Kiel leaned against the wall of the hideout, his eyes closed in weary thought. Three days. They'd been holed up in this dingy little bolt-hole in Emberstone Quarter for three long days, ever since their narrow escape from the [Sacrificer]'s ritual chamber.

The image of that room still haunted him - the creepy runes, the feverish light in the madwoman's eyes, Dot paralyzed and helpless in the center of it all. If he'd been just a few minutes later...

Kiel shook his head sharply, shoving the thought away. No point dwelling on might-have-beens. They'd made it out, both of them, and that was enough for now.

He cast a weary glance around the small room, taking in the water-stained walls, the heaps of moldering cloth that passed for bedding. Not much, but it would have to do. He'd squatted here himself, long ago, after his own Class had manifested. After his family had...

No. Kiel shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. That was ancient history. No point digging at old scars.

He glanced across the room to where Dot lay curled on an old blanket, the boy's chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of deep sleep. At least one of them was getting some rest. Kiel didn't like to think how little he'd slept these past few days, his mind constantly churning with worries and half-baked plans.

The pharmacy would have to stay closed for now, that much was certain. He couldn't risk going back there, not when the [Sacrificer] knew it was their home base. And Barrow, his so-called 'master'? The man wouldn't even notice they were gone, too absorbed in his own alchemical research down in the shop's basement. Trying to crack the secret of upgrading his class, as if that was a feat any two-bit hedge mage could achieve.

Kiel snorted softly. It didn't work like that, advancing from [Herbalist] to [Pharmacist] to [Alchemist]. The system was more complex. He'd heard of Level 10 [Pharmacists] who never managed the transition, while a few rare prodigies ascended after only a half-dozen levels. It came down to something deeper than just skills and stats, some ephemeral quality that couldn't be pinned down so easily.

Just like my own class, Kiel thought bitterly. [Skill Trainer]. An unacceptable class in the eyes of the world. One that marked him as a heretic, no better than the crazed Sacrificer hunting him and Dot.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Kiel pushed himself upright and moved to their meager stash of supplies in the corner. They were running low on food and water. He'd have to venture out again soon, see if he could scrounge up some news while he was at it. Staying completely cut off from information was almost as risky as staying in one place for too long.

Dot stirred, blinking up at Kiel as he stuffed a few coins into his pocket. "Where're you going?" the boy mumbled.

Kiel forced a small smile for him. "Just gonna see if I can find out what's happening in the city. See if the Inquisitors dealt with our crazy friend yet."

Dot's eyes went wide. "On your own? But what if she's still out there? What if she catches you?"

"She won't," Kiel said firmly. "I'll be careful. Keep my head down." When Dot still looked unconvinced, he ruffled the kid's shaggy hair. "Hey, one of us has to go, yeah? Not like we can stay cooped up here forever."

"I guess," Dot said doubtfully. He chewed his lip, a shadow passing over his face. "Kiel...about what happened back at the ritual site..."

Kiel tensed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. "What about it?"

"Those skills you used..." Dot frowned up at him. "The paralysis thing, and you were so fast. That's not [Pharmacist] stuff. How'd you do all that?"

Kiel looked away, he couldn't tell Dot the truth, not the full truth. A thirteen-year-old street kid didn't need to get mixed up in heretical classes and Inquisitorial vendettas, at least more than he already has.

"Things aren't always so black and white," he said carefully. "You'll understand more once you Awaken your own class. The system's got a lot of quirks and exceptions."

"Oh. That's it?" Dot sounded almost disappointed. "I thought...never mind. Forget it."

Relief rushed through Kiel. Dodged that one, for now. But he knew Dot, knew the kid was sharp as a tack under that scruffy exterior. He'd figure it out eventually, if they lived long enough. What would Kiel tell him then? In three years, five? When Dot started to notice how many different skills his 'brother' could pull out...

One problem at a time, Kiel. Focus on surviving today before you worry about tomorrow.

"I'll be back soon," he told Dot, shrugging into his cloak. "Stay put 'til I get back, you hear? No wandering off."

"I'm not stupid," Dot muttered sullenly. "Not like I got anywhere to wander off to."

"I know you're not. Just...be careful, okay?"

He waited for Dot's grudging nod, then slipped out into the early morning murk. Time to go fishing for information.

***

Kiel ducked his head as he hurried through the narrow streets, shoulders hunched beneath his cloak. He kept to the shadows, careful to avoid the light. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

Without any potions or tonics to protect him, he was vulnerable. If trouble found him now, he'd have to fall back on his Skills. And using those in public was a sure way to bring the Inquisition or worse, the heretic down on his head.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Keep your wits about you, get the information and get out. No risks, not now.

He made his way through the city, taking a circuitous route toward his destination. It was a path he knew well, one that avoided the major thoroughfares and guard patrols. The twists and turns were as familiar to him as the lines on his palm.

Finally, he slipped into a darkened alley, little more than a narrow gap between two crumbling buildings. The reek of piss and rotting garbage assaulted his nostrils. Kiel wrinkled his nose but pressed on.

At the end of the alley was a bland door, set flush with the pitted stone wall. No sign marked it as anything special, no lantern lit the lintel. To the casual eye, it was just another entrance in this run-down area.

Kiel knew better. He rapped on the wood, three sharp taps, then two slower ones. A code, known only to a select few.

A small window slid open at eye level, a pair of suspicious eyes peering out at him. "What d'ya want?" a gruff voice demanded.

"I'm here to see Marek," Kiel said, keeping his own voice low. "He's expecting me."

A snort. "Lots o' folk come 'round lookin' for Marek. What makes you special, boy?"

Pitching his voice even lower, Kiel leaned close to the window. "Tell him it's Kiel. He'll want to hear what I have to say."

