not get a discount?¡±


    The man grinned now, his teeth blackened and mismatched. ¡°You''re a rich Kalb now, no reason for me to charge less.¡±


    Marth laughed wryly and tossed a small bag on the counter before grabbing his weapon and leaving out into the streets again. Gray clouds covered the sky, blending with the smog coming from the south like paint. The sky lit up every few seconds with massive arcs of lightning, thunderous booms shaking the street underfoot. The rain hadn¡¯t hit them yet, but it wouldn¡¯t be long now.


    I need to get to the base before nightfall, he thought. At night, the streets became crowded with merchants, hedonists, and drunks, turning the thin cobble streets into a sort of mosh pit. The design was strange, having the streets be so thin when people would be crammed in them and trying to move around, but it was built that way and wasn¡¯t going to change.


    He ran through the streets and alleys, navigating them like the back of his hand. Keres was not a large city by any means, about half the size of Iotus or Edosil, but it was dense and made for pedestrian travel. Soon, he reached an alley that he often used as a shortcut. On one side, trash was stacked as high as the roof, massive rats and roaches scrambling around. He climbed the trash and crawled onto the roof taking a deep breath of the fresh air at the summit.


    The city was beginning to enter full swing now. The entertainment district let off a neon red and purple glow, the rest of the city covered in dancing lights.  People ran through the streets, getting their wares ready for the night or delivering messages. At the border, the city abruptly stopped, turning into a sprawling forest. It was dazzling.


    He jumped from ledge to ledge, until he arrived at the ground once more. In front of him was the door to an unassuming warehouse, rain tapping against the building. To one side of him, a guard stood, rifle in hand. She hadn¡¯t noticed him, even when he didn¡¯t take particular effort to be silent.


    ¡°Pardon me, miss,¡± He called out to her. She jumped in the air, turning the barrel of the gun to him,


    ¡°Who''s there,¡± She shouted back, taking a wary step towards him.


    ¡°Just me, sorry to scare you Abi.¡±


    Realization dawned on her face, immediately she dropped the gun to her side and saluted.


    ¡°Very sorry about that sir!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, but let¡¯s try to be a bit more attentive in the future. I would hate to see you get hurt, and only the Gods Above know what Kate would do.¡±


    ¡°Of course sir, please forgive my carelessness,¡± Her arm fell down to her side, as she walked back to her station much more wide-eyed now.


    Marth pushed on the metal door, rusted joints letting out against the rain. Inside, one side of the room was covered by all manner of weapons and guns so that they could hold down the warehouse if there was an attack. In the middle of the room sat an assortment of desks, each for a different member. The other side was a mass of body bags and boxes. This building wasn¡¯t open to many, only his best agents were allowed to enter.


    ¡°I heard you picking on Abi,¡± A familiar voice chimed from one of the desks. Kate sat polishing her daggers, her inky black braids going all over the desk.


    ¡°Would you rather I correct her or she get shot?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make light of that.¡± She shot a glare at him, placing her daggers on one side of the desk. ¡°Are we finally starting the plan? We have almost everything ready, spare a few more Pagans at the shipment.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t need many, you know the standards of people they are. If everything has gone to plan at the funeral, he will be distracted dealing with the gang that took him. It¡¯s the perfect time to do it.¡± Marth said, grabbing a bottle of Jietan from his desk. It hissed softly as he opened it, the familiar scent of oak and wheat coming from the neck of the bottle.


    ¡°Do you really need to drink right now?¡±


    ¡°How else am I supposed to work through all this pent up stress, having to deal with you,¡± He asked, taking a long swig from the bottle. She rolled her eyes, before standing from the desk.


    ¡°I¡¯ll alert the Pagans that it''s starting,¡± She said, grabbing her holster from the desk and slinging her rifle over her back. It wasn¡¯t as simple as directly contacting them, the Pagans were more careful than that. You had to alert them through a secondary soldier, a good precaution to take when dealing with Keres citizens.


    ¡°Make sure you are discreet in the streets,¡± Marth yelled out to her across the floor.  ¡°Travel in back alleys and side streets, if they somehow figure out what''s going on then we are taking a major loss.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I prayed for our financial stability just today.¡± She retorted, sarcasm thick in her voice.


    ¡°Can¡¯t have your gods doing everything for us, try to make up for their shortcomings!¡±


    Then she left. She should be back by morning, he thought. In the meantime, Marth left to the streets, donning a trench coat, and putting his sword on his side. He wouldn¡¯t do anything strenuous tonight, tomorrow would require a lot from him.


    The streets of Keres came alive at night, with people fighting and dancing and belting out in song. The whole city was like a magnet for those lost in life, deperately trying to distract themselves, but even those who were lost had coin. Money flowed through keres like a river, businesses and merchants could work solely at night.


    As the streets progressed, they got more and more desolate. He realized he had walked to Joy¡¯s End, without realizing it. People lay in the streets, covered in whatever warmth they could scavenge. He walked a bit to close to one alley, a gnarled hand reached for his ankle.


    ¡°Please give me money. I need more, please.¡± An old man looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. His body contorted in spasms, so much so it seemed to be hurting him. Marth kicked off his arms and kept walking, what good would fueling his addiction do? It was a depressing sight, but all to common. All the good parts of Keres were just paint over rust, covering for a rot that wouldn¡¯t go away.


