It was a crisp autumn day, with the sun shining through beautiful trees of red and yellow. The fallen leaves crunched underfoot, a cool breeze lazily ruffled the treetops. Jovial men and women walked through the streets, enjoying the scents coming from bakeries and the sight of fall decorations strung up on buildings. Marth strode confidently through the middle of the street, drawing the scorn from a few nobles who moved for him.
“Excuse me, of what house do you belong to?” A particularly annoyed man asked, holding one frail arm in front of Marth to bar him from moving.
“Oh, I belong to no house. Rather, I live in Keres,” He said, wearing a mock smile. The man noticeably recoiled, staring at him with apprehension.
“I… see,” He said. The audacity for a derelict from Keres to walk in the middle of the street. Marth nodded, and continued on his way, bumping shoulders with the man as they passed each other. He didn’t turn, leaving the man even more angry than before.
Walking in Iotus as a Keres citizen was like walking in a set for a play, it could be a beautiful and serene picture, but there was always a sense of being out of place. Even wearing an outfit that seemed to fit those around him, Marth seemed to stick out by aura alone, some unforeseen force drawing attention to him. A mask of false perfection was worn by the citizens and the city, always being maintained for the pride of Tia.
Eventually, he reached the border of Keres and their familiar streets. The air, thick with sweat and smelling of Qascade, the derelict carts flying past him. It was like the city was emanating an aura of its own like a beating heart. Thick smog rose in plumes from the factories, turning the suns light into gray beams. Marth reached his destination, a weapons shop, and entered.
This was his main dealer of weapons. He had a more industrial supply for his soldiers, but for personal use, he always went here. The sign out front had long been illegible, and the windows were bullet hole-ridden and board-covered. The inside was no better, the strong stench of Quel in the air and glass displays forsaken for a simple stack of items for every category; blades, guns, and ammo.
“You again? How many weapons does one man need?” The man at the counter belted out to him, with a hearty chuckle. He had a few scraggly hairs around his chin and cheeks and his bulk took up most of the counter, but in Marth’s eyes there wasn’t another man as trustworthy.
“Don’t worry about my affairs old man. I’m in the business for some swords at the moment. Would you happen to have any of Nahk origin?”
“Of course we do,” He said. waddling into the back. On display in the front were rifles, pistols, and some shoddy swords. All decent options for most people, but of piss poor quality. If you needed a quality weapon in a rundown place, you asked for one from Nahk. They would always be of passing grade at the least. The country prided themselves on quality weapons, with the highest quality ore and smiths around.
Out from the back came a pile of swords with plain black hilts and scabbards. Nahk blades weren’t a decoration piece, they were a tool for killing. Marth rummaged through the pile and produced a small sword with a curved blade. He unsheathed it and looked at his reflection in the blade. It was perfectly polished and the right size for concealment, the scabbard falling away without effort.
“This is perfect, I’ll take it,” Marth said.
“One hundred Smithe.”
He let out a sigh. “Gods and their Trials but you're not getting any damn cheaper. Should I not get a discount?”
The man grinned now, his teeth blackened and mismatched. “You're a rich Kalb now, no reason for me to charge less.”
Marth laughed wryly and tossed a small bag on the counter before grabbing his weapon and leaving out into the streets again. Gray clouds covered the sky, blending with the smog coming from the south like paint. The sky lit up every few seconds with massive arcs of lightning, thunderous booms shaking the street underfoot. The rain hadn’t hit them yet, but it wouldn’t be long now.
I need to get to the base before nightfall, he thought. At night, the streets became crowded with merchants, hedonists, and drunks, turning the thin cobble streets into a sort of mosh pit. The design was strange, having the streets be so thin when people would be crammed in them and trying to move around, but it was built that way and wasn’t going to change.
He ran through the streets and alleys, navigating them like the back of his hand. Keres was not a large city by any means, about half the size of Iotus or Edosil, but it was dense and made for pedestrian travel. Soon, he reached an alley that he often used as a shortcut. On one side, trash was stacked as high as the roof, massive rats and roaches scrambling around. He climbed the trash and crawled onto the roof taking a deep breath of the fresh air at the summit.
