Cold.
Yovan wrapped himself tighter in his jacket and zipped it all the way up, trying to protect himself from Nostramo’s chill.
In vain.
The only result was that he pinched his chin.
“Damn cold,” Yovan muttered, rubbing his chin.
“How much longer do we have to wait?” His companion, a man with an impressive beer belly, shook his head: “That’s up to the masters to decide when they deign to appear.” “Are you serious?!” Yovan exclaimed.
“If they don’t come at all, are we just supposed to sit here?!” “Shut your stinking mouth, Yovan, and keep it down!
If the other groups hear us complaining, do you think they won’t report it to Mr.
Male later?” Yovan reluctantly nodded.
He crouched down in the attic of what had recently been a residential building and lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag.
The sharp chemical taste made him squint in bliss.
“Old Town — that’s where the real quality is,” he said quietly.
“Except for the price, damn it, there are no flaws at all.” “Price?
They raised it again?” “Yeah,” Yovan nodded.
“I went by three days ago with Old Hammer.
The guy selling didn’t even look at us like human beings.
Old Hammer asked for a discount, and that bastard told him — don’t like it, get lost.” Yovan grinned, revealing yellow-brown teeth.
“Can you imagine anyone talking to Old Hammer like that?” Fatty nodded and said thoughtfully: “So that’s why Old Hammer’s face is all bruised… He got beaten up, huh?” “Yeah.
As soon as that bastard said it, Old Hammer hit him.
I was about to jump in too, but then…” Yovan shrugged with a malicious grin.
“Six people came running out of that damn alley, all with guns.
I decided to play it by ear.
Anyway, they beat Old Hammer to a pulp.
If I hadn’t stopped them, they’d have had to take him to Doctor Pogrebov.” “Pogrebov died six months ago, you idiot,” Fatty said casually.
“He was taken apart.
They say it was the work of some avenging spirit.
I doubt it.
Pogrebov pissed off so many people, anyone could have killed him.” “Really?” Yovan raised an eyebrow in surprise but quickly recovered.
“He crippled so many patients, it’s no surprise he was taken out.” “Good riddance,” the man snorted coldly.
“Crazy bastard.
Instead of buying meat at the shop, he ate the people who came to him for stitches.” He smirked.
“But whoever killed him is treating us like idiots.
Everyone knows that avenging spirit is just a scare tactic for children…” “That’s for sure.” Yovan also laughed hoarsely.
“Still, I think Old Hammer didn’t get punched for nothing.” He grinned and, raising his cigarette, waved it boastfully in front of his partner’s face.
Fatty grimaced, unwilling to continue the conversation.
He understood perfectly well that Yovan’s words about “stopping them” needed to be divided by ten, just like his story about how he got the goods.
Yovan did want the stuff, but after hearing the price, he clearly changed his mind about paying for it.
The man glanced at Yovan, and his casual demeanor suddenly irritated him.
Bam!
“Hey… Barry, why are you kicking me?!” “Get up, idiot.” Barry cursed quietly and kicked him again.
“Do you even know who might be coming today?” “I’m getting up, I’m getting up, stop kicking… Who’s so important?
Another bunch of young masters and ladies who came down here to amuse themselves.” Yovan irritably dusted off his clothes.
Barry took a deep breath, barely suppressing his anger, and said through clenched teeth, spitting out every word: “The Inquisitor of House Skraivok.
And they’re coming here to investigate the great ‘avenging spirit.'” “Well, maybe a bit loftier than the usual lot, otherwise we wouldn’t be stuck here all night on guard… But what business is it of ours?” He was getting more and more worked up, even starting to wave his arms around.
“We’re just attack dogs to them anyway!” “Watch your mouth, Yovan,” Barry’s face suddenly darkened.
“Everyone knows that, but unlike you, nobody’s shouting it from the rooftops.
You want to guess why?” “…” “And put out that damn cigarette.
The stench of that Old City shit carries a long way.
You don’t want every old fart in the place to come running to the smell, so put it out.” This time, Yovan obeyed without a word.
He respected Barry.
He was the only person Yovan knew who had survived the Great Purge.
Besides, he fully understood he’d just put his foot in his mouth.