Another snort, this one grudgingly impressed. "Wait here." The window snapped shut.

Kiel leaned back against the alley wall, tugging his hood lower over his face. The minutes crawled by, each one ratcheting up the tension knotting his gut. He didn't like lingering out here in the open. It went against every survival instinct he'd honed over the years.

Come on, come on. Let me in before someone spots me...

Just as his nerves stretched to the breaking point, the door creaked open. The doorman jerked his head. "In. Quick now."

Kiel didn't need to be told twice. He slipped inside, the door slamming shut behind him. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior. Hazy lanternlight revealed a small antechamber, bare of furnishings except for a few stools.

Another guard lounged against the far wall, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a wicked-looking blade. He gave Kiel a onceover, lip curling in a sneer.

"Huh. Thought you'd be taller."

Kiel rolled his eyes. "Just take me to Marek. I don't have time for a pissing contest."

The man scowled, but jerked his head toward a narrow corridor. "He's in the back. Knock before you enter and keep your hands where we can see 'em. We'll be watching."

With that comforting thought, Kiel made his way down the hall. He passed several closed doors, muffled sounds of laughter and debauchery seeping through the cracks. The air reeked of stale beer and sweat, underlaid with the cloying sweet scent of dreamsmoke.

A fine establishment you run here, Marek. A regular home away from home.

Finally, he reached the door at the very end of the passage.

Kiel raised his hand, then hesitated. Dealing with Marek always left a sour taste in his mouth. The man was a snake, willing to sell his own mother if the price was right. But he was also one of the best-informed lowlifes in the city. And Kiel was desperate enough to hold his nose and deal with the devil he knew.

Just as he raised his fist to knock, the door creaked open. Marek's craggy face popped out at him, a smirk twisting his lips.

"Well, well. Ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" The fence chuckled, stepping back to let Kiel enter. "Must be my lucky week, having you darken my doorstep so often."

Kiel bit back a sharp retort. Antagonizing Marek wouldn't get him what he needed. He stepped into the room, wrinkling his nose at the sour stench of old smoke and spilled alcohol.

"Spare me the witty remarks, Marek. I'm here for information."

The fence raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Right to business, eh? No time for pleasantries? You wound me, lad."

"I'm not in the mood for games." Kiel crossed his arms, meeting Marek's amused gaze squarely. "I need to know what happened with the Inquisitors and the heretic."

Marek blinked, a too-innocent expression settling over his face. "Heretic? Inquisitors? I'm not sure I follow, lad. You'll need to be more specific."

Bastard. He's going to milk this for every copper he can.

Kiel gritted his teeth, swallowing his frustration. "Don't play dumb, Marek. It doesn't suit you. The battle everyone's been whispering about for days. I want details."

The fence tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "So demanding! You'd think a well-mannered lad like you would know to ask nicely."

Kiel's fingers curled into fists. I don't have time for this.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay level. "Marek. I need your help. This...this is important." He met the fence's gaze, letting some of his desperation show. "I wouldn't keep coming back if it wasn't."

Something flickered in Marek's eyes. For just a moment, his jovial mask slipped, revealing a hint of calculation. Then it was gone, replaced by an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, since you asked so sweetly..." The fence plopped down in a chair, kicking his feet up on the table. "But first, let's discuss payment. Information don't come free, you know that."

Here it comes. Kiel braced himself. "How much?"

Marek named a figure that made Kiel's eyes water. He shook his head. "Too high. I don't have that kind of coin, Marek. You know that."

The fence shrugged, unmoved. "Then I guess you don't need my information that badly after all. Plenty of other buyers out there, lad. I'm sure one of them will meet my price."

Kiel's stomach twisted. He thought of Dot, alone and vulnerable back at the hideout. Waiting for him to return with news, with some glimmer of hope.

I can't go back empty-handed. I can't.

"I can pay you later," he blurted, hating the note of desperation in his voice. "After my next job. You know I'm good for it, Marek."

The fence snorted. "Do I? Seems to me you've been a little short on funds lately, lad. Turning away clients, closing up shop...not exactly the actions of a thriving businessman."

Kiel flushed. Marek wasn't wrong. The pharmacy had been shuttered for days now, ever since Dot's abduction. He couldn't risk going back, not with the [Sacrificer] still out there.

"Things are just...a little tight right now," he muttered, looking away. "But I'll get it sorted. I always do."

Marek hummed, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Maybe so. But 'later' don't put food on my table, lad. You know my rules. Payment up front, or no deal."

Kiel closed his eyes, frustration and despair warring in his chest. Think, damn it! There has to be something...

"What if..." He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "What if I offered you something else? A favor, a job. Something worth more than coin."

Marek's eyes gleamed with interest. Kiel hated that look. It never boded well. But what choice did he have?

"You know," Kiel said carefully, "someone with your skills and connections...you could probably deal with the [Sacrificer] pretty easily. Put an end to this whole mess."

Marek snorted. "Me? You think I'm some kind of fighter, lad? I deal in information, not violence."

Kiel almost scoffed at that. He didn't believe for a second that Marek was just some harmless fence. The man was too canny, too well-connected. And he was definitely higher than Level 10 - if he was any lower, Kiel's [Skill Sense] would have been able to get a read on him, maybe even guess his Class.

But Marek's level remained stubbornly unclear, which meant he was a cut above the average thug or informant. Probably some kind of [Rogue] or [Mastermind] class. Not the kind of person you wanted to cross.

"Now you're talking, lad. I might be able to work with that." The fence rubbed his chin, his gaze faraway. "Let me think on it. In the meantime..."

He leaned forward, his face turning serious. "The battle. You sure you want to know? It's not a pretty story."

"I need to know.”