The city was beginning to enter full swing now. The entertainment district let off a neon red and purple glow, the rest of the city covered in dancing lights. People ran through the streets, getting their wares ready for the night or delivering messages. At the border, the city abruptly stopped, turning into a sprawling forest. It was dazzling.
He jumped from ledge to ledge, until he arrived at the ground once more. In front of him was the door to an unassuming warehouse, rain tapping against the building. To one side of him, a guard stood, rifle in hand. She hadn’t noticed him, even when he didn’t take particular effort to be silent.
“Pardon me, miss,” He called out to her. She jumped in the air, turning the barrel of the gun to him,
“Who's there,” She shouted back, taking a wary step towards him.
“Just me, sorry to scare you Abi.”
Realization dawned on her face, immediately she dropped the gun to her side and saluted.
“Very sorry about that sir!”
“It’s fine, but let’s try to be a bit more attentive in the future. I would hate to see you get hurt, and only the Gods Above know what Kate would do.”
“Of course sir, please forgive my carelessness,” Her arm fell down to her side, as she walked back to her station much more wide-eyed now.
Marth pushed on the metal door, rusted joints letting out against the rain. Inside, one side of the room was covered by all manner of weapons and guns so that they could hold down the warehouse if there was an attack. In the middle of the room sat an assortment of desks, each for a different member. The other side was a mass of body bags and boxes. This building wasn’t open to many, only his best agents were allowed to enter.
“I heard you picking on Abi,” A familiar voice chimed from one of the desks. Kate sat polishing her daggers, her inky black braids going all over the desk.
“Would you rather I correct her or she get shot?”
“Don’t make light of that.” She shot a glare at him, placing her daggers on one side of the desk. “Are we finally starting the plan? We have almost everything ready, spare a few more Pagans at the shipment.”
“We won’t need many, you know the standards of people they are. If everything has gone to plan at the funeral, he will be distracted dealing with the gang that took him. It’s the perfect time to do it.” Marth said, grabbing a bottle of Jietan from his desk. It hissed softly as he opened it, the familiar scent of oak and wheat coming from the neck of the bottle.
“Do you really need to drink right now?”
“How else am I supposed to work through all this pent up stress, having to deal with you,” He asked, taking a long swig from the bottle. She rolled her eyes, before standing from the desk.
“I’ll alert the Pagans that it's starting,” She said, grabbing her holster from the desk and slinging her rifle over her back. It wasn’t as simple as directly contacting them, the Pagans were more careful than that. You had to alert them through a secondary soldier, a good precaution to take when dealing with Keres citizens.
“Make sure you are discreet in the streets,” Marth yelled out to her across the floor. “Travel in back alleys and side streets, if they somehow figure out what's going on then we are taking a major loss.”
“Don’t worry, I prayed for our financial stability just today.” She retorted, sarcasm thick in her voice.
“Can’t have your gods doing everything for us, try to make up for their shortcomings!”
Then she left. She should be back by morning, he thought. In the meantime, Marth left to the streets, donning a trench coat, and putting his sword on his side. He wouldn’t do anything strenuous tonight, tomorrow would require a lot from him.
The streets of Keres came alive at night, with people fighting and dancing and belting out in song. The whole city was like a magnet for those lost in life, deperately trying to distract themselves, but even those who were lost had coin. Money flowed through keres like a river, businesses and merchants could work solely at night.
As the streets progressed, they got more and more desolate. He realized he had walked to Joy’s End, without realizing it. People lay in the streets, covered in whatever warmth they could scavenge. He walked a bit to close to one alley, a gnarled hand reached for his ankle.
“Please give me money. I need more, please.” An old man looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. His body contorted in spasms, so much so it seemed to be hurting him. Marth kicked off his arms and kept walking, what good would fueling his addiction do? It was a depressing sight, but all to common. All the good parts of Keres were just paint over rust, covering for a rot that wouldn’t go away.
