Vaskir’s thoughts were cold and grim. They revolved around two topics in particular, and neither could take hold of his mind, creating a back and forth, sawing away at his sanity.

‘We need to get rid of this damn manual,’ Vaskir thought. ‘But the city will be hunting for Frenzy—any sane Skeever would lock up shop and spend a few weeks with his family.’ Vaskir stopped in the middle of the street. ‘Shit,’ he muttered.

‘Problem?’ Pravin asked.

‘No, it’s just… dawning on me how impossible our task is becoming,’ Vaskir said.

‘Giving up on finding me revenge?’ Covens said jokingly, but Vaskir could hear the edge underneath.

‘Giving up on becoming filthy rich?’ Cradow added. Vaskir looked behind them, searching for… something. His tightly-wound body language was beginning to put the group on edge. He winced and touched his shoulder—falling on it in the middle of battle may have saved him some time, but the pain was building.

‘I’ll teach you how to focus your Constitution when we’re safe,’ Covens said. ‘It helps with warding off sickness and healing injuries.’ Vaskir nodded in thanks. The group kept on moving, following Vaskir.

‘Here,’ Vaskir said after a few minutes of walking. Before them was a general store. ‘Buy some cloaks, black boots, and… damn, they need anything else?’ Vaskir asked Pravin.

‘Covens should cover her hair. There aren’t too many blondes in Chilbrow. It sticks out,’ Pravin said. Both Cradow and Covens looked at them incredulously.

‘We’re Ascendents,’ Covens said. Vaskir tilted his head like a confused dog.

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ he asked.

‘It means, we need to stick out. And so should you,’ Covens said. Vaskir and Pravin burst out laughing.

‘We’re being hunted,’ Vaskir said.

‘Those assassins could be around any corner,’ Pravin added.

‘No,’ Cradow said. ‘The city will be hunting for frenzy, and those assassins will be smart enough to recognize us through some darker clothes. We need to be recognizable.’

‘Why take the risk?’ Vaskir said, slightly annoyed.

‘Because once our carefully laid plans come tumbling down and we’re fighting for our lives, we’ll want people to know who we are. It’s every Ascendant’s dream,’ Cradow said.

‘You’re doing this for fame?’ Pravin said, eyes wide.

‘I’m doing this for respect. People knowing your name before you meet them is everything amongst Ascendant circles,’ Cradow said. ‘People knowing that we managed to sell off a 3rd class manual… you know what that sounds like to other Ascendants?’ Nobody answered him. ‘It sounds like reliability.’

‘Reliability,’ Vaskir muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at the general store: “The This and That”, the sign above the store read. Vaskir had visited before and his feet had taken him to a habitual location. He smiled. He and Tabbathy had robbed the store, years earlier. It was one of the funniest memories he had of them together. ‘Alright, follow me, we’ll do this your way,’ and he set off. The others followed.

The Blackstone mine, despite the namesake, no longer mined Blackstone. The veins had run dry long before Vaskir had visited the city. Now it was a hovel for the wretched and damned. The entrance to the mine, a small wooden building, was so unassuming (yet filthy) that it avoided notice of even the most curious individuals. Tucked between a barracks and a whorehouse the general population had far more important things on their mind. Vaskir stopped in front of the entrance. It smelt of aged vinegar and iron. Only Vaskir didn’t cover his nose as they got closer. He reached out and moved the crumbled remains of the doorway to the side. The four of them entered, and Vaskir moved the door back into place.

‘Why not just leave it unbarred?’ Covens asked.

‘Because that would be rude,’ Vaskir said, ‘besides, we’re being watched. No local would leave the entrance open.’ Vaskir finished setting the remains of the door crookedly into place. ‘They’ll know we’re Ascendants because of you two. Just… don’t do anything suspicious.’

‘We’re being watched?’ Covens said nervously, looking around. ‘I haven’t noticed anyone,’ she said in a way that made Vaskir think she considered his comment a challenge.

