For the next few days, word Of Clara and her band ran through the streets of Srok, for not only had the Scar-giver given another fool a burning scar on the face, but she had also found the most valuable items in the Ashfields. The street rats talked, and the Veystrix, the wet boy assassins, listened to rumours of enchanted pieces of armour they wanted for themselves. Clara and her friends used the ten gold they had got to sell the enchanted shoulder piece on a roomy broken-down manor in the nobler part of Srok city.
“This is quite the piece of armor for it to have lasted this long. It must have well-enchanted magical runes. It’s a masterpiece, perhaps worn by one of the lords,” the enchanter said when they entered his shop in Desa to sell the piece of armour.
“Am trading it for coins.” Clara told the man.
The man looked closely at the shoulder pauldron, then up and down at Clara and Marcus, who looked engrossed by the enchanted equipment placed among the many other ordinary pieces meant to distract those with curious hands.
This was true for Clara, who couldn’t tell which pieces were enchanted and which were not. As for Marcus, he saw only five truly enchanted pieces, which led him to believe that they were difficult to create.
In the entire shop, there were three swords, a spear in the corner and a chest piece.
In the man's estimation, they did not know the true value of the item. Judging by the girls' white hair and the boys' different-coloured eyes, he knew they were orphans, street rats from Srok. Which meant they didn’t even know how to count.
“I will give you a hundred small silver. I am sure you have never held that much,” he said, looking to the side as if he were doing the undeserving a favor.
“One hundred small silver is ten large silver. That’s not good enough,” Marcus said, waving his hand. He didn’t miss the man’s eyes, which briefly widened in momentary shock.
“So even the rats of Srok know how to count.”
“yes, more than you can imagine,” Marcus mocked.
“Fine. answer this, if i gave you a hundred large silver and you went to a bakers shop and bought bread for 10 coppers how much would you bring back?”
In this world, each type of coin had smaller denominations. Coppers had smaller coppers, and Silvers had smaller silvers.
“A hundred large silvers,” Marcus scoffed at the question. ‘Really? A trick question, ‘he thought. then he answered, “You will get ninety-nine large silvers and nine small silvers back.” Marcus said with a chuckle
The enchanter’s mouth hung open. The question was meant to be tricky, requiring the boy to look at all the a hundred large silvers instead of the single large silver that he needed. Only scholars answered the question so fast.
He stammered, now weary of who had sent the two, “I will give you five gold,” the enchanter said, his long fingers gliding over the armour piece.
Without realizing how much the man had offered. She countered, “Do you know how hard it was to find?” Clara started before the lanky man raised his hand.
“Seven gold and that’s it,” the enchanter folded his arms.
There was a pause, and her eyes widened. With the instincts of someone born on the street, she tried to push for more. “Marcus, perhaps next time we find another piece of enchanted equipment, we go somewhere else,” Clara advised.
Mistaken, the tall man’s eyes widened, and he bit his tongue mentally. “Ten gold, and you bring me another enchanted piece,” he said, knowing that if he got enough runes, especially those similar to this, his collection may just be good enough to get him a station in one of the cities of the Third Wall.
“Deal”
“Deal!!! ohh yes and remember to bring back anything you find,” the enchanter shook her hand with a smile that did not reach his eyes. And as they left his shop the mans eye never left the two, his Arcane senses telling him they had more on them.
---
Unbothered by the floating rumors about her and her band, Clara had to move and act fast in her dealings. Money in hand was money easily taken, although now the bolder of the street rat gangs and Veystrix had to be careful in their approach. For what she had planned next, she would not have enough leftover to please thieving hands.
She had found a broken manor on the edge of the noble quarter and had paid the seller a starting fee of the three gold coins for the next months.
The seller of deeds in Srok was a pudgy merchant who often frequented the Ashen Lady’s Tavern, where he spent most of his day, life and coin. It was not hard to find such a man. You simply needed to know his habits, one more thing she had learnt from looking for marks on the street.
