Hristo rode into Kilburn in a richly outfitted carriage, pulled by four sturdy draft horses with dark green ribbons in their manes and silver bells on their harness. The driver, who was also a black man from Southern Chuo, dropped down to get the door and was ready to take in the luggage for his employer. Everything about his rig exuded wealth, and when he finally exited in front of the best inn in town, the locals could take in his finely tailored suit. Hristo was nearly six foot three, well-muscled, and had skin as black and luminous as obsidian. He wore precious metals and gems on his person that cost more than most tradesmen would make in a year, the silk in his cloak was also bright green and very expensive. He was in his early twenties, but the way he carried himself indicated that he was a person accustomed to possessing wealth and influence.

A concierge came out to meet the guest, fawning and obsequious. “Welcome to the Golden Stag, milord…”

“Dubaku, my master’s name is Hristo Dubaku. He is in town for some very important business conferences, and we heard that your establishment is the finest in town,” the driver said. Hristo ignored them both as he surveyed the locals.

“We didn’t get a reservation for Mr. Dubaku…” He looked around nervously, “But I’m sure that we can prepare the executive suite. I can have a boy bring in the bags and I will get the housekeepers to prepare a room and bath immediately. Please enjoy a meal till we can prepare things to your master’s requirements.”

After a sumptuous meal of beef and potatoes with bread and goose pate, Hristo walked up the stairs to his room. The suite was large enough for a dozen occupants and he had it all to himself. The bed was large enough to accommodate a man and multiple partners. Disgusting. The bellman showed him the room's features, including a bath large enough for multiple bathers. There was a large bucket with chilled wine bottles and a plate of enough delicacies to feed a half dozen people. He tried to hide the bile forming in his mouth, The indulgence, the waste. These people do not know the gods and have no soul.

Hristo left his room without his driver and made his way towards the center of the entertainment district. He seemed to pass through an invisible boundary and all of a sudden, women were standing around unescorted. They tended to be younger and universally dressed in what he considered scandalous attire. A young woman, barely into womanhood, yelled to him across the street. Her skirt was red and hung to the floor, but her ample bosom was nearly falling out of her loosely fitted blouse.

“Oy, you there!” she hollered. “Come here luv, I’d have a word with you.”

He appraised her. She was average of face and her body appeared to be voluptuous in the way that many men most appreciated. He crossed the street towards her and stopped just a few feet away. The overpowering scent of her perfume stopped him from getting any closer.

“You look like a ‘man of means’,” she said, reaching out to try and stroke his chest with her hand. “A man who can afford the pleasures this life has to offer.” She smiled at him with stained teeth.

“Are you offering me sexual relations for money?” he asked.

“I’m offering you my company, for a price. If it leads to something, that’s strictly between consenting adults.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Guaranteed, it will lead to something.”

“Consenting adults. How old are you girl?”

“Nearly eighteen,” she replied. She leaned forward so that he could have a look down her blouse.

“What of your parents?” he asked. “Do they know what business that you are in?”

“My Da died a few years ago. Went away to fight the Lords of Shadow and never came back. My Ma thinks I’m low character, but she doesn’t say ‘no’ to the money I give her.”

“You’re a lovely woman, but I’m afraid that I’ll have to pass.” She grumbled something under her breath as he continued walking down the cobbled street.

Kilburn was a fairly large city, but this district was particularly busy, and it was still early in the evening. The streets narrowed and people were rubbing shoulders to get where they were going. In a small clearing, a juggler kept five pieces of fruit in flight while entreating the watchers to drop coins in his upturned cap on the ground. Looking around, he saw men in shambles, lying on the ground, either inebriated or asking for charity. They were dressed in rags and uniformly were unshaven and unwashed. They looked at him at first, hopefully, taking in the richness of his clothes; then with contempt as he passed them without leaving money.

He could see the smoke wafting out from a doorway shrouded in shadow before he could smell it. The scent was unpleasant, to say the least. He couldn’t quite place it till he felt himself getting lightheaded. He had heard about the new intoxicant of choice, a drug called Waste that you smoke in a pipe or hookah. Users of the substance would become lost in pleasure and calm and would lose the desire to work, be with family or others, or even eat and keep themselves clean. They would literally waste away.

These dens were already illegal, but for some reason, they were allowed to exist unmolested by the local constabulary. He stepped inside while holding a kerchief over his nose and mouth. He could still smell the fumes, but they were less effective with a face covering in place. A few people were sitting in chairs, but many more people were sitting or lying on the floor. Some appeared to be asleep, but the majority had a dazed look, and they didn’t react at all to his entering the room. There were all strata of society represented, the old and haggard that always seek oblivion; but there were also the middle-aged, men and women who should be in the prime of their productive lives. What broke his heart was how many youths were present. Boys younger than him, girls as well. Along the wall, there was a couch with a young girl, not yet an adult, who was stripped naked, and men and boys were taking turns with her as her eyes rolled around in her head like marbles in a bowl.

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His instinct was to beat the men within an inch of their lives and to throw the women out on the street, into the fresh air. That was not his mission, not the reason for traveling to Kilburn today. The rot of society was becoming too prominent to ignore. It seemed to have started after the defeat of the Lords of Shadow, but no one conflated the two. Back on the street, he continued to survey what had been a respectable part of town but was now rotted to the core. Everywhere he looked there were gambling houses, brothels, and pubs where men drank to excess every night. The drug dens were only the newest and most insidious of the contagions to infect the good people of Kronos.