    Soon he arrived at a nice sight, the Drunken Swan. A lovely little respite from the death and drab of Joy¡¯s End, and the owner was a good friend of his. He entered the bar and was hit with the scent of hot meat and whiskey, along with a wave of nostalgia. This bar had been the same since Keres existed, albeit switching owners a few times, and served as a home for Marth in his juvenile years.


    When he entered the room, the crowd inside went silent. Nobody moved nor spoke, and they all just stared at him, some letting their hands rest near their firearms. It was quite strange since he had entered the bar before and no one batted an eye.


    ¡°Well, this is a sorry sight, all this drink and no one enjoying any. ¡° He said, gesturing to the bottles behind the counter as well as the kegs behind those ¡° The next round is on me, so drink up!¡±


    This brought on a cheer from the room, as well as some drunks shaking hands with him. One especially emotional man broke down crying on his shoulder, but Marth simply shrugged him off. In one corner of the room, however, a man sat without cheering, instead sizing up Marth. He noticed and the man looked back down at his plate of food, but Marth took note. He walked to the front of the room and stopped at the bar, seeing an old friend.


    ¡°Mr Farasin, it¡¯s been far too long,¡± He exclaimed, a grin splitting his face ¡° I hope you haven¡¯t forgotten your roots boy, you never come around anymore!¡±


    Marth smiled, a rare true smile. ¡°You''re right, but I¡¯m a busy man now. I can¡¯t spend all my time here chasing women and drinking.¡±


    ¡°True enough, glad you¡¯ve matured out of the former. Now come on back to my office. We have lots to catch up on, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    They walked up the old creaky wood stairs to the second floor where his office was. It was a relatively lavish room, furnished with shelves of books and photos of family. On his desk, there was a photo of him and Marth, outside the bar, holding the deed to the building. They were both a lot younger in the photo, Marth being just over ten and Luther being just under forty.


    Marth gently picked up the picture. ¡°This brings me back. I remember the first time I came into the bar I asked for some spare food and you laughed in my face and told me to get out. When I persisted, you took me to this same office and gave me a broken nose. When I started screaming so loud the customers could hear me, you brought me a plate of some old bread and stock.¡±


    ¡°And thus a beautiful friendship was born.¡± Luther retorted, with a grin ¡°I just remember some beggar coming into the bar and making a scene at the front desk. But all''s well that ends well, So, what brings you by?¡±


    Marth set the photo back down on the desk and sat down. ¡°I just wanted to visit, I haven¡¯t been around here in too long, how¡¯s business?¡±


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    He sighed and sat across from Marth. ¡°It hasn''t been great. Just a couple of nights back  I had that one White Death kid come in and kill some guy. Has people shaken up, not wanting to come by.¡±


    Marth shot up, eyes wide.


    ¡°Why did he come to the bar?¡±


    ¡°Said he was looking into property in the area. I asked some of the neighbors and they said the same thing, that he came in and made them an offer. Obviously, we turned him down, you''re definitely a better landlord than that Kalb.¡± He said, sensing Marth¡¯s urgency. His tone made it seem like he didn¡¯t know why Marth was so worried.


    ¡°Did any of them mention I was the owner of their buildings?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask, but I¡¯d guess not. Information is like hookers, the best aren¡¯t shared.¡±


    Marth laughed, sitting back down. ¡°Oh how I¡¯ve missed your sayings, damned dirty old man.¡±


    The two men talked for hours, the time they spent apart had let many topics accumulate. Marth rarely let his guard down, but he knew this was a man he could trust. He was as close to a father as Marth had, without his kindness Marth would be on the streets or dead. Eventually, the drinks and conversation ran dry. Marth left through the now closed barroom and out onto the cold, desolate streets.


    ¡°It¡¯s been good seeing ya kid. You ever need to talk to me about anything, you know where to find me,¡± He said, wearing a sad smile. ¡°I don¡¯t get a lotta visitors, so ya better come around more often.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to check in more often. Take care of yourself, old man.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need that advice, my line of business isn¡¯t even close to as worrisome as yours anyway. If I keep hearing of these gunfights, my heart might just up and give up,¡± He said. If there were no kind people in Keres, he was as close as one could get. They said their final goodbyes, then Marth left back for the center of town.


    The night air gave him a chill, it was the time of year where the days were warm but the nights cold. He passed through Joy¡¯s End quickly; this district was the smallest out of the main seven. The Center Square and Entertainment district were the two largest, excluding the Arena which was more of a landmark than anything else. It was on Alec¡¯s turf, but it was a safe point between the two gangs. As long as you could pay, you were welcome.


    If I could only take over the Arena, Marth thought, the revenue would pay for itself tenfold. Unfortunately, it was owned by one of the richest men in Keres, even moreso than Marth himself. An Edosil businessman, bored with the city life. Apparently, the man knew Alec before he had come to Keres, even getting him in a room alone would be helpful. Alec¡¯s past and habits were a complete mystery, like the man himself. Few even knew what he looked like, everyone simply passed around the same basic description.


    Once he¡¯d gotten a block or so away from the bar, a man had started following him. Even lost in thought, he could sense the man behind him. People still flooded the streets, but the stalker only walked, not even looking around. Marth cursed under his breath, leading them to a small alley that served as a spot for fights such as this. When he got to the middle, he turned to face the man


    ¡°Forgive me if I skip the pleasantries here, what do you want?¡± Marth asked.


