Matthis waited, just out of the glow of a nearby street torch. Boredom quickly crept up on him and he replayed his conversation at the inn. That he had escaped the asylum and not remembered any of it wasn’t unusual. Large parts of his life had been lost to The Other. What bothered him was that he had become lost inside of himself. And who was the cloaked man who had spoken directly to the voice?

The Other had claimed he didn’t know. Matthis knew it was bullshit. He chuckled. It was a hollow sound and brought extra eeriness to the quiet streets. He pushed the thoughts away. Right now he had more important things to worry about. He hadn’t worn silk in more than a month. The clothes he had borrowed from the inn-keeper were ill-fitting and of cheap material. It was unacceptable. His usual flowing blond hair now hung lank against his shoulders. He needed oils. And silk. And fine wines.

But mostly he needed revenge.

Those Vermatian families that ruled the land and sat in the House of Laws may think they were the only true power in the city, but Matthis knew better. The underground world stretched throughout Vermasse like sewage. Three Silvers ran a large part of it, but their were other players, and Matthis was about to add his name to that list of underground Gang leaders. He’d have to do something about that title, of course. Gang leader sounded so uncouth. He definitely needed an appellation more befitting someone of his looks and stature. Something noble. No, something royal. Prince would be good. But prince of what? He looked around at a broken city hidden in the dark and shadow. This would be his new empire. His new princedom. Shadow and rubble.

The Prince of Shadow, Matthis decided. Or maybe Shadow Prince? He’d have his men vote on it once he’d taken over the underground.

Focus! There are people coming.

Matthis heard the voices then. Low and soft, their whispers were almost lost to the gentle stream of the river. He pushed himself deeper into the wall’s shadow. After a few minutes, they passed him. Two men in dark clothes. Satisfied he was out of their sight, Matthis peeled away from the wall and set about following them.

It was easy to follow, purely for the fact that nobody ventured into the Deadtown except criminals and other men and women that had a strong interest in staying hidden. The streets were empty. Once they may have been crawling with people, but too much of this side of the river had been destroyed during the Great Despair. When the enemies of man had driven the survivors back to this sorry strip of land and hundreds of thousands had sought shelter in the last city. What followed, if the stories were true, were months of riots and destruction. Not by the enemy, but by the survivors.

Matthis shook his head. He would have liked to have seen it. There was potential in desperation and with so many wretched the profits for a clever few must have been huge. And indeed they were, for most of those cunning few’s ancestors now ruled the last of mankind. They had climbed to power on the despair of the masses. It was simply delicious.

Among the chaos of those times, so much had been lost. Ancient family possessions and treasures that had slipped into the sewers or been washed into the rivers. A whole industry had grown up around unearthing them, and around that industry had boomed a black market. Many street gangs made a profit in digging for these lost possessions Many more made wealth by stealing and reselling what had already been found.

Such was the gang Matthis now followed. The gang of the person they called Red-eye.

They came at last to what was probably once a very fine building, but now was nothing more than a shadowy pile of rubble, complete with vines and most likely an army of spiders and spiderwebs. Matthis slunk once more into the dark and watched as the two men he followed scrambled over rubble— and then vanished.

“What the Pasht.” Setting himself, Matthis followed the path the men had taken.

He tripped, swore, tripped again, and swore some more. A pile of loose stones gave way beneath his feet and he fell forward striking his hands painfully. It turned out to be a stroke of good fortune. In the last light of the night sky he saw a slight gap in the rubble— a passage that led deep underground. Picking himself up, Matthis made for it. Sighing heavily, Matthis lowered himself, pushing his legs through the hole in the ground and sliding his body. He landed heavily on the other side, and found himself in a world of complete black.

Nice work.

Ignoring the mocking voice, Matthis reached out his hands blindly. They struck rock either side of him. A tunnel then. He followed it, one hand running along the wall for guidance, trying hard not to imagine all the disgusting creatures that likely roamed around in the black.

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He pushed on for what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute. Something sticky caught in his air and he lashed out.

“I’ve had enough!” His voice echoed against the walls, disappearing into the depths of the tunnel.

Your stealth skills leave something to be desired.

“Do you think that matters! Look at my hair! I’ll burn this place to the ground. I’ll smash the bricks into dust one by one and feed them all to the assholes that live here!” His tirade was halted when the an orange glow punctured the dark. It bounced off the walls, growing brighter as Matthis approached. He followed, grateful for the light and unappreciative of the world it revealed. Animal droppings. Spiders and cockroaches that scuttled into crevices lined with moss or mould. He immediately snatched his hand away from the wall, grimacing as he wiped it on his clothing.