Soon he arrived at a nice sight, the Drunken Swan. A lovely little respite from the death and drab of Joy’s End, and the owner was a good friend of his. He entered the bar and was hit with the scent of hot meat and whiskey, along with a wave of nostalgia. This bar had been the same since Keres existed, albeit switching owners a few times, and served as a home for Marth in his juvenile years.
When he entered the room, the crowd inside went silent. Nobody moved nor spoke, and they all just stared at him, some letting their hands rest near their firearms. It was quite strange since he had entered the bar before and no one batted an eye.
“Well, this is a sorry sight, all this drink and no one enjoying any. “ He said, gesturing to the bottles behind the counter as well as the kegs behind those “ The next round is on me, so drink up!”
This brought on a cheer from the room, as well as some drunks shaking hands with him. One especially emotional man broke down crying on his shoulder, but Marth simply shrugged him off. In one corner of the room, however, a man sat without cheering, instead sizing up Marth. He noticed and the man looked back down at his plate of food, but Marth took note. He walked to the front of the room and stopped at the bar, seeing an old friend.
“Mr Farasin, it’s been far too long,” He exclaimed, a grin splitting his face “ I hope you haven’t forgotten your roots boy, you never come around anymore!”
Marth smiled, a rare true smile. “You're right, but I’m a busy man now. I can’t spend all my time here chasing women and drinking.”
“True enough, glad you’ve matured out of the former. Now come on back to my office. We have lots to catch up on, I’m sure.”
They walked up the old creaky wood stairs to the second floor where his office was. It was a relatively lavish room, furnished with shelves of books and photos of family. On his desk, there was a photo of him and Marth, outside the bar, holding the deed to the building. They were both a lot younger in the photo, Marth being just over ten and Luther being just under forty.
Marth gently picked up the picture. “This brings me back. I remember the first time I came into the bar I asked for some spare food and you laughed in my face and told me to get out. When I persisted, you took me to this same office and gave me a broken nose. When I started screaming so loud the customers could hear me, you brought me a plate of some old bread and stock.”
“And thus a beautiful friendship was born.” Luther retorted, with a grin “I just remember some beggar coming into the bar and making a scene at the front desk. But all's well that ends well, So, what brings you by?”
Marth set the photo back down on the desk and sat down. “I just wanted to visit, I haven’t been around here in too long, how’s business?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He sighed and sat across from Marth. “It hasn't been great. Just a couple of nights back I had that one White Death kid come in and kill some guy. Has people shaken up, not wanting to come by.”
Marth shot up, eyes wide.
“Why did he come to the bar?”
“Said he was looking into property in the area. I asked some of the neighbors and they said the same thing, that he came in and made them an offer. Obviously, we turned him down, you're definitely a better landlord than that Kalb.” He said, sensing Marth’s urgency. His tone made it seem like he didn’t know why Marth was so worried.
“Did any of them mention I was the owner of their buildings?”
“I didn’t ask, but I’d guess not. Information is like hookers, the best aren’t shared.”
Marth laughed, sitting back down. “Oh how I’ve missed your sayings, damned dirty old man.”
The two men talked for hours, the time they spent apart had let many topics accumulate. Marth rarely let his guard down, but he knew this was a man he could trust. He was as close to a father as Marth had, without his kindness Marth would be on the streets or dead. Eventually, the drinks and conversation ran dry. Marth left through the now closed barroom and out onto the cold, desolate streets.
“It’s been good seeing ya kid. You ever need to talk to me about anything, you know where to find me,” He said, wearing a sad smile. “I don’t get a lotta visitors, so ya better come around more often.”
“I’ll try to check in more often. Take care of yourself, old man.”
“I don’t need that advice, my line of business isn’t even close to as worrisome as yours anyway. If I keep hearing of these gunfights, my heart might just up and give up,” He said. If there were no kind people in Keres, he was as close as one could get. They said their final goodbyes, then Marth left back for the center of town.