    The man made a small motion with his sleeves and two knives fell into his hands, bloodstained and rusty. They seemed to once be of Nahk origin, but they were in such poor quality Marth couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°You are a very lucky man, Mr. Farasin. If my boss didn¡¯t tell me to take you alive, you¡¯d have a hole in your head.¡±


    ¡°Well, this fight doesn''t seem like it is going to end particularly well for me even now.¡±


    The assailant laughed at that. ¡°It seems you are as smart as they say.¡±


    Marth took out his sword as well, polished blade reflecting the moon, as they stood sizing each other up. A few seconds passed, neither wanting to make the first move,  then Marth sheathed the blade and sprinted away with a wild grin on his face. He ran into the crowded streets, ducking bef0re the man could spot his head, letting the flowing crowd guide him along like a river.


    He stayed crouched for a minute or two, heart pounding in his ears, before standing straight and looking around. He spotted the man far behind him in the crowd, grabbing people and cursing. Marth chuckled, seeing the man in better lighting revealed a scruffy and wide face, fit for livestock. He slinked into a nearby alley.


    The alley was a dead-end, or so it would seem. Marth wiped his palms across his pants, feeling the wall to see if it was dry enough. He planted both hands, then his legs, continuously up both walls until he was at the top. He looked down at the street below, the masked assailant was still searching the crowd for him.


    The roofs were the most reliable and fast way to get across Keres. It took a lot of bruises and breaks to get to the point where you could do it comfortably, but if you got there, then even at night you could get across town with speed. A surprising amount of people used the roofs as a secondary mode of travel, all messengers at the very least knew how to use them.  Marth had been doing this since he was a child, stealing sweets in the Market District then dashing to the roofs before the old vendors could catch him. At this point, he was more comfortable on roofs than the solid ground.


    He ran off one side, over an alley, and landed on the next roof which was completely flat. Slanted roofs were much harder to land on since if you rolled you may fly off the edge, but on flats, you could simply land however you wanted. He kept the momentum, running from roof to roof, rolling and jumping with a grin on his face.


    The cool air whipped past his ears, blowing the sweat from his face. The smell of the soot and chemical smoke from the factories was comforting, in a way. This was a special kind of joy that wasn¡¯t often found in Keres, a sense of freedom that was lost after years on the streets. He felt like a child again, being chased around town.


    After fifteen minutes of running and jumping, he made it back to the warehouse district. It was dead at night, all the workers being long gone at this hour. He leaped down from one of the warehouse''s roofs onto a pile of trash, then down to the ground. He took in a deep breath and a swig of water then started walking back to his warehouse.


    ¡­


    The next day, Kate walked back through the door. Her hair was a mess, and seemed to have a small limp.


    ¡°How did it go?¡± Marth asked her, his hair a mess and eyes bloodshot.


    She grabbed the kettle on her table and poured herself a large cup of tea before slumping over in her chair.


    ¡°I had to run across the entirety of town, got mugged halfway through Joy¡¯s End, then finally made it to the office and sent the letter. On the way back, I slipped on a three-story rooftop and almost fell to my death. ¡±


    ¡°You sent the message? Good.¡±


    She shot him a death glare. ¡°I didn¡¯t run across half of Keres, fight off a Qas-fiend, and almost fall to my death for a good.¡±


    He looked back at her expressionless, then sat down at the desk opposite hers. The shipment was probably already destroyed, meaning they would launch a full-scale attack tonight. In the meantime, he would call all his best to the building to brief them on what they would be doing. He sent out the letters to them all and waited.


    Most of the cities in Tia were connected by pipes, that could send letters and small packages; it was the best way to send messages over short distances. Of course, the rich could simply send out messengers, but in Keres they might get taken or killed and the message stolen, which for material as important as Marth¡¯s wasn¡¯t an option. These pipes were built into the infrastructure when Iotus was first made and stood the test of time today.


    It was a matter of minutes before the first arrived. He could barely fit through the door, but eventually, he managed to cram himself through.


    ¡°Hello, boss. Is finally time to start plan? You have been speaking of this mission for so much times,¡± Said Erfin. He was more muscle than man and was taller than most street lamps. In a hand-to-hand fight, you¡¯d be hard-pressed to find someone to beat him. His voice boomed throughout the warehouse, thick with a Miletan accent.


    ¡°Yes, yes, I think we will be able to start the attack by tonight. I really will have to buy some larger doors one day, although it is a nice show every time you have to walk in here.¡±


    The man sat down on a chair the size of a sofa and sighed. His desk was decorated with crumbs and spare cart-papers smeared with different colored sauces; his desk was by far the worst kept out of the groups.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like having to wait. Why did you call me such early?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t called you for a job in months, so you have no room to complain.¡± Marth sat down at his desk, across from Erfin ¡°You also came an hour late for that job so I thought I¡¯d get you here five hours early to be safe.¡±


    ¡°Tabia was late for that job too, did you tell her to come now as well?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! Only you, my brutish friend.¡±


    He glared at Marth then put his head down and started snoring. He had the uncanny ability to sleep at any place at any time, like a child.


    Next came Kal, who silently slipped through the door.  He didn¡¯t say anything and sat down at his desk, which was decorated with a single stack of blank paper and a pen.


    ¡°Kal, you should greet everyone when you get here, it¡¯s polite.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He said. His voice was hushed, but articulate, with a hint of Nahk inflection. He was short and skinny, the most unassuming person you could think of, but his eyes were like two pools of dark vinegar. They made people squirm when he looked at you with them, and run if he glared. It was also quite ironic that the stringiest member of the group was the best in a fight.