‘Trust me,’ Vaskir said, ‘they’ll know we’re here.’ He started down the stairs.

‘Ever been to a place like this?’ Vaskir overheard Cradow ask Pravin. The lack of response made him think that he must have shaken his head.

‘I’ve seen places like this… so far, done my best to avoid them,’ Pravin said.

‘Smart,’ Cradow muttered. Covens shushed both of them, sensing that they were coming up to their destination. There was a small, makeshift door before them. Vaskir knocked once, loud. The door almost immediately opened.

‘We don’t want no Ascendants down here,’ a small boy said. He was wearing a clean white shirt and trousers.

‘Not an Ascendant,’ Vaskir said, still kind of believing the words himself.

‘Who’s you lookin’ for?’ the boy asked.

‘None of your business, brat,’ Cradow said over Vaskir’s shoulder.

‘That’s right, none of your business,’ Vaskir repeated, gently, but got to one knee and palmed two queens from his coin purse. He showed one to the boy, making sure it caught on the torchlight. ‘I’m guessing they’re paying you one of these a week to snitch on everyone that comes through,’ Vaskir said. He doubled the coins with a shake of his hand. ‘I’ll give you two if you don’t mention to anyone that we came down here.’ The boy immediately snatched the coins from Vaskir’s grip.

‘I won’t say nothing,’ he said, pocketing his prize. Vaskir grinned but doubted it.

‘At the very least, kid,’ Vaskir said, standing up, ‘laze about for a little bit before running off to your Wallman.’ The kid did a poor job of hiding his shock and looked like he wanted to ask how Vaskir knew he would betray them, but then looked away, and the hard-edge expression was back. Vaskir walked by him and into the mine. Sheets and blankets were being used to divide the different passages; he could already hear light moaning from one. Empty bottles of booze littered the ground and harsh-looking men ambled about, either smoking from pipes or gazing at the roof.

‘Disgusting,’ Covens said.

‘It’s life,’ Vaskir muttered. ‘Still want to stand out?’ he asked.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

‘Yes,’ Covens replied. ‘That way, I’ll be able to burn places like this to the ground wherever I go.’

‘Places like this,’ Vaskir said with some emotion, ‘is home to some people. Stop one ring of drugs and criminals, burn down the meek livelihoods of a dozen innocents.’ He stopped and stared at Covens. ‘That’s what you…’ he whispered the word “Ascendants”, ‘don’t understand. You fling about power and think you’re doing good when you’re just crushing the people underfoot.’ He turned back around and continued walking.

‘So…’ Pravin said, breaking the tension, ‘safe to say you used to live in a place like this?’ Vaskir didn’t answer. They continued walking until coming into sight of two men guarding one of the curtained side rooms.

‘Alright,’ Vaskir said. ‘You’re all Ascendants?’ Vaskir asked Pravin, Covens, and Cradow. They all nodded, puzzled. ‘Then act like it,’ he said, tilting his head up and smirking in that way that immediately reminded Covens of the second-generation Ascendants that had all their power handed to them. The two guards noticed Vaskir and the group’s approach.

‘Who’s you?’ the dumb one asked before getting elbowed in the side by his friend

‘Slimy?’ Vaskir asked, bored.

‘He’s away on business, sir,’ the other guard said.

‘If I am not brought before that reprehensible gentlethief in the next minute, I will consider my debt to him expunged from relevance,’ Vaskir said. Covens hid her smile behind her hand—she could listen to Vaskir pretending to be upper-class for hours.

‘Now, sir,’ the smart guard said. ‘You know that I can’t just let you in to see him. I—’

‘So he is in!’ Vaskir said. ‘The Stardust he provided barely summoned a twinkle. I’ve half a mind to make him pay me for all the wasted time. And trying to smoke the damn thing was ghastly—tasted like dry rocks!’ The guard's eyes went wide.

‘You tried to smoke it?’ he said. Vaskir flicked his hair out of his eyes.

