Roderick threw another coin on the table and shook the dice in the cup. “I'll match you for another round, Erik.”

The man on the other side of the table gave a wide smile, showing crooked teeth. “Looks like you haven't lost enough for one day. I'll gladly take you up on that.” Doing so, he rattled his own dice around in his cup. Erik was cheating, of course, and it wasn't even particularly well done. Of his five dice, around three tended to land upon a six.

The man probably thought Roderick was too drunk on cheap booze to notice, but the truth was that Roderick just didn't really care about the small amount of money he lost during their game. Once upon a time, it would have seemed like a small fortune to him, but those days were long behind him. Nowadays, Roderick placed far more importance on connections than a few silver bits. To form connections on this side of the city, Erik was an optimal candidate. He himself was no one important, merely an enforcer for the gang that ran this part of the city. Erik accompanied the son of the gang leader on his weekly trip to the brothel however, where the young master would gamble, drink, and whore with some of his friends.

If Roderick could gain access to that event, making it to the leader himself was only a matter of time. That was why he spent the last three evenings gambling with the enforcer, drinking watered-down beer.

Showing none of his thoughts on his face, Roderick threw the dice, once more glancing at Erik using “Gaze upon the Tapestry,” watching the karmic strings that led from him outward towards the city. He soon found the one leading to his quarry. It was dim, more of an acquaintance than a friend, but it would do.

Predictably, Erik won by a landslide, wearing a satisfied expression, no doubt thinking highly of his own intelligence in tricking Roderick. “Reckon that's it for me this evening,” Roderick said. “Should be able to scrounge up some coin tomorrow though, meet you here again?”

“Nah, I won't be here then, though...” Erik scrunched his face up, clearly thinking hard about something. Moment of truth, Roderick thought.

“If ya got enough coin, you can come by the Silken Touch once the eighth bell rings. Gotta be careful what you say there, though; there's gonna be people who could make your life hard in these parts if you piss 'em off enough.”

Roderick pretended to think for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table. “Long as there's booze and dice, I'll be there. Though you think they might have some work for me? I've been making do for now, but times are hard, and only getting harder.”

To that, Erik nodded sagely. “Ain't that the truth, what with the rebellion in the North. For work, you gotta speak with the boss; he'll be there tomorrow, but we always need more people. Wait until he is a pitcher or two in, and you might just land a good first gig.”

Roderick nodded his gratitude and drank the last of his beer. It tasted like piss, of course, which reminded him of his youth. Setting down his pitcher, he stood up and made his way over to the exit, pretending to stumble a bit. Even if Erik wasn't paying attention anymore, it paid to never break character where someone could observe you.

Stepping out onto the street, he took a deep breath. The air smelled faintly of shit and smoke, but it was better than in the Drunken Sailor, the tavern he just left. The narrow alleyways wound through the dilapidated buildings, casting long shadows in the dim light of flickering torches. Whistling to himself, he made his way through the night, soon hearing two sets of steps behind him. He pretended not to notice but used “Gaze upon the Tapestry” to see if he could identify his followers that way.

Reading their karma, he recalled their faces. They were two workers who had sat on the other side of the tavern while he gambled. Vaguely he remembered that they might have been there yesterday as well. They must have seen me gamble and decided to try their luck at relieving me of the rest of my coin, he mused to himself. Unnoticed by his pursuers, Roderick allowed a grin to take over his face. He kept on stumbling along the street for a couple of minutes before making a show of unbuckling his belt as if to take a piss and stepping into an alleyway.

Once they could no longer see him, he slipped a dagger into his hand and made his way to the end of the alleyway. There he waited, and not a minute later, the men made their way into the alleyway and blocked the exit. Roderick let his gaze wander over them, still feigning drunkenness.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

One was a big man, standing nearly a head taller than Roderick himself, with arms that seemed to be as big as tree stumps, while the other was smaller and had what could only be described as rat-like features. The small one had a nasty scar running across his face, the ugly and angry kind, not one of the thin faded ones that heroes in stories always ended up with. In contrast, Roderick himself was of average height. He had muscles, but his build was more lean than muscular.

The small man snickered, “What do we have here? Looks like luck is with us today.”

Roderick made a show of stumbling towards the wall until he was backed up to it and stuttered out, “What do you want from me? I've got no more coin, gambled it all away.”

