Dawn rose high above Grey Tulip like a gentle maiden, her warm light chasing away the last remnants of the crimson night. The morning rays touched each corner of the shelter’s dome, as if beckoning the world to wake. Though shielded by the earth, Grey Tulip’s fireflies heeded the call.

Ilven awoke finding Old Wugou already in bed, his deep snores echoing throughout their small home. A faint smile touched his lips as he pulled a blanket over the old man. After cleaning himself with skin cleansing leaves, he headed out into the earthy morning air.

The streets were empty and peaceful, like any normal day, glancing around Ilven confirmed nothing big had happened last night, he pondered paying a visit to William’s Delight to check how his peers were doing in light of beast lords’ aftermath but decided to do so after returning from the slums.

As he approached the gates, a familiar voice called out. “Oh, It’s little Ilven. My, how big you’ve grown, handsome too. If only we could have afforded to raise a child before I got this old, I would have set you up with my little one.” Mrs. Grass, who was already sweaty under the morning lights of the mischievous awakening insects, greeted him warmly.

Ilven paused for a moment. He wasn’t one for small talk, but Mrs. Grass was both a good neighbor and a friend of the old man.

Wait, I know this one.

Ilven suddenly recalled a few conversations he had with Old Wugou.

“I’m sure you would have been a great mother.”

Hearing this Mrs. Grass froze, before letting out a burst of laughter praising him as a good child. Although even Ilven could see the sense of loss within her bold visage.

In times such as these, most couldn’t afford to raise children. Those who did either lost out to their base desires or simply had plans involving them. Healthy children and even sick ones depending on the situation could be sold for a decent sum in Gray Haven.

Unless there was going to be a return on investment most wouldn’t bother having children. At least this was the case for most refugee turned residents such as them.

“I should go.” Ilven nodded to her as he walked away.

“Be careful kid, I’m not sure about the specifics but it seems something happened in the slums last night. Those bloody women’s wastewater mongrels have been prowling about skittish due to that, ha, protection fee my sweet behind.” Mrs. Grass shouted to Ilven as she went on her way as well.

Ilven bowed politely in thanks.

Women’s wastewater?... Ah, the Red Dog Gang.

He soon realized who she was referring to, Old Wugou always said that in terms of insults Mrs. Grass was the undefeated queen of Grey Tulip.

Ilven’s mind soon turned to what could have happened in the slums. He didn’t think much of it though, Grey Tulips geography protected it from the brunt of the effects of blood moon. Perhaps, the cramped living area produced some unsavory effects when everyone hid last night.

At least, that was what he thought before making it to the slums.

It was daylight yet most of the stalls were empty, and the few pedestrians moved as if fire was lit under their feet. He even saw a whole squad of militiamen heading into the slums that they normally despised.

What exactly happened?

Ilven felt a bit troubled seeing the commotion.

He increased his pace and stopped in front of a stall hung with yellow and white cloth, several jars were displayed emanating the pungent scent of cheap liquor. A few men were already sitting down in front of the stall exchanging cups.

“Have you heard? Those Red Dog fuckers finally got some retribution last night, praise the Lady of Crimson!”

“No, from what I hear no one died. They just pissed their pants is all. Literally, I saw their pants with my own two eyes.”

Something happened to the Red Dog gang?

Ilven found his target at the nearby alleyway.

A group of mostly young men huddled together around a single figure standing on a wooden crate singing… well it couldn’t be counted as singing in IIven’s ears with their mouths making different rhythmic sounds and their hands beating wood.

Monster rap, he believed it was called, it was very popular as of late, it’s said to have spread from the higher-level shelters, Ilven doubted the authenticity of the matter. Would those in paradise enjoy wasting their time making up gibberish, half melodic brags and fairy tales?

Soon the passionate rapper ended his performance and made his way over having already spotted Ilven.

It was a lanky youth with hair dyed red and white, sporting mischievous blue eyes and thorn earrings. He had a healthy wheat complexion showing he was regularly exposed to direct sunlight.

“What’s up zombie bro, hey everyone, check this out. The one and only Cockroach Wolf, a bona-fide scavenger up there with Galdor of Steel!”

A series of teasing ensued but it was mostly directed at the youth and not at Ilven, they just thought he was just painting his friend’s face with silver.

“You’ve heard?” Ilven asked in surprise.

“Nothing concrete but I had a feeling.” The youth waved off his friends with a smile.

“Still could you be any more like a shadow? It’s like you don’t exist. No one believes me when I tell them you’re a veteran of five years. I can’t even use you to brag since even the old men knowing your name haven’t seen you in ages and think you’re dead.” The youth looked at Ilven speechlessly. His nickname for Ilven came from this odd occurrence. He had never met someone so mysterious that was the same age as him.

“Come, Frederick. I’ll treat you to a drink.” Ilven gestured plainly and turned around not interested in rubbing shoulders with his age peers. While his attitude was lukewarm this was the most friendly he had ever been to anyone, Frederick, familiar with him was aware of this.

“What? Has the sun pierced through the ceiling, you offering a drink? Hey, wait, I’m coming! You guys go ahead without me. I’ll be back soon.” Frederick called out to his buddies before rushing after Ilven.

