The orphan boy—who went by many names when it was about work but was known in the slums as Puck—had spent the last two days lying low, avoiding others like a vampire would avoid the sun. He was no fool. The men who had chased him through the rainy night had been determined as if their lives depended on it, and he knew better than to assume they had simply given up. People who had that much coin on the line rarely let things go easily... He could still feel the weight of the purse, and he even dreamt about holding it for himself. But... At least he did get himself an actual gold coin. Something that he had only seen before in others' hands, not on his own... until now.
"It should be fine..." He told himself, deciding it was time to go out from his hiding place and try to find something to eat at least. The streets had ears, and Puck had learned early in life that survival meant staying one step ahead of trouble. But if he had no energy, he couldn't do that...
Trying to remain unseen, even if by now, the heat had died down, he slipped out of the old, closed-down shop he had used as a nest for the past few years. Luckily, no one was lurking in the alleyways surrounding it, and no rough hands reached for him from the shadows the moment he walked out into one of the side streets. His stomach growled, reminding him that he had more pressing concerns.
Slipping his fingers into his pocket, holding the gold coin, the first real money he had ever held, he intended to turn it into something that would last him a long time. He intended to buy more than just food, aiming for some warm clothes, maybe even a weapon. A dagger, maybe... He had plans. The streets were unforgiving, and he knew better than to waste an opportunity like this. It was as he always heard when eavesdropping on others:
"Always invest in yourself..." He muttered as he kept moving.
The morning air around him was crisp, carrying the faint scent of baking bread and roasting meat from the stalls that lined the streets, forcing his stomach to rumble once again. He had to be careful, though... If he goes to the wrong person, they may question why a homeless vermin like him has a gold coin in his hands.
He just began eying one of the stalls that he knew frequently done business with people from the slums, walking towards it when a hand clamped onto his shoulder. Puck's body immediately tensed, ready to bolt, but the hand on his shoulder squeezed him warningly, preventing him from making a scene. Turning around slowly, two people were there... One was clearly a bodyguard, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running from his temple to his cheek. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was firm on his thin, scrawny body.
"..." Puck wanted to curse... but he knew he was caught. He could only blame his own stomach and thoughts that he let wander instead of looking for suspicious clues.
"Walk with me," the second man said, his voice surprisingly friendly and without any anger. Maybe there was still a chance to escape from this conundrum if he could play the ignorant, stupid little child.
"Y-yes, Mister." Puck nodded, trying to look scared and innocent while he considered his options. Running was always possible, but he needed a better place to do so. The market was dense with others, yes, but... Many here would trip him just to get some reward out from his pursuers. So, he had to get a bit further away, playing along and putting on his best innocent face. "Something wrong, sir?"
"My name is Edvin, and I am from Veren & Sons—the same group whose package you picked up," the second man explained with a half-smile. "Cut the act, kid. We know it was you who took the gold."
"G-gold? Me?" Puck swallowed but forced himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mister."
"Loyal, I can respect that." Edvin chuckled, leading him away from the crowded market and into a quieter alley. The sounds of the bustling street faded, replaced by the distant drip of water from a leaky gutter above them while Puck's mind raced, already planning to make his move soon. "Look, we're not here to make trouble. In fact, quite the opposite."
"Huh?" Puck narrowed his eyes, feeling suspicious, and his body stopped for a moment. "Then why are you grabbing me?" He asked, looking at the hand still holding him.
"Precaution," Edvin nodded, and the guard finally released his shoulder. "We just want to talk. Not with you, but the one who employed you. The shipment was returned, just like your 'Shade' promised. It turns out that little deal saved our entire business... Lord Halbrecht got his potions, and now we're in good standing with him. We want to return the favor."
"Wait, wait, wait!" He waved his hand, feeling there was too much information being shared with him all of a sudden. It could even be dangerous to know this much. "I have no idea what you are on about!"
"I see." Edvin nodded, rubbing his chin. "So our Shade has not yet established a proper organization? He's probably still new in the city, trying to find his footing..." He muttered, making the little orphan scratch his head.
"Um, Mister..." Puck blinked his eyes, completely caught off guard. "You mean… you're not mad?"
"Me?" Edvin shook his head. "No. We aren't. Not a bit! We want to make contact with this 'Shade.' We owe him a debt."
"I see..." Puck's mind raced. He didn't actually know who Shade was, not really. He didn't even know who the two who hired him were... But he wasn't about to admit that. He nodded slowly. "I can get a message to him. Maybe."
"It would be for the best." Edvin smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Do that. Tell him Markus Veren honors his deals. And that we would be glad to work together in the future."
