It was on the third day, dear reader, that my story in this new world truly began. Up until then, I had done a whole lot of nothing, and I am sure that I would have continued that if things went any differently, and that wouldn't really lead to a tale worth sharing, now would it? But you see, on the third day, while I was busy sleeping peacefully on my bed, my clothes from last night rolled up in a corner, wafting with sweat, still drenched from all the rain; winds sweeping in through the tiniest of cracks and gaps in the windows, cooling down my room enough to bless me with the most peaceful of sleeps—somewhere else, not too far from where I lived, a troublesome storm brewed, fueled by discontent and rage, but more importantly, fear.
Fear is a powerful thing, reader. It compels you, manipulates you, drowns you, gripping onto you so strongly that it becomes impossible to pull yourself out alone. Your breaths hasten as it becomes difficult for you to breathe, and of course, when it grips your neck so tight, choking you as the world closes in, it is obvious that will be the case. That very same fear now gripped the hearts of many in the back alleys of Vielle, where the warmth and light of the sun did not reach, blocked by the many tall buildings that cast their shadows over the folks that lived there, shrouding them in a darkness that resonated with that in their hearts.
Living among these very people was a child no older than fifteen, yet even at such a young age, he stood tall as one of the Kings of Vielle. Born to the whims of a drunken young noble as he walked these very alleys, his face red as he wobbled from side to side, yet not a single person here dared approach him. Why? Well, because he had a gun on him, of course! The folks here still valued their lives. But of course, people tend to make mistakes, like the young lady who would be the boy's mother. It was her fault, obviously, for being present there, on that very day, trying to seduce the young noble. She seduced him, bewitched him with her charms, and then she dared put the fault on the innocent youth! How dare she?! It was her fault! Everyone heard her screams, they all heard her shout in protest from the safety of their shelters, whether it be hiding behind the trashcans, or in their houses, peeking from the windows. Perhaps there were even some delighted by the sight.
She screamed her lungs out, and what followed was the sound of a bullet firing. A single bullet. The sound echoed through the alleyways, leaving behind only silence as a thin smoke left the muzzle. He didn't aim at the young woman, no, instead, he aimed right beside her, on the road, where there was now a tiny hole with only the head of a bullet inside, the rest out.
'Silence.'
The young woman placed her hands on her mouth as the night followed, her moans muffled, barely audible as tears rolled down her face.
A few months after that, a young boy was born in the back alleys of Vielle, a boy whose skin was as fair as snow, his eyes a shade of sapphire and his hair a golden blonde. He was a spitting image of the person who appeared that day, a person the young lady hated with every fibre of her being, yet nevertheless, she chose to raise him. Of course, it was not easy; the folks around her were of little help. Some despised him, others pitied him, but the majority despised the mother. After all, what utter foolishness and stupidity compelled her to keep that baby, they could not comprehend.
Yet through it all, she raised him, and now, there he was, sitting in an old chair made of food with his legs crossed, as if it were his throne, leaning slightly forward, with his sharp gaze on the man in front of him, tied down with a rope and on his knees as he met that very gaze with his own, one with the slightest pride as he smirked.
'Do you truly think that this will get you anywhere, King?'
'King, you say? I see you're well informed, though I suppose that is to be expected. After all…' he paused, narrowing his eyes, 'you work directly under Embers.'
The man's eyes widened as he heard the name leave his lips.
How did he know?
How could he possibly know?
It was clear that, even though they knew what his specialty was, they had clearly underestimated the true extent of his eyes and ears. It was, of course, a failure on their part. It should have been obvious that the person titled the King of Information would be well informed about the world that surrounded him.
Even still, what could he do with that information?
It wasn't as if he could use it for blackmail; Fjorcroft wouldn't fall for such a cheap trap.
'Please, relax. I don't have anything against you. Oh, but I have to keep you restrained though, since I'm sure you have plenty of reasons to kill me this very moment.'
That was true. After all, the reason for the fear in the people might have been the nobles, but the person fueling the flames, on either side in fact, was none other than the man who now sat in front of him. Just as they feared the nobles, the nobles too, had begun to fear them. It wouldn't be long before a war broke out. In fact, there had been several instances of fights breaking out throughout the city already, barely contained.
Information was a powerful weapon, dear reader, and the one who controlled every avenue of its flow was the person aptly titled the "King of Information".
'The one I have business with is your boss, Fjorcroft Embers.'
'I'm afraid you're not going to go much further then. I don't know where you heard his name from, but I can assure you, he won't be coming here to save me.'
'Oh of course, not you, but if I recall correctly, he had two siblings, didn't he? What were their names again? Ah! Yes…'
The man's eyes widened as the smirk disappeared from his face.
'Lune and Zoras Embers.'