“I think I am doing you a favour. A gold coin for every month after that and you may use the Manor as you wish.” he said with a flourish.
“And the guards.”
“If you keep paying me this much gold, I won’t let the guards bother you,” he said, grinning. The girl did not seem to believe him, for all Clara knew, he could be scheming wealth off the baron’s coffers.
She looked around at the other manors in the noble quarter. The buildings here were quite different from the Manor she had purchased from the city’s seller of deeds. The surrounding manors were well-constructed and well-maintained and located far from the poorest sections of the city, unlike hers, which was surrounded by smaller houses and the stagnant river that flowed down from the mountains. Even worse, compared to her Manor, the other buildings had sturdy stone walls and servants tending to their stables.
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The building Marcus, Clara, and Gabe were looking at stood on the furthest edge of the nobler district away from main roads, leaving it secluded. It was next to the road leading to the poorer parts of Srok. Arched doors stood ajar on creaking, rusted hinges. Even the rotund man didn’t make to move any closer, the smell of rotting wood in the air.
“It doesn’t even have a door.”
“Surely that’s something you can fix, I am sure,” he said, adjusting his monocle and looking hungrily at the coin pouch on Clara’s waist.
“Fine.”
The next few days, the eight children took the time to clean a few rooms in the Manor.
The people in the quarter avoided the area being close to the slums, especially the high houses under the baron. They avoided all who would get close or associate themselves with mansions next to the slums, and Even the knight houses dared not. Marcus guessed the only reason the seller of deeds was willing to part with it had been because it was far from the other high and noble houses.
As it often happened, the nobler folk of Srok only had to wait for the baron’s guards to throw the trespassers back into the wet streets of Srok. They thought that, like often when a group of Filthyings came and took up residence in the place, it would not take long for this new band to be lashed by the guards and thrown out of the noble’s district, a thought which was well advised for people of their stations who wanted nothing to do with the filth of the warrens.
On the third day after purchasing the Manor, without warning, a Veystrix stepped into their compound, and they were not just anyone.
Ethne, standing watch guard at one of the side balconies of the ruined Manor, was the first to catch sight of a lone figure dressed in all-black leather.
“Guys, someone’s here,” Ethne yelled out quickly, running down the broken staircase, jumping over the gap, and busting into the only room that had a door.
---
Marcus, Gabe, and Clara looked at the five rings they had got along with the shoulder plate. Unlike with that piece, the rings seemed more valuable to the group. They were easy to hide from seeking eyes and would be mementoes for them to keep. Furthermore, each of the rings was enchanted, another reason for the group to keep them, and Marcus wanted to learn everything about enchanting.
Using arcane sight, he looked at each, identifying the aether the runic scripts were channeling. Arcane magic, Bloodline magic, light magic, dark magic, and elemental magic.
“Do you want the elemental ring,” Marcus asked Clara just as Ethne burst into the one good room they had in the broken-down Manor.
“Guys, someone is outside. they are wearing black,” Ethne said.
“Marcus, wait here. I’ll go see what is happening,” Clara said, heading out of the room with Zek on her heels.
Clara was no fool. As soon as she moved past the arching hanging door, she came to a stop, and her body instinctively reached for the aether in her veins.
The figure’s eyes fell on her and past her, slowly moving to observe the slightly cleaned, tidied building. In the corner of the courtyard, thick wooden doors and what little furniture were being turned for firewood. The grass was dead brown, and patches of earth were scattered across the small grounds.
Clara watched the figures’ eyes move around, taking in the building and pausing on her and Zek before continuing their journey around the building. In the slums of Srok and in the rats guild, there were two kinds of people, the Filthings like her, who banded together to survive life on the streets, scavenging and begging. Then, there were the Veystrix, who did things on their own. They maned and killed the other street rats for the little they had. Merchants for the coin and the regular men and women who passed through the wrong alley for everything just because they could. They were the favourite pets of Victor Stan. They kept his piece, and they were rewarded for their cruelty.