“How can anyone live here. This is no place for a civilized man. I’m half tempted to kill them all. I’ll definitely kill a few for the indignity alone. How dare they make me follow them into this cesspit. How dare they!”

He turned a corner into a dozen drawn blades.

“Oh good,” he said to the armed men and women standing there. “You are all together. Let me introduce myself, my name is Matthis Albion and I’ll be taking control of your little gang.” He bowed, knowing it would impress these peasent-brained fools. And then he waited.

Two dozen eyes blinked back at him from the cavern like room, brightly lit with flickering torch light.

“Well…?” Matthis waited some more.

A door opened from the other side of the room. Matthis glimpsed a corridor and he realised the entrance he used must have been some sort of secret hidden entrance. That really was too much. That someone like him had been forced to sneak in through the back door. The indignity was overwhelming and he felt his anger burning.

Through the door stepped a large figure. The crowd parted as the man pushed his way through them. He looked Matthis over with narrow eyes. He was strikingly pale, his hair almost completely white and his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His clothes were dirty and torn. Matthis shook his head. This was no way for a leader to look.

“Who are you?” The man rumbled.

“Are you the leader?”

“Aye. What of it!”

“Ok, good.” Matthis had debated sparing the man, but his anger demanded blood. He pulled out a short knife he’d stolen from the inn’s kitchen, and stabbed the man in the throat. There was a gurgle of blood. For a moment it was the only sound in the room until somebody else yelled and lunged at Matthis.

Matthis stabbed him too.

“God damnit. Now look —there are only ten of you left. Idiot!” Matthis kicked the second man he had stabbed in the stomach. He pushed through the remaining seven men and three women to get a better look at his new empire.

It wasn’t very impressive.

“You fuckin’ killed them!” Somebody shouted, as if just awakening from a trance.

“I see you’re the brains of the operation. You can be my number two if you like.”

“Number two? What the Pasht are you talking about? In a minute we’ll cut you from mouth to scrotum you asshole.”

Matthis shook his head. “Careful, or you’ll lose that promotion before you get a chance to reap its rewards.”

This made the man hesitate “Rewards?”

“Of course—”

“This is ridiculous!” a woman yelled, clutching a large she knife ran at Matthis.

“Nine now. Unbelievable,” Matthis muttered, wiping his knife on the now dead woman’s clothing. “Still, as long as nobody else wants to die we should be enough. Any body else want to die?” He scanned his eyes over the group. A few coughed awkwardly, some shuffled on their feet.

“Why don’t you just tell us what you want,” the first speaker muttered.

“Want? Why the same as you of course. To be rich. To rule the underworld,”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re offering this?”

“My good man, look at me. I am noble and beautiful. Do you think I would come here for pleasure?” He began to wonder around the large open room, stopping at a keg. He gave it a kick. It still sounded full. “Drink.”

“That’s Red-eye’s,” one man said nervously.

“Now who in heaven’s name is Red-eye?”

Someone pointed to the dead leader, whose blood even now was trickling into a pool on the floor.

“Well I don’t think he will mind, do you?” Matthis offered, giggling.

“It’s part of our haul. It’s valuable. Taken from a Ladovian cousin’s personal collection.”

“How much is it worth?”

The man shrugged. “Four...five sacks of salt. Pepper too. Maybe even gold.”

Matthis laughed a laugh which quickly turned into a giggle. “Gentleman, when we’re through we’ll be feeding Ladovian wine to the pigs!” he declared dramatically, stretching out his arms as he finished.

The man frowned. “We ain’t got no pigs. We traded ‘em for the Ladovian wine.”

Matthis sighed. “Drink. And tomorrow we will start making us all richer than you can possibly imagine.”

“Who are you?” One of the two remaining women stepped forward. Her face was dirty, hair was grimy, her clothes were reprehensible.

“Matthis Albion.” He waited for the gasps and the cries.

When none came he sighed, and plonked himself down on the room’s only chair. A lavish but well-worn carved piece that held a cushion that was probably once red but now more closely resembled a pale brown.

“Drink!” He commanded.

There was no hesitation. The keg was peeled open, men and women gathering around it. Soon wine was being passed between them and laughter flowed, as if three of their comrades didn’t currently lie dead on the floor.

Matthis looked over his new army. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Thoughts of the revenge and the plots to come warmed him. He’d gut Three Silvers. And that mad doctor! And everyone else who had wronged him. And then he’d get some nice new clothes. Actually, he’d probably get the new clothes first. It was all enough to make a man shiver with anticipation.