As the main city belonging to humanity, Olympia was a sprawling place with a plethora of rules and regulations. The taxes were especially heavy, which led to the natural emergence of dozens of black markets.

In these dark places, criminal elements brushed elbows legitimate organizations.

The authorities knew. The clans knew. Really, the was hardly anyone not in the know, it was only the level of access that differed.

Given that taxes were one of the driving forces behind the black markets, it was highly ironic that the Hyde Clan, the clan that administered the city’s taxes, ran the largest black market in Olympia.

The market was called the Undercity. Not much went on down there without the Hyde Clan’s knowledge. More than a few illegal operations were based out of the Undercity. Entire clans having been destroyed for similar activities did not deter the powerful clan in the slightest.

Undead puppets scanned Sorin’s pass as he and his companions entered the Undercity through one of its many entrances. The process was fully automated, making it rather easy for, Tiffany Welsh, to get them access.

“Now, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” said Tiffany as they left the gate to the underground black market. “Do not killing anyone. Do not attack the undead guards. An do not, I repeat, do not casually enter any agreements with anyone. If someone makes an offer, inquire about the price and don’t directly agree. You’ve all read stories warning you about accepting the tempting offers of myths? Well, there’s a grain of truth to it here. Any agreement you make while inside the Undercity constitutes a binding contract.”

Sorin and Lorimer had no problems with this arrangement and took in the city with calm and measured expressions. All sorts of oddities were in the air, but they had a mission and couldn’t allow themselves to get distracted.

“Ree!” hissed Lorimer, pulling Lawrence’s attention away from a place called the Heavenly Bathhouse. A collared woman with gills was waving enticingly at Lawrence, and the young man had failed to resist her natural charm.

“Wow,” said Lawrence “Just wow. The charm on that girl. Makes it hard not to look. In fact, did you see that under the water she doesn’t have—”

“Focus,” said Sorin as they pushed their way through crowded streets. Denizens of all cultivation levels roamed the Undercity, but none of them were simple.

There were dryads and nymphs. There were Rockmen and Flamekin. There were harpies and simple criminals, as well as a large number of devious Agents speaking as equals with officers of the law and corrupted clansmen.

It was a problem, and not just because of the brewing trouble it implied. Gareth is on the verge of losing control. His teeth are clenched and so are his fists. His blood pressure is elevated. He’s not going to attack, is he?

Sorin considered confronting the man, but decided to avoid risking exposure and channeled a short burst of Hatred into Gareth’s body. Not to counter his existing hatred but to redirect his wrath. “It would be better to wait and gather information,” whispered Sorin in his ear. “It will make our eventual strike all the more effective.”

His words calmed the archer down somewhat, allowing Sorin finally take a good look at the miniature city that lay before them. Corpse puppets actively patrolled the streets and guarded shops. Representations of the Underworld Bident, the symbol of the Hyde Clan, could be seen everywhere.

This was the heart of enemy territory. A place where Sorin did not belong.

Sorin took great care to rein in his spiritual senses, but it didn’t take much for him to discover the reason that no one dared investigate the famous black market. Near the back of the Undercity lay a massive gate into the abyss. This was the Gate of the Underworld, rumored to be one of two access points into the ancient underworld.

“Hey! Like what you see?!” A tall, sickly-looking man walked up to them and opened his coat. Lawrence made a show of recoiling in disgust, but a shared image made everyone aware in advance that what lay inside the coat was a large number of intricately carved jewels inside tiny pockets; the man retrieved one pushed it into Lawrence’s face.

“This beauty will charm any lady you so desire,” pitched the shady salesman. “She’ll climb into your bed and be none the wiser come morning. Or maybe you’d like this one? A charm for a powerful warrior; all that’s required is a blood sacrifice now and then. Perfectly manageable for a strapping lad like you.”

Lawrence reflexively reached out to the gem but stopped dead when a dagger sliced off man’s hand. The man clutched the appendage and glared at the attack as blood spurted out onto the street,

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

“Get lost, loser,” said Tiffany, looking down at the kneeling man. “He might be a newby, but he’s under my protection.”

“Agent,” hissed the man as he pulled away his bloody stump.

This was but the first of many questionable interactions they had that day. While killing was strictly prohibited in the Undercity, attacks were common, So too, they discovered, were deaths.

Their group had the good fortune of stumbling upon an incident where a woman attacked and killed a man for tricking her into an illegitimate slave contract.

When the authorities arrived, they confirmed that the contract was, in fact, forged. They then cut the woman down for daring to break the laws of the city. If her complaint was legitimate, she should have instead brought her complaint up through the proper channels. The fact that she’d been locked up inside a house was irrelevant.

