We walked through the streets of the capital, our disguises concealing our true appearance from the few people we encountered along the way, but we couldn't help but receive suspicious glances, for the presence of two unknown Sarkaz in the least respectable part of the capital was still strange.
Brothels, shadowy taverns, bandit hideouts, and strange businesses. All sorts of questionable actions and commerce were being carried out far from the eyes of the authorities in the more distant sections. Or perhaps they knew and didn't care; perhaps they even benefited from it.
In the end, there was nothing I hadn't seen. Makeshift buildings almost collapsing, poor and sick people of various ages sleeping in the alleys, shivering with cold, individuals watching us in the darkness with attentive eyes, and more.
I felt uneasy about it. The land hadn't collapsed due to a curse and monsters, and its population hadn't been driven mad, so why was it allowed to fall to this extent?
I moved on, abandoning those thoughts. I could do small acts of charity, but I didn't have the power or the resources to change the people's situation.
Warfarin and I asked questions of the few people along our way who were willing to stop and listen. Some barely bothered and soon left, either out of distrust or fear; others tried to steal what we had of value, but that never ended well for them.
Aside from the obvious attempts to lie, sell us something fake, or involve us in some criminal scheme, the person who gave us useful information turned out to be a drunken old man in rags, sitting on a crate while drinking from a now-empty bottle.
With a grinning red face and a trembling hand, he pointed to the path ahead, giving some directions between his sobs. We thanked him, handing him some coins before we left.
Trusting the words of a drunkard would be a terrible idea for anyone else, and honestly, he was the only one who listened to what we had to say. In the end, he seemed to have told the truth, because right in front of us was the place we were looking for.
There were several places in the capital where you could hire mercenaries. It wasn't exactly a guild, but there were taverns that were mostly dedicated to hiring those who put their weapons up for sale.
The thing was, these establishments varied in reputation and quality, and at that moment, we were looking for those who weren't afraid to do a dirty and high-risk job. In this case, kidnapping a nobleman's children during a party in his territory.
The building was larger and better maintained compared to the rest. Voices and lights came from inside, where dark outlines moved. As we approached the entrance, the pair of armed Sarkaz guarding it stared at us coldly, but didn't stop us from entering.
I already had an idea of what I would find when I crossed the threshold. Even so, it wasn't a pleasant thing to see. The place was dilapidated, from its decor to the furniture, dirty, dusty, and occupied by people who were anything but friendly.
The mercenaries, probably gathered in their own groups, had stern faces, visible scars and other old wounds, indicating their experience. Their equipment was more worn, I suppose not because it was of poor quality, but rather due to constant use.
We crossed the tavern, feeling the various eyes trying to pierce our bodies, and stopped in front of the counter, with the possible owner of the place receiving us with crossed arms and a stern face.
"Well, you are new faces. What do you want?"
He was a tall, strong man, with fair skin, a scarred face, and a broken horn.
I looked around after hearing his question, as there were still many eyes and ears nearby.
"Are you sure we can talk here? We want to discuss a delicate matter."
"HA! Don't worry, everyone here is a professional in the field."
He laughed, and Warfarin and I exchanged glances, then she stepped forward, continuing the conversation.
"We're looking for someone to do a dangerous job, high risk and high reward, but it involves dealing with important and powerful people."
Soon, the man's mood changed, and his attitude became more serious.
"What kind of person are we talking about? A warlord or…"
"Someone of a higher level. Of blue blood, if you know what I mean."
He didn't answer immediately, looking away and sighing.
"The fact that we're in the capital should already serve as a warning that we don't mess with this kind of person. A warlord, maybe, but those at the top of Kazdel…"
"Seriously, then, could you point us to where we can find someone who does the job?"
He looked up with a hand on his chin, deep in thought.
"Maybe I know, but my memory isn't the best. Maybe you could refresh it?"
A small smile appeared on his face, and his tone became more cheerful. I clicked my tongue, removing some coins from my purse and placing them on the counter.
His eyes lit up; he accepted them without wasting any time and answered the previous question.
"Great, if anyone asks, I didn't tell you this, and for your own good, things should stay this way, now…"
-XXXXXX-
The cold desert wind blew over our bodies, raising clouds of sand around us. Torrente galloped at full speed as we headed towards our goal.
"There!"
Warfarin shouted, one hand gripping me while the other, holding my binoculars, pointed at the massive rock walls in the distance. I pulled on my horse's reins, turning it in the indicated direction.
The closer we got, the larger the rock formation became. We entered a large crevice in the rock, advancing through a narrow, dark passage, as the moonlight barely reached us.
Torrent slowed, the sound of his hooves reverberating off the walls as we searched for the sign indicating the correct path.
