"Red has been taken," Poly said with her Siren’s Call.
Dwindle squinted as endless raindrops battered his face, and he replied loudly in order to be heard, "What? How would you know that?" He had watched the elf suddenly stop to stare at a tree and then, after a few seconds, mention Red’s supposed whereabouts.
"I know how it sounds. But this tree has breached whatever is suppressing elven magic in this land and told me Red was taken."
The dwarf’s round head went up as he looked at the broken tree. It had gone gray. "What happened…?" He murmured. The tree began to crumble, causing Dwindle to take a step back. "Hammer and wrench…!" Before long, the tree had become a pile of ash.
“The tree gave everything it had in order to communicate with me…” Poly said, her golden eyes saddening. “It used all of its remaining life essence.” She stepped up to the ash and ran her fingers across it. The ash disintegrated further at her touch then washed away under the rain. “A tree would usually reserve its strength to try and cling to life or create seeds to grow offspring.”
“Why would a tree perish in such a way trying to tell us about Red?”
Poly shook her head, droplets of water dripping from her hood, “I don’t know. The tree was desperate to tell us that Red was taken by members of a gang.”
Dwindle quieted at first and then asked, “Red was abducted?”
The elf girl looked at the remnants of the tree in pieces around them that were beginning to gray and crumble.
“I know who the captors are,” Poly said, “The tree indicated that people who had taken Red wore black attire with white diamond-shaped emblems. They go by the name ‘White Scale Viper Gang.’ They were the ones who robbed me when I had just arrived in the city. I went looking for them because I wanted my belongings back, but I gave up when I found out who they were.”
Dwindle could feel his breath shorten as fear gripped him at the mention of the gang’s name. They were considered powerful in Soalde—among the top ten most influential gangs within the city. Once only mere thugs years ago, they became prominent after getting involved in the slave trade. Slavery was illegal in Loderan but not in the surrounding kingdoms.
With Soalde’s advanced transportation technology, transporting slaves without the notice of authorities was simple. Also, coin greased most palms enough to turn the gazes of officials away from unmarked carriages and wagons coming in and out of the city. Such dealings also went smoothly when the upper districts remained untouched, and the only people affected came from the slums.
Why would a slaver gang take Red?
Though Red was considerably strong, a Base Rank 10 Hunter in fact, no one would want a slave like him. Additionally, most knowledgeable folk in the slums knew that the White Scale Vipers only traded in companion slaves, slaves for comfort and pleasure. Their most legitimate and successful business was a brothel in the Red Fox district. Their affairs required no need for well-built slaves.
Regardless, Dwindle wasn’t going to let Red become taken. He began to move.
“…Dwindle?” Poly sputtered, almost being left behind when the dwarf had suddenly started leaving, having to run to catch up.
“I won’t let them take Red!” Dwindle growled, his short legs pumping as he pushed his body to pick up the pace. Poly had to hang onto the hem of his shirt to keep from being left and lost in the rain.
The thunder boomed overhead, sounding like mythical beasts threatening the world below with their roars. Within the Classy Slums, Euness sat at his desk, on the final hour of his shift. He’d been at the guild all day. The Guild Master of their branch had promised to bring in another receptionist to lessen his workload, but "with recent cutbacks"—the Guild Master’s words—it would take some time to find an appropriate worker.
Euness knew better. Their Guild Master was a cheapskate. Even after Mister Rombell and Hunter Dwindle’s recent overwhelming success, the Guild Master still acted like the guild’s coffers were empty.
The receptionist leaned back in his chair, staring at a piece of a roof flying by the waiting area’s wide window. Such a sight was common during storms. With how the buildings in the Classy Slums were built and repaired with miscellaneous materials that never quite fit well together, more than a couple such parts were tossed about in every major storm.
The door burst open and rain poured in. A torn leather boot and plank of broken wood swooped in, carried in by the weather. At the open door, two short figures stood.
Euness recognized one of them and sputtered, “Hunter Dwindle? At such a late hour, you visit me. What do I owe—”
His words cut off seeing the look on the dwarf’s round face. Dwindle’s eyes were nearly manic with worry while dark bags had begun to form underneath them.
“Red has been taken,” Dwindle grunted to the older receptionist. He held back his emotions. Everything was going to be alright. They just had to find Red. No unmarked slave convoy would move in such weather. They still had time.
By the look on Euness’ face, he wasn’t registering the dwarf’s words.
“Please,” a feminine voice said, “We don’t have much time. The White Scale Viper gang abducted our friend.”
Behind circular spectacles, Euness’ eyes dashed to the short female next to Dwindle who had spoken. He did not recognize her, but he knew of the gang she spoke of. Turning back to Dwindle, Euness said, “Tell me what happened.”
