A New Era

As I stood in front of the door, I could hear people moving around on the other side with some hushed voices. Whoever was on the other side knew I was here, but they didn't know who I was. That left me with my choice of how I wanted to deal with this. Unfortunately, my choice was made as the door opened to reveal a very large and mean-looking man.

"What the hell do you want?" The angry-looking man growled at me, but I just walked past him, taking a look around the room. The place looked worse than I smelled.

The room before me was dimly lit by a few sputtering torches, casting ominous shadows across the walls which were covered in moisture and a kind of grime that spoke of years without a thorough cleaning. The space was used; crates were stacked haphazardly, barrels lined up against one wall, and a table in the center was cluttered with an assortment of items - knives, coins, poorly drawn maps, and, what my nose unhappily recognized, remnants of food gone bad.

The group gathered around the table turned their eyes on me — a motley crew of hard faces, their expressions ranging from disbelief to irritation. Being acknowledged by the large man who had a broken nose and a crooked smile hanging from his chapped lips didn't help my mood.

"I'm here to talk to your boss," I replied with such calm authority that for a moment, nobody moved. My gaze swept across the faces before returning to the brute blocking my way. 

One man, seemingly the most sober of the lot, nudged a woman beside him, whispering something that couldn't reach my ears over the raucous laughter of another who found something amusing about my appearance: a bedraggled child with a mask, looking like I had just climbed out of the city sewers.

"I'm going to repeat myself once," I stated, letting some of the anger seep into my voice as I stepped further into their den of filth. "Take me to your boss. Now."

The brute huffed, puffing his chest as if preparing to say something surely unwise, but the sober man caught his eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod. With a grunt, the large man stepped aside, shooting me a look as if to say, 'This isn't over.'

Guided by the sober man, I navigated through a narrow hallway lit by more of those dim torches whose flickering only served to give the dank walls a sickly life. Pausing in front of yet another unassuming door, my guide knocked twice, a pause, then once more.

The door creaked open on its own, as if by some mechanism, revealing an unexpectedly well-kept study, the stark difference between this room and the rest of the hideout hit me like a slap. A vast desk dominated the space, behind which sat a man whose sharp features were leveled directly at me, his eyes studying me with the discerning gaze of someone who had done bad things and didn't mind adding to that list.

"A kid? That is what the commotion is about?" The boss asked, looking at the sober man, and he nodded.

"Something strange about this one, boss. It's like he ain't normal, or something. Just walked past Brog like he owned the place and demanded to talk to you!"

The boss looked at me, and I nodded but then looked at the sober man. "Out," I said, but the man looked to his boss, who nodded, and then left. Once the door was closed, I let out a sigh. I was not really the dark and scary type, but I could hold up appearances when I needed to.

"So, I hope that you aren't just some kid playing around, or I will just give you back to the boys. I am sure I don't have to tell you what they might do to you after insulting them, right?" 

Instead of answering, I walked over and hopped up on the chair in front of his desk. It took me a second, but when I was sitting down, I took off my mask. "I don't know if you know who I am, but this will be the one and only time that I show you my face."

For the first time, the man looked surprised, but then a smile crept on his face. I had expected this, and it confirmed that there were already people interested in me from that sardonic smile.

"The Prince, hmm?" The boss asked and stood up, but I shook my head at him.

"I will warn you once kindly. Sit. The next time I might ask from a new seat," I warned, but the man just grinned ferally at me.

"You know, I heard about you. Cast off prince, sold off for peace, but not everyone wants what your little body stands for, you feel me? I have actually been trying to figure out how I could get my hands on you, but, low and behold, you came to me!" The man laughed as he came around the desk, but I didn't move, I just rolled my eyes.

"I guess I will have to ask you after, but I would like to know one thing first. Just who is it that is paying you to get rid of me?"

The man's smile faltered slightly at my question, and I saw a flicker of caution flash in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to be this direct or to inquire about his clients. But the smile soon returned, albeit with a hint of cunning.

"I think you misunderstood the situation, Prince Gideon," he replied with false benevolence. "Nobody is paying me to 'get rid of you'. I just find it interesting how a broken, thrown-away prince would show up in my domain uninvited."