“Did you hit the jackpot with the thorned rats or what? It’s unlike you to treat me to a, wait, we’re passing Charlie’s, hey!” Fredick thought they were in for some cheap liquor, but he was surprised when Ilven told him they were heading to William’s tavern.

He thought he was getting a free drink, he didn’t expect he was getting such a wonderful treat!

Most refugees couldn’t afford the drinks sold in the shelter’s sole tavern, that place only catered to high earners and wealthy sons and was outside their price range.

“Damn, you must have really hit the jackpot.” Frederick eyed Ilven suspiciously, who was unperturbed. Perhaps, he might have been if Frederick had known about the Ivory Head Rhinos, then it would be different story, but he had no intention of revealing any information about what happened on his last excursion.

He had learned of the migration pattern of the rhinos from his mentor’s notes, so he didn’t need to find an excuse to cover up anything when talking to Frederick.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Tell me about Galdor.” Ilven brought up this point, he honestly never expected that Frederick would know something about their enmity. That was just right, another goal of his outing this time was to check for opportunities to finish off these wounded enemies of his.

“Hehehe, he is pissed. Pissed. I happened to have crossed paths with him when he came back, and he wasn’t in good shape, his team either. They were also a few heads short.” Fredick shot Ilven a complicated look before he continued,

“He cursed about skinning this brat this, this brat that, I knew it was someone young, so I thought of you. Still man, I was wrong about you, I thought you stayed alive by keeping your head down and hiding or running away out there but I didn’t know you had them tiger fangs.”

Fredick grabbed his thin stubble and shook his head still thinking of the disordered scene, Galdor’s group looked like they had a close shave with a powerful desolate beast.

In fact, it was only his guess that the culprit of Galdor’s squad injuries was Ilven, being that there were a few wealthy kids who were also scavengers in Grey Tulip but Ilven’s previous response to his praise cemented his guess.

Ilven didn’t confirm or deny anything, but Fredick was almost certain he was the culprit now.

“What’s he up to now?” A cold light flashed within the depths of Ilven’s pupils, were it not for the healing pills he bought from Reshal’s squad, he might have been bedridden once more, by the same person no less.

He only realized how serious his injuries had been when they all healed.

He had no intention of letting things go, and he didn’t think they did either.

Now it was just a question of who struck first.

“Well, he’s licking his wounds now but he has a few friends in Red Dog so he might go to them, but as you can see those aborted rot wolf pups are busy tucking their shit-colored tails in.” Fredreick said through his teeth, noticeably incensed when bringing up the Red Dog gang.

Ilven looked at him with surprise. This part time rapper and info broker was always cheerful and cool headed for as long as they had known each other, it was rare seeing him angry.

“If it isn’t the great fisherman Fred, I was about to come over to see you and the boys spit some flames, you looking for a job too? The wealthy folk have gotten skittish and have posted some jobs to gather some goddess flowers to ward off evil, we’re thinking of taking it, Click here says he saw them outside and the distance from the shelter isn’t too far.”

As they made it to the notice board at the center of the main street, two young men came over waving to Frederick. This didn’t surprise Ilven, he knew Frederick was well known in the slums.

Just behind the approaching duo was a ten-foot-tall wooden landmark that had existed almost since the shelter’s creation so many years ago.

The Notice Board was both an information dispenser on local and regional events and a spot to post jobs for slum dwellers, even residents came regularly to have a look. The board was placed in the slums for one simple reason, refugees had always served as the cheap labor and disposable work force of the shelter, slum dwellers were also sufficiently desperate to do some of the more dangerous jobs one might require.

Even scavengers frequented the location, sometimes vital information was posted on the board, in fact it was an unspoken rule to do so in order to warn others of budding dangers or attracting trouble.

Beasts migrating to and from in certain regions, beasts in established territories exhibiting strange behaviors, plants mutating to become more deadly, a flow of traffic from foreign shelters in their sphere of influence, a newly discovered ancient ruin… you name it. These were all very important nuggets of information that should be spread for the overall longevity and prosperity of their scavenger populace.

Of course, these free bits posted on the noticeboard were very limited in detail; to get the detailed accounts you had to find the person that posted the notice and pay a fee to learn what they knew.

There were also jobs from residents in the town, Ilven could actually post one himself if he wanted to, other than being a resident there was no barrier to do so.

These were typically low-priced jobs and it usually took a few days to complete them with employers milking refugees for all their worth for breadcrumbs.

Scavengers also regularly needed scouts or ‘cannon fodder’. It was a high-risk job that was a lifeline when you were stuck, it also served as a good transition to the scavenger profession. Not everyone was as lucky as Ilven to have a knowledgeable mentor. Most scavengers just dived into the profession and hoped for the best.

As seen from the notice board, information was precious and hard to get, out in the wilderness you might come across something valuable and lose out not recognizing its true worth. This was part of the reason scavenger teams were so popular as well; funds can be pooled to buy things like the spiritual plant encyclopedia Old Hallord was peddling, and senior scavengers could help out their juniors.