The night air gave him a chill, it was the time of year where the days were warm but the nights cold. He passed through Joy’s End quickly; this district was the smallest out of the main seven. The Center Square and Entertainment district were the two largest, excluding the Arena which was more of a landmark than anything else. It was on Alec’s turf, but it was a safe point between the two gangs. As long as you could pay, you were welcome.
If I could only take over the Arena, Marth thought, the revenue would pay for itself tenfold. Unfortunately, it was owned by one of the richest men in Keres, even moreso than Marth himself. An Edosil businessman, bored with the city life. Apparently, the man knew Alec before he had come to Keres, even getting him in a room alone would be helpful. Alec’s past and habits were a complete mystery, like the man himself. Few even knew what he looked like, everyone simply passed around the same basic description.
Once he’d gotten a block or so away from the bar, a man had started following him. Even lost in thought, he could sense the man behind him. People still flooded the streets, but the stalker only walked, not even looking around. Marth cursed under his breath, leading them to a small alley that served as a spot for fights such as this. When he got to the middle, he turned to face the man
“Forgive me if I skip the pleasantries here, what do you want?” Marth asked.
The man made a small motion with his sleeves and two knives fell into his hands, bloodstained and rusty. They seemed to once be of Nahk origin, but they were in such poor quality Marth couldn’t tell.
“You are a very lucky man, Mr. Farasin. If my boss didn’t tell me to take you alive, you’d have a hole in your head.”
“Well, this fight doesn't seem like it is going to end particularly well for me even now.”
The assailant laughed at that. “It seems you are as smart as they say.”
Marth took out his sword as well, polished blade reflecting the moon, as they stood sizing each other up. A few seconds passed, neither wanting to make the first move, then Marth sheathed the blade and sprinted away with a wild grin on his face. He ran into the crowded streets, ducking bef0re the man could spot his head, letting the flowing crowd guide him along like a river.
He stayed crouched for a minute or two, heart pounding in his ears, before standing straight and looking around. He spotted the man far behind him in the crowd, grabbing people and cursing. Marth chuckled, seeing the man in better lighting revealed a scruffy and wide face, fit for livestock. He slinked into a nearby alley.
The alley was a dead-end, or so it would seem. Marth wiped his palms across his pants, feeling the wall to see if it was dry enough. He planted both hands, then his legs, continuously up both walls until he was at the top. He looked down at the street below, the masked assailant was still searching the crowd for him.
The roofs were the most reliable and fast way to get across Keres. It took a lot of bruises and breaks to get to the point where you could do it comfortably, but if you got there, then even at night you could get across town with speed. A surprising amount of people used the roofs as a secondary mode of travel, all messengers at the very least knew how to use them. Marth had been doing this since he was a child, stealing sweets in the Market District then dashing to the roofs before the old vendors could catch him. At this point, he was more comfortable on roofs than the solid ground.
He ran off one side, over an alley, and landed on the next roof which was completely flat. Slanted roofs were much harder to land on since if you rolled you may fly off the edge, but on flats, you could simply land however you wanted. He kept the momentum, running from roof to roof, rolling and jumping with a grin on his face.
The cool air whipped past his ears, blowing the sweat from his face. The smell of the soot and chemical smoke from the factories was comforting, in a way. This was a special kind of joy that wasn’t often found in Keres, a sense of freedom that was lost after years on the streets. He felt like a child again, being chased around town.
After fifteen minutes of running and jumping, he made it back to the warehouse district. It was dead at night, all the workers being long gone at this hour. He leaped down from one of the warehouse's roofs onto a pile of trash, then down to the ground. He took in a deep breath and a swig of water then started walking back to his warehouse.
…
The next day, Kate walked back through the door. Her hair was a mess, and seemed to have a small limp.
“How did it go?” Marth asked her, his hair a mess and eyes bloodshot.
She grabbed the kettle on her table and poured herself a large cup of tea before slumping over in her chair.