Dwindle went over the story in a hurry. Time was not an ally here. Euness absorbed what the dwarf said without trouble, shock, disbelief or any emotion that would waste time. He believed their story, but there was a problem.
“No one is going to come,” Euness said, his face grave.
Dwindle’s small hands balled up tightly as he grunted, “They have to.”
“I know what he means to you, sir dwarf. But—”
“Is this not the Hunter’s Guild? Is this not the guild of heroes that helped free the world from Lighteater the Demon King? It is but one measly gang that deserves to be eradicated. Would the Hunter’s guild not move to save a Hunter that is a part of this very guild who was captured by such scum?”
Euness was quiet. He knew Dwindle understood the situation. They were in the slums. No matter how dire the situation was, no one would move in a hurry for the branch guild located in the impoverished part of the city.
“The champ is talented,” Dwindle went on, ignoring his dwarven pragmatism that told him he was wasting his time. “He was bound for the upper districts, I’ll have you know.” The dwarf’s voice was beginning to crack from emotion.
Euness was there. He read the reports and was the one to hand the rank 10 badge to Mister Rombell himself. Yes, Mister Rombell was expected to move up. But, he didn’t belong there yet. His potential had only piqued interests. No one from the upper district would come searching for the potential that hadn’t yet joined. And if Mister Rombell didn’t show up on time, it meant he didn’t deserve to be there in the first place.
Dwindle was quiet for a moment, his button shaped eyes seemed to have become lost. “Euness,” he said softly, “You must have connections. I know we’ve never been on the best of terms, but surely—”
“Sir dwarf, I know I don’t act like it, and sometimes I pretend not to be,” Euness replied, removing his spectacles, “But I’m a slum dweller like everyone else here.” Dwindle always saw the man as pompous and pretentious, but when pointed out, Euness really was like the rest of them. The color of his black clothes representing his vocation as a receptionist were faded and had stains that wouldn’t wash out. His spectacles were chipped on their edges. His face held the same muck and dirt that everyone in the slums had. His hands were calloused and his teeth were stained.
“I’m useless,” Euness said with deep regret, then gave a breath of a laugh, “It’s funny. To mock me, they used to call me ‘Useless’ when I was a child since it sounded so much like ‘Euness’. My, how much things have changed, and yet haven’t.” He placed his spectacles back onto his face, “I’m sorry, Hunter Dwindle. I truly am. There isn’t a dwarven mechanism I can press or sage symbol that can summon up a Hunter team to go and raid The Hole and save Mister Rombell.”
Poly couldn’t follow everything said between the Hunter associates, but gathered enough context to sense hope fading.
“This cannot be,” Poly said, her golden eyes watering, “They speak of the Hunter’s Guild throughout the world. There must be someone here that can help. There are always heroes in the Hunter’s Guild, that’s what I read in the human stories. There must be one here now, there must.”
Euness couldn’t look at either of them. His eyes were downcast, staring at the parchments below his hands.
“Do I have to be the one to say it?” Euness asked Dwindle. The dwarf’s eyes also couldn’t look at anyone. “Fine.” Euness looked to Poly and explained, “I file a report and then they send an investigation team here.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Poly’s golden eyes became alive as she began to become excited and replied, “That’s good!”
“They’ll be here by the end of the week.”
“…but what about Red? He’s in the hands of slavers.”
“…”
“Dwindle,” Poly said, panicked, pulling on the dwarf’s shirt, “What about Red? A team will investigate at the end of the week? But that won’t be soon enough. Red might be taken far away by then.”
Dwindle couldn’t look at her. Of all the times to be an unaccomplished dwarf, now was the worst time. All he had was his family that he didn’t speak to. He was manager to a champion fighter, yet what good was a manager now?
“Red is a hero,” Poly said, turning back to the human at the desk. Tears began to run down her cheeks, “He’s like what is described in the human tales and fables. But he can’t be the only one. There is someone else here like him, I’m sure of it. Please, just bring them.” She looked back to Dwindle, “You and Red still have all that coin in the bank. Give the hero some coin. Give them all of it if you have to.”
“A mercenary?” Euness offered, “They often act fast when the right amount of coin is presented.”
Dwindle shook his head and responded, “How much coin would it take to get them to fight against the White Scale Vipers?”
Euness shook his head as well. No one would go into the lair of such a gang and face them in battle. Such actions would result in certain death. People who hold truth and justice above all else often forget or are naïve about the true strength held by those who lurk in the shadows.
After a moment, Dwindle said to the older receptionist, “I have something in a chest below my bed at my home. Within holds some effects that explain how my belongings should be divvied up upon my untimely demise. If I happen to go missing, please refer to that for my last wishes.”
“Sir dwarf,” Euness replied seriously, “That is enough. Go home and wait. We can only hold on for the investigation team. You know very well any path of action you pursue against that gang will be meaningless and result in unnecessary death.”
