Also, here you go Wolf. A present for you.
Chapter One
The day before.
I whistled as I walked down the main road of the Bright Well Cordon, my birthplace and my home. It's also my territory. Bright Well was one of the many Cordons that made up the Undercroft. Each of them had their own markets, taverns and barbers, including houses of varying size and disrepair. They were small towns really, except the borders were crammed next to each other, which was cause for a lot of blurred lines and confusion. A top-down view of the Undercroft would look something like a roughly-shaped hexagon, filled with twelve smaller hexagons, or so the architects drawings I'd had pinched showed.
Each Cordon had its own Topman, an unofficial boss that would govern crime and run their organisations within those Cordons. Some Topmen governed more than one. Sloan owned four, followed by Coale who held three. I owned just the one and there were four other Topmen too. The Cordons nearer the center were generally the most populated and, without a doubt, the richest. Which is what gave Sloan his pulling power, since he held all four of the richest Cordons.
Originally, the Undercroft had been built by the Orlanthian Clan leader on the eastern side of the city of Balast to house refugees camped outside of the walls after the various wars that had plagued the Empire had destroyed their homes. This was back when the Empire was broken into many different countries and ruled by warring clans. The Orlanth clan had emerged victorious in uniting the Empire after centuries of fighting. But rather than moving the refugees into the city or rebuilding the old towns and hamlets, they decided to expand upon the Undercroft to house more refugees and even began housing the poor. In a matter of months, Balast, the new capital of the Empire had been transformed into a beacon of wealth and power, all whilst the poor and homeless were housed in poverty and squalor. Which, in the eyes of the rich, was more than they deserved.
The truth is that while the rich merchants and traders drank wine and ate lavish meals with the nobles, the Undercroft had grown larger, expanding out towards to east, eventually reaching the shore and developing it’s own Docklands. Vagrants and criminals from all over the Empire soon began to populate the refugee city, finding it to be the perfect place to commit terrible crimes and get away with it. The Royals had once policed the Undercroft, making sure crime rates were low and the people lived in peace. But since the start of the war with the eastern emperor by the name of Malik Nassir Al'Habad, the Guard's numbers had become too thin and unable to cope with serving two cities and fighting a war. So the King ordered the Royals to withdraw from the second city, leaving it to descend into squalor and evolve into the City of Shadows. Where Balast had become the trade capital of the Empire, the Undercroft had taken the mantle of the capital of crime.
The main road was filled with people. Stall traders, laborers, butchers, craftsmen and, of course, the unsuspecting victims of the crimes that ran high throughout the cordon. We call them Civs. Just your everyday civilian or city-folk ready to be served upon at any point during the day. To be served upon is have a crime committed against you. Whether it's being lifted, snatched, dusted or any other criminal act performed against your person. To be a Civ meant you’re a potential target for any of the Undercroft's true children. People like myself, the criminals and vagabonds that litter the shadowed streets of this rotting city. We are the Akh Nar. In a far off land, where the inhabitants speak in strange tongues, that is the name for us thieves and murderers. It is under this name that we commit our heinous acts. In some ways it unites us, tells us apart from the everyday dross that clings to life within these wretched streets. We rally to the title and strive to live up to its meaning. Being Akh Nar, or Akin as it is often shortened to, is like being accepted in a world that was made to shed people of acceptance, to strip them of worth and grind them down to nothingness.
Today, in this market, both Civ and Akin were out in force. With a learned eye it's quite easy to pick out who is from either group, but just because you can spot an Akin that doesn't mean you can let your guard down. Fortunately for me, I'm a Topman, which meant that all of the Akin in this Corden worked for me. Though it may not have been directly, these low-level Scrubs had Heads who had Bosses who worked for Lows who then did work directly for me. It can be a confusing arrangement at times but as long as you kept your face known, which I was currently doing, you'd have no problems with the Scrubs not recognising who you were and mistaking you for a Civ. It gets rather messy when that happens. I walked down the main road alone, no one stood in my way and those who knew me greeted me with a discreet nod or tip of the hat. Some would wink, whilst others would twitch their noses. They all had own different greetings but they all meant the same thing. They recognised me. Seeing a Topman in person wasn't usually a common thing, most of my fellows prefer to sit back whilst their Lowers show their faces. Not me, I valued the fear in a man's eye when he knew my face and what it meant for him to be seeing it. I kept myself well known so that if anyone got a slight inkling of a notion to fuck me over, my face would pop up out of memory and remind them exactly why they shouldn't.
I neared upon a fruit and veg stall, one of many in the long line of stalls that stretched all the way down the main road on both sides. This particular one, sold a rather rare fruit known as Red-Fleshed Dragon Fruit. It was pink in colour and looked somewhat like a small Pineapple, though only in shape and texture of the skin. Inside the fruit resembled a kiwi, but with red flesh instead of green, or white if you've had a standard Dragon Fruit. The flesh mixed with seeds tasted mostly bland but managed to hold on to a mild sweetness that only revealed itself after swallowing. It was an amazing thing and curiously deceptive. But it also turned your piss red if you ate too much of it.