Job posts sometimes included tasks to go outside the shelter for missions posted by shelter management, for more pressing matters they forcibly conscripted labor but for the simpler or long-term ones they posted jobs instead.

“Goddess flowers? Ward off evil? Why haven’t I heard of such a miraculous plant.” Fredick said in astonishment.

“It’s a superstition; it’s just a plant that’s warm to the touch and glows sometimes in the dark.” Ilven scoffed at the stupidity of the wealthy sons, if there was such a flower it would have had widespread use long ago.

“Hey, hey, that may be true but if they’re paying for it who cares. Jobs are hard to find these days.”

One of the youths smilingly shook his head, agreeing with Ilven.

“Fuck. I don’t know what’s happening recently but even before the crimson night jobs were scarce; the scavengers came back as if afraid of something.” The other youth lamented.

“Yeah, the team I usually roll with were stung by the blue shrews, as timid as mice not daring to go out, not that it matters, those fuckers don’t pay me ever since they found out I want to be a real scavenger and not just earn extra money. Saying the experience and knowledge is pay, those cock nibblers, like they teach much to begin with.”

Fredick was about to reply when he noticed Ilven walking off, he quickly apologized to his buddies before running after him.

“Would it kill you to be more friendly, you never know when a friend can be useful.” He sighed in exasperation when he caught up.

“The Red Dog gang, what happened?” Ilven didn’t care and instead looked at him curiously.

“I need a drink.” Upon hearing this Frederick’s complexion turned dark, his mouth twisting as if he swallowed shit.

William’s Delight was the shelter’s sole tavern. It tripled as the inn for the rare visitors, a restaurant and bar. Scavengers, old workers, wealthy scions, all the big spenders liked the atmosphere of this homely place. There were only six drinks on the menu, but they were all quality brew.

The air hung with a sweet fragrance, four scantily dressed women with curvy figures, elegant makeup and sexy wiles served food and drink.

Loud noises, screams, shouts and curses echoed on the floor, the crimson night not only meant scavengers dare not go out but also stress and tensions were high, understandably they all wanted to let loose.

There were even a few people gambling with dice.

As the sexy waitresses served food many fellow’s hands misbehaved.

Still no matter how unbridled they were, they didn’t dare go too far.

Old William, who owned the place was an ex-scavenger and also had ties to people in the Goose Feather ember settlement, not someone to be messed with.

These were his wives and only daughter, you couldn’t take advantage of them… unless you paid.

Ilven took a quick look at his professional peers in the tavern before turning to Frederick.

“Last night’s issue actually extends to a few days ago.” Frederick took a large chug of his drink.

“I had a friend named Sue. Blonde hair, blue eyes, she liked to bake with cheap ingredients, mimic shrew sounds and sew ugly clothes… she was a nice and pretty girl, even in this dirty place she was like a warm ray of sunshine, we dated a little while, but it didn’t work out. She ended up with a friend of mine. I don’t know what happened, she was ordinary when she was younger, but puberty hit her hard like a bear and she blossomed into a little beauty, everyone was envious of my friend, hah, even me.”

What did this have to do with what happened last night? Ilven wondered.

“But word must’ve spread, and tragedy struck. The Red Dog gang caught wind of her beauty. They raided her bridal chamber, at first, they were about to sully her themselves, but because she was too pretty, they decided to offer her as tribute instead, it happened one of the Seven Sons was nearby. He took the opportunity, right in front of my friend.” Fredick’s hand gripped his mug tightly. No matter how often it happened, they couldn’t become desensitized to the atrocities committed by those dog scum. Well, at least he didn’t have it in him.

“But they were madly in love, his thoughts were not ruled by reason. Yes, it isn’t uncommon for those scum to have their way with daughters and wives, then their reputation is sullied but they wait it out until the next tragedy and theirs are forgotten or are forced into prostitution or even do so willingly to make extra money, after all, what’s gone is gone right? You must live on. That’s how a lot of the women on the street started out, but while most men took it lying down or didn’t fight hard, he fought hard, very hard, he bit off one of their fingers even as they cut him up. He fought until his very last breath.”

Frederick took several gulps and slammed his mug on the counter, maybe it was out anger or out of tribute to his friend’s bravery.

“And she, she was a fighter too. You wouldn’t expect it seeing how she was on normal days. They had to pull out her teeth and nails and cripple her arms, but even then, she fought. When her husband died, she cried tears of blood, she struggled and struggled but it was futile. After he was done, he let the others have a turn and then ordered her to be chopped up into pieces and delivered to her parents. The Sevens Sons, f-ahem”

Realizing he was in a tavern surrounded by people; Frederick censored his words. Although it was just them in the corner, you never know if any warriors or ability were in the tavern with them, this was definitely a place they frequented. Ilven seconded that notion as he glanced around as well.

Frederick continued the harrowing tragedy.

“He covered up the graphic details, the Seven Son’s hunter, I think she must’ve scratched him or something and he thought it embarrassing, anyways my friend’s father was forced to tell a short fake story and slap himself several times as an apology, he was roughed up a bit but that’s it.”