Two weeks had passed since I first set foot in Malbour.
Outside the High City—a fortified bastion where the wealthiest lived sheltered behind high walls of white stone—stretched a sea of misery: a nameless, lawless slum where I had been forced to settle.
Those first fourteen days had been a long lesson in survival.
Every morning, the cold pulled me from an exhausting sleep on the packed dirt floor.
I spent my days wandering along slick, filthy alleys, sloshing through black mud mixed with sewage and trash.
I saw faces hollowed by hunger, the evasive glances of mothers unable to feed their infants, and corpses that no one bothered to pick up until the stench became unbearable.
Outlaws who had evaded the royal guard, along with escapees from the central prison of Calderon, patrolled these backstreets as if they owned them.
Violence was the only currency here.
In this cesspool, a simple cough could send you six feet under within forty-eight hours.
I did my best to protect my health, but reality always caught up with me in the pit of my stomach.
Hunger was a constant burn, a claw twisting my insides, driving me—like the others—to scavenge the trash vats of the Lower City in hopes of unearthing a stub of moldy bread or fish bones still clinging to a scrap of flesh.
It was in the middle of this dump that I struck up a friendship with a boy my age: Lucas.
At first, his presence seemed almost unreal.
Unlike the emaciated specters populating the area, Lucas radiated a boundless, almost arrogant energy.
With his messy brown hair and eyes of a hauntingly clear blue, he exuded a warmth that even the filth couldn’t tarnish.
I often wondered what tragedy could have dumped such a lively kid into a garbage heap like this.
Yet, over the days spent begging side by side or sharing our meager finds, his company had become indispensable to me.
It was thanks to his laughter that this slum stopped feeling entirely unlivable.
But one detail eventually felt wrong.
For nearly a week, I had noticed a strange pattern.
Every evening, just before twilight completely enveloped our sector, Lucas grew restless.
He would cast glances over his shoulder, make up an errand, or slip away into a dark corner of the shack under some flimsy excuse.
Unfortunately for him, the streets had taught me to notice everything.
One afternoon, while he was out fetching water from the merchant well, I approached the cracked beam supporting the right side of our shelter—a pathetic structure of driftwood and corrugated metal that the locals pompously referred to as a “hideout.” Squatting low to the ground, I slid my fingers into the gap between two rotted planks and reached in up to my wrist.
My nails struck coarse canvas.
I pulled gently.
When I uncovered the heavy leather pouch and loosened the drawstring, it nearly took my breath away.
Inside lay a pile of brand-new copper coins, but above all, silver and a few glints of gold.
A true treasure.
How could a slum kid, unable to find an honest job in the High City, be harboring such a fortune?
That evening, a cool wind blew through the cracks of the shack.
Lucas crossed the threshold with a faint smile, wiping sweat from his forehead.
No sooner had he sat down on his straw mat than I tossed the pouch into the center of the room.
The metallic clink echoed like a gunshot in the silence.
Lucas froze.
The blood drained from his face in a second.
“Tell me,” I said, my voice calm but firm, “I stumbled across this by chance.
Care to explain?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
His blue eyes scanned the room, desperately looking for an exit or a believable lie.
“That…
that’s none of my business,” he stammered, avoiding my gaze.
“I mean, it is, but…
I found it!
Yeah, a lost pouch near the docks this morning…”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Lucas,” I interrupted, stepping toward him.
“I’ve seen you hiding coin here for a week.
Gold coins don’t just wash up on the shore.
Where is this money coming from?”
“I…
I can’t tell you, Drey.
Just drop it, please.”
His words came out choked, his voice tight with genuine distress.
He pulled his legs up against his chest, lowering his head like a hunted animal.
But his reluctance only fueled my frustration.
Normally one to maintain a cold, distant facade, I felt anger rushing to my face.
The confusion was eating away at me.
“We share the same shack, we eat the same filth, and you’re keeping secrets from me?” I shouted, grabbing him by the collar of his patched tunic.