I held his gaze, unblinking, my expression impassive. I had learned long ago that information was a double-edged sword, and in this game, it was best to hold one's cards close to the chest.

"Interesting?" I echoed, allowing a touch of mockery to seep into my voice. "I find it interesting that a man in your position feels so confident about threatening royalty. Do you often make a habit of biting the hands that could feed you?"

The boss stopped in his tracks, his predatory grin now replaced by a more calculated, studying look. He circled back to his chair but did not sit; instead, he leaned against the desk, arms crossed as if reassessing his approach.

"You think I'm afraid of the crown? Of you?" he scoffed lightly before his tone turned serious. "Prince or no Prince, this is my domain. Here, I am the king, and threats are merely opportunities to expand my power."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound echoing eerily around the study, bouncing off the books and polished wood. The boss stared at me, and then he was screaming on the ground as I launched off my chair. 

Within seconds the big man was on the ground crying out as I twisted his arm with one hand and grabbed his hair in my other. I slowly turned his head to look into my cold eyes. "The crown? Why should you be scared of them?"

The boss's face contorted with pain as I continued to twist his arm behind his back, each of his cries punctuating the tense quiet of the study. The contrast between the polished refinement of the room and the grim scene unfolding was stark.

"You should be worried about me," I stated, leaning in closer until my words were mere whispers against his ear. "I am the element of surprise the kingdom never thought it'd need—and certainly never expected."

Pressing his face into the ground, I could feel the man's desperation mixing with the realization he had underestimated the situation. "The crown has its laws and knights, sure," I continued, letting my grip relent just enough to let hope glimmer in his eyes. "But I? I am the unseen shadow that treads where they cannot. And you have two options: serve a new king or be dethroned...permanently."

For a moment, the man was silent, and in that silence, something shifted. Finally, the boss let out a breathy, defeated chuckle. "Who would've guessed," he gasped out, the pain making his voice ragged, "that the abandoned little prince would have such...ferocity?"

Releasing his arm, I stood up, straightening my filthy clothes with as much dignity as I could muster. "Now, let's get this clear. I have no interest in dethroning you, but I demand your cooperation. Your network, your information... They now serve me and the crown, indirectly. You play nice, and you can keep your little empire. Cross me, and well, let's just say I have less savory ways to deal with insubordination."

I took a few steps back, watching as he slowly righted himself, rubbing at his sore arm. His eyes, now filled with a mix of respect and fear, never left me.

"What do you need?" he asked. His tone had shifted; the arrogance was gone, replaced by a pragmatic readiness to talk business.

"I need ears and eyes on every corner, every deal, every whisper in the city," I said and then pointed to myself. "I want to know if someone breathes about me or the royals, but I also need to know what is happening back in Corundum. Whatever you were doing before now must be approved by me first. If you are bringing drugs and contraband into my city, I want to know. If others are doing the same, you will tell me."

"What? You are going to stop all that?" The boss asked, but in a way that felt torn between money and his life.

"No, but I will not allow things into my kingdom that will hurt the people. I also need to know who the rest of the gangs are so I can go deal with them. Nothing will happen in my city or kingdom without my approval from now on," I explained, but the boss looked skeptical.

"That is quite ambitious, even if you are strong," the man warned, and I nodded.

"Yes, but I will make some examples if that is what it takes. I happen to like my peace, but I am no fool to think that it will stay this way," I said, and then gave the man a hard look. "Since you know my face, I will need some assurance before I leave. It would not do good for my involvement in this to be public, or it will just make people try to hide even more," I said and then leaned forward to tap on the desk. "What do you have in mind?"

I had thought of everything, but this part. Well, I had thought about it, but I didn't know how to deal with it. There might be magic or something for it, but I didn't know of any. While I knew some people could use magic, it wasn't as popular as I thought. Only people with classes that could use magic used it, or people with magical items like my lighting wand.

The boss, now fully appreciating the gravity of the situation, straightened up and regarded me with newfound wariness.

"I suppose a blood oath could serve our purposes," he suggested a touch of old superstition in his tone. "They're binding and deadly serious. Break the oath, and it's said that the betrayer's own life is forfeit."