I held up one of the exotic fruits and eyed the stall owner. “How ripe are these?” I asked. It was a direct question, one that should be easily answered by any experienced fruit vendor, but the aging man who stood behind it hesitated as he regarded the fruit.
“They arrived from the Docklands yesterday. Only two crates in total, but packed full. My youngest son hauled them all the way by handcart.”
“When are you expecting the next shipment?”
“Tomorrow morning. My son has already made his way and should arrive at the Docklands early this evening.”
“I’ll take the two crates that you have now and I’ll come and inspect the others tomorrow. Have the crates delivered to my warehouse, as usual.” I pulled out a medium-sized, brown leather pouch and offered it to the vendor. It wasn’t bulging too much but the stall owner could easily tell that it held a generous amount of copper coins. “There’s a little extra in there for your son.”
“Thank you, Master Alseif” The man gracefully took the pouch and bowed his head slightly. I tossed the Dragon Fruit in the air a little and caught it again before walking off. To a Civ, the conversation I just had with the man would have been nothing out of the ordinary. Just two gentlemen discussing the shipment and purchase of exotic fruit. But really, it was about the delivery of stolen goods to my warehouse which I would be selling on. When vendor had told me that the crates were ‘packed full’ he meant that they held stolen goods I had offered to buy from him.
The stall owner was one of my Bosses, Tenjin, who ran a theft operation under the guise of a fruit delivery service. He would specifically order in exotic fruits, far too expensive for the common Civ, but they did attract wealthier customers from all over the city. Once Tenjin had established a good customer relationship with these wealthier folk, he’d offer his special delivery service, where one of his
‘sons’ would deliver the orders directly to their doors. More often than not, the boys were then tasked with bringing the orders inside the houses of the wealthy customers, where they could then begin their real jobs. Casing the place for expensive ornaments to steal. They’d then return a few the nights later and lift the place of its valuables. The goods would then be packed into his fruit crates and delivered to my warehouse so that they could be sold on.
It was a rather lucrative arrangement for both of us. I paid Tenjin a handsome sum for his services, minus his fee for operating in my Corden, and I would then fence the items through one of my Lowers, which kept the money flowing verily through all of our pockets. Being a Topman, however, I didn’t need to do any of this. I could just happily sit back and reap in the ‘taxes’ I earned from all the Akin working within my Corden. But that would be boring, I found the working life of a Lower much more enjoyable, even despite the dangers it possessed.
But that’s where Gibari came in. My right-hand man, so to speak. A hired sell-sword who had been in my employ since before I could even remember. He was at least ten years my senior and well-built with glowing golden skin, littered with a fair share of scars. He had brown, close-cropped hair that he kept slicked over through the use of some kind of wax, which was far too expensive if you asked me, and deep brown eyes. The kind that could stop a man’s heart mid-charge and make him turn on his heels. To any man, Gibari looked every bit a killer. Except that he was often draped in expensive silk shirts and leather hides. He kept an over-sized claymore strapped to his back, accompanied by a long, curved sword at his hip. To the women, he was a stallion. The type of guy that would swoop you up off your feet and whisk you away to somewhere exotic to make sweet love to you and all that other crap. But, despite the fact that Gibari was far from being any where near that kind of man, he didn’t mind playing up to the image they expected him to be, which often resulted in more than a few loud nights. Not that I was bothered, as long as he was able to fulfill his job, whatever he got up to during the dead of night was none of my concern.
I glanced over my left shoulder, easily picking out the large form of my dashing protector as he came up to walk at my side. “I can never understand how you could be comfortable with red-coloured piss.” He said.
“Easily.” I responded but didn’t expand on my answer. I had decided that today would be a good day to be facetious, it’d annoy Gibari which was always a good thing.
“Care to explain?” He said, raising his eyebrows with a slight shrug as he always did whenever I responded flippantly.
“Not really. Say, how did your little venture with that brunette go last night?” We’d spent the evening getting ourselves suitably drunk in my local tavern. And by ‘local’ I meant ‘owned by me’.
“Ah, you know, how it usually goes. What about you? That raven-haired girl looked promising.”
“Eh, I fell asleep.” I looked at the floor as I said it, my cheeks flourishing slightly pink. Gibari couldn’t help himself, a burst of laughter escaped his lips startling the people walking by.
“Again? What is that, the fourth or fifth time now?” He asked with a smile playing at his lips. It was becoming more of a common occurrence. We’d spend the night drinking, charm a pair of half-decent ladies and then I’d always doze off when it came to the fun part. It was beginning to annoy me, but I allowed Gibari to amuse himself.
