“Who is Gove?”

Drac treads down the old tunnel. Rats scurry around bones and skulls, scared by Drac’s flame on his finger.

An old contact of my handler. Helped with jobs, equipment and a hiding place. It has been a long time, but I remember him being a man of his word. When my handler left for their missions, I stayed with him. Gave me meals and a place to sleep.

“A long time… Will he remember you?”

Probably not. Doesn't matter anyway. We just need information.

After an hour of walking, Drac comes across a hatch. Light peeks through the cracks. The abandoned tunnel continues to go on, however, this is the destination told by Hood. Up the ladder, Drac goes and the hatch is pushed up. Something heavy is on top of the door. Drac uses his aura to push the weight aside. Drac climbs up and finds himself in an alley. A drunkard rolled over to the side hiccups. He walks further into the alleyway, and a nondescript door calls to him.

We are here. Let's greet the ugly bastard.

Full of anticipation, Drac opens the unassuming door. The tavern is empty of customers but a group at the bar counter. They wear common garb with a black cloth wrapped around their arms. They laugh and cheer as they beat up a kneeling older man with white receding hair, a large moustache and olive skin. His face bruises and welts grow but Hood remembers his face.

Gove…

Drac jumps into action, leaping with levitation and aura. His knee connects to a smiling man's temple. Knocked out, he flew into the bar counter.

The assailants froze, surprised by their friend’s unconscious body. Knives and daggers pulled out. They spread out, trying to encircle Drac. One attacks from the back. Drac steps away, and grabs the forearm. With aura strength, Drac makes the Dagger fall. Drac jabs the attacker's chin. Another slice from above, caught with Drac’s right hand, left-hand palms the aggressor's ribs. A crunch was heard before a scream. A fist to the face quiets it. A stab is dodged, leaving the opponent open for a hook to the body. An attacker advances his target; Drac’s right leg. The same leg kicks off the knife. With a twist Drac back-kicks. The attacker falls to the floor holding his stomach.

“Leave.” Drac unsheathes Heilong just enough for the blade to show.

Groups face betray their fear. They nod their heads, leaving with tails tucked between their legs, unconscious friends in tow.

The door closes, and Heilong put back in its sheath. Laughter can be heard from behind. A raspy laugh of a smoker. Drac looks back to see the bruised man, gold teeth shine from his smiling mouth.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“The boy has grown into a man. Still causing trouble wherever he goes!” the old man tries to lift himself. Seeing him struggle Drac goes up to help and guides him to a chair.

“So, Four. What are you in need of?”

Marina steps from her carriage. Bob located an Inn in a wealthy part of town. The buildings surrounding are newly constructed. The roads are new and kept in good condition. People walk the streets in cleaner garb. The smarter dressed were followed around by servants. Close to the road, the inn looks upon the river. There is a nice view of boats of all designs passing by. People who seem to be Aristocrats exit from private boats. A husband and wife are inspected at the riverside. A commoner argued with a guard at the checkpoint. With a whack of a baton to the back of the head the commoner is dragged away.

Bob parks the carriage at the stable, carrying back their luggage which includes Dracs. Marina walks into the inn. A charming middle-aged woman greets her at the counter.

“Welcome to Gregory’s Inn. How may I serve you, miss?”

“Three rooms.” Bob trudges along with luggage in both arms.

The lady looks through her record. “I am very sorry, only two rooms are available.”

“You’ll share with the lazy one, won't ya?” Marina elbows Bob softly. He grunts. Marina pays the worker 5 gold gold for a week's stay. An absolute rip-off. Seems common in this city. She gets the keys for the rooms.

The husband and wife from earlier on walk up to the desk. The stinkiest of perfumes drift from them. The wife wears a purple dress adorned with a scarf made of an animal pelt. Her Face is strict and no-nonsense. Black and grey hair in a bun. The husband is a husky. Barely fitting his waistcoat. His black coat hangs to the back of his knees Face full of stubble. Hair greying like his wife. The wife places something on the table. Marina took a glimpse while walking to her room. A gold coin. Fatter and minted differently than any coin she had seen. Without saying a word the lady at the front desk hands the couple a set of keys and bows her head.

“Favouritism,” Marina mumbled.

“Well, uh…”

Just repeat what I say.

“It's been too long, Old man. The place still looks rough.”

“You call but my business is rough, I call it staying low.” Gove's grin hurts his cheeks. Drac goes to look for some first aid.

“How is Maki? Has she calmed down after all these years?

“Not even a little! My little monster she will always be. She goes out doing god knows what, but she always comes to see her old man. Last time I saw her she was just peachy.” Drac comes back with the aid. He applies it on Gove; the old man squints in pain.

“Be Careful with that, Four.”

Drac has just met this Gove a few minutes ago, but something within him pulls at him. Making him feel nostalgic, making him trust this old man. Hood?

“Four, I know you are not the catch-up and chat kind. Why are you here? Did she finally let you go?”

Let go?

Ask him about the slaves.

“I did come for something. Information. I was tracking a lead for a job. It ends here. I have come to find out where else it leads.”

“Umm.. which nobles?”

“Whoever a man called Toren works for.”

Gove stood from his seat.

“Thank you for today. I have one less shiner because of you. But I will have to ask you to leave the premises.”