In an ancient land whose original name has been forgotten, an earthquake shook the mountains. Many of its inhabitants had died, from the small insects to the Wandering creatures.
The strongest were fortunate; their instincts allowed them to foresee danger, fleeing before disaster struck.
There was not a single beast that could witness such chaos.
As the lands shook, a disastrous snowstorm arrived at some point, filling what was once a warm jungle with frozen hills. The ancient flora lay buried, condemned to a cold death.
Basil felt very cold. The snow completely covered him, suffocating him. His body twisted desperately beneath the pile. The weight made any attempt to escape difficult.
But after fiercely trying, he managed to free his hand with a struggle. It was exposed in the air, moving back and forth in desperation, hoping to grasp something, anything.
It seemed that his struggle for life was heard, for an unknown hand grabbed him and pulled him.
He fell to his knees in the snow. He breathed heavily, feeling as if he hadn't taken air in a long time. After a minute, he raised his head and looked at the person who helped him.
In front of him stood a tall individual in a red coat. He wore a plague mask along with a top hat. His posture was elegant, unperturbed despite the shaking lands.
In his right hand, he held a broken hourglass, its contents falling and scattering in the snow.
The man stared intently at him. Basil felt a deep fear upon seeing him. Though he couldn't see his eyes, he felt as though the person was looking deep into his soul.
Then the man spoke in a grave voice.
—Trust yourself, child of dust.
Basil's heart sank. He couldn't feel the cold of the storm, but those words sent a chill down his spine. He was too shocked by that nickname; it had been long since anyone had called him that.
Amidst his bewilderment, the person brought his hands closer to the straps of the mask, intending to uncover his face.
—Trust...
But something stopped him; a powerful rumble echoed across the snowy lands. A loud trumpet could be heard from afar.
Basil jolted awake; cold sweat ran down his back. He sat up in bed trying to catch his breath.
Child of dust...
His hand went to the middle of his face; the burn stung.
This wasn't the first time he dreamed this; it had been happening for a week. As far as he knew, this was a symptom of vengeful spirits.
He would have to hire an exorcist, but that wasn't a priority. If it were a strong spirit, Basil would have died long ago.
After bathing and getting ready, he looked in the mirror. In his chest, right in the center, an alloy of ivory replaced his skin.
He observed the ivory grid with some fear. He had had it for years but could never get used to it; how unnatural it looked made him uncomfortable.
Without further delay, he finished dressing and left. He crossed the hallway and went down to the first floor; in front of him was a tidy-looking bar. Except for an old bartender, the rest of the place was empty.
—You woke up early, Mr. Basil —The old man spoke with a hoarse voice while cleaning a glass and looking at Basil.
—You see, today I'm going to negotiate a bit —He gave Mr. Wiry a respectful glance; he was a gentleman who always rose first.
—May great Hex be by your side.
—So it shall be —He bid farewell and left the bar. A set of rundown houses welcomed him.
Basil paid them no attention and looked around.
As he examined his surroundings, he found a large man waiting for him. When they made eye contact, Basil smiled.
—Let's go —He began to move.
The man, Castian, simply nodded and followed him.
They both walked through the dirty streets. The area they were in was terrible even for slums. Drug addicts didn't bother hiding; they remained exposed to sunlight.
Seeing their weak bodies made Basil reflect. Once he entered into commerce, he would obtain a large amount of capital. Combined with what he had obtained from drug trafficking, it would be enormous.
One step at a time... After thinking about this, he turned to look at Castian with curiosity.
The man watched with apparent indifference towards the addicts but Basil noticed a glimmer of disgust in his gaze.
They continued on their way until they left that area. After some time, they arrived at Delights neighborhood. It was early so there were few prostitutes on the streets.
Most were in the brothels; few were the fortunate ones who could sleep in.
Both men ignored any indecent invitation; they were not there for that.
Basil curiously looked at the motels and brothels around him. Unlike Basil's and Gurad's gangs, Sanma's group did not need to move from one place to another.
They had to do this to avoid being caught, but Sanma had assumed the identity of a pimp. Although attempts had been made to curb prostitution in the kingdom, it was still far from being penalized by law.
Thanks to this business, she had multiple connections with high society; low-ranking nobles came to her for information. Some others became infatuated with her women, granting favors to Sanma.
Her power was not limited to information; she also had thugs involved in drug trafficking. This crossed the line into illegality, but Sanma did not worry about it. As long as lower nobles needed her information, she would be fine. That, and as long as her drug sales did not prosper too much.