The Undercity, Sorin realized, was a lawyer’s paradise and a hero’s worst nightmare. Even legitimate transactions were questionable in such a place, where the Hyde Clan’s laws were absolute regardless of fairness or consent.

Which was why he found it discomforting that he liked the place. He decided to heed the notes he periodically left to himself a little more closely going forward.

Sorin had doubts why anyone would ever come to the Undercity, but these doubts evaporated when he visited a simple alchemical shop. Most of the goods were legitimate. They even contained few toxins relative to those shops Sorin had seen above-ground. Even so, their prices were thirty percent lower than those on the surface. This was despite the fact that the tax on alchemical goods was only 15 percent.

“Why not just sell these up on the surface?” Sorin asked the owner, feigning naivety.

His question earned him an eyeroll from Tiffany and a wheezing laugh from one-armed man in charge of alchemical sales. “Yes, I’m sure the organizations and clan would love to compete with us on price after they worked so hard to strangle out their competitors. Now are you buying or not? You’ve been looking for half an hour already.

“I took a look at these normal goods to judge the caliber of your shop,” answered Sorin. “If you’d be so kind, I’d like to inquire about some of your more uncommon products.”

Shrugging, the one-armed man led them to a desk at the back where vials of medicinal pills and potions were shown. Three of them were interesting poisons that Sorin wished to add to his collection. There was also over a dozen different pills with interesting interactions.

“If you’re asking for them, I’m sure you don’t need to be told this, but I give the spiel to any new customers,” said the salesman. “These are corrupted pills and poisons. Their effects are much greater than normal, but the user must accept a certain amount of corruption into their body. Not a problem with the poisons, but something worth thinking about for normal pills.”

Gareth snorted, and Sorin shot him a disapproving frown. “This one is interesting,” he said, pointing out a three-star pill that would be useful even to middle Flesh-Sanctification cultivators. “Why does it contain so much more corruption than the others. Was it not just the infusion process where corruption was introduced, but into the ingredients themselves?”

The man’s eyes lit up. “You are correct. It’s a little-known fact that plants, adaptable as they are, can be pushed beyond their limits and corrupted. The process is slightly different than nurturing strains, but the results can be rewarding, if a little variable.

“The main problem is reliability. Corruption isn’t exactly an exact science. The ingredient incorporated into that pill was a happy accident. We get one every month or so, and it can increase a cultivator’s sanctification by 5% almost instantly. The price, of course is mental instability via an infusion of Violence.”

Sorin found the process interesting, so he negotiated a price and settled on some gold coins and three divine crystals. This was an unavoidable cost, as divine crystals were likely a core ingredient in producing the pills in the first place.

After this first stop, Sorin insisted that they visit other nearby shops. “I really wish we’d brought Daphne here,” said Sorin. “She’d be much more aware of what sorts of things we could buy at a bargain here.”

“Well, you’ll just have to settle for her money,” said Gareth. “I’m honestly surprised you managed to convince her to fund this little expedition.”

Daphne and Gareth were unfortunately too tied up with their clan’s patrols to break free. As for Astley… Astley was indisposed. Since returning from the advanced dungeon, she’d locked herself up and engrossed herself in her research.

After satisfying herself that they wouldn’t immediately break their cover, Tiffany split off from their group to gather information. Their group continued their shopping but were less aggressive than when they were in her company.

“I got the information you needed,” Tiffany reported upon returning. “Or at least the start of it.”

“You’ve determined the general layout for the human trafficking market?” asked Sorin.

“I did better than that,” said Tiffany. “I’ve got addresses, names, and the different wares they specialize in.

“My only question is why human trafficking in particular. Night Hawks don’t tend to show much interest in the market. And speaking of Nighthawks, I met a few along the way. I think they were ransoming prisoners? Very interesting given how many Night Hawks die every year. Makes you wonder why the higher ups seem to trust them so much.”

“Tifanny,” Sorin warned. “You might not be directly corrupting Gareth, but your words stretch the limits of our contract.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. I agreed, didn’t I? And I looked into what you wanted, and your secret is safe with me. As for what use you have for human slaves, I couldn’t care less.

“Besides, it should be obvious be now that the powers that be know exactly what’s going on. It’s not just the Night Hawks, but the Pandoran Government itself that’s been corrupted.”

Unfortunately, she was right. There was simply no hiding the nature of the Undercity’s business dealings, so the Hyde Clan didn’t even bother.

Yet this only increased Sorin’s curiosity as to why the Arma Clan had been destroyed and why this case of human trafficking had been taken so seriously. The situation stank like a conspiracy.

Sorin would get to the bottom of it, by hook or by crook.