SNIF! SNIF!
Suddenly, I heard Warfarin sniffing the air.
"We're being watched from above."
I raised my head, looking at the upper sections of the cliff face. In the distance, at the top, I saw dark outlines that stood out against the sky. As quickly as it appeared, it retreated.
"Be prepared in case they try something."
The vampire murmured an approval, and then we continued onward, stopping when we found a section of the wall with three deep scratches on its surface. We moved a little further; I sent Torrente away and extended my hand toward the area next to the mark, watching as it cut through the surface as if it didn't exist, similar to what happened in the mountains. Same result, but different methods.
Exchanging a nod, we passed through the illusion, finding ourselves in a passage carved into the rock, with wooden beams serving as support and torches burning on the wall.
Just like in the capital, the tension was palpable as we walked, knowing what to expect only from what we had been told, but the real experience could be completely different.
There was a light at the end of the tunnel, as well as sounds emanating from there, becoming clearer as we approached. We shielded our eyes from the changing lighting, but as soon as our vision returned to normal, we had an elevated view of what was just below.
An improvised city, not unlike the capital, with buildings erected from wood, metal, rope, and other found materials, that is, when the rock itself hadn't been carved into something else like a building or a bridge.
The place was a large hole, with the buildings in question built into its walls, slowly descending to the bottom, so deep that we couldn't see exactly what was happening there.
At least we could see how to get down, with ramps, stairs, and platforms scattered everywhere, like a labyrinth, with people crossing them, in such large numbers that the image of an anthill came to mind.
"Is the king aware of this place?"
"I don't doubt it, but if it bothers you, you should ask yourself if he has the resources to deal with it."
I nodded upon hearing Warfarin's answer. Resources, that seemed to be one of the biggest problems the king had.
When compared to other places and seen from afar, one would think this place was just another decaying city in Sarkaz trying to survive, but they couldn't be more wrong. This was one of the many "markets" scattered throughout Kazdel, a hotbed of criminals and all sorts of illegal business.
"AAAHHH!"
CRASH!
A man had just been pushed from the upper levels to a fatal fall, his body crashing through the wood until it landed on a rocky area, where a cloud of dust accompanied by a sickly crackling sound formed.
When it dissipated, there was a broken body in a pool of blood on the cracked ground, with people crowding around him, not in horror or to try to help him, but rather to loot anything of value he had.
"HAHAHA!"
The people who pushed him, a man and a woman, just laughed on the edge of the walkway, looking down as if watching a comedy, seeming more bothered by the fact that they couldn't get anything of value from him.
Descending the levels, we saw bars full of drunks laughing, shouting, betting, and fighting without any kind of control, merchants selling various types of equipment and products that they claimed were illegal contraband without any fear, arenas where fights of various categories took place, whether bare-knuckle, battle royales with various weapons and armor, animals against animals, or animals against man.
A group of children dressed in rags ran past us; I made sure to pull Warfarin close and keep an eye on our pockets, ensuring that nothing was stolen. The same could not be said for the men and women ahead of us, who noticed the absence of their belongings and chased the thieves at a hurried pace while shouting insults.
But the worst, the one that made my anger boil over, was the slave market: men, women, and children, all of varying ages, being displayed on stages, chained to each other with handcuffs and collars, dressed in rags, but apparently unharmed and healthy, increasing their value.
Their bodies might be fine, but their faces, their eyes- there was no life left there, only resignation to their fate. I remembered the first day I arrived here; that problem was on a smaller scale. I eliminated the warlord and his gang and took each one to their home, distributing the looted resources, but here, the scale of the operation was much larger.
Where did these people come from? Where would they go? I could burn this place down until nothing was left, but then what? What would prevent these things from happening again? I would have to attack the problem at its root, and it wasn't a matter of killing the leaders, but a deeper problem in Kazdel.
I looked away when the auction began; each of the Sarkaz in the crowd, but well-dressed and armed compared to the rest, shouted out ever-increasing amounts while the slave master responded in the same tone and volume, inciting his spectators.
"Alden, can you let me go?"
I snapped out of my stupor and looked down, seeing that I still held Warfarin pressed against my body, and her disguise perfectly reflected her expression, which I couldn't quite describe.
"Oh, sorry!"
I let her go, looking away with a pang of shame in my chest.
"No problem, now how about we find someone to pass the rags to the mercenaries?"
She offered me a wide smile that trembled for a moment, probably uncomfortable with the dangerous environment.
"R-right!"
I stammered a reply and followed her, both of us blending into the crowd, trying to unravel the mystery behind the kidnapping and theft of the relic.
END OF CHAPTER