Chapter 42: The Eyes of the Hunter
Ren pushed open the creaked door of Liraver's shop, the bell jingling softly. Inside, an old woman was standing at the counter. Liraver was handing her a glowing vial—a healing potion.
"How much do I owe you, son?" the old woman asked, her voice trembling.
Liraver glanced at Ren, then back at the woman. He pushed her hand away. "It's on the house today. Just go home and rest."
Ren watched as the woman whispered a prayer of thanks and shuffled out. The 4th family from Fesakon, Ren thought. They're the ones the city tries to ignore. No homes, no future. Just ghosts moving from one alley to another.
"She a regular?" Ren asked, stepping up to the counter.
"Just someone in need," Liraver replied, cleaning a glass beaker. "So, Ren. How's your sister, Hana? Is she holding up?"
"She's better," Ren said, feeling the weight of the secrets he was keeping from her. "Actually, I'm here for business. I need to sell this."
Ren pulled the heavy steel pistol from his inner pocket and thudded it onto the wooden table. Liraver stopped cleaning. He looked at the gun, then at Ren's dusty, blood-stained clothes.
"You look like you just crawled out of a sewer, kid," Liraver noted. "Bathroom is in the back. Clean yourself up before we talk numbers."
Ren didn't argue. He spent ten minutes scrubbing the grime and blood from his face and hands. When he emerged, looking human again, Liraver had the gun disassembled on the counter.
"It's a solid piece. Clean firing pin, good weight," Liraver said. "Standard price is 4000 copper. But since you're a 'Friend of Go,' I'll add a 500 copper bonus. 4500 Copper. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," Ren said immediately.
Liraver reached under the counter and pulled out a heavy Medieval Coin Pouch, the leather bulging with the weight of 4500 copper coins. Ren grabbed it, feeling the satisfying clink of the metal. He stuffed it into his hidden coat pocket.
"Thanks, Liraver. I'll see you around."
The Trap is Set
Ren walked a few blocks away and signaled a passing horse carriage. "Vaner Academy. And hurry," he told the driver.
The carriage took off, but as they reached the main intersection, the driver didn't turn right toward the Academy. Instead, he yanked the reins to the left, heading straight toward the high-walled district of the King's Palace.
"Hey!" Ren shouted, gripping the side of the seat. "You missed the turn! We were supposed to go right!"
"We're on the right road, kid," the driver said, his voice cold and raspy.
The man slowly turned his head. He lowered his dark glasses, revealing piercing dark red eyes that contrasted sharply with his mask and messy dark green hair. It was the man from the rooftop.
"My name is Wex," the man whispered. "And you... you have somewhere much more important to be."
Wex lashed the horse with the whip, and the carriage suddenly surged forward at a terrifying speed. Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. His hand flew to his waist, reaching for his Golden Revolver, but Wex was already accelerating toward the palace gates—the lion's den.