I raised an eyebrow, the mention of a 'blood oath' sounding archaic but perfectly fitting for the underworld's sense of dramatics. Still, it also sounded dangerous.

"Sounds sketchy, but I am listening," I said, waving my hand for the man to continue.

The boss nodded, taking a penknife from his drawer. He carefully pricked his finger, a bead of blood welling up at the tip. "A blood oath requires us to mix our blood with an incantation spoken by the Nokturn. Their mystical nature binds the oath, making it unbreakable," he explained.

It was serious, deadlier than I had expected, but it was the kind of assurance I needed. If he was willing to put his life on the line, it showed his willingness—or fear—to cooperate.

"Fine," I said firmly. "We'll do it. But I'd rather not involve the Nokturn if it isn't necessary. I just met with one at the castle and would prefer not to be indebted to their kind for more than I owe already."

The boss stared at me, the intensity in his gaze showing that this was more than just a gang leader; this was a man who understood the weights and measures of power.

"We can do it with just us, then, but it'll be a weaker bond," he warned. "Still, it'll hold up as long as neither of us breaks it."

I nodded and, taking the penknife, pricked my own finger, watching my own blood mix with his on the aged wood of his desk. A primitive act, but it seemed fitting in this underworld of shadows and deception.

"We swear this blood oath not only as a sign of mutual understanding but as a warning," I intonated, letting the words flow from deep within me. "Between your world and mine, let there be a bridge built on this promise. Break it, and may the consequences be dire."

The boss repeated the words after me, his voice somber, the resonance of the vow filling the room. And with that, our blood oath was sealed.

Once done, I stood back up, retrieving my mask from the desk, and carefully placed it back on my face. The deed was done, and now it was time to leave.

"Remember this meeting," I told him. "Today, you've ensured not only your survival but the chance to prosper under my...our rule. But never forget, my ability to save is matched by my willingness to destroy."

The man's eyes held mine for a moment longer before he gave a stiff nod. "Understood, Prince. I know when I'm outmatched."

With that I gave the room one final glance, absorbing the details of this new alliance, and then turned to leave. Just before I stepped out, I paused.

"If you need to contact me, use Daelen," I instructed, tossing a look back at the boss, whose expression was now schooled into impassivity. "He's proven to have a knack for finding me, regardless of whether I want to be found. Isn't that right, Daelen?"

The door opened, and Daelen threw the big man that had insulted me on the ground, or what was left of him. I looked at the elf, and then the husk of a man.

"I suppose this one called me something worse than a demon?" I asked as I looked over the dead body. It was like nothing I had ever seen. The body was so dried up that it didn't even seem real. 

"Something like that. I was getting hungry, and this one called me your servant!" Daelen hissed and then spat at the man's body. Then I really saw Daelen. He had become younger, and looking back at the husk, I could see that the man had not only been drained, but he looked old.

I had a good number of questions, but I turned to the boss. "Looks like this will be a first good impression. Hang him somewhere where the other gangs will see. Hang a note around his neck that says, "The Underworld has a new Master." I finished the sentence with a cold firmness.

The boss, visibly shaken yet understanding the weight of the gesture, nodded. "It'll be done tonight. The streets will learn that a new era has begun."

Daelen kept quiet, his now youthful face hard and unapologetic. I turned to him once the message to the boss had been delivered. "As for you, Daelen, we need to set some ground rules. You may have your freedom when it comes to dealing with scum like him," I gestured disdainfully at the desiccated body, "but when you're acting on my behalf, we do things my way. Your... hunger, cannot compromise our operation."

Daelen's eyes glinted with a mix of irritation and acceptance. "Understood, Prince Gideon. Just make sure I have enough to... satisfy my needs, and you'll have no issues from me."

My eyelid twitched, and the elf flinched. "Come, I would like to know what and how you did that," I muttered, resisting the urge to boot Daelen the rest of the way out of the sewer. 

Step one was complete, but this little act would start a fire that would grow fast. Push would come to shove before anyone just bowed to me, but I didn't mind some roughhousing.