    Marth stood up and walked to Kal¡¯s desk ¡°I don¡¯t pay him for his decourum Kate, shut up.¡± He stood at on one edge of the desk ¡°Will you need a weapon for this operation?¡±


    ¡°No, I bought some earlier.¡±


    ¡°How much were they?¡± Marth asked.


    ¡°Three hundred Smithe for the pair.¡±


    Marth did a mock grimace and took out three bags. He tossed them to Kal, who immediately pushed them back across the table.


    ¡°As long as you work for me, you don¡¯t need to worry about buying your weapons, it is the least I can do.¡± He pushed the bags back in front of him.


    ¡°You pay me already. I do not need it.¡±


    ¡°You either take it now or I put it into your stores the next time I pay you, and I don¡¯t know about you but the feeling of a coin-bag in your pocket is quite comforting to me.¡±


    Kal looked at the bags for a few seconds, the back to Marth, before gesturing to the edge of the desk and bowing his head slightly.


    Marth nodded and left back to his desk. When Marth had first met him, Kal had easily won in a short fight between them. Typically Marth would¡¯ve put a bullet into anyone around him seemed even remotely suspicious, but that was what drew him to Kal; he was completely silent until he was already attacking Marth


    Kal had grown up in Nahk but left on a sword shipment when his town was raided by a rival clan. He could take up almost any blade and use it effectively, but never used guns. He always wanted to be self-reliant, turning down help whenever he could and keeping to himself. It was natural of course, you can imagine the horrors he saw before getting to Keres.


    The last two would probably be a while so he started sifting through a pile of bills he would need to send out. That was the aspect of being a gangleader no one told you about, ninety percent of his work was papers and messages. Keeping track of everyone who owed him money, everyone who seemed to be acting dubious, it took most of his time.


    The next time he looked up, they were strolling in through the side door of the warehouse, Tabia leading and Yvette behind her.  Tabia was belting out some story and  Yvette was just walking behind her, staring ahead.


    ¡°I assume you were not walking in the streets speaking that loudly?¡± Marth said to her when they got to the cluster of desks.


    Tabia sat down and laid her hand scythes on her table. She had brown curls framing her face, and small cuts and bruises all over her face. ¡° Of course not, I¡¯m not that careless.¡±


    ¡°Yvette, was she?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Yvette was beautiful by all meanings of the word. Elegant, always poised, like a statue come to life. Marth looked over at Tabia. She didn¡¯t meet his gaze.


    ¡° Well, everyone is here now, so let¡¯s begin. Tonight, we will be launching a full-scale attack on the White Death.  They will not have any ammo, so it will be a melee brawl, and we will have the upper hand because of all of you. I have paid a healthy sum to a lot of the weapon shops in White Death territory to act as though they are out of stock on most guns.¡±


    ¡°Why will they not have ammo?¡± Tabia asked.


    ¡°I sent out a small five-person squad to deal with a ammo caravan that was scheduled to enter Keres two days ago. Yesterday, I did the same for an emergency shipment of ammo coming into Keres, ordered by Alec himself. All forms of ammo have become so scarce that they might not even have enough to get through our first wave, meanwhile, I have been stockpiling melee armaments.


    ¡°So the plan is to make trouble in their part of town, let them waste all their ammo on some grunts, and then massacre them? What if they have also been stockpiling?¡±


    ¡°With the price of ammo skyrocketing in Keres and Alec being preoccupied with the men who took him a few days back, I think he is a bit preoccupied.¡±


    ¡°What if Alec had been saving for a while?¡±


    ¡°Then the plan fails and we take our losses and recuperate. I can¡¯t plan for every little thing but we''ll find out quickly. To begin, I am going to send out one hundred soldiers to that part of town with guns and engage them in a firefight. I don¡¯t expect it to go well for us but we will waste enough ammo to where we can launch the real attack.¡±


    ¡°Do we really have to waste these lives? Can we not just go in on our own?¡± Kal asked. Marth gave him an glare, but quickly caught himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m not happy it has to be this way, truly, but I don¡¯t value their lives anywhere near yours.¡± Kal opened his mouth to argue, but bit back whatever response he thought of.


    ¡°Alright, this plan sounds interesting, and we never get to have a good old-fashioned brawl anymore,¡± Tabia said, flipping the scythes in her hands.


    ¡°There¡¯s just one thing I don¡¯t get, wouldn¡¯t he at the least notice the rapidly rising prices of ammo and look into it further?¡± Kate asked.


    ¡°If I were to see the rising prices, I may look into it, but his pockets run much deeper than ours and he isn¡¯t as smart. I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t notice the lack of ammo before it¡¯s too late, call it clarivoyance.¡±


    ¡°Never took you for the religious type boss,¡± Tabia jabbed him in the side, drawing his scorn.


    ¡°Religious people would not proclaim that they were able to see the future, that was reserved for the saints and the prophets,¡± Yvette spoke up, her voice soft and high pitched. She was a devout Shaibean, or follower of the Ten Gods. It was said that in the beginning times, the first god Zai created the other ten gods out of boredom, giving each a fraction of his power. Now, they each ruled over a different sect of the church and blessed those who followed with great strength and supernatural abilities.


    ¡°I meant that most don¡¯t even believe in clairvoyance from the start. Who¡¯s to say he isn¡¯t one of the saints brought back to life?¡±


    ¡°There were no devils among the saints,¡± She didn¡¯t say it with malice towards Marth, it was as though she was just stating a fact that everyone knew.