After a while, they arrived at a two-story brothel, much more decorated than the others. It was still open; Sanma's group did not waste time.
They entered calmly; the workers were cleaning. They looked at them with curiosity; it was rare to have clients at that hour.
Aside from them, there were no other clients at that moment. Basil inhaled the charming aroma. His nostrils delighted in it.
I swear I've smelled this before... Hm... Are those golden petunias? The Wayatte house had a garden of these flowers at their location.
—Heh, if all brothels smelled like this, I would visit just to drown in this aroma. —He looked at Castian with curiosity—. Wouldn't you?
Castian just looked at him without making a sound.
How boring...
A beautiful woman approached, her face marked by a seductive smile.
—Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you like a drink for...?
—Tell Sanma that Basil wishes to speak with her. —Basil cut her off abruptly.
Is this Mr. Basil? Fina analyzed both men with curiosity. Magenta Seraph always sent messengers; it was the first time she had seen their leader Basil.
She bowed and guided them to the second floor. There they crossed through a mundane hallway.
Quite bland. For Basil, the decoration was unremarkable beyond some cheap vases and simple paintings.
Fina stopped in front of the last room and knocked on the door.
—Mistress Sanma, Mr. Basil wishes to see you.
After a short silence, a raspy voice was heard.
—Come in.
Upon entering, they found an old woman; in front of her were several stacks of papers.
—It's good to see you, Mrs. Sanma. You look radiant today.
—The same goes for you, Mr. Basil —she said that but did not even look at him; the pen in her hands moved across the paper—. I must admit you've arrived sooner than I thought.
—Well, you know what they say: The strong swim through time; the weak drown. —He sat on the sofa near the door. Beside him was Castian, with his typical serious face.
—May Hex's will be eternal.
—Are you also a follower of Hex? —Basil looked at her in surprise.
—not everyone who has business follows Celei. My family has always been a faithful believer of Hex.
—Heh, I regret having been carried away by stereotypes.
—Let's skip the pleasantries. I hope Mr. Basil is clear.
You weren't so blunt when I paid you... Basil observed her with a sort of pout on his face but erased it with a smile.
—Very well, let's get straight to the point. So... are you going to join me? —His gaze sharpened; a glimmer of ambition enveloped her—. Or will I have to kill you?
Sanma dropped the pen and looked at him seriously; both engaged in a stare-down.
After a few seconds, Sanma lost and reluctantly returned to reviewing the paperwork.
—we will help you pave the way to victory —she spoke calmly—. In return, you will elevate the Whisper Collectors.
—So it shall be. —His smile widened.
Despite being a humble organization, they had managed to make a name for themselves. Now that same organization would help him.
—Allow me to enjoy this deal with you; I will ask Fina to bring good wine and some...
—Glasses? Haven't you already clinked them? —A small mocking laugh escaped him—. With Gurad, I mean.
The room chilled. Sanma did not flinch despite such information nor did she take her gaze off the papers.
—What makes you say that?
Heh, experience is terrifying. Basil watched her in amazement.
—I ask for a little respect, Mrs. Sanma. Do you really think I don't know?
—If you ask me, I would dare to say that you are the disrespectful one. You have no proof.
—As the great Hex said, before understanding battles, one must understand the enemy. I know people like Gurad; they don't waste time.
»I knew he would come as soon as possible, which is why I waited a day to come. That way, he could make a deal with you.
The woman said nothing for a while, but the hand holding the pen trembled slightly. Then she sighed and their gazes crossed again.
—I suppose you want me to become a double agent.
Basil just nodded. In response to such a display of silence, Sanma asked.
—Why should I?
—Because you know both of us. Gurad is quite good, but not the best option. It took him five years to get where he is. I surpassed him in two.
»You are a wise woman; I know you will make the best choice.
Sanma looked at him intently. Then she refocused on the papers.
—I accept.—she said calmly. She had no other option but to join one of the gangs. When one wins, they won't leave a powerful organization alive.
Either she joined or they would destroy her; there was no middle ground. That's why she had to consolidate her own power while cozying up to the winning side. This wouldn't be easy with three groups lurking; Sanma could only sigh and grit her teeth.
Basil examined her with a strange look. Then he took a breath and clapped, lightening the heavy atmosphere.
—Alright, do you have any more of those Ivory birds? Mine broke; I think it hit a window.
There was silence for a few seconds. Sanma could only respond resignedly.
—Ask Fina for one....
—One more thing, do you know any exorcists? A vengeful spirit has been bothering me. The bastard won't let me sleep well.
Another silence fell over them.
—I'll see what I can do.