In a warmth Kael didn't think he'd find again after his mom's passing, three days flew by. Wearing relic 78, he bought bread and fresh water from Lana's bakery in the morning.
The chubby baker offered him a comfortable smile and the latest gossip. Mostly rumors that made her lips quiver as she handed him his provisions. Things were worse. Much worse.
The gang war began to spread.
He jogged down Ashcoil Row's neighborhood, pausing on the wanted posters stamped on every wall. Two men.
The first was in his early thirties, short-haired, sharp-eyed. But it was his name that everyone knew in the slums: Joss Renn. One gold crown for information leading to his capture. Five for his head. And ten if presented to the Black Cask bar alive.
The second raised a hand with two missing fingers to his hood. Kael couldn't make out his features, and even the name sounded obscure. Old Fen, leader of the Sump Dogs. Extremely dangerous, and on the run with two dozen men. No bounty for his capture. Garrick wanted him dead.
Fewer posters observed Kael's jog as he approached the beggar streets, and more torn pieces of paper replaced them. By the time he entered the first street, none remained—all scavenged for a coin.
The underbelly of the beggar streets was like a coal mine. No different from three days ago, but filled with volatile gas waiting for a spark to blast into chaos. Men who had been thriving on others' poverty clasped their blades at all times.
They glared at Kael, then exchanged confirmatory glances. Kael let out a sigh when they turned to a leaving man. It became harder to move freely. If they ever searched him and discovered his provisions... a beating would be the easy way out.
Shaking his head, he continued to his shelter.
Voices that should have been whispers made him stop by the well.
"Ya heard it? The Sump Dogs broke through the encirclement of the sewers. They're heading our way, I tell ya!" A man scratched at his neck, deepening the red marks.
"Joss Renn's maybe among us already. I have friends in the tunnels beside the broken bridge. I'm packing to join them before tomorrow." Another man spat.
While the first asked if he could join, the water seller pointed his ladle at the two men from behind his basin. "You're ruining business with your crap, fuckers. Get lost!"
As the two men scrambled, he turned back to a woman, who gripped the edges of her dirty dress. He shook a palm-sized canteen. "Four copper crowns."
Four? Kael's eyes widened as he left for his shelter. Twice as expensive as four days ago. It'll rise again. He knew it from Giovanni's story about the water purifying device he had tried to build. It was now in Garrick's hands, making him the unique supplier. Then, why would the price increase?
Kael's shoes echoed faster on the greasy pavement. Because that same supplier refuses to quench his enemies' thirst. The Sump Dogs will come.
Without realising it, he bolted through the third street until he crashed into the cloth in his shelter's doorway.
Els pressed herself against the wall, and Tonio leapt to his feet, dark nails pointed at him.
Clenching his knees, breath ragged, Kael removed the relic. "It's me."
Els let out the breath she had been holding, then planted her fists against her hips. "Did a rat scare you so much that you forgot to slow down?"
Tonio lowered his nails, frowning. "Kael better. Almost catch rat. Not scared."
Kael pulled the burlap bag from beneath his shirt. He didn't throw it at Els, who extended her arms to catch it; he let it fall as he slid down the junk wall. For three heartbeats, he bit his lip. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice low. "The gang war's approaching. We're not safe here."
A silence disturbed only by the buzz of the flickering lamppost thickened in the bare room.
Tonio spoke first, his red eyes narrowed. "Kill Garrick!"
"I told you we're not strong enough." Kael pressed his head between his palms.
"A-Are we leaving?" Els dropped to her knees. "I started to feel at home..." A glint entered her eyes, and she waved her hand brutally before her. "What if these sorry bastards fight each other? I'm not leaving."
"Els... They'll find Tonio." Kael sighed. "You know he'd jump out the moment he sees Garrick's men."
Tonio nodded as if it went without saying. "Garrick bad."
"Ha! You already tried the sewers. Didn't go as you planned, right? Where do you want to go after the beggar streets? Try your luck hiding when everyone's out to get Joss Renn? Nowhere's safer, Kael." Els crossed her arms over her chest.
Kael glared at her, then closed his eyes. She was right... Every tunnel, every pipe, every roof was likely under Garrick's scrutiny by now. There was one last place. A place he knew no one would ever investigate. One they would never return from—the burial pit.