‘Indeed. Plain, wet, gravely nonsense. Certainly did not make me feel as if I was floating at all. All this hubbub amongst my peers and not one whit of enjoyment from the actual act,’ Vaskir’s performance was now beginning to entertain both Cradow and Pravin, who were haughtily staring down their noses at the guard.

‘River,’ the dumb guard said, turning to his friend. ‘Hey, River, if he smoked it… don’t he have to get, like, pumped?’

‘Pumped!’ Vaskir said aghast. ‘I demand to see Slimy. This “debt” is holding less water by the minute. Two hundred queens a bag, 200 queens a bag! No drugs are that expensive!’ The guards’ eyes almost popped out of their sockets when Vaskir mentioned the amount.

‘I think it’s best if you go in and speak with Slimy, sir,’ the guard named River said, pulling back the curtain. Vaskir ‘Humphed!’ like an affronted lady and walked into the room.

Slimy lived up to his name. He was in the process of putting on pants when Vaskir and his allies entered the room. Vaskir’s eyes strayed away from his exposed nethers but Pravin and Covens weren’t so lucky.

‘Now, now, now, now,’ Slimy stuttered, shrugging into a battered yellow shirt. ‘There must have been some kind of mix-up, young lord. Whatever amount you settled on with my colleagues can surely be cut down! Halved, even!’ Slimy finally looked up from lacing his pants.

Now, Slimy was what the local clansmen referred to as a “career criminal”. He had trawled through the muck, climbed the ladder, and pulled down those above him to sit where he does now. Slimy knew who not to piss off and when to act in his best interest—now was not that time. The Ascendant before him was tall, yet still dwarfed by one of the men behind him:

‘Every good crew needs muscle,’ Slimy thought, swallowing nervously. The one to the middle man’s right was bald and heavily muscled, reminding Slimy of some of the older street vendors. Finally, there was a serious-looking woman directly behind him. Her eyes were dark and distant like she was trying to take in all the things in the room. The man at the very front brought back memories of caravan heists and gate guards, yet he seemed more regal than the average goon. His face was expressionless, a far cry from the haughty expression Slimy was imagining when he heard him speak to his men. Slimy licked his lips nervously.

‘You’re not clansmen, are you?’ he asked. The man at the front didn’t answer.

‘Our presence here is a boon to you,’ Vaskir said walking towards him. Slimy stumbled back into the pile of pillows he used as a bed. Vaskir stopped at the edge of the pile, took one pillow from the stack, and made himself comfortable.

‘You looking to buy?’ Slimy asked nervously. If they were the new Runners Tabbathy had outdone himself; no one would dare half-cut or late pay.

‘No,’ Vaskir said. ‘Looking to sell. Rich-teir artifact.’ Slimy licked his lips again, this time from hunger.

‘Well you came to the right place,’ he said. ‘Some kind of weapon?’

‘Yeah,’ Vaskir said. ‘We need a price.’ Slimy nodded.

‘The rich kids love their old toys, Are we talking 5th tier here?’

‘We’re talking more,’ Vaskir said. ‘You’ll want to sell this to a proper patriarch—no small clans.’

‘We talking official like?’ Slimy asked, still keeping an eye on the three Ascendants behind the man. The tall one had moved to the side of the room, carefully watching the doorway as well as Slimy himself. The other two had started milling about, casually touching his possessions. Slimy looked back at the man doing the negotiations and broke out in a cold sweat. The slight, disarming smile was gone. Slimy having looked away for a brief moment seemed to have been all the excuse he needed to drop any pretense of civility. His face was almost emotionless, except the intensity of his stare betrayed unchained anger, roaming wild, just under the surface. Slimy slowly exhaled—worried that a harsh breath may be all it takes to make him pounce.

‘Slimy,’ Vaskir said softly.

‘Yes, sir?’ he answered.

‘Your estimate?’ Vaskir said. Slimy nodded as if dazed.