    ¡°I feel we have gotten off track,¡± Marth interrupted before Tabia could ruin the conversation further. ¡°I¡¯ll send the order and when the clock strikes nine, we attack. Get whatever you need beforehand, but be discreet.¡±


    ¡°When do we arrive the next morning?¡± Erfin asked, waking up bleary eyed. ¡°You¡¯ll want to hear what happened right?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Eight. If you''re late, you will be forcibly removed from the gang and possibly killed. I¡¯m serious about this, if all goes well this could be a major step towards our goal.¡±


    They all nodded and went their separate ways.

 Chapter Three - Alec

    On the border of Center Square and the Market district, sat my Office of White Death Affairs. It was a large and lavish building, more so than any other I owned, a symbol of our power and prosperity. This was where all important messages were sent to, meetings held, and debtors punished. I had imported wood from Nahk just for this, its deep green color nicely contrasting the sharp gold corners. In front, I tried to keep a force of at least ten guards at all times to deter anyone brave enough to approach. I wasn¡¯t a designer, nor did I care to be, but I knew this building looked good.


    I was in my office, sitting across from one of the members of the gang that took me, the Black Daggers. A play on the White Death, I assumed, many gangs just copied either mine or Marth¡¯s name. I had promised him a large sum if he divulged information about his leader and gang, and of course, he jumped at the offer. It was already over once I was freed, and he must¡¯ve known it. The stupid Kalbs didn¡¯t even think to torture me, they just took some money and roughed me up a little. Now that I had him in my office, however, I got to set the parameters of the deal.


    I stood up and walked over to the set of cigars I kept on my table and lifted one, inspecting the pattern on its outside.


    ¡°I appreciate you going against your brotherhood for me, truly. I value cowards like yourself quite highly, always willing to bend for whoever has the most Smithe. However, I¡¯m sure you understand that seeing as I have you in my office I will not be paying in full the amount.¡±


    He shot a glare at me, rising from his chair and walking over to me. ¡°Seeing as you¡¯re also unarmed, I think you¡¯ll reconsider.¡±


    I met his eyes, they were not those of a man ready to kill someone. There was a feeling you learned to read in people, a sort of aura that those who were truly dangerous had. He did not have it.


    I grabbed him by the neck, slamming him into the ground. The fight was over before it even began, before he could react. The room shook, some stationary on my desk falling to the floor. He clawed at my hands, eyes going wide. I placed just enough force so breathing felt painful, but not enough to where he would black out.


    ¡°If I let you go, you will go back to your seat and not move again. I feel a bit insulted that you think I would fear some Kalb like you, so I¡¯ll dock your pay for that as well,¡± I said, toying with him further. If I pushed him far enough he may have attacked me, which would be great. I couldn¡¯t just kill him, unfortunately, I had made a promise to someone.


    He tensed his jaw, ¡°How much are you going to pay me?¡±


    ¡°One thousand Smithe.¡±


    He barked a laugh at that. ¡°I will never feel safe walking through Keres again, and all I get for that is a pittance? You know what happens to men who sell their brothers out in Keres, don¡¯t you? You sick Kalb.¡±


    I smiled at him, not letting it reach my teeth. ¡°If you ever felt safe walking in this hell, then I¡¯m not the only sick one. Also, the information you shared with me was negligible at b-¡±


    At that moment my door flew open and a woman came stumbling after it.


    ¡°Sir, Ira soldiers have been openly firing on us in the streets.¡±


    She saw the situation I was in, her eyes widened and she looked back at me. I stood off the man, kicking him swiftly in the side of the head. He rolled over limp.


    ¡°This,¡± I gestured to his limp body, ¡°is nothing. Brief me on the situation.¡±


    ¡°There have been groups of Ira in our territory, engaging in gun-fights and melee. There seem to be about eighteen groups, from what I¡¯ve heard, and we are running out of ammo quickly.¡±


    I paused, glaring at her. ¡°What in the Gods names do you mean we are running out of ammo? Do I not spend tens of thousands each month to circumvent this problem?¡±


    ¡°Shipments have been getting destroyed over the past few months. It¡¯s unlikely that there is enough ammo in town to supply our gang, never mind just what we have.¡±


    ¡°Why is this the first time I have heard of this!¡± I yelled at her. She started shaking, cowering against the rooms wall. People who couldn¡¯t take being yelled at were useless, if you fold in a situation like this how would you handle a gun to your head? Of course most wouldn¡¯t have to face a situation like that, but it¡¯s good training.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t too much of a problem.¡± I said  ¡°Their groups are small so I¡¯m sure some have been taken out as we were speaking, and I¡¯ll alert some of the Reapers to see if they are close enough to assist.¡±


    The woman nodded, running from the room all too eager to leave. I slammed my hand against the wall, pain exploding in my wrist.


    ¡°Always nice to see karma working swiftly, isn¡¯t it Alec?¡± The man said, groggily rising from the ground. Blood dripped down one side of his head, but he still sneered at me. That stupid look on his face, it made me shake. I took a couple of breaths and a swig of water, trying to calm myself.


    It didn¡¯t work. I pulled out my gun and put a shot through his head. It whipped back, slamming against the floor again, splattering his blood onto the wall. Screw the promise, I had more pressing matters to deal with. I dragged his limp body to the window and threw him down to the alley below, the collectors could deal with him now.


    The body collectors were funded half by me and half by Marth. It was the one thing we agreed on, we would not let the streets be flooded with the dead. It was bad for business, and the smell was not encouraging for tourism. They patrolled the streets at late night, taking away bodies and whatever valuables they had on them. Sometimes, the vermin would get to the bodies first, leaving nothing but bones. With so much death and waste, massive hordes of rats and maggots were a common sight in violent areas, feasting on corpses.


