Shadows In Carrowhelm-3

Dion walked the streets of Carrowhelm with an unwavering gaze, scanning the alleyways and hollow windows of dilapidated homes for a small, familiar figure. The little boy he'd begun to call—Tio—was nowhere to be seen.

"He's not here..." Dion spoke softly, half to himself and half in disbelief. The exact same spot Tio had attempted to rob him, the place they'd been conversing just yesterday was now void of anyone but him. 

Feeling frustrated, he turned and began to walk back toward the cottage and his friend, Hunter, who was finishing his breakfast. "We need to go to the Lowlands."

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Why? Why are you so damn pedantic about this child?"

Dion clenched his fists. "Because he was nice to me, and I may have gotten him in trouble."

Hunter sighed, perhaps mildly annoyed but also curious, stood up. "Whatever. But if it's a trap, I'm leveling the whole district."

At this point, Dion could only sigh. Neither of them had the intention of putting themselves at further risk, and Dion was almost embarrassed to have left the boy behind the prior day—once it became clear he was going back, he felt responsible. "Fine," he said, reluctantly.

They walked side by side towards the Lowlands, known as the poorest and most wretched area of Carrowhelm. Upon arriving in the Lowlands, the odor of rot and garbage overwhelmed their senses; splintered wood formed crooked shelters, children clothed in rags stared with blank expressions, and the street was littered in piss and rotting whatnots.

Jetting trash, open sewage, and the metallic scent of rust and damp mildew. A group of shirtless teenagers watched them from a distance, fear and malice lit in their eyes.

Dion walked ahead, and when they cross some imaginary border, three boys stepped up with knives.

"What's Inner Circle trash doing here?" the oldest boy sneered.

Hunter stepped up and let a sliver of his aura go—far from enough to knock anyone out cold, but more than enough to frighten half-trained street thugs the size of children.

The group stepped back, the knives quivering.

"We are looking for a boy," Dion said. "His name is Tio."

The boys looked at one and another weakly, one finally said, "Fangbangs took him. Said he was interfering."

Dion's brow furrowed. "What about his sister? Eva?"

"Still at their shack. That's the last we knew, she was recovering."

"Take me there," Dion said.

The shack he walked into was barely a structure. No windows, just a ripped curtain for a door. The floor creaked underfoot, and there she lay on a straw bed, pale cheeked, hair matted with sweat.

"Who are you?" she whispered, frail as a whisper.

Eva blinked. "You... helped him. He said... you were nice." 

"Where's Tio..." she asked, searching his face. 

Dion felt his throat tighten. He couldn't answer. Not yet. But looking in her fragile eyes he steeled himself, "He'll be back by tonight, I promise." 

A weak smile quirked at the corners of her cracked lips. Dion gently lay his hand over hers, thousandfold guilt weighing down on him. 

--

Meanwhile, Luenor strode, decked out as Alfrenzo, confidently into the Merchant Guild, accompanied by a man he met through drinks one night - a man named Harlon. And thanks to Harlon, registration went quickly. Alfrenzo produced forged identity papers and business licenses Hunter obtained through the black market, which the clerks who routinely see much more shady than Alfrenzo stamped without question. 

Later that afternoon, Alfrenzo was seated at a table in one of Carrowhelm's nicer restaurants. Harlon had introduced him to a well-dressed man with slicked hair and shrewd eyes. They exchanged pleasantries over roasted duck and wine. 

"I hear you deal in mana stones," said the man. 

Alfrenzo smiled. "I deal in anything that glitters. But, yes, currently I am heavy in refined mana stones. I'm looking to build new bridges."

"A man after my own heart," the buyer laughed. "I work with a supplier from the capital. We trade with the marquess directly. Skyshard blades always sell well."

Over the course of the meal, the contract was drawn up, sealed, and signed. Harlon pocketed his commission. Once the man had left, Alfrenzo leaned forward. "Who is his contact in the capital?"

Harlon grinned. "He never says."

____

Back at the inn, Luenor, Hunter, and Dion were readying themselves and preparing to strike against the Fangbangs.

"The kids in the Lowlands," Luenor said, pulling on his gloves, "We can use the kids in the Lowlands later. To inform and scout. But tonight, we take down Fangbangs."

They put on masks and moved through the dark streets. As they advanced towards the Fangbang tavern, they were greeted by a terrible sight: a drunk user mid-act with a prostitute in the open air.

"Disgusting," Hunter muttered, turning Luenor away.

Dion marched up and punched the man unconscious, giving the shrieking woman a pouch of coins and tossing her clothes back towards her.

"Run."

The woman fled, and the three approached the tavern.

Inside the Fangbang Headquarters, in a dark, smokey room lit by oil lamps, Tio sat strapped and gabeled to a chair. His shirt had been torn, blood trickling from his forehead. His forearms had already been bruised, and he quivered as the sound of laughter encased him.

"No more talking, brat?" one of the thugs asked after pulling a dart from the wall.

"Let's try again," said another, licking his lips.

Tio flinched as a dart whizzed past his head, lodging into the wooden board behind him.

They were using him as a human dartboard.

The leader of the group—Bragg, a muscled brute with a broken nose—stepped forward.

"We're missing two men," he snarled. "You were seen with that outsider. What did you tell him?"

"I didn't say anything!" Tio shouted, blinking back tears.

Another dart hit his shoulder, making him cry out.

"Where are they?" Bragg asked again.

"I don't know!"

Behind him, one thug spun another dart in his hand, grinning.

Then—just as he was about to throw it—a faint knock came from the front door of the tavern.

Bragg motioned for silence.

The dart never flew. The room held its breath.

Outside, Luenor gave a nod.