“I had to run across the entirety of town, got mugged halfway through Joy’s End, then finally made it to the office and sent the letter. On the way back, I slipped on a three-story rooftop and almost fell to my death. ”
“You sent the message? Good.”
She shot him a death glare. “I didn’t run across half of Keres, fight off a Qas-fiend, and almost fall to my death for a good.”
He looked back at her expressionless, then sat down at the desk opposite hers. The shipment was probably already destroyed, meaning they would launch a full-scale attack tonight. In the meantime, he would call all his best to the building to brief them on what they would be doing. He sent out the letters to them all and waited.
Most of the cities in Tia were connected by pipes, that could send letters and small packages; it was the best way to send messages over short distances. Of course, the rich could simply send out messengers, but in Keres they might get taken or killed and the message stolen, which for material as important as Marth’s wasn’t an option. These pipes were built into the infrastructure when Iotus was first made and stood the test of time today.
It was a matter of minutes before the first arrived. He could barely fit through the door, but eventually, he managed to cram himself through.
“Hello, boss. Is finally time to start plan? You have been speaking of this mission for so much times,” Said Erfin. He was more muscle than man and was taller than most street lamps. In a hand-to-hand fight, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone to beat him. His voice boomed throughout the warehouse, thick with a Miletan accent.
“Yes, yes, I think we will be able to start the attack by tonight. I really will have to buy some larger doors one day, although it is a nice show every time you have to walk in here.”
The man sat down on a chair the size of a sofa and sighed. His desk was decorated with crumbs and spare cart-papers smeared with different colored sauces; his desk was by far the worst kept out of the groups.
“I don’t like having to wait. Why did you call me such early?”
“I haven’t called you for a job in months, so you have no room to complain.” Marth sat down at his desk, across from Erfin “You also came an hour late for that job so I thought I’d get you here five hours early to be safe.”
“Tabia was late for that job too, did you tell her to come now as well?”
“Of course not! Only you, my brutish friend.”
He glared at Marth then put his head down and started snoring. He had the uncanny ability to sleep at any place at any time, like a child.
Next came Kal, who silently slipped through the door. He didn’t say anything and sat down at his desk, which was decorated with a single stack of blank paper and a pen.
“Kal, you should greet everyone when you get here, it’s polite.”
“No.” He said. His voice was hushed, but articulate, with a hint of Nahk inflection. He was short and skinny, the most unassuming person you could think of, but his eyes were like two pools of dark vinegar. They made people squirm when he looked at you with them, and run if he glared. It was also quite ironic that the stringiest member of the group was the best in a fight.
Marth stood up and walked to Kal’s desk “I don’t pay him for his decourum Kate, shut up.” He stood at on one edge of the desk “Will you need a weapon for this operation?”
“No, I bought some earlier.”
“How much were they?” Marth asked.
“Three hundred Smithe for the pair.”
Marth did a mock grimace and took out three bags. He tossed them to Kal, who immediately pushed them back across the table.
“As long as you work for me, you don’t need to worry about buying your weapons, it is the least I can do.” He pushed the bags back in front of him.
“You pay me already. I do not need it.”
“You either take it now or I put it into your stores the next time I pay you, and I don’t know about you but the feeling of a coin-bag in your pocket is quite comforting to me.”
Kal looked at the bags for a few seconds, the back to Marth, before gesturing to the edge of the desk and bowing his head slightly.
Marth nodded and left back to his desk. When Marth had first met him, Kal had easily won in a short fight between them. Typically Marth would’ve put a bullet into anyone around him seemed even remotely suspicious, but that was what drew him to Kal; he was completely silent until he was already attacking Marth
Kal had grown up in Nahk but left on a sword shipment when his town was raided by a rival clan. He could take up almost any blade and use it effectively, but never used guns. He always wanted to be self-reliant, turning down help whenever he could and keeping to himself. It was natural of course, you can imagine the horrors he saw before getting to Keres.
The last two would probably be a while so he started sifting through a pile of bills he would need to send out. That was the aspect of being a gangleader no one told you about, ninety percent of his work was papers and messages. Keeping track of everyone who owed him money, everyone who seemed to be acting dubious, it took most of his time.