At least we'll bury ourselves...
"We stay..." The words were like a blade pressed against his throat.
He could give up on Tonio. He had decided never to. It was foolish. It was a mistake. But Tonio was a mentor, a friend, a brother.
He glanced at the rat-man. Tonio stood three heads taller than him, his usually vaulted back tense for combat. His dark nails caught the lamppost's flicker.
"We can't fight—"
"Riccardo," Tonio cut him off. "Dead?"
Kael pressed his lips into a tight line.
"Not back. Riccardo never lie. Dogs kill Riccardo." It wasn't a question.
Kael exhaled through his nose, forcing back the easy lies that crowded his throat. "Yes. He bought us time to escape. I tried to tell him not to, but he knew his time had come better than we did."
Tears trailed down Tonio's furry cheeks. He didn't scream or accuse. He nodded as if he had understood that his last brother wouldn't return days ago. "Kill Garrick. Kill dogs. Kael weak. Els weaker. Hide."
Kael and Els moved simultaneously. He rose and walked to hold the rat-man's right hand, while she took the left.
"It's been some time since you called me a traitor. Can you trust me once more?" Kael forced out a crooked smile.
Els nodded heavily. "We all want revenge. But you don't have to die for it."
Tilting his head, Tonio lowered himself to look them in the eye. He held their gaze for a second, then two. A warm smile curved his lips after three seconds. "No die. Trust."
"Great!" Kael slammed his fist against his palm. "If the Sump Dogs truly come and Garrick sends his men, we'll even the odds. Strike in the chaos, from where no one can see. Kill someone, retreat, and repeat. I'll help you."
Tonio's scowl and headshake were enough for Kael to know he'd refuse. He raised his palm.
"Hey. We just said revenge's useless if we die. I'll keep myself safe. Besides, if Garrick or Brannick joins their troops, we'll hide. I don't want to hear you disagree. You're fast, but Brannick is both fast and strong."
The glare he got lasted for a second too long before Tonio finally patted his shoulder. "Know Brannick. Strong like ricauneros, hard like pangolin, fast like Tonio."
"Rhinoceros," Els covered her forehead. "Not the kind of man we want to see. I agree with Kael."
Kael placed relic 78 in Tonio's palm. "One last thing. You keep the glasses on. Do you understand? No one can know about you."
Tonio's nod was slow and reluctant. He turned the glasses over in his palm, then looked up at Kael. "Understand." He released Els's hand and grabbed Kael's collar. "Kael train. Catch rat. Now."
Kael's eyes widened. So Tonio could be petty, too?
"Kael need fast, or die. Tonio not let Kael die."
A sting sharpened in his chest for having this thought. No. Even with his limited mind, Tonio always cared for his friends.
"I'll catch it." He sped beside Tonio, and rat-man released him.
"Train punch after, and legs. Harder legs."
"That, too."
"Good. No pause."
"... Alright..."
The same winding alley opened up, with the same kings of the wastes squeaking at him. Tonio pointed at a rat without a word. By now, Kael believed their meals weren't random, that somehow Tonio chose the cleaner rats. Either way, he had to break his humiliating streak.
With a deep breath, he charged.
The rat barred its teeth, its beady eyes locked on him.
He'd catch it. To survive. To fix Tonio. He had to.
He vaulted, his hand low, reaching for his prey as Tonio did. The rat moved further right. A small jump to bridge the gap, his fingers clenching tight. Soft fur met them, and before he confirmed the catch, his eyes lit up.
He flung his fist upward, his lips curling into a broad grin. "YES!"
Tonio approached. He twisted the rat's neck with a genuine smile once. "Better than rat now. Two more."
"Humph, watch me."
Under Tonio's supervision, his training continued. He caught rats, punched and kicked the rat-man's palms, and ran until he collapsed.
Supplied by his truth of endurance, he recovered faster than any man, pushed himself more than anyone, too. Skinny arms thickened, not noticeably, but they held a firmness that made him flex again, just to check. But it was his legs that changed most. His calf showed two distinct parts now, and a V shape began to form on his thighs. Had Tonio been right about rat meat all along, or was it just meat in general?
In an
And four days later, a spark ignited the beggar streets.