For Filthyings to see a Veystrix come looking for their group meant a fair few things. Either you had something they wanted, or you had been deemed a nuisance for the guild. She had heard of a single Veystrix cutting their way through a band of twenty Filthings, something she knew was more than rumour.
Fortunately or unfortunately for her, the Veystrix standing casually in front of her was named and, like her, had a strong innate magic.
“Thornan What do you want?” Clara asked, her eyes never leaving the young, large Goliath.
“I want a lot of things, Scar Giver,” he smiled and shook his head, “to think they were not roumers. You actually plan on starting a house of your own.”
“What does it matter to you?”
“To me, at first it meant nothing. At first,” he paused. "But then Agmak talked to me, and to be honest, I thought he was joking. Then he showed me the silver and told me you found a way to make a lot of coin.” He added, greed lacing his voice.
“I owe you nothing Thornan.”
“Sure,” he waved his hand dismissively and looked at Zek causing the half Goliath to shift uncomfortably in step. “But you are weak and I can protect you.”
“We don’t need your Protection.”
“Yes, I heard,” he smiled, “but even then, I will fight everyone who comes asking for what you have.”
“Is that what you have come for?”
“Me,” he gestured to himself. “Not at all. I will protect you, and in turn, you will work for me. That’s my offer.”
“We don’t want your offer.”
Thornan gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and then his entire being changed. He reached behind his back and pulled out a long dagger. “House Morkan, is it ?” he asked, watching Clara’s fingers glow a dull red as Zek stepped back and raised his hands ready to fight.
Thornan raised his hands into the air, his voice booming like a storm over the compound. “Filthings of House Morkan,” he growled, his tone laced with menace, “you have two months. Two months of uneasy peace before I return. No one will touch you until then—but when I come back, you will have five gold and five large silver waiting for me.”
His voice dropped, quieter but somehow more dangerous. “And if you fail me? If you dare to defy me?” He let the threat linger, his eyes scanning the huddled faces of the teenagers who had come running out of the broken Manor. “I’ll take one of you as payment. A life for your failure. And I will come again. And again. Each time, I will take something more—until there is nothing left of you but broken shells.”
His gaze locked on Clara, a twisted smirk curling his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he let his eyes wander over her white hair and then down all over her body. He laughed and, without doing anything else, turned and left the Manor, leaving the group uncertain.
---
When Thornan left, Clara screamed as she marched into the room with their bedding, and everyone looked at each other, scrutinizing features to determine what they each thought as they followed her into the room.
“He can’t do this, I am so close, we are so close.”
“What are we going to do?” Geneve asked, looking around at Clara and the others, shivering as the cold of the moment stung her body.
“We are going to fight.”
“Clara, we tried, “Gabe swallowed. “We can go back to what we were doing, and he will probably back off,” he added, only to look down as Clara glared at him.
“What about giving him what he wants?” Zek asked, looking around at everyone. Like everyone who had been present moments ago, he had seen Thornan the giant and didn’t want to fight the Goliath.
Clara briefly turned her eyes, meeting everyone, causing them to look away. “All did, but not him-- his eyes they did not shy away from hers. Stopping on Marcus, she reminded them of the words he had told them: “If we give him what he wants, he will keep coming. I will not allow it. We will fight. “There were a few nods, fewer than she expected, but that was all she needed.
She had to keep them together and safe.
Marcus knew of rumours about the Veystrix, budding assassins and killers, and mercenary children with dreams of making blood money where they could find it. Marcus could have advised Clara against her decision, but in the manner in which she looked at him, Marcus saw nothing but resolve, a resolve that reminded him of Ivor’s words. And the oath on his heart. The words speaking in his mind.
‘True honor lies in service to others.’
“If we are going to fight, what’s the plan?” Marcus asked, his words not wholly his own but sweat by words of oath.
“We prepare,” Clara said, looking at each of them.