The next time he looked up, they were strolling in through the side door of the warehouse, Tabia leading and Yvette behind her. Tabia was belting out some story and Yvette was just walking behind her, staring ahead.
“I assume you were not walking in the streets speaking that loudly?” Marth said to her when they got to the cluster of desks.
Tabia sat down and laid her hand scythes on her table. She had brown curls framing her face, and small cuts and bruises all over her face. “ Of course not, I’m not that careless.”
“Yvette, was she?”
“Yes,” Yvette was beautiful by all meanings of the word. Elegant, always poised, like a statue come to life. Marth looked over at Tabia. She didn’t meet his gaze.
“ Well, everyone is here now, so let’s begin. Tonight, we will be launching a full-scale attack on the White Death. They will not have any ammo, so it will be a melee brawl, and we will have the upper hand because of all of you. I have paid a healthy sum to a lot of the weapon shops in White Death territory to act as though they are out of stock on most guns.”
“Why will they not have ammo?” Tabia asked.
“I sent out a small five-person squad to deal with a ammo caravan that was scheduled to enter Keres two days ago. Yesterday, I did the same for an emergency shipment of ammo coming into Keres, ordered by Alec himself. All forms of ammo have become so scarce that they might not even have enough to get through our first wave, meanwhile, I have been stockpiling melee armaments.
“So the plan is to make trouble in their part of town, let them waste all their ammo on some grunts, and then massacre them? What if they have also been stockpiling?”
“With the price of ammo skyrocketing in Keres and Alec being preoccupied with the men who took him a few days back, I think he is a bit preoccupied.”
“What if Alec had been saving for a while?”
“Then the plan fails and we take our losses and recuperate. I can’t plan for every little thing but we'll find out quickly. To begin, I am going to send out one hundred soldiers to that part of town with guns and engage them in a firefight. I don’t expect it to go well for us but we will waste enough ammo to where we can launch the real attack.”
“Do we really have to waste these lives? Can we not just go in on our own?” Kal asked. Marth gave him an glare, but quickly caught himself.
“I’m not happy it has to be this way, truly, but I don’t value their lives anywhere near yours.” Kal opened his mouth to argue, but bit back whatever response he thought of.
“Alright, this plan sounds interesting, and we never get to have a good old-fashioned brawl anymore,” Tabia said, flipping the scythes in her hands.
“There’s just one thing I don’t get, wouldn’t he at the least notice the rapidly rising prices of ammo and look into it further?” Kate asked.
“If I were to see the rising prices, I may look into it, but his pockets run much deeper than ours and he isn’t as smart. I’m sure he won’t notice the lack of ammo before it’s too late, call it clarivoyance.”
“Never took you for the religious type boss,” Tabia jabbed him in the side, drawing his scorn.
“Religious people would not proclaim that they were able to see the future, that was reserved for the saints and the prophets,” Yvette spoke up, her voice soft and high pitched. She was a devout Shaibean, or follower of the Ten Gods. It was said that in the beginning times, the first god Zai created the other ten gods out of boredom, giving each a fraction of his power. Now, they each ruled over a different sect of the church and blessed those who followed with great strength and supernatural abilities.
“I meant that most don’t even believe in clairvoyance from the start. Who’s to say he isn’t one of the saints brought back to life?”
“There were no devils among the saints,” She didn’t say it with malice towards Marth, it was as though she was just stating a fact that everyone knew.
“I feel we have gotten off track,” Marth interrupted before Tabia could ruin the conversation further. “I’ll send the order and when the clock strikes nine, we attack. Get whatever you need beforehand, but be discreet.”
“When do we arrive the next morning?” Erfin asked, waking up bleary eyed. “You’ll want to hear what happened right?”
“Of course. Eight. If you're late, you will be forcibly removed from the gang and possibly killed. I’m serious about this, if all goes well this could be a major step towards our goal.”
They all nodded and went their separate ways.