The courtyard is quiet. A little too quiet. Unlike the rest of Malor, with its ever-present sewer aroma, here you can literally stop and smell the roses. The high, immaculately trimmed hedges tower above me, their spotted flowers peering down at me. Crickets chirp, the wind whistles, guard dogs bark incessantly. Oh, to be rich.

I pick my way through the maze of hedge animals, careful not to trip over the chains of guard dogs, which are practically frothing at the mouth. Down boys, I’m not that delicious, trust me. I leave dirty boot prints with each stair I mount. My eyes flick around in the low light, absorbing the details of the mansion. Spotless marble columns support the gilded overhang. The intricately carved golden door reflects the lantern light, shining in the darkness.

I take a deep breath, stuffing the second half of the map deeper in my pocket. What Midas doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Probably.

I slam the metal knocker against the door several times and step back. Gods, I want, I need, to shower. You can never really wash the stink of the city off, but you sure as hell can try. I absentmindedly try to smooth out my hair, fingers twitching. What I would give to have my kusarigama right now-the feel of cheap wood in my palms, shoddily welded chains brushing the fabric of my pants; oh baby.

“Yes?” The door cracks open, warm light streaming from inside. Is that…pastries I smell? My mouth salivates and I take a deep sniff through my nose. Oh yeah, that’s definitely warm, fluffy, delicious

“Can I help you?” I clear my throat, eyes flicking up and down along the seam of the door.

"You’re not Midas,” The single blue eye peering through the door narrows and I hear a sharp hiss.

“How very astute. Now, if that will be all—” Before the door can close, I stick my boot in, wincing when the metal slams against my foot. The same foot I stubbed on shrapnel earlier. This day, this damn day, I tell you.

“Actually, I need to speak to Midas.” I flash a smile, which gets no reaction. Odd, most people give in when they see me smile. Oh wait. Mask. Right. I wave the first half of the map near the man’s hooked nose. “It’s urgent.”

There’s an audibly resigned sigh, and the door opens wider. He’s tall, gaunt, sporting a tailored tuxedo. And, is that…oh you can’t be serious. Just kill me now.

“Sir,” He turns, light flashing on his monocle. A monocle by gods! I’ve seen it all. “There’s a dirty street rat here to see you.”

“That’s mister dirty street rat to you,” I mutter, crossing the threshold.

“What does he look like?” The butler’s arm comes down like a fallen tree branch, stopping me from crossing any further than the richly woven Tempraran rug in the entryway. I bet it’s soft.

“He…” The butler looks at me, lips curling in disdain. “Wears a Kitsune mask, sir. It’s probably fake.”

“It’s not!” I snap, pushing past his arm. It has been a long day, and I don’t have time for this. A gloved hand claps down on my shoulder. I spin, grabbing his wrist and twisting. “Move it or lose it,” I whisper. He hisses out a long breath, then jerks. I hear a sickening pop as his hand dislocates and he sweeps me to the ground. A push dagger is placed against my throat, his greased silver hair framing the veins bulging in his forehead.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Aberlocke,” A sharp voice snaps from out of sight. The butler looks behind, and stands quickly, tucking the dagger away and straightening his tux. Midas slips lazily into view, looking down at me with thin amber eyes. I move to stand, but he places a slippered foot on my chest and I stop, audibly swallowing.

The butler, I can kill. Midas…well, you don’t just murder the richest man in the city. I think. The rules here are a bit undefined.

Midas reaches down with a gloved hand, snatching the torn map away from me. After a glance, he hands it to Aberlocke. Leaning forward, he pulls an apple out of his robe, bright teeth crunching into the fruit. This is the kind of power you don’t mess with. Well, unless you really need to. I open my mouth, breath rasping against my dry tongue.

“You have the—”

He holds up a hand, swallowing. “I hired you to bring me a map. You got me half.” He puts more weight on my chest, oiled beard nearly touching my mask. He looms over me, shadows crisscrossing his olive skin.

“You hired me to bring you the contents of the vault.” For a skinny man, you are heavy, Midas. Good gods. “Which I have done.” Midas’ eyes narrow, apple juice dripping onto my shoulders.

“There’s more to the map,” he hisses.

“Not my problem. I did my job.”

I’m yanked up against the wall, the leather of his gloves creaking around the collar of my shirt before the apple even hits the ground. I groan when my head smacks the wall. Aberlocke silently picks up the apple. Butlers.

“You lying shit.” His lips quiver, beard trembling with rage. “Where is the other half of the map?”

“I don’t know,” I snap back, eyes flicking from the deep lines on his face to Aberlocke’s satisfied smirk. What if I bit Midas right here? What would happen? Something tells me it wouldn’t be good. But having his hands on me like this—no, deep breath. Remember the money. My shoulders slowly lower, Midas’ eyes roaming over my face. “If I knew, I’d tell you. Why would I risk my life just to lie to you?” My voice is soft, almost pleading.

“Because you’re a greedy son of a bitch,” he growls, grip tightening. “All you want is my money. I know you have the map.”

“Then pay me half.” Midas blinks and I smile, hoping it doesn’t show in my eyes. Sometimes I really do love this mask. “You say you only get half the map, then give me half the money.” Midas slowly uncurls his fists, taking a step back, stroking his beard.

“Of course,” I angle my back towards the door, sidling closer to the entryway, “if you only pay me half, word might spread about how the great and powerful Midas goes back on his word.” Midas whirls and I hold up my hands. “I wouldn’t say anything. It just might get out...” The shit-eating grin on my face is definitely showing in my eyes. And voice. And everywhere. “Somehow.”

“You—”

“Greedy son of a bitch, yes, I know.” I hold out one hand. I guess now is one of those times when you mess with Midas’ kind of power. “Now pay me in full. And if I happen to find the other half of the map, you’ll be the first to know.” Midas looks from Aberlocke, to me, then behind his shoulder, and back to me. He really looks like he wants me dead. I’m not sure if I could stop him if he tried. Please don’t call my bluff.

“Aberlocke,” The butler straightens, reaching for his dagger. “Go fill up a pouch.” Aberlocke’s eyes widen, mouth agape like a fish-out-of-water. “Now!” Midas and I stand in tense silence that stretches on for nearly a minute before the butler returns, handing Midas a jingling pouch. Music to my ears. I wiggle my fingers and Midas walks past me, opening the door.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I smirk, reaching for the pouch.

“Find me the second half of that map, or you die.” His eyes burn like liquid gold. I reach for the pouch again and he tosses it down the steps. “Bastard!” He hisses before slamming the door on me. I pick up the pouch of gold, tossing it and catching it, slipping it into one of my many pockets, smiling. I’d say that was a…success? Yeah, let’s go with that.