Gesterlout

The sky was overcast, and crowds of passersby made their way from one end of the city to the other. Sometimes I found myself wondering where they were all going and why they needed to go anywhere at all. After all, the life of an ordinary citizen was terribly short, especially when you took into account the poor sanitation, the filth, and the waste that could be found everywhere.

It made you wonder whether life had any meaning at all.

The city of Gesterlout was known to many common folk, though certainly not for its reputation.

Beyond the city walls, life could be beautiful and clear. Inside them, however, the sky was perpetually shrouded in clouds, accompanied by the constant feeling that someone was always waiting for a chance to take your life.

This was a city inhabited by some of the most notorious scoundrels in the world. Only the worst of the worst lived here.

But I didn't care about any of them.

Although I stood somewhat above the ranks of ordinary laborers, making my living as a mercenary, there was nothing particularly meaningful about my existence.

I used to be far more emotional and kind toward other people. But over time, working as a hired killer, the necessity of remaining cold-blooded had taken its toll.

If I had felt sorry for every ordinary citizen I killed, I would have gone insane and become a complete psychopath.

I didn't need to sympathize with a single person in this city. Any one of them could become my next target.

Though, when you thought about it, there was still room for pity.

My own standard of living was only slightly better than that of an ordinary citizen. The pay was somewhat higher, of course, but I was certain that killing living people wasn't worth it.

I had been forced into this work simply to ensure my own survival.

After all, I wanted to live.

On one of the many dreary days in this city, I received a letter from yet another client.

Or at least, that's what I wanted to believe.

Every one of them was different in their own way, each with their own strange ideas and problems rattling around in their heads.

And what did I care?

As long as I was paid, my heart wouldn't stir.

The client had arranged to meet me at a well-known tavern in the city, the Mitotserian Verzh.

The most interesting part became apparent a little later: he hadn't specified a time. He had simply written that he would be waiting for me.

It didn't bother me much. I had found work, and the thought that I'd soon have money to buy food already made me feel a little better.

I lived not far from the city center, though there was hardly anything worth bragging about in that. The entire city was made up of filthy slums, puddles, and the remains of human waste.

People here had no respect for one another.

I understand how it might sound. Gesterlout could easily be described as a rotting cesspool.

And, frankly, denying it would have been foolish.

As always, I put on light armor and a green cloak before setting out.

As I made my way through the city's back alleys, I couldn't help but think about all sorts of things.

Debauchery, violence, and the bitter stench of drugs were everywhere.

Passing by one of the stalls, you could see people having sex without the slightest shame, completely unconcerned that someone might see them.

Whatever humanity the people of Gesterlout had once possessed was long gone.

I tried not to stand out from the crowd, pulling the hood of my cloak over my head.

Farther down the street, someone was being robbed.

No one cared.

There was no order in the city, and the authorities were nowhere to be seen.

After a while, I reached the central street, spotted the tavern, and went inside.

As always, the place reeked of alcohol and people who hadn't washed in years.

You would think that after living in this city for so long, I would have gotten used to it.

But I never did.

There was a bar nearby, and an old acquaintance of mine, Oznob, spotted me immediately.

He waved me over.

I didn't hesitate for long. I walked over and took a seat beside the bar.

“Hey, buddy!” Oznob greeted me with a firm handshake.

As for Oznob himself, he looked like a huge, muscular lout who could easily fold you in half if he felt like it. His face was covered in wrinkles, and tattoos of all kinds covered his body.

If I had to describe his personality briefly, he was a good-natured fellow who could recommend the best drink and was always willing to keep a conversation going.

But I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. I had a meeting to attend.

Before I could even answer, he said in a wary voice:

“Buddy, some old man is waiting for you at the table over there. I don't know what he wants or why he's here, but I wouldn't recommend getting involved with him. He was asking about you, especially about your personal information. You'd better be careful around him.”

I nodded to let Oznob know that I had taken his warning seriously, then looked around the entire room.

Sure enough, an odd-looking old man was sitting at one of the tables. He wore a simple blue shirt, a white cloak, and black boots.

I approached the table and looked at the old man.

He didn't even look away as he examined me.

“Sit down, Milcek!” he said.

There was one thing I couldn't understand: why had he called me that, and why had he done so in such a friendly manner?

I hadn't seen people like that in this city for a long time.

I obediently sat down in the empty chair.

“Would you like something to drink? It's all on me!” he exclaimed, already preparing to place an order.