"S-sure." Puck nodded, feigning confidence. "I'll see what I can do. But––"
"Buisness is buisness." Edvin interrupted him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out another gold coin that he had pressed into Puck's hands, making the young boy almost drop his jaw to the cobblestone floor below his naked feet.
As Edvin walked away, leaving him there with his second, shiny coin, Puck let out a slow breath, his eyes suddenly alive with bright light and deep desires. He even forgot what he wanted to buy... No. Something new flared up in him. He would invest not only in himself and his own abilities but also grab the chance before him right now. He had no idea how to get in touch with Shade… but he had a feeling that if his luck could hold out just for today, he would find him. Find him before midnight...
...
....
...
Across the city, far away from where Puck was making his life-changing decision, in the upper district where only the wealthiest merchants held any power, another meeting was taking place. Unlike the deal taking place on the streets, between shabby houses, they were sitting in velvet-covered chairs, amongst gaudy, overdecorated walls, in a room smelling of expensive perfume and imported cigar smoke. Yet, unlike the Verens, these men and women inside were not in a celebratory mood. Not at all.
The Crimson Ledger.
They were one of the most prominent merchant syndicates in Velgrada and its neighboring land. They had invested heavily in all kinds of businesses, keeping their fingers on the pulse of the city and nipping any possible competitors in the bud. They thought they already ensured that Markus Veren's shipment never arrived and, thus, prevented another possible rival in the future. They had bribed bandits from the outside, unable to be tied to any of the prominent families or businesses, and secured the right passageways... The job went down flawlessly; they even killed the bandits, too, disposing of their bodies. There were no witnesses, no trail leading to them. Everything was done and dusted; they just needed to wait. Yet, somehow… the potions had still reached their destination.
Now, there was a happy noble, a new organization that was noticed by the others in the city, and now someone who may take a slice out of their profit. Maybe not now and only years later, but it would still mean that their income would lose a certain percentage. Their plan had failed, and it was unacceptable.
Garrik Holvar, the head of the Crimson Ledger, was furious when he learned of the news. He sat at the head of a long mahogany table, his fingers tapping against the polished wood with such intensity it was like a war drum. Around him sat his most trusted associates—people who controlled the city's most profitable trade routes, men who ensured 'accidents' happened to their competitors. His closest confidants.
"This wasn't luck," Garrik said, his voice sounding calm, but under it, everyone could sense the raging storm. "Someone intervened."
"Could it be a survivor of the bandits we hired? It should not be..." One of his men, a thin-looking fellow named Orlin, leaned forward. His fingers fidgeted with a silver coin, the nervous energy betraying his forced, collected demeanor. "We did everything right, Boss. The bandits had clear orders. The shipment was taken... I was there when we stashed it away and then killed those who knew where it was. There was no way for Veren to recover it."
"And yet, he did," Garrik snapped, his voice cutting through his protests like a whip, almost making Orlin feel he was hit physically, dropping his coin. "Which means two possibilities. Someone betrayed us... or someone outmaneuvered us. We need to find out which."
"No sane person would betray us." A woman at the table, Yvessa, one of the city's top information brokers, folded her hands. Her sharp eyes gleamed with calculation behind her glasses as she continued speaking. "I would have known about it if it was so. The only thing I recovered is that someone did visit the Verens, but it was just an urchin."
"The most hired carrier pigeons on legs." Garrik's eyes narrowed. "Find me the one who they hired!"
"Y-yes..." Yvessa nodded, gulping. "I will send people out to reconstruct what really happened. It shouldn't take more than a few days."
"Be thorough." Garrik's fingers stopped tapping now that there was at least one clue before them while he leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping the room. "We find them—all of them who crossed us and then made an example. I want the other slum-dwelling trash to know that they don't take jobs that are not coming from us. Got it? I want the kid to be skinned and his bloody hide stapled to Veren's shop's entrance."
"Isn't that a bit too much... Boss?" Orlin gulped, his brow furrowing. "We don't really have beef with them out in the open... I don't think they even know we would target them."
"They don't need to know it was us. I want others to simply avoid the Verens like the plague because of it." Garrik leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across his face. "The sooner we stomp out any embers, the better. If we don't pay attention to ambitious people, our position will weaken, and the other families will try to kick the chair out from under us, using any newcomer to fan the fame. The status quo must be preserved!"
"Yes." The others answered, slowly standing up, knowing that it was futile to argue against a decision that Garrik had already made.
Instead, they had to work and find out what happened, and one of their plans failed, catching them off guard...