Chapter 2

The road to Hesten city was long and winding, and only after three days of travel on horseback did I finally spot the towering stone walls that surrounded the city.

An hour later I arrived at the entrance to the city, and after showing the guards my army license, they let me pass through unmolested.

After searching for two hours, I finally managed to find the stables that my horse was from, and I returned her to her owner, a kindly looking old man.

Thereupon leaving the stables I asked around for the location of the cheapest inn in the city, and was told it was called ‘The Harpies Bar’ and was located in the center of the slums.

Within the Trestian empire, there were many beggars and scoundrels, since the emperor coveted money and demanded high taxes. That was why so many chose to remain in the army, even with the high death rates, because they would be well-fed and have shelter.

Most beggars were orphans who had done their time in the army and had no home to return to and thus were forced to live on the streets.

Due to the high number of them, every city had a slum, and it was usually quite large, sometimes even taking up half of the city.

Because of that, finding the slums wasn’t very difficult, but trekking through them was. Every eye seemed to follow me as I walked, and the shadows seemed to move as if alive.

Just as the sun was about to fall below the horizon, I managed to find the Inn. After entering I bought a meal and two nights to stay for only fifty kora. Unfortunately, even with the low-cost, already a quarter of my funds were lost to it, and now I only had one hundred and fifty kora left in my pocket. Most definitely not enough to survive.

I had to find a job.

After a good night's sleep (something I had not had for a very long time because of the early mornings in the army) I left the slums and went around the city searching for a proper job.

There was nothing. Most jobs wouldn’t hire me, due to the fact that I had no home, and the ones that would were mostly sewer-related.

Not wanting to give up, I returned to the inn and asked the barkeep if she knew of any jobs that would hire me.

“Heck, nobody would hire someone like you. Scrawny, just got kicked out of the army, you’re useless. A job in the sewers would work, maybe. Though, I will say. There was this odd gentleman who passed by here a few nights ago asking if there was anyone he could hire. Maybe you could ask him. His name is Pallock Sterling, and he said he lives on Piper's Lane.”

I thanked the barkeep and went back to the main city in search of Pallock. After asking around some more, I found out that Piper’s Lane was back in the slums, so I returned and the search continued. After another hour of searching, I finally found out his address and arrived at it.

In front of me was a large building, towering over most of the others in the slums, with gothic spires jutting out of its roof. The entirety of its outer structure was painted black, and through the windows, I could see that the inside was painted red.

‘Not very inviting.’ I thought glumly.

I knocked on the door, and after a few moments I heard shuffling sounds from within, and then a voice asked: “Who’s there?”

I hesitated, then said, “Well, um… the barkeep at the Harpies Bar told me that a man named Pallock Sterling lives here and that he would hire-“

“Yes, yes, come on in”

The door suddenly swung open, and after hesitating for a second, I stepped inside. It was quite a sight to see. Everything inside was painted red, from the ceiling to the floor to the walls and even the other side of the door that I had just walked through.

Beside the door stood a man, roughly my age, with tired-looking eyes and a small scar above his left eyebrow. He wore black pants, black shoes, and a black shirt, with a gray tie. Not the current fashion.

“Let me guess, you just retired from the army, and you're an orphan so you have no home to return to, thus you decided to search for a job, found none, and somehow ended up here. Was I right?”

“You were… pretty close.”

“Huh. Well, good enough. Come on, I’ll take you to old man Pallock, just follow me.”

I nodded in response and then followed the young man as he walked further into the house, eventually leading me to what I assumed was a kitchen, though because of the singular color scheme, I was unsure.

Sitting at what I assumed to be the kitchen table was an old man, roughly seventy by appearance, with white hair a white beard, and gray eyes. He was wearing a similar outfit to what the younger man was wearing, though it was noticeably fancier, with more creases and curves.

“Come, sit, we have much to discuss.” The old man said and then gestured to the chair facing him at the table.

With a nod, I sat down. We sat for a few seconds, simply staring into each other’s eyes, yet time seemed to stretch, and it felt as though I was staring at him for hours. His gray eyes twinkled and reflected the red of the room, shining with a violet sheen.

“My name is Pallock Sterling, as you may already know, and that young man behind you is Cedrick Entesor. If I may be so blunt, what would your name be, and why exactly are you visiting my humble abode?”

I sat silently for a moment, thinking of what to say.

“My name is Alric Vayne, and I am here to get hired for a job. I heard you were in search of someone who could work for you?”

He smiled.

“Yes, I am indeed. The question is, are you ready to work for me? The job we have here is not pretty.”

I pondered for a moment and then decided.

“Yes, I’m fine with any job, as long as it is not unethical.”

His smile grew wider.

“That’s good. Should I show you what the work is, or would you rather I tell you?”

“Um… telling me would work.”

“Alright. Here, in the Red House, an organization is being run. Within this organization, we try to make the empire a better place, by fixing its problems and giving answers to its questions. We are, what some may call, revolutionaries. Unfortunately, others find us to be less appealing, and call us the distasteful term of “terrorist”. Yet truly, we are not mere terrorists at all, and a more accurate term would be rebels. We strive to clean this empire of its filth, starting with the emperor. And you, Alric Vayne, are perfect for our cause.”

“And how do you know I won’t just leave this house and report you to the authorities?”

“I don’t. What I do know is that if you do, you'll bask in your momentary glory of ‘saving the empire’ and then end up in the streets. At worst, you’ll find a quick death in a back alley and at best you’ll last a few years on scraps and leftovers. It’s the beggar's life or the fight for freedom, which do you choose?”

“Hah”, I chuckled. “you’re not giving me much of a choice here, are you? I choose freedom.”

“Good.” He dropped his smile, “Don’t flinch.”

I cocked my head to the side.

“What do you mean-“

The world fell from underneath me.