The sun was nearly set and still, the lamplighters had not reached this street. Darkness made the pleasure quarter even more enticing to the weak of spirit and more menacing for the faint of heart. His trained sense of danger was causing him to be even more vigilant than usual. He could feel the attack coming. Hristo was a large man and in a one-on-one confrontation, most men would choose the path of lesser resistance and leave him alone, but they didn’t come alone. It was dark, the street was enveloped in shadow, and they saw the single figure of a man walking down the street. Word of a well-dressed stranger spread throughout the quarter, and taking his clothes alone would be worth the risk, but he surely had a fat sack of coins on his person.

“Evening guv’na,” the man said. All that could be seen was a pair of beady eyes, peering up at him from beneath a rumpled wool cap. He and the four men he had with him all wore dark clothes, ill-fitting and soiled.

“You should have split up and approached me from behind as well as from the front,” Hristo said in a disapproving tone. He smashed the man in the face with a large meaty fist. Blood splattered and the thief stumbled backward with a loud cry of pain. Hristo had been training to fight since about the time he could walk. He may dress like a dandy, but his skill at fighting was a pleasure to observe, but not to experience.

One of the thieves punched his gut, only to find the muscles to be well-defined and hard as stone. Clasping both hands together, Hristo brought them down on top of the thief's head, dropping him like a sack of rocks. Another slashed at him with a short, rusty dagger. The blade missed by an inch, tearing at his jacket but missing his flesh.

“This is my favorite jacket!” he said before knocking the man out with a haymaker. A kick to the chest sent the third man flying into a nearby wall. The fourth man had the sense to turn and run. “Get ready friends. Changes are coming to Kilburn.”

The mayor of Kilburn had a palatial estate that sat right on the beach. His guard goggled when they saw the knight in full plate armor ride up to the main gates. He was as black at night and regal in the way he carried himself. The armor he wore was of silver-coated steel and shined like the sun on a blistering sunny day in summer. On his broad chest, he wore a crest that they were all very familiar with.

“May I help you sir,” one of the guards asked.

“I’m here to speak with the mayor. I demand an immediate audience.”

“Could I get your name please?”

“Hristo Syphon,” he said coolly.

“Of course, Prince Syphon. Please follow me.” The man bowed as he spoke, then turned to lead Hristo inside.

They crossed the courtyard, and when they knocked on the outer doors of the mansion, they were met by the head butler. He looked annoyed at having one of the gate guards so close to the main property, but when he saw who they were escorting, his snide remark caught in his throat.

“Prince Syphon to see the mayor,” the guard said.

“Uh… right this way your highness,” the butler said escorting Hristo to a waiting room. “Please wait here, I’ll fetch his honor directly.”

“That’s quite alright. I’ll find him myself.” Hristo turned to go down the hallway and the butler made to stop him, but after receiving a withering look, the man wilted and allowed the knight to pass unmolested. Hristo stomped down the lavish hallway, his well-fitted armor still raising quite the ruckus as he looked for the mayor. Finally, he found an office at the end of the hall and barged in unannounced.

The mayor was a short, overweight, balding man with a nude woman sitting on his lap. They both looked up in shock at the entrance of the tall black knight.

“Whore… leave!” he said menacingly. The woman popped off the mayor’s lap, picked up her clothes, and ran from the room.

“Who the hell…” he said before seeing the crest on the knight's breast.

“I’m Hristo Syphon, nephew to our king, the king of kings, Kel Syphon. It is on his behalf that I have come to Kilburn. This city is supposed to be the jewel in the crown of Chuo, one of the largest and greatest of ports in all of Kronos.” The mayor sat back in his chair and wisely chose to shut his mouth. “I see the way that you live here, living a life of luxury as the people in your city suffer. They suffer from an evil even more insidious than the Lords of Shadow, more treacherous than the witches known as ‘the Seasons’. Do you know what I’m talking about? Mr. Mayor, you who are in charge of the welfare of our king’s subjects in this most fair of all cities?”

“No milord. I do not.”

“Societal rot. The very fabric of Chuo culture is being pulled apart at the seams. Our women are becoming whores, and worse. Our men have lost their manhood, they lack the minimum level of discipline it takes to call oneself a man. Citizens of Chuo are giving away their wealth to the pimps, the gambling masters, and the purveyors of drink and drugs. Lives are being lost or inalterably degraded as we speak, and it was your charge to not let such things happen.”

“Was?” the man asked.

“There is much to do here, many things that need to be set right; but you will go before my uncle the king, and your actions or inactions will be judged. King Syphon will determine if you have gained such wealth by some business acumen, or by taking bribes to look the other way as the people who you are tasked with caring for sink to unheard-of depths.”

The man looked defeated. He had guards aplenty, but they may not be a match for a fully armored knight. That’s assuming they would take his side against the highest authority in all of Chuo; in fact, of all of Kronos.

“When I return to this city, I will bring a company of knights, and I swear by the sword of Domina, this cesspool will receive the purging that it so desperately deserves!”