In the eastern part of the Eastern Slums, there was a set of docks that fed into one of Vel'Sharim's three major rivers, the Whisperbrook. It eventually converged with the Ironflow and the Silverthread between the Merchant Quarter and the Temple District, forming what people called the Trident.
Aside from fishing, smuggling, and waste disposal, the area had also become home to abandoned warehouses repurposed into Covenant storage, black markets, and makeshift refugee housing.
Lucien stood in front of a graffiti-covered door belonging to what used to be a grain warehouse. The building was three stories tall, built from stone, its windows boarded up. The structure looked worn and dirty, with no one in sight.
This should be the place, Lucien muttered absentmindedly.
Getting here required navigating through back alleys and a series of deliberately confusing turns. As a member of the Twilight Covenant, he was expected to memorize the route, so he had no trouble finding it. Anyone else would likely have been killed long before reaching the door.
Lucien let out a quiet breath and knocked in a specific rhythm, three slow taps, two quick ones, then one slow.
After about thirty seconds of waiting, under the distinct feeling of being watched, he heard the sound of a lock clicking from inside. The door opened shortly after.
A man in his early thirties, dressed in similar attire, stood on the other side. When he saw Lucien, he gave a small nod.
Lucien returned the nod as the man stepped aside, allowing him in.
Inside was a narrow corridor, barely two meters wide and stretching around ten meters ahead. At the far end stood two armed guards with crossbows and short swords, positioned in front of what looked like nothing more than a dead-end wall.
Lucien glanced upward briefly. The ceiling looked ordinary, but he wouldn't be surprised if there were hidden archers positioned above, covering the corridor.
As he approached, one of the guards gave him a short glance of recognition. Without saying a word, the man turned halfway toward the wall and pressed a particular brick near shoulder height.
The stone shifted with a low grind, the wall swinging inward as a hidden door and revealing a set of descending stairs.
Lucien gave a faint nod of appreciation before heading down.
At the bottom, the space opened up into what the Covenant called the Market Floor.
It was a basement roughly twenty by twenty meters, with a ceiling about three meters high. Lanterns hung at regular intervals, casting a dim but steady light across the room.
A few dozen people moved quietly through the space. Most dressed plainly enough to blend into any crowd, though unlike many underground organizations, masks weren’t allowed here. Faces had to stay visible under Covenant rules.
For something called a market, Lucien would've expected noise.
Instead, the place was unnervingly quiet.
Well… it is a shadow market.
As Lucien scanned the area, his gaze suddenly paused on a woman across the floor. His eyes narrowed slightly in surprise.
Is that a dark elf?
It had to be.
Her skin was noticeably darker than anyone else present, and the long pointed ears paired with her sharp, striking features made it obvious. Even in a place filled with suspicious people, she stood out effortlessly.
The dark elf seemed to notice his attention and turned, her gaze quickly landing on him. One of her brows lifted slightly before a teasing smile spread across her lips. She raised a hand and gave him a subtly suggestive gesture.
Lucien’s mouth twitched faintly.
...I’ve heard dark elves are about as restrained as the Inferni. If something can be done in bed, they’ve probably already tried it twice.
He shook his head a little and looked away before the interaction could go any further.
It's not time for that.
He hadn't come here for distractions. A message had been passed to him through a contact in the Merchant Quarter. His superior wanted to see him. And from his experience, that usually meant one thing. A job.
What a shame… If sex paid, I'd be rich by now.
Lucien made his way toward the rear of the market, slipping past clusters of quiet conversations and shadowed stalls. Near the back stood another staircase with two guards stationed beside it.
He headed down without stopping.
The third basement level was much quieter than the market above. At the end of the corridor stood a single reinforced door guarded by two men who looked noticeably better armed than the others upstairs.
Their eyes briefly swept over him.
One of them knocked on the door.
“Lucien is here.”
A voice answered from inside almost immediately.
“Let him in.”
The guard pulled the door open, and Lucien stepped inside.
The room was filled with just a desk, a chair, a weapon rack, and a bedroll in the corner. A map of Vel'Sharim was pinned to the wall, marked with faction territories, resources, and known threats. He could see a locked chest sat further back.
Seated behind the desk was a woman in her early thirties, around five foot six. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied back, her eyes nearly black, with a scar cutting across her left eyebrow and thin wire scars along her hands. She wore practical dark leather and cotton clothing.
"Lucien. You're here," she said, her voice sharp as usual.
"Yes," Lucien replied politely, his casual personality gone. "Is there anything you need?"
Razor. That was the name she went by. From what he knew, it came from her specialization in razor wire. Whether she was the one truly in control of the Twilight Covenant or just another layer beneath someone else, Lucien had no way of knowing. Like everyone else, he simply didn't have that kind of access.
Razor's sharp eyes drilled into him in silence for a few seconds—long enough to make him uncomfortable. Then, as if deciding she'd let him breathe again, she spoke.
"I called you here because I want you to conduct reconnaissance in the Southern Ruins."
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Reconnaissance?"
The Southern Ruins was one of the worst corrupted areas in the city. The source of the corruption was believed to lie somewhere deep in the southern ruins, but nobody knew exactly what kind of Hollow nested there.
Razor rose from her chair and walked over to the map on the wall, gesturing for Lucien to follow. He stepped beside her, following the line of her finger across the marked districts.
“From the information I’ve received, a Hollow recently evolved somewhere in the Garden District,” she said. “I sent a few scouts to track its movements, but the Corruption levels in the Southern Ruins are too high. They couldn’t stay long enough to gather anything useful.” Her dark eyes shifted toward him briefly. “You’re one of the few people here with high resistance to Corruption, so I want you to investigate it.”
The Garden District is the northernmost part of Southern Ruins. He had scouted it dozens of times before.
"Is there anything new I should know before I head in?" he asked.
"Yes." She pointed toward the edge of the Contested Zone. "The evolved Hollow has been confirmed not to pursue targets beyond the Garden District. It appears to have been a knight, large build, close to two and a half meters tall. Most likely Stage 4, based on its patrol pattern through the area. See if you can map out its route today."
That sounds manageable…
Since he had scouted it before, he knew that the number of Hollow there wasn't overwhelming—nothing that would make him hesitate. If anything, it was a decent place to test his abilities.
"You won't be going alone for this mission."
"Hm?"
Lucien glanced at her, confused. Razor didn't look at him as she continued in a calm tone.
"A dark elf named Ava Pehrula will be going with you. You've probably seen her on the market floor. She has fairly high resistance to Corruption as well. She's a duelist and a capable scout, so she'll make things safer for you."