‘Um,’ the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he realized the news he must deliver. Lying was out of the question; he was too rattled to do it right anyway. ‘The city’s gonna be in lockdown soon. None of the mineshafts leading out will be open, even the ones the clansmen don’t know about. Tabbathy’s too smart to give any Frenzied a chance to escape.’ Vaskir nodded. ‘So,’ Slimy looked nervous. ‘Selling anything is gonna go for rat-hairs. Even an artifact.’ Vaskir nodded, then brought the conversation around to what actually interested him.

‘I’ve heard about this,’ Vaskir said. ‘Frenzied in the streets again?’ Slimy nodded. Excited to ingratiate himself with information.

‘Yes. Coming right out of the Haversack,’ Slimy spit off of to the side. ‘Poor Ken, he was a nice bastard too. Never beat me off his doorstep when it was raining.’ Vaskir nodded, somewhat sadly.

‘His business locked down for a month?’ Vaskir asked. Slimy looked up at him. Vaskir could see pieces falling into place behind Slimy’s eyes.

‘Tabbathy does things different ‘round here now,’ Slimy said. ‘You get executed if you so much as breath around a Frenzied.’ Vaskir tilted his head. Ken didn’t seem too worried when he was leading them out of his inn.

‘Far as I know Ken and Tabbathy go way back,’ Vaskir said, hoping that he wasn’t giving away too much. ‘You really think he’d just kill him?’ Slimy shook his head.

‘Nahhhh,’ he drawled, relaxing. Vaskir frowned. ‘He’ll probably lose a limb or two. They entered through his rat tunnel.’ Vaskir kept his face expressionless but was still amazed at the speed that news travelled.

‘Well,’ Vaskir said, ‘we still need to sell it on. Even if that means forcing a meeting with a clan head.’ Tabbathy opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by River poking his head through the tarp.

‘Boss,’ he said. ‘Finger says that Tab’s on his way here.’ A shiver ran down from the back of Vaskir’s neck to the base of his tailbone. Slimy nodded.

‘When’s he getting here,’ Slimy asked. He had picked up on Vaskir’s unease. Machinations were forming behind his eyes. Vaskir could see why Tabbathy liked him as a Skeever, the man was predictable.

‘Two minutes,’ River said, looking at Vaskir oddly before drawing back into the corridor. The second River was gone from sight Vaskir exploded forwards and grabbed Slimy by his neck. Whatever confidence slimy had gained during the course of their conversation disappeared. He felt Vaskir’s grip on his throat and realized that he truly was an Ascendant.

‘Don’t kill me,’ he wheezed out.

‘Your rat hole,’ Vaskir said in that controlled tone professionals use in a crisis. Slimy pointed at his pillow bed and Vaskir released him. He started throwing pillows out of the way before finding a small latch. He pulled it to find a half-meter wide opening, barely large enough to fit him. He pushed some of the assorted queens and drugs deeper into the hole and then climbed in. ‘Pravin, make sure Slimy here doesn’t do anything stupid. You’re making this deal now. Covens, tell the guards to keep their mouths shut, they never met me. Cradow, keep it in your pants; Tabbathy doesn’t like hotheads.’ He shut the latch. Pravin quickly moved some of the pillows back into place then sat down in front of Slimy. Covens quickly moved out of the room and after a harsh slap echoed out through the tunnels she came back in, looking satisfied. Cradow sulked.

‘Remember,’ Pravin reminded Slimy, ‘if you so much as squeak a peep about our other friend, you die first.’ Pravin didn’t have it in him to kill a stranger but had learned early in life that people equated sheer size with brutality. Slimy nodded.

Footsteps echoed out from the hallway, a group of 3 or 4, by Pravin’s guess. He took a deep breath and focused his mind as Covens and Vaskir had taught him. This didn’t have to become a dangerous encounter. He need only lie a little and allow this Tabbathy fellow to complete his business and be on his way.