The trees tug at her clothes and scrape her skin like nails. The underbrush irritates her blood but she doesn’t stop running until nightfall.

The Lower District stands below her. Colorful lights and noisy music blast her eardrums.

Maneuvering through the crowd is its own form of torture as bodies push her to and fro.

Eventually she finds herself at a swanky nightclub filled with off duty soldiers, and she spots Old Fang leaning against the counter.

“Old Fang, greetings.”

He looks her up and down.

“Got into a fight I presume?”

“You could say that. But you know why I’m here of course.”

“That depends, what can you do for me?”

Old Fang needs to be handled with caution. He is more inclined towards gathering info for blackmail, though it’s usually geared towards the military. However, anything she shares will be used against her at a later time.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

His greed knows no bounds. And yet…

Contracts bind men for life until they’re fulfilled. They want gold, and they wish for blood.

She takes off her glove and hands him the phone. His eyes widen. Anmutig tenses, sensing a change in the air.

“The market value on this thing is astronomical! It seems you’re more wealthy than I imagined.”

She says nothing and wipes all data from the phone, but only a fool would believe the empire doesn’t retain most of her information.

He takes the phone and stares with a new hunger.

“North Avenue is where your brother is headed.”

She stalks off and feels eyes on the back of her head. Once outside, she hears wind behind her back, but sidesteps at the last minute. A soldier stumbles and she takes the opportunity to trip him.

Her heel comes down and bashes his head until someone smacks her in the face.

The second soldier almost slams her into the ground until she produces a blade from her pocket and stabs him in the thigh.

“I see your years of privilege haven’t taken you off the battlefield.”

Old Fang saunters around the corner, twirling the phone. She says nothing and starts to walk off.

“You’re not going to demand an explanation?”

He questions, a glint in his eye.

“No.”

There was no contract between them, yet their ancestors held one. They stated that they wouldn’t hurt one another, yet this display may not be seen as a violation.

She wonders what joy he deprived from his acts of callousness. Loopholes exist, is what her mother warned.

“You’re not going to go off about how I don’t value the Empire? Your brother always does.”

She almost falters, but keeps walking as he walks beside her.

“No.”

“Expressionless House. You ought to be more ashamed at my grievances. You may be killed one day.”