The guard paused, his beady eyes darting between Seth, Adrian, Kael, and Galtier. Adrian caught the subtle shift in the atmosphere as other guards began to shuffle, sizing them up. They’re waiting for any excuse to make this ugly.

The lead guard leaned back and spat on the ground, feigning disinterest. “A silver each, eh? Could be I’m feelin’ generous. Three silver for the lot of ye.”

Seth’s lips twitched as he fought a smirk. “That’s more like it.”

With exaggerated slowness, he drew three silver coins from a pouch, placing them one at a time into the guard’s outstretched palm. The guard stared at the coins, weighing them in his hand before grunting and waving them through. "Now move away before I change my mind."

“Keep close,” Seth murmured.

The group passed through the gate, the guards’ sneers and muttered remarks lingering like the stench of rot on the air. Adrian kept close to Kael, who despite his age, walked with a casual confidence. Galtier moved behind Seth who took the lead, his posture loose but his eyes constantly scanning the streets ahead.

The South Tusk district sprawled out before them like a wound on the city. Crumbling buildings leaned against one another. Narrow alleys disappeared into shadow and the cobblestones beneath their feet were slick with grime.

Adrian wrinkled his nose. This place reeks of misery.

“Eyes peeled,” Seth said over his shoulder. “Trouble finds you here if you look for it, or if you’re stupid enough to walk in looking like fresh meat.”

Kael chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t mind a little trouble.”

Seth shot him a glance but said nothing, his pace quickening as they passed a group of men huddled around a broken barrel, sharing a bottle of something too strong and too cheap. Their eyes followed the group, narrowing with interest as they passed.

When they rounded a corner, a thin man stepped out of the shadows, clothes hanging off him like loose skin. In one hand, he clutched a makeshift "knife" made from broken glass. He moved fast, too fast for Adrian to react, and lunged at Kael.

Kael sidestepped the blade with an almost lazy grace. His hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting. There was a sickening crack as the bone gave way, and the man let out a high-pitched scream, dropping the knife to the ground. Kael released him with a shove, and the would-be mugger stumbled back, clutching his arm as he whimpered.

“Try again next time buddy, see how that works out for you,” Kael said with a prideful sneer.

The man spat a curse, backing away before disappearing into the shadows. But Seth’s expression darkened. “Don’t get cocky, kid. Next time, just keep walking.”

Kael shrugged, still grinning. "Sure, sure."

After walking a bit more, Seth stopped in front of a building with a sagging roof and faded paint. The wooden sign above the entrance bore the faint outline of a wolf’s head, though age and grime had all but erased its details. The door hung slightly ajar, its hinges rusted and creaking with the slightest breeze.

Inside, the bar was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting long shadows across rough-hewn tables. Patrons huddled in small groups, their murmured conversations halting as the newcomers entered. A few curious eyes lingered, but they quickly returned to their drink.

Seth led the group to the bar, where a burly man with a shaved head was wiping down mugs with a rag that looked like it had seen better days. He didn’t glance up until Seth tapped the counter twice. “Vice, got a minute?”

The barkeeper looked up, eyes narrowing before recognition lit them. He dropped the rag and extended a massive hand, which Seth clasped firmly. "Been too long. Still breathing, I see.”

“Barely,” Seth replied, a trace of a smile on his lips. “But that’s another story. I need a favor.”

Vice’s eyes shifted to Adrian, Kael, and finally Galtier. His smile faded, replaced by wary appraisal. “These friends of yours?”

“They need a place to stay. Just for a bit.”

“Come on, you know I don’t run a charity.”

Seth leaned closer, his voice dropping but still audible to Adrian. “I know. But you owe me.”

Vice’s gaze lingered on Seth for a long moment before he sighed. “Damn you, Seth.” He jabbed a finger at Adrian, Kael, and Galtier. “They cause any trouble, it’s on you.”

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

“They won’t,” Seth promised.

Vice grunted and waved them to follow. He led them through a narrow hallway that reeked of spilled ale and smoke, stopping in front of a door that hung slightly askew. “It ain’t much,” he said, shoving it open to reveal a small room with three narrow beds, a single window, and a rickety table. “But it’s better than the street.”

Adrian stepped inside, taking in the creaking floorboards and peeling walls. This place is… about what I expected. “Thank you,” he said, turning to Vice, who just shrugged.

“Don’t thank me. Thank Seth. And keep your heads down.”

Seth straightened, pushing away from the wall with a weariness that Adrian recognized but couldn’t fully grasp. “I’ll be going now. To be straight with you, I can’t stand this place. South Tusk has a way of getting under your skin, and I’d rather keep my distance.”