    I sent out messages to all the Reapers and the places they frequent, explaining the situation. Those who were named as such were known for their outstanding service in their chosen speciality, such as marksmanship or brawling. There were seven in total, after the seven Gods of the Shaibean religion. I was not a religious man in any sense, but such a recognizable tale made the name spread easily. In the meantime, I sat at my desk waiting for a reply. The fact that he was being so obvious and large-scale didn¡¯t bode well. It was five minutes before I got a response.


    I am going to kill three groups, then get back to drinking, it read. This was from Juzo, the Reaper of Wandering. With him taking three, I felt a bit better about our odds, but something still felt off. Why would he send out such small groups just to stir up some trouble, knowing that we would take care of them quickly? He wouldn¡¯t be so dumb as to kill groups for the sake of it, it wasn¡¯t like him. I couldn¡¯t sit in my office any longer, it seemed so small when you were forced to stay put. I put on my coat and went out into the streets.


    The sun was starting to set now, and the city was beginning to accustom to its nightly rhythm. Even with gunfire sounding in the distance, it was hardly noticeable with the commotion everywhere. The streets had not been flooded by those looking for a night out yet, so I walked as fast as I could. Even if I hailed a cart, they would take too long trying to navigate through all the merchant riff-raff. In the distance, I could already see the glow of the most sickening place in Keres, and my destination for the night, The Entertainment district.


    Every building was painted in a purple light that assaulted the senses. The amount of sweat being exerted turned the air thick, like a salty fog. Half-clothed people wandered the streets trying to pull in anyone undecided about their selection of whore-house, if they wore even that much. The rest hung around in groups smoking and drinking away, the smell of Qascade permeating them. This is the lowest of the low. If you ended up here, something had gone awry in your life. I refused to touch any business in this place, purely morally. This was also where assistant was spending the night.


    I walked these wretched streets until I arrived at his favorite brothel, the Pink Dancers. The building seemed to emanate cheap perfume, the front covered in different photos of women with prices attached. How people could treat women like things for sale was beyond me, but at least they weren¡¯t cheap.


    I rapped on the ¡°door¡±, which was really just a piece of sheet metal with some driftwood nailed in where a handle would be. A few seconds after, a burly looking women with thick eyeliner and lipstick opened it.


    ¡°How can I help you, hot stuff?¡± Her voice was deep, like a rumbling in her chest. The dress she wore left little to the imagination, not that she seemed to mind.


    ¡°I need my assistant back. Call for Lournce and you¡¯ll find him, you can tell him its Alec talking if it gets the lazy bastard out here.¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s with one of the ladies, its against policy for me to interrupt.¡±


    ¡°I swear, this is where they draw the line,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to, I¡¯ll drag the bastard out here myself.¡±


    I suppose my resolve convinced her, or worried her. She hesitantly nodded and left back into the building.


    The night was in full effect now, and the streets started to spring to life. The street I was standing on started to fill with degenerates wanting cheap thrills, some pushing past me to enter the building. I couldn¡¯t hear gunshots in the distance anymore, but being this far away anything could be happening.


    After a short wait, he arrived through the same door. His shirts buttons were off to his waist, and his belt hung quite low.


    ¡°Heya boss, what do you need?¡± He spoke in a nonchalant manner, as if I wasn¡¯t being swarmed by human swine on every side of me. He had a light brown skin tone, like most from Mileta, and mousy black hair cut short on the sides.


    ¡°Ira has been assaulting our side of town. I need you with me as backup, and I also don¡¯t need you getting stuck in enemy territory if this progresses further than I expect.¡±


    ¡°Come on boss, I had this pretty little redhead up next,¡± He said, trying to piss me off. I had made myself clear on how I felt about the Entertainment District, and he took every opportunity he could to mess with me. ¡°You can talk bad about sex all you want, but you should at least try it once.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth, nasty bastard. I don¡¯t know why I even keep you around. The day I wake up to moaning in the other room is the day I ship you back to Mileta.¡± He erupted in laughter, nearly falling over. I pulled him forward, I needed to get back to the base fast.


    .     .      .


    ¡°The attacks have stopped now. We sustained three casualties and nineteen wounded, and our Lumi stocks have completely run out.¡±


    Good, it was finally over. Minor casualties sustained, and we probably killed a few of them as well. Wait. Our ammo had run out, and they had retreated. The pieces clicked together in my head, and I realized what was about to happen.


    ¡°Alert everyone you can that¨C¡± I could not get out my full sentence. Just then the ground shook and debris flew into the air. I ran out into the streets and saw smoke coming up from all over town. This was what he was planning, taking advantage of our Lumi storage being low because of the price, hell he might¡¯ve even made it that way.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°What the hell is happening?¡± The woman asked again. I ignored her and walked out into the debris ridden streets with Lournce trailing behind. The stench of Parium was permeating the air. They had explosives.


    Parium was one of the hardest materials to come by. It was only found in a small colony of Miletan mines and it was hard to smuggle into Tia in the first place. The Miletan government had forbidden the trade of it to Tia, and Tia to try and save face had banned the importing of it. However, if handled properly and in an expert chemist''s hand, they could be turned from a mineral into a highly combustible powder.


    People stampeded through the streets from both directions. I hadn¡¯t seen a scene like this since I had started in the gang, back when a rogue squad of mine had started a large firefight in an Ira sector. A pure panic.


