Negus went to the underbelly where gold flowed like wine; brutes stood guard in front of establishments; nimble thieves lurked in shadows; and mercenaries offered their services for the right price. He stood outside the Shadow’s Den, a step up from the surrounding buildings. The wood was rich and dark, and intricate carvings adorned the stone. Melodic laughter spilled out from the tavern, and drunks stumbled out, leaning on each other, all red in the face.

He entered the tavern. It was shrouded in dim, flickering candlelight; dark wooden beams hung low, and tapestries adorned the walls. A bard played on a lute in one corner, his fingers dancing across the strings. At the end of the bar, a cloaked figure nursed a glass of ale, and leaning on the bar next to him was a balding man dressed in colorful clothing. They were in a heated conversation.

Negus walked up to the bar. The man behind it stood tall with broad shoulders; he had a tattoo of an ashen dragon circling his eye, and his arms displayed a collection of various inks. When Negus knocked on the wooden bar, he cleaned glasses with a black stained rag.

“Excuse me, sir,” Negus said, “I’m looking for an individual who could help me with a… certain matter.”

“You want information? Buy something.”

Negus clenched his fist and sighed. “Fine. What’s the cheapest drink you have?”

“Burlog rum. 15 gold.”

“That’s your cheapest drink?”

The man leaned against the bar. “The rum is three gold, and the information is extra.”

Negus frustratingly began to reach for his satchel to pay the man when suddenly he felt an unfamiliar sensation. He leaned into the feeling, and as he did so, he felt the tome shaking in his bag. The power he felt was hard to explain intricately but could best be described in a single word: influence. He used this ability to peer into the mind of the barkeep and implanted a thought within his head: the price of the drink would be enough for the information.

“I believe the price of the drink will be enough,” Negus said. “Hmm… I don’t usually do discounts, but since you’re a first-time customer, I’ll allow it.”

Negus placed three pieces of gold on the counter. The man swiped up the small, etched coins, poured a glass of Burlog rum, and slid it forward.

Negus downed it. “I’m looking for the best mercenary here. One that is discreet and, above all else, a true professional.”

“That man,” --the barkeep pointed– “sitting in the corner with that young woman. His name’s Ryker, and for the right price, he’ll do just about anything.”

The back of the man’s head faced them, but Negus could make out pointy ears. A half-elf, most likely. Full-blooded elves tended to stick to woodland areas. Suddenly, the man flinched and slammed his fist against the table; the woman he was talking with quickly stood and left.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Negus eyed the barkeep.

“His mask,” the barkeep said, “it’s cursed. He doesn’t like talking about it. Only comes off occasionally, and after that, it snaps back on.”

Negus curtly nodded and walked over to the half-elf. He pulled a chair up and sat next to him.

“Excuse me, are you Ryker? I heard you’re a specialist who could help me with a certain peculiar job.”

Ryker turned to face Negus. His silver mask was adorned with intricate etchings that Negus couldn’t make out.

“Depends, what would a job of this caliber entail? Would this be worthwhile for an experienced veteran such as myself? I don’t like to associate myself with boring work nowadays.”

Negus leaned forward and began to speak softly to prevent others from listening.

“There is a gala taking place tonight. Many of the city’s nobles and council members will be there. I must be at that gala.”

“Why do you need to get into this gala so desperately?”

“Never mind the details; just know it is a delicate and important matter to me.”

“I see. Well, for a job like this, and on such short notice, you’re looking at a steep price to enlist my services.”

“Well, out with it then? How much to procure your services?”

Ryker scoffed. “1500 gold.”

Negus shot up. “Wha-1500 gold! Outrageous! And for one evening of work?

“1500 gold. Galas like those are always crawling with security, good security as well. They don’t want anyone who doesn’t belong there getting in. 1500 gold is the least I would take for a job with this high risk.”

Negus thought for a second while twiddling his fingers. He tried to tap into to the influential power he felt from the tome earlier, but the mercenary’s mind was much sharper than the barkeep’s. It resisted the infiltration, locking him out.

“I cannot believe I am considering this. I don’t know what you’re capable of…if anything.”

“I assure you, you don’t get a reputation such as mine for doing subpar work. If I tell you 1500 gold for my services, you can be damn sure I’ll be worth every last coin.”

Negus stood up and began to weigh his thoughts. “Give me a second to think about this, would you?”

“Of course, take your time. Just know that in my experience, the best decisions are made with your gut...and your blade.”

Negus began to pace around the room when two rough-looking individuals suddenly approached him. One was bald, with a large scar on his head, while the other was hooded, with only his eyes visible. The hooded one reached for a dagger at his belt and began to speak.

“That’s some fancy clothes you got there, friend. How about we see how I fit in them, eh?” The hooded man approached Negus, but before he could react, a shroud of shadows enveloped the hooded man. In the blink of an eye, Ryker had taken down the thug swiftly yet gracefully, and before the bald individual could make a run for it, Ryker slammed him to the floorboards.

Ryker turned to Negus. “There’s a small glimpse of the services I can provide. So, does 1500 gold sound reasonable enough for you now?”

Negus was stunned and, above all else, impressed. “I would be lying if I said that performance hadn’t swayed me. You’re much better than most mercenaries I have had the displeasure of working with. We have a deal, Ryker.”

“Excellent. By the way, I never caught your name. Who is it that I’m to be working for this evening?”

“Call me Negus, and know I can handle myself if things get rough.”

Ryker glanced at the two downed men. “Yes, clearly.”

He turned back to face Negus. “Meet me at the Gailworthe Bridge. There’s some business I must finish up here before I can accompany you.”

Negus nodded and exited the tavern.