Dwindle’s round head turned to Poly and smiled, “You know, Poly. Heroes often show up in the strangest of places. Sometimes in a place like the Reeking Valley,” He straightened out his belt, “and sometimes in an unaccomplished dwarf.”
With that, he left for the door. Poly rushed to catch up to him.
“Dwindle,” Euness shouted, standing at his desk, “If you go, I’ll report you. Dwindle, do you hear me? Don’t throw your life away!”
Tatters yanked at the collar of his tunic to straighten it out. He had donned the White Scale Viper clothes and was looking at himself in a mirror. A rat like smile grew on his face, which only grew bigger the longer he stared at himself.
He had finally become a full-fledged member of the White Scale Viper Gang.
He had new clothes and oh my, what clothes they were. His rough hands caressed the material of the fabric and a shiver of pleasure ran up his thin body. Silk, his clothes were made from actual silk. No longer would he have to abuse himself with poor linen or, gods forbid, burlap.
“Are you ready?” a voice asked.
Tatters turned to find Vicious waiting on him at the door of their room. He would’ve never dreamt of being here, but they were in the luxurious Soft Hazel inn. Tatters’ beady eyes turned to look out the window. Their room was located on the third floor of the inn, and outside their window laid Soalde’s playtime district, the red light district, officially named the Red Fox district.
He couldn’t stop smiling. Tatters, a young man from The Hole who once collected clothes from the dead so that he wouldn’t get cold in the winter, was here in the upper districts.
Vicious had appeared next to him and smirked, “It only gets better from here.”
Tatters felt flushed from excitement but quickly withdrew his expression. He scowled, “Bastard, stop acting like this!”
Vicious’ eyes squinted as his head tilted with curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”
Tatters raised an arm wrapped in layers of bandages, the appendage stiff as a board, and he hissed, “Every time, Vicious! Every time there is trouble, you leave. When that big idiot killed some of us and broke the rest into pieces, you were the only one missing from the group at the end!”
“Tatters,” Vicious said sincerely, “I would never abandon my brothers in arms.” A smile like sunshine appeared on his face, “And why are we fighting?” He gestured to the window. “There’s a whole city awaiting us.”
Color intensified on Tatters’ cheeks as he turned to look out the window again, but his scowl returned a moment after.
He hissed, “Damn you, Vicious. Stop acting so well!”
A knock came at their door, and when the knocker was let in, a burly man with a square jaw entered.
“We’re leaving, juniors,” the man said, his voice as deep as the sea.
“O-of course,” Tatters squeaked and quickly went into motion toward exit with Vicious close behind.
Endless red lights met them when they exited the inn—more lights than what floated over Soalde during nighttime. Buildings like towers stood at the sides of smooth stone streets created by sage symbols. Signs with explicit painted images called for would-be customers to go into this or that building. Women in scantily clad outfits stood on the street hooting and hollering, acting much like the signs above, urging men to accompany them inside their place of work. Magical beasts stomped around the street, dragging sage symbol carriages in various directions, their windows obscured by black velvet cloth, concealing what was going on inside.
A serpent with white scales was on the street in front of the Hazel Inn, attached to a carriage resembling a house with door, roof and windows. Sage symbols crackled around the vehicle, denying entry to those without the proper sage symbol embedded badges.
The man with the deep voice held a metal badge up to the carriage, and the crackling sage symbols fell. He opened the door to the carriage and waved his juniors to follow him in. The giant white snake at the head of the carriage watched the two young men with its red eyes while a forked tongue flickered out its mouth, but the serpent nonetheless remained passive. Within the carriage were as many luxurious furnishings as filled the inside of the Soft Hazel Inn. A carpet of soft fur was below their feet, and shelves that reached to the roof were filled with assortments of bottles of alcohol. A table stood in the center, surrounded by couches and lounge chairs.
The large man gestured for Tatters and Vicious to take a seat at the table. Receiving a bottle off one of the shelves, the man came back with it along with three cups. Filling each cup with liquor, he held one up to the two young men before him.
“Welcome to the real world of the White Scale Vipers,” he announced deeply. Both Tatters and Vicious clinked their cups with his and flushed the liquid within down in a single gulp. “Tell me,” the man said, wiping his mouth, “How was it that you two managed to crawl out of The Hole?” He couldn’t help smirking at his own little play on words.
“This man rescued the big boss’ brother and caught the guy who hurt twenty-five of our men,” Vicious informed, patting Tatters’ back.
Tatters kept his cup still as the man poured more liquor for him and cast a sidelong glance at Vicious. Times like these were when he couldn’t understand the other young man’s sentiments. Instead of propping himself up as the one who helped Tatters carry Red and the Big Boss’ brother back to the hideout in The Hole, which Vicious did, he gave all the credit to Tatters. Vicious always seemed to sever relationships with betrayal, only to rebuild them with humility and grace afterwards.