“What are you mixed up in?
Did you sell yourself to a gang?
Did you rob a nobleman?
Talk!”
Lucas tried to pull away, his hands trembling, his eyes clouded with panic mixed with shame.
“Let go of me!
You don’t understand anything!”
“Then make me understand!” I roared, shaking him.
He remained silent for a few seconds, his breathing ragged, his chest heavy under the weight of his secret.
He closed his eyes, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, before the dam finally broke in a strangled breath:
“Drey…
it’s dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
If you stick your nose into this, you’re dead.”
His voice was so heavy with gravity that my grip slowly loosened.
A suffocating silence fell over the shack once more.
The air seemed to drop in temperature all at once.
“Have you heard of Eresboros?” he whispered at last, eyes fixed on the ground.
“I…
I work for them.”
Eresboros.
The name wasn’t unfamiliar.
Even at the bottom of the slum, whispers circulated.
Passing merchants spoke of it with wide eyes, describing a ruthless crime syndicate responsible for the recent rash of murders bloodying the lower districts.
The confession hit me like a shockwave.
My curiosity, far from being chilled by the danger, instantly ignited.
Later that evening, on an empty stomach, Lucas led me to old Cassam’s shop, the only merchant in the area selling food that wasn’t completely spoiled.
Using money from his stash, he paid for two generous portions of dried meat and two mugs of watered-down beer.
We returned to the shack to eat, savoring the unexpected feast.
It had been weeks since I had tasted a decent meal.
Once the last bite was gone, I lost no time resuming my line of questioning:
“Tell me what Eresboros really is.”
Lucas cast a wary glance through the gaps in the wooden planks, watching for any shadow outside, then leaned back against the wall.
“It’s an organization that controls everything dark in this city,” he explained softly.
“Extorting shopkeepers, trafficking illegal goods, targeted executions…
they’re everywhere.
Rumor has it they even have secret deals with members of the Hunters’ League and move cargo for the Black Merchant Guild.”
I sat in silence for a moment.
Such an enterprise possessed armed enforcers and network operations on a staggering scale.
“And a kid like you…
what do they ask you to do?”
Lucas shrugged with forced detachment, but his fingers resumed their nervous twitching:
“Small errands.
I carry crates of reinforcement stones, act as a lookout when their men go to collect protection money…
and every now and then, I help them move sacks.
Heavy sacks.
With mutilated bodies inside.”
Goosebumps ran down my spine.
Watching this soft-featured boy, whom I had thought innocent, plainly admit to handling corpses for criminals was chilling.
“Listen to me, Drey,” he resumed, staring intensely at me.
“I’m telling you this because you pushed me to the edge, but forget all of it.
Never go near them.”
His words overflowed with genuine concern, and a part of me was grateful for it.
But at the same time, a wave of shame and powerlessness washed over me.
The scene threw my own weakness right back in my face.
I was rotting in the dirt, weaponless, penniless, and without influence.
If I ever wanted to find the man with the dragon tattoo and claim my vengeance, I couldn’t settle for begging for moldy bread.
I needed power, no matter the source.
“How do you join their organization?” I asked coldly.
Time seemed to stop.
Lucas stared at me, bewildered, his mouth slightly open.
“Are you crazy?” he shot back, his voice rising in pitch.
“I’m just a errand boy, Drey!
I don’t have any power to recommend anyone.
Only high-ranking members can bring in new recruits.
And besides…
if you step foot in there, they’ll make you do horrific things!”
“You know what my goal is,” I cut in, forcing my face into a expression of unshakeable resolve.
“I don’t have time to sit around waiting for a miracle.
If this is the only way to grow stronger, then I’ll do it.
Help me.”
Lucas fought back for several long minutes, head in his hands, letting out heavy sighs of resignation.
Finally, he looked up with defeat in his eyes:
“Fine…
Tomorrow night, I’ll introduce you to my contact.
But if things go sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”