Adrian8562

In the rotting port city of Daggerfall seventeen year old Kael Vos moves in the shadows not out of principle, but because it’s the only way to survive. Fresh to the city and tied to the howlers, a street gang clawing for relevance in a city choked by crime, Kael takes the jobs he’s given no questions asked. He’s not a killer, not yet but he’s no hero either, just another blade trying to make rent. 

When a simple debt collection job goes sideways Kael finds himself branded unreliable. He’s caught between rival factions ready to tear each other apart. Nine criminal houses carve Daggerfall to pieces, the cities noble lord looks the other way as long as his belly stays full. 

As pressure mounts Kael must chose between playing the pawn in a game he barely understands or carving his own path In a city that eats men like him alive. But survival in Daggerfall comes with a cost, and blood always pays.

daggerfall: the nine nooses

Kael shifted, testing the skin around the wound. It pulled tight and raw but held

The old woman didn't look up. She tapped the table twice. "Two silver."

Kael reached into his coat and dropped the coins onto the wood. He turned toward the door

The old woman stood slowly, joints cracking. She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a folded scrap of cloth and a small corked vial of black ink

"I need something," she said. "From a friend. Since you're already walking."

Kael turned back. "What kind of something?"

"Low-grade mana stone." She held out the cloth. "Name's on it. Stall nine, Smokebend Market. Woman named Lenna."

Kael took it, eyes narrowing. "And?"

The old woman grunted. "Bring it back and I'll give you a silver. Call it a delivery fee."

Kael raised a brow. "You trust me to come back?"

"No," she said flatly. "But I stitched your guts shut, so I figure I've got leverage."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded once and slipped the cloth into his coat.

"She's deaf," the woman said. "Tap twice on the counter and hold up what you're trading. Don't touch anything else. And don't lie she reads lips better than most priests read prayers."

Then he stepped back out into Daggerfall's cold breath. The sky had shifted late morning, early afternoon now, the light thinner and harder. He hadn't realized how long he'd been in there. His legs still ached, and the wound tugged with every step, but the bleeding had stopped

The streets around Smokebend sloped uneven and narrow, climbing past leaning houses and broken stairwells. The air smelled like brine and burnt lard. Somewhere nearby, a fishmonger shouted half-hearted prices into the wind. A group of dockhands argued over crates near a wagon missing one wheel. Life in Daggerfall never stopped it just stepped over whoever had fallen

Smokebend Market sat in a basin between two sunbaked alleys, clustered with canvas stalls and old awnings patched with sailcloth

Kael kept a hand near his coat. This part of the city was safe enough, but only if you didn't look lost

He scanned the row of stalls. Nine wasn't far off. A rust colored tarp hung crooked overhead. That would be her's