    I didn¡¯t know what to do. I couldn¡¯t tell everyone to retreat, I couldn¡¯t fight back against them, I felt powerless. I felt dizzy. This was a perilous situation, and that bastard had done well to plan it all out. I took another sip of water, and took a deep breath.


    ¡°Lournce, go down to the center and see what¡¯s happening, if it¡¯s too dangerous than come back,¡± I said, already running back upstairs.


    The door to my office flew open, and I dashed to the wall where I kept my phone and rang for the area. The line was silent and I heard a click on the other end.


    ¡°Rogier, are you there?¡± I asked


    ¡°Yes, I am, why do you call me at this moment.¡± He responded on the other line


    ¡°Go to the Ira headquarters and kill whoever¡¯s there. You should have no problem getting in and out since they are all currently brutalizing my forces. Look for important information and kill anyone who you find.¡±


    The other end clicked again. If he said nothing, he accepted, as opposed to if he said no. Now I simply had to pray my Reapers could take out some of their forces, although I don¡¯t know what god would answer my call.


    The night raged on unwavering. I would hear screams and gunshots coming from every direction, but I stayed in my office unmoving. The night seemed to last forever, time would move on its whims.


    .  .  .


    Eventually, the screams subsided and the sun rose again. I walked into the light-bathed streets and took a deep breath; it smelt of blood and cinder from discarded rounds. Walking the streets now, there were puddles of blood covering the streets like it had rained the night before, The body collectors were already piling the dead onto their rickety carts and wheeling them off, slowly making their way through the city. It was a wake-up call, I had been complacent with small-scale operations for too long, and it was time to fight back.


    I reached the building I needed to, a small unassuming slaughterhouse that strangely didn¡¯t reek of shit and pigs blood. It might have been first painted brown but now the bareboards were more present than paint, which were riddled with stains and water marks. I entered and was greeted by a relatively lavish interior. There were fine wood tables and chairs to one side, and a velvet couch to the other. In the middle was a slight woman typing away on a typewriter.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Alec Resto. I¡¯m here for Rogier¡±


    ¡°Third door on your left.¡±


    I nodded to her, although I doubt she noticed and left down the hallway. Three doors down was a simple wood panel that read ¡° Office of¡± but the name was scratched out. I opened the door and was met with a plain office and a lean man smoking. He looked up at me, smiling, and gestured at the chair opposite him.


    ¡°How did it go?¡± I asked


    He reached into his desk, producing a pamphlet of papers


    ¡°They did not have much, save some eviction notices and a few letters from businesses around town. However, they did have some supply routes and a letter I think you would be interested in.¡± He said. His voice changed in pitch often as he spoke.


    ¡°And where is that letter?¡±


    ¡°In the stack with the rest, now let¡¯s talk about payment. I think three thousand is fair, fifteen hundred for the stealth and another for the hits.¡± His eyes came alight when he spoke of money, and I could see a faint grin behind the mask he put on.


    ¡°Now that is a bit unreasonable. That is far above your normal rate and I don¡¯t see why the job would warrant it. I will give you fifteen hundred, take it or leave it.¡±


    The light went out again, and he glared at me.


    ¡°I have been nothing if not loyal to you for the past year. I have taken every job you gave me and never negotiated pay. I wish my rate could stay the same, but I have a child I need to feed now.¡±


    It was strange to me, everyone spoke my name like it was poison and treated me like the devil, but people still expected me to care for their lives.


    ¡°Pitiful. You beg me for money after an easy job and conjure up a sob story. You will get the pay I give you. ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this Mister Resto, we¡¯ve had a good thing going here.¡±


    ¡°How old is your child? Have they started to walk yet, do they know how to run? It is a very important skill for your child to have, getting away from dangerous situations and people like me.¡± I said.


    His head whipped towards me and he stared in shock veins popping in his forehead.


    ¡°Stay away from my family.¡±


    I chuckled at that and crossed my hands in the air, similar to what criminals do when caught


    ¡°I would never dream of doing something to James or Mary. I saw them just the other day, walking through the market district. You should try to stay with them when they are out of the house.¡± I said


    ¡°How do you know his name?¡± He asked, his eyes burning.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t important is it? I¡¯ll transfer the money into your account soon.¡±


    He started to speak again, but cut it short, closing his eyes and grimacing.


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Resto.¡± He said through clenched teeth,


    I know when I¡¯ve said enough, so I left his office without another word. I wasn¡¯t sure if I would ever get a job done by him again, so I should start thinking about finding a new hitman. That was a problem for the future, right now I needed to tend to  a business partner.


    He was a minute''s walk from the other shop. It was a building laden with black brick, intricately crafted. The building''s windows didn¡¯t have a single spot or smudge on them, and the door was made of a beautiful oak. The interior of the building was just as nice, with polished wood floors and shelves of exotic spices and foods.


    ¡°Hello.¡± A man sitting behind a desk said to me, his hair was a darker blonde and he had piercings covering his face.


    ¡°Good day, is your boss in?¡± I asked


    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯ll have to ask if he is taking meetings, could I have a name to give him?¡±


    ¡°Alec Resto.¡±


    He nodded jovially and strutted up the stairs, had he known me he would¡¯ve let me in immediately. I looked around the shop while waiting, it was well stocked with important goods for the foreign population, as well as some basics that were understocked in Keres. The owner was a businessman through and through, and he knew his market well. He was one of the first businesses I had subsidized when I came into power.