“I think it’s the fourth. Honestly, I’m beginning to think that there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I should speak to Old Man Rivers. Surely he has a herb or a plant that could help?”
“Or maybe you should just drink less?” He replied, already knowing what my reaction would be.
“Blasphemy!” I exclaimed, mockingly showing an expression of shock. We let out a small laugh as we continued to walk down the main road. It was the same ritual with Gibari. He’d show up, watching my back from out of nowhere, we’d share a laugh about the previous night’s exploits and then we’d get on to business. “Any word from Devin and the others?” I asked, settling the tone.
“Just the usual squabbling. Nothing that can’t wait for Church.” Church was a weekly meeting I had with my Lowers and Bosses. It was the only way to contact me, unless the need was absolutely urgent. This week we’d be a man short. Sid, a rather new Boss, had recently been found guilty of being a rat, working for Sloan no less. So I’d had Gibari cut him into pieces and leave his body parts sprawled all the way down the main road, which caused quite a stir as you could imagine. However, I’d sent his head to Sloan just to keep him off my back for a while. He wouldn’t rush to try and install another spy within my ranks so soon after he knew I’d found out about Sid. Today’s session was going to be an interesting one, mainly because I was going to shout at people. Finding out about Sid was great and all but he’d been a Boss for nearly three months before he’d been caught out. And a lot can be said in three months.
We continued walking in silence, eventually leaving the hustle and bustle of the main road. We entered the maze of narrowing side-streets and darkened alleyways that made up most of my Corden. The buildings were almost squeezed together. They each had their own tiny doors and windows that were as run down as the rest of the buildings. They were homes mainly, but the odd shop would pop up and occasionally a back-alley watering hole, over-packed with drunkards and the like. At the sides of the street were a mixture of the homeless, street urchins, prostitutes and the Akin. Those who knew me gave their respective acknowledgements.
The pair of us turned down a particularly dark alley. This one had its very own stream of piss trickling down the right side. The stench of it made my eyes water. If Gibari could smell it too, he showed no signs of it. Eyes watched us as we walked past, they were ominous and predatory but I strode tall. No one would dare attack either of us. There weren’t many who hadn’t heard of Gibari’s skill with a blade and he was protecting me which meant that I was clearly someone important, too important to be getting yourself cut in half by Gibari’s massive claymore. Not that I was useless with a blade. I had used mine on one or two previous occasions, with some impressive skill if I do say so myself. But when you’re a Topman, you’re expected to let others do the fighting for you, it was something to do with honour. Or was it respect? I forget the reasons behind it. All I worry about is whether my back is covered. And with the big man at my side, I could expect that and more.
Gibari slowed his pace so I followed his lead. He let out a quick bird-like whistle, a signal to one of the guards up above. Among the Akin, there were those who preferred to travel across the rooftops. It was known as the Skyway and it was quite often used by Thieves, Shades and Blades, agile folk who had a knack for escaping. Ever since I'd stepped out of the tavern this morning, a group of Shades had been following my every move. They were my very own protection detail, provided and paid for by my Lowers. Gibari would command them, even despite him only being an associate to the Akh Nar. He'd been around long enough for them to follow his lead. He motioned for them to hold here and waited. We had arrived at an old, abandoned chapel. A prayer house to the Gods, back in a time when people actually prayed. Now it was the designated place for our aptly named Church sessions.
The following whistle was a reply to say that the surrounding area was secure, that it was safe to enter the chapel. Gibari lead me to the rotted, wooden doors. They were blackened from fire damage and completely stripped of any brass that was bolted onto them once upon a time. Too many winters had seen the wood begin to bow and break. A single bang of Gibari’s rock-like fist caused the doors to part slightly. A pair of eyes peeked out of the darkness inside. “Balthazar’s Beard.” Growled Gibari. It was the pass code, for this week’s session. I’d always found them unnecessary, to be honest. If I wanted in so badly, I could quite easily down the man with a well-placed thrust of my Blackamoor Steel Cutlass. As could anyone else, if they dared. But the others had voted on it so I was obliged to abide by it. The doors began to part even more and I strode in ahead of my bodyguard, descending the staircase that lead to a large hall. There were a few guards stationed with torches to light the darkened room but I paid them no attention as I rushed past them. Toward the end of the hall there was an altar and a massive granite statue of Balthazar, a monument to the God of War. But I wasn't interested in praying. I walked behind the large statue, beginning to notice the soft glow of firelight coming from the floor. The source of it was hidden behind a wooden trap door with another staircase that spiraled into the ground. After lifting the door open, I was greeted by sounds of loud shouts and arguing. The others had arrived before me it seems. Gibari closed the trap door behind us and we descended the stairs together.
This is the first half of the chapter.