But I stopped him.

“Let's get to the point.”

The old man's expression didn't change at all.

Quite the opposite.

He seemed far too optimistic for a man of his age, especially in a city like this.

“I understand you, Milcek, but there's no need to rush anywhere at the moment. Haste can put you at a disadvantage.”

A chill ran down my spine at those words.

“What the hell are you talking about, old man?!”

“Perhaps I know more about you than you know about yourself. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I have a job for you. In fact, you and I are business partners.”

“You talk too much, old man. Who are you?”

“I am merely an old man who doesn't know when death will come for him. Like everyone else, I have my own goals and motives. But you're not being paid to ask questions. Am I right?”

All this time, he had seemed like some long-time drug addict.

“I need you to kill a prostitute on Gaupa Street. That's all. You will be paid once the job is done, provided you bring proof that she is no longer among the living.”

“Old man, you're really brave, saying that to a hired killer. Everyone knows that payment is supposed to be made in advance. You won't be able to cheat me out of my money.”

His behavior and the way he spoke were beginning to irritate me.

“Unfortunately, you're not the one who gets to set the terms in this city. I am. I have information that mercenaries are in decline now more than ever, and that life has become more valuable. As for business practices, I know that every job is supposed to be paid for in advance. But this case is different. You'll have to trust me on that. Besides, you can walk away at any moment, and we will never have to meet again. The choice is yours, Milcek.”

He smiled disgustingly, and it made me sick.

Maybe he had completely lost his mind with age.

But he was right about one thing: mercenaries were in decline.

And I probably wasn't suited for any other kind of work anyway. I'd spent half my life killing people.

I could never become the person I used to be.

I was already in too deep, drowning in this abyss of darkness.

Grinding my teeth, I accepted his offer.

“It's a pleasure doing business with you, Milcek! We can sit here a little longer and have a chat.”

I abruptly rose from the table and firmly refused his offer.

He was already getting on my nerves.

He had been smiling the entire time we'd been together.

“Goodbye, old man!”

I decisively headed for the entrance, opened the door, and was just about to leave when I suddenly heard his voice behind me:

“We'll all meet again tonight, at the Pereprava. For certain!”

I closed the door and continued on my way.

******

If there was any such thing as justice in this world, Gesterlout had absolutely nothing to do with it. From the moment this cursed city was founded, it had been home to the vilest scum imaginable—people who placed no value whatsoever on human life.

As for me, I was a mercenary. I already had a few privileges within the guild and a reputation of sorts, and I had always understood that death was simply a part of life. Of course, I never experienced any particularly strong emotions over it, but I could still feel a certain amount of sympathy.

Speaking of the contract, I had already set out for Gaupa Street. There wasn't much farther to go.

As for the prostitute I had been hired to kill, I already knew everything there was to know about the job.

The world around me had developed in some rather unusual ways when it came to certain abilities. More specifically, our mental faculties and what could be called the soul existed on equal terms, intertwined as one.

Both had undergone drastic changes, but the underlying concept was simple.

The neurons in our brains had acquired far more fascinating properties than they had ever possessed before. Humanity had learned to use this gift of nature to its advantage, accomplishing certain tasks through the transmission of what was known as a soul wave.

In simple terms, we could speak less while receiving more information.

Magic existed as well, though not in the simplistic form found in children's fairy tales. It was a highly complex science, one that could take an entire lifetime to master. Still, simpler tricks existed and were used everywhere in everyday life.

As for everything else, there hadn't been any particularly significant changes.

Medieval-style buildings were commonplace, as were sword duels.

Not a single day passed in Gesterlout without someone dying.

More than that, it was impossible for a day to pass without it.

The situation in this city was so desperate that sometimes I couldn't help regretting the fact that there was absolutely no order here.

I was making my way down Mantra Street when I saw yet another piece of scum attempting to rape an unsuspecting woman.

I didn't intervene.

I'm not some hero who runs around saving everyone he comes across, I thought. I'm just an ordinary man trying to survive in this world.

I had a personal goal and my own interests.

She struggled and begged for help, but no one cared in the slightest.

And the street was crowded, too.

Everyone simply went about their business.

That was how utterly rotten this city was.

I was getting closer to Gaupa Street.

Perhaps I had left out a few things.

I carried a simple case containing my favorite crossbow and tin cartridges.

It was a modest and one-of-a-kind set, which was why I treasured it so dearly. After all, I simply didn't know how to make a living any other way, nor did I have any desire to learn.