Adrian stepped forward, offering his hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

Seth hesitated, then clasped Adrian’s hand firmly. “Just don’t get yourselves killed, and… good luck.”

With a final nod, Seth turned and disappeared through the door, his footsteps fading into the noise of the bar below. Adrian glanced at his companions. Kael had already slouched onto one of the narrow beds, pulling the coarse blanket over himself with a tired, almost childlike motion. “I’m going to sleep for a bit, wake me if someone tries to stab us.”

Galtier, however, remained standing.. “But we need to move. The red-eyed girl won’t be here until tomorrow. Until then, we should learn about this place.”

Kael yawned, his head sinking deeper into the coarse blanket. “Can’t we take a break first? I just snapped some guy’s arm back there. I’ve earned a nap.”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re tired, you can stay here. Galtier and I can handle this.”

Kael groaned, kicking the blanket aside with dramatic flair. “Yeah, right. I’ll stay here and get stabbed in my sleep while you two play adventurers. No thanks.”

He pushed himself upright, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll come.”

Adrian stifled a smile. “Let’s not waste time, then.”

The trio made their way out, retracing their steps through the smoky hallway and into the streets of South Tusk. The air outside was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and rancid waste, clinging to them like a second skin. This place eats at you. No wonder Seth wanted to leave.

Soon, they reached a square where merchants hawked their wares from rickety stalls. Most sold cheap goods: fraying ropes, rusted tools, and questionable food. A few had more sinister offerings: knives of dubious origin, small vials of glowing liquid, and powders that Adrian instinctively knew were poison.

Galtier’s gaze swept the square. “Observe their markings. Every gang has a sign.”

Adrian nodded, his eyes scanning the vendors and their patrons. Some bore crude tattoos of crossed swords or coiled serpents. Others had scars deliberately carved into their arms or faces.

Then, a sudden movement caught Adrian’s eye. A group of men stepped out of a nearby alley, their faces set in predatory smirks. Each one bore a tattoo of a white lion on their arms.

Adrian’s stomach tightened as the men fanned out, forming a loose circle around him, Kael, and Galtier. One of them, a wiry man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, swaggered forward, spinning a knife lazily in his hand. “Well, well, wot ‘ave we ‘ere? Fresh meat, strollin’ into our patch like ya own it.”

Adrian’s fingers twitched, but he kept still. Not yet. Let them make the first move.

“We’re just passing by. Is that a problem?" Kael asked.

The man barked a laugh. “Passin’ through? ‘Course it is, lad. Round ‘ere, passin’ through costs ya. And ya look like ya can pay up nice ‘n easy.”

Adrian stepped forward. “We’re not here to fight. Let us go, and no one gets hurt.”

The thug’s grin stretched wider, showing crooked, yellow teeth. “Oh, yer gonna pass, all right… after we take our cut.”

Adrian’s fingers tightened at his sides, and a faint blue glow flickered around his hand as a small fireball materialized. The ethereal blue flame hovered just above his palm, casting an eerie glow. “Your choice. Walk away now, or make this difficult for yourselves.”

The wiry man’s grin faltered as his gaze flicked to the flame. For a moment, silence blanketed the clearing, broken only by the shuffling of boots on dirt. One of the other thugs, a burly man with a patchy beard, pulled a folded paper from his pocket, glancing between it and Adrian.

“Wait,” the thug muttered, his brow furrowing as his eyes darted back to Adrian. “Is this… is this the boy Miss Nat was talkin’ about?”

“What?” the wiry man barked. He snatched the paper, unfolding it with a snap. His eyes scanned the page, then flicked up to Adrian. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and the color drained from his face. “Well shit.”

What is going on? Adrian narrowed his eyes. He didn’t lower his guard, watching the man’s reaction closely.

The wiry thug’s knife clattered to the ground as he raised his hands, his tone shifting into awkward cheerfulness. “Oi, now, hang on. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding? You were just trying to rob us a minute ago.” Adrain said.

The man chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Water under the bridge, eh? Ain’t that right, boys?” He glanced over his shoulder at the others, who nodded vigorously, muttering their agreement.

“Then what do you want now?”

“It’s, uh… we got orders, see. From Miss Nat. Said we was to look for a boy with white hair and blue fire. Said to bring him to her, no matter what.”

Adrian exchanged a glance with Kael, who shrugged casually, though his grin had disappeared. Galtier, standing motionless in his dark armor, finally broke his silence. “And who is this so-called Miss Nat?”

The wiry thug’s mouth opened, then closed again. He cleared his throat, clearly stalling. “Er… well, Miss Nat, she’s, uh…” He rubbed his hands together nervously before blurting out, “Natasha Whitewynn.”