    About a minute later a woman with disheveled hair came down the stairs barefoot. She looked up at me and smiled, turning red. I nodded at her and she ran through the door, letting out a resounding ring from the bell hung above the door. Then I felt the ground shaking and Marke followed suit.


    ¡°Hello Mr. Resto,¡± He said, panting from the immense physical exertion of going down a flight of stairs. He had a handful of hairs on his head and a scraggly mustache. He wore a baggy suit, and couldn¡¯t be described as anything but rotund, but he was a good flow of income and had been with me for many years. ¡° To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t checked in for a few months, and after the attacks a few days ago I am going around to see if everyone is doing alright.¡±


    He laughed, in a strange snorty way. ¡° Well, I assure you that those ruffians steered clear of here. I had rounds blasting down both sides of the street like they were free.¡± He said.


    ¡°Are you not going to invite me to your office?¡±


    He nodded and gestured to the stairwell behind him. I climbed until I reached the second floor. His office was lavishly decorated with hunting trophies and novels. On his desk was a sealed piece of correspondence with an eagle''s head biting a snake. He entered behind me and sat in his burly leather chair. His desk was in quite a bit of disarray, which I believe was caused by him and the woman from earlier.


    ¡°So, Mr Resto, how is business?¡± He said, tidying his desk and moving the paper to one side.


    I sighed and produced a cigar. ¡°I wish I could say it was better, but it seems like every day I get fewer and fewer recruits and more and more traitors. Men like you are hard to come by nowadays.¡±


    He grinned at that ¡°That¡¯s high praise. If there is anything I can do to help, I hope you will let me know. Business is easy here, people buy goods and I buy people.¡± He laughed at his remark.


    ¡°There is something. Some days ago, I was taken by a small gang, the Blood of Open Palms, I believe they called themselves. I took care of them swiftly, but if you happen to see a snake and eagle seal on any of your letters I trust you will let me know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a problem at all Mr Resto, in fact it''s the least I can¡­¡± He stopped mid-sentence and looked down at his desk. The letter in plain view of us both, with the eagle and snake insignia, was now neatly placed in front of me. I blew out a puff of smoke, then jumped over his desk and punched him across the face.


    His head flew back into the chair, smacking against the wood headrest with a crack. While he sat there, dazed, I jumped to his side and opened the drawer he was reaching for. Inside was a small pistol, which I threw to the other side of the room.


    ¡°So Marke, why did you do it? I want a straight answer, nothing more nothing less.¡±


    ¡°I-I was just offered lots of money. I saw a nice house in uptown I wanted, s-so I took the money.¡± He said, still jittering a few times. ¡°You know this place is just another business for m-me.¡±


    ¡° I see. Well, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised. A traitor is a traitor, no matter the motive, not that yours is particularly good. If you have any last words, I would say them now.¡±


    He started to cry, tears streaming down his round cheeks, his nose running down onto his blue suit. He looked like a blubbering infant, his breaths only getting more ragged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you all the money they gave me, and more. Please just let me live!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any need for your money. One last time, what are your last words?¡±


    ¡°T-tell my wife I love her. That¡¯s all I can ask for.¡±


    ¡°If you loved her, why was that woman in your office?¡±


    He sobbed harder at that, gasping for breaths like a fish out of water.


    ¡°If you want your last words to be a lie, that isn¡¯t a problem for me. Goodbye Marke, I¡¯ll see you again I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Lournce wrapped his arms around Marke¡¯s neck, who clawed at the steeled forearms like a dog. It was a short time, as Marke turned more and more red, until he slumped over his desk.  I looked at him one more time, a man who I had considered a sturdy ally, now reduced to another corpse. It seemed like all the people around me were starting to crumble and see me as weak, my reputation diminishing, and I didn¡¯t know what to do about it.


    ¡°What are we doing with him boss?¡±


    ¡°Make an example. If everyone wants to see me as weak, I¡¯ll just force them out of that perspective.¡±


    ¡°That was¡­ helpful sir, but I need more specifics.¡± Lournce eyed me strangely, perhaps I was getting ahead of myself.


    ¡°Cut him up all over, not deep enough to kill him but no scrapes either. Then, we will gather some up horse shit and piss, and prepare a bath for him.¡± He visibly cringed at the words, but didn¡¯t protest outright. ¡°String him up in a cage over the main square, and let infection turn him into a warning for those who speak ill of me.¡±


    ¡°Sir, I think a body would be warning enou-.¡±


    ¡°JUST, for once I wish you would simply do what I say. I am your superior, you are my soldier, you listen to me no matter what.¡±


    He began to speak again


    The sun was overhead, exposing every part of Keres that was hidden in the night. I often wondered why people were always drawn to Keres. Maybe the danger, maybe the lack of embarrassment for what you were doing, maybe it was simply to find camaraderie with people similar to you. Whatever the reason, it was certainly not one I knew. It wasn¡¯t my place to understand, I only had to supply them with the pleasures they seeked. I wish I could¡¯ve come to these streets because of a reason as simple as that.


    Now that the day''s errands were done, I went back to my office. My image was at an all time low after the attack, and I needed a counter quick. In times when I needed to plan something important, there was always a person I would call. A person who I knew could be counted on no matter the time.


    ¡°This is Brooks, who is speaking?¡±


    ¡°It''s Alec. I¡¯m sure you know why I¡¯m calling.¡± I heard laughter coming from the other side of the phone


    ¡°Ahh, yes I do. I have already planned it all out. Come over in hour.¡±