To slave away for this cursed city for a pittance, knowing that someone could break into your home tomorrow, kill you, rape you, take absolutely everything you owned, and sell you into slavery...

That was hardly a life worth living.

I had to adapt somehow.

So I adapted.

It was already getting dark, which meant I needed to hurry.

The building I was looking for stood to my right.

It was an ordinary building—small and unremarkable.

I wasn't about to simply walk through the front door, so I needed to come up with a quick and effective plan.

I circled around the building and, strangely enough, discovered a staircase leading to the second floor.

Quietly, I decided to make my way up.

Moving forward without making a sound, I spotted a window.

I had been hoping to find something more convenient, a door perhaps, but the window would do just as well.

I tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

Of course it was locked.

What else had I expected?

After giving it some thought, I decided to go straight through it.

I smashed the window, leapt inside, eliminated the target with a precise shot, climbed back out through the same window, and would be long gone before anyone could find me.

Not that anyone would have wanted to look for me in the first place.

Of course, the chances that the target was actually in this particular room were slim, but situations like this were nothing unusual in my line of work.

My hand-to-hand combat skills had saved me more than once, one way or another. I figured I could hold my own if it came to that.

I wasn't afraid of death.

I had been ready to die every day, because existing in this world for the sole purpose of surviving seemed like utter nonsense to me.

Better to die.

I couldn't bring myself to take my own life.

I was afraid.

But if death came as part of a job...

Perhaps that would have been different.

In an instant, I smashed the window with the butt of my crossbow, leapt into the room, and quickly looked around.

There was no one.

More than that, there was a deathly silence throughout the entire building.

Relaxing my stance slightly, I resolutely headed toward the bed to the left of the window I had just broken.

At first, there seemed to be nothing unusual.

Then I noticed a dead rat.

Maybe someone already completed the contract for me? I wondered.

But sounds coming from downstairs pulled me out of my thoughts.

Yes, there was a staircase leading to the first floor.

I raised my crossbow and cautiously began making my way down, taking small, careful steps.

The little house was actually rather pleasant in its own way. The room was well maintained, and there was a vase of flowers on the table—black-and-white lilies.

But all of that was made unsettling by a flickering electric light bulb.

It would shine brightly, then fade.

Another sound came from somewhere below.

A wet, unpleasant chewing noise.

I began to feel uncomfortable.

It was disgusting.

Repulsive.

In the middle of the room stood an otherwise unremarkable safe.

Except that it took up half the room.

I was surprised to see something like that, but I didn't give it much thought.

Completing the contract was my priority.

Once I had done that, I would simply leave.

To my surprise, the safe yielded to my hand almost immediately and creaked open.

The chewing sounds continued without pause.

Deep inside the safe was an abyss.

At first glance, it seemed completely bottomless.

“What the hell is going on here...” I muttered under my breath.

Then a horrifying scream came from somewhere deep within the safe.

It lasted for only an instant before abruptly stopping.

The chewing continued.

Judging by the scream, it had been a woman somewhere between eighteen and twenty-five years old.

And at that point, I assumed that she was most likely my target.

I left the safe open, slowly made my way back upstairs, and climbed out through the window onto the street.

I was still lost in thought.

What exactly had that been?

Although, truth be told, I already had a pretty good idea.

It was a creature known as a Cref.

They devoured the souls and bodies of the people they managed to find—the unlucky ones who crossed their path.

Since the city had no government, let alone any kind of order, a death like this was perfectly ordinary.

Of course, I could have climbed inside and found out what was really going on.

But I didn't.

Not only would I have gained absolutely nothing from it, I would probably have died a rather unpleasant death myself.

And death definitely wasn't part of my plans.

It was dark outside now.

After spending a little while mourning the soul of the deceased, I made my way down the stairs toward my old shack.

Still, I couldn't help wondering.

Were prostitutes without protection really that common in this city?

Considering how respectable the house had looked, it seemed reasonable to assume that some kind of protection had been expected.

I wondered whether they had managed to escape or had simply perished, disappearing forever.

On the other hand, the strange old man who had given me the contract could simply have set me up.

Most likely, that was exactly what had happened.

But I still hoped I would receive at least some payment. The target was most likely dead, after all, and how exactly she had died didn't matter.

I planned to meet the old man first thing in the morning at that same tavern.

So, once I reached my home, I lay down on my battered old bed and immediately fell asleep.