Ratface let out another laugh, “That we'll see for ourselves.” The two made their way closer to him until they were only a couple of steps away. At that point, Roderick exploded into action, his apparent drunkenness gone, and closed the distance. The big man barely had a chance to react before Roderick's dagger found his chest, slipping it between the ribs. With practiced ease, he stabbed one more time before dancing around the big man, who still had enough life in him to nearly clip him with a wide swing of his huge fist. Roderick positioned the bleeding man between himself and Ratface, who had drawn his own knife and was in the process of screaming obscenities about Roderick's family history. Meanwhile, the big man was swaying on his feet.

Roderick caught his breath for a second, the adrenaline hitting him hard, before he aimed a kick at the giant's knee, and the man collapsed, the blood loss evidently too much for him.

Ratface let out a shriek and sprinted towards Roderick, who took a stance before suddenly throwing a knife with the hand that was empty until now. It hit Ratface in the face, the would-be mugger letting out a wail. Roderick closed the distance and hit Ratface's elbow with a fist, the arm breaking due to brass knuckles he had slipped on blindingly fast.

Roderick's knee found Ratface's groin, and the smaller man collapsed with a huff. Careful not to get any blood on himself, Roderick slit Ratface's throat and proceeded to do the same with the giant. Then he took their purses. While he didn't need their money, not by a long shot, it was about the principle of the thing. Collecting his thrown knife and cleaning it on Ratface's mantle, Roderick broke out into a sprint for a few minutes before slowing down and continuing at a normal pace.

He walked for nearly fifteen more minutes until his heartbeat had slowed, and his breathing was at a normal pace. The distant sounds of the city's nightlife murmured through the air, a cacophony of laughter, distant music, and the occasional raised voice. Roderick navigated the labyrinth of the lower city, the cobblestone streets uneven beneath his feet. Puddles of murky water reflected the dim glow of the sporadically placed lanterns, making the shadows flicker. The scent of dampness clung to the air, mingling with the distant aroma of decay from the refuse-filled corners.

As he moved through the tangled alleys, the echoes of his own footsteps reverberated against the weathered walls. Stray cats darted between shadows, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. In the corners, beggars wrapped in tattered garments sought refuge, their gazes momentarily meeting Roderick's before drifting away.

Roderick took twists and turns until he was fully alone. Despite himself he shuddered at the eerie atmosphere. Soon after, he came to a stop the foot of a wall. The Wall to be exact, the one that separated the wealthier citizens from the dregs, one that was heavily patrolled this time of the night. Roderick held his breath, listening for a few seconds. Upon hearing no guards, he started scaling The Wall. His fingers found their way up easily, despite The Wall being built smoothly, and he climbed higher and higher. Despite being only about 7 yards high the time it took him felt like an eternity. Eventually he reached the top though and dragged himself up There he crouched while regaining his breath until the glow of torchlight indicated a patrol of guardsmen making their way towards him.

Letting out a sigh, he slipped over The Wall, this time on the side of the rich district, and let himself fall. He landed lightly despite the fall being multiple yards high and was once more in an alleyway. This one, however, was much nicer. For one, there were no bodies and no puddles of blood. There was also barely any trash, and the smell was downright pleasant.

The narrow cobblestone streets were well-maintained, and the architecture spoke of affluence. Buildings adorned with ornate carvings and elegant balconies stood tall on either side. The occasional streetlamp cast a warm glow, illuminating the surroundings with a flickering light. He strolled through the well-kept alleyways, the silence of the night broken only by the distant sounds of revelry from the wealthier parts of the city.

He wasn't in the clear yet, however, what with his filthy peasant clothes, but he nonetheless walked out of the alleyway, where a carriage was parked. Roderick nodded to the old driver, who greeted him. “Good to see you, Master Roderick. How was your trip?”. “Fruitful today, Jonathan, it seems I might just get a job tomorrow.”

At that, the driver smiled. “Ah, then let us be on the way back to the estate. Though before that...” Jonathan took out a handkerchief and used it to clean up some blood splatters on the back of Roderick's hand. “You would think by now I would be able to keep myself from getting splattered,” Roderick murmured before he entered the carriage.

Jonathan started driving while Roderick changed out of his clothes into some much nicer ones, assuming the look of a young but wealthy merchant.