“Alright, I’ll tell you, Yovan…” After a brief silence, Barry spoke again.
He stepped forward, his beer belly pressing against the sill of the attic window.
He raised his hand and pointed at the spire visible in the night gloom.
“See our base?
Listen up.
Lord Male usually calls it ‘Honor.’ Know why?” Yovan shook his head.
“Because it was given to us by House Skraivok!” Barry turned, eyes wide with fury, and continued to berate Yovan.
Because of this, he didn’t notice the two shadows flitting past the window.
“During the last Great Purge, we fought with our lives to secure a third of Quintus’s new district for House Skraivok… And this twenty-five-story spire is their reward to us!” “And our guns, our vehicles… our connections, and the fact that you and Old Hammer, that idiot, went into the Old City and got the goods for free without catching a bullet in the head — all of it is thanks to House Skraivok!” He spun around, step by step closing in on Yovan, pinned him against the wall, and struck him hard.
Watching Yovan, doubled over in pain, slide to the floor, Barry continued with a cold smirk: “So for the rest of the night, keep quiet and behave, got it?
This isn’t some minor lordling who’s coming tonight.
This is, for fuck’s sake, the heir of House Skraivok!” Yovan, breathing heavily, nodded.
Satisfied, Barry returned to the window, continuing his watch.
Somewhere beyond his line of sight, a massive black car was rushing towards them at tremendous speed.
… “The Vengeful Spirit…” A pale young man with powdered lips smirked.
He wore a tight-fitting shirt with lace, and his long hair fell to his shoulders, giving him the look of a dissolute rake.
“Doesn’t that name strike you as funny?” he asked cheerfully.
The two young women sitting opposite reacted differently.
The woman on the left, with a long scar on her face, gave a cold laugh: “If I were you, Gendor, I’d keep a sensible mouth shut until I’d seen everything with my own eyes.
The Underhive is crawling with all sorts of filth.” “Oh, the Underhive is crawling with all sorts of filth!” The young man called Gendor squeaked out a mocking imitation and burst into laughter.
“And what, even a vengeful ghost?” The woman on the right shook her head.
She was dressed simply: breeches and a dark purple blouse with a pattern.
An outfit that was unpretentious, but not without aristocratic elegance.
“Don’t be so insolent, Gendor,” she said authoritatively.
“Father hasn’t granted you the black mark yet.
Show some respect to your sister.” “Very well, Irene Skraivok, my most honored sister,” Gendor grinned.
“But I still think it’s very funny.
Downright hilarious.” “Hilarious?” The scarred woman laughed coldly again.
“The House coroner is dead, and you find that funny?
Gendor Skraivok, you pathetic ghoul.” “Hey, I don’t eat corpses, Leina Skraivok.” “You disgrace our family,” Leina cut him off coldly.
“None of the direct heirs of House Skraivok has ever been so passionate about the vulgar as you.” “Oh, come on, Leina,” Gendor spread his hands helplessly.
“Aren’t the people from the Underhive people?
They look just like us, built just the same.
If you don’t believe me, drop by my basement later.
I’ll give you a free demonstration.” “To business,” Irene interrupted them firmly.
“Coroner Manelli is dead, and we will see justice done.
But this trip has another purpose.” “What is it?” Gendor asked.
The smile vanished from his face.
“The death of Father Lazar Lokhars from the Church of Repose.” Leina Skraivok frowned sharply: “A traitor from House Lokhars?” “Yes, Leina.
Coroner Manelli, in addition to collecting tithes, was supposed to investigate his death… and died right after him.” Irene shook her head slowly.
“Clearly, something is amiss here.” Gendor narrowed his eyes: “When something like this happens on the eve of a Great Purge, it’s hard not to think of the obvious…” Irene gave a vague nod: “It might be other Houses behind this, but we have no proof.
We need to see everything with our own eyes, investigate it on the ground.” “You talk like that, and I’m already getting excited…” The frivolous smile returned to Gendor’s face.
“And also, my dear sister Irene, when I receive the black mark and Father’s favor… I will definitely sample you too.
I think you’ll taste very sweet.” He took a deep, savoring breath.
Leina wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Irene Skraivok… …remained completely composed.