At least, that's what Tatters could gather.
The man with the deep voice bellowed, “Hah! You two are true men cut from White Scale Viper cloth. I’ve heard of the monster that ruined so many of our men. To think I’d have the privilege of accompanying those not only responsible for capturing such a beast, but the very same men who saved young Van.”
Each man gulped and three cups were emptied.
“Just tell me, Brudo Pomdero, your pleasures. Whatever you need, I shall provide.”
Vicious hooked his arm around Tatters and gave the deep voiced man, Brudo, a smirk and said, “How about showing us what it’s like to have a good time in the upper districts?”
Brudo bellowed, “You don’t have to worry about that! I, Brudo, will show you why this is called the playtime district!”
Tatters couldn’t hide his vermin-centric smile as he glanced over at Vicious. If he had been alone, Tatters wouldn’t have asked for anything, thinking stoicism to be the proper way a gang member would present himself. Or he would be too conservative and simply ask for clothes, which wouldn’t be so bad. But Vicious knew that an unforgettable night out was the only proper way to celebrate making it to the upper districts.
Vicious noticed his stare and gave him a wink. He grabbed another filled cup and held it up, shouting, “Here’s to Tatters!”
“To Tatters!”
The night wore on, and the three men had become unstable in their walking, all three disoriented by alcohol. They had so far enjoyed six different shows while enjoying the company of six different sets of beautiful women, one set for every show. Vicious even got one woman to lie with Tatters inside the carriage. Tatters then and there forgave him for all Vicious' past transgressions.
Now, it was on to gang matters. Brudo led them to the official business that the White Scale Vipers ran, a brothel known as the Goddess’ Lair. Men in front of a building as tall as a tower welcomed them as they passed through massive red doors. Once through, an exquisite and expansive room was laid before them, filled with furnishings only fit for nobility. Above, on a roof higher than trees, hung chandeliers of crystal that spread glittering lights across red walls with the help of sage symbols.
Tables were positioned evenly, and those who sat at them were men and women in black with a single white-scaled diamond on one side of each of their chests. The common hairstyle was clearly to have one’s hair slicked back tightly against the skull, almost having the hair appear like a tight-fitting cap. Women also kept the top of their hair patted down in solidarity with the male members.
Tatters could see his boss up on a dais along with other mid-level bosses of the White Scale Vipers. When their eyes met, his boss gave him a firm nod of approval. Tatters felt his face flush on top of what the alcohol was already doing to him. Vicious gave him a nudge and a knowing look that expressed Tatters was on his way up in the organization.
After some time, their boss, Boss Harvul, made his way up onto a raised platform on the dais that glowed with a sage symbol. His voice became amplified by magic as he spoke, “Brothers and sisters of the White Scale Viper,” at being mentioned, everyone touched the white diamond on their chests, “Another day has come and more profit has been made…”
As he went on, outside there were men standing stoically under the roof at the entrance as the rain fell endlessly before them. A thin man among them with a goatee sucked at his teeth in annoyance. “How did rats from The Hole make it in there?” He asked with incredulity.
“Oh, you heard about that?” A muscular man among them replied.
Another man with connected eyebrows spat, “Keep the talk to a minimum.”
“Are you afraid the Blood Jacks or Dead Night gang is going to show up, Frelto?” The man in the goatee sneered. He held out a hand out from the cover of the roof and let the surge of rain drench it, “A rival gang, attacking in this?”
The unibrow man, Frelto, glowered but said nothing else.
The muscular man exasperated, “All this time and we end up being skipped over by rats, can you believe it?” He flexed his muscles and let his mana visibly run across his body, casting a brief blue glow around him.
Light also glowed from the man with the goatee as he replied, “I hear they don’t even know how to imbue mana.”
“They’re just rats?”
“Is it surprising?” Frelto asked without expression, “Slum dwellers are not connected to any bloodlines with power. They’re from generations of unaccomplished trash.” Beneath his singular eyebrow, his eyes glowed for but a second.
“That’s right,” the muscular man chuckled then frowned, “but now that you say that, I’m all the madder because of it.” Light ran across his body again.
The man with the goatee gave the muscular man a languid gaze and said, “I'll make sure to welcome our new members thoroughly—”
His words were cut short when a flying hammer hit the side of his head and knocked him to the ground. The other two men became alert and turned to see, coming from down the wet street in the pouring rain, a rickety wagon driven by an old dwarf, the back of which was filled with other dwarves.
"To battle, lads!" A dwarf roared, standing in the wagon with one leg propped up while pointing toward the two men at the brothel’s entrance, who were staring back with disbelief.