83: Ravin - Of the Warrens (Patreon)

It was a long walk out to the eastern gate, and an even longer one to the Warrens outside of town. Bumpy would’ve made the journey in less than an hour, but Vir didn’t dare take the gentle beast to the slums. Ash’va weren’t exactly cheap, and Bumpy had no means to defend himself.

Neel, on the other hand, could take out an entire group of ruffians on his own. Thanks to Vir’s training, the bandy could give his professionally groomed hunting brethren a run for their money.

Despite taking less crowded alleys and leveraging rooftops where he could, it still took Vir an hour to make it to Daha’s western gate. From there, he crossed the enormous drawbridge spanning the Grand Moat and made his way into the Warrens.

He’d almost forgotten about the reeking stench that polluted the air. It was the smell of unwashed humans and excrement, and it nearly made him gag.

After asking around, he learned Ravin was somewhere northeast of the Warrens. It took him another hour to make his way there, and his feet throbbed by the time he arrived. Neel enjoyed every moment, often bounding ahead and waiting expectantly for Vir to race him.

There was no racing. The slums were crowded, but people thronged the Warrens. To rush through there was folly, and Vir wasn’t going to burn Ash prana using Dance or Leap.

The Warrens were a fascinating place, if one got past the smell and the poverty. On one end, buildings lined the Grand Moat. There weren’t even walls or barriers preventing people from falling in—some homes butted up only inches away from the sheer drop-off. One false step would mean falling into the moat. At thirty paces in depth, a fall would likely be fatal, but even if it wasn’t, Vir doubted anyone could easily climb out after.

Bordering the outer edge of the Warrens lay the vast fields of Daha, and the difference was night and day. In stark contrast to the Warrens, the farms were large, organized, and clean. Vir even saw one wealthy-looking farmer using combat orbs to water his crops. Combat orbs!

Brij farmers would’ve salivated at the luxury, but it was simply untenable for most. Not only were C grade orbs worth a fortune, but Water Affinity orbs fetched an even higher price due to their non-combat utility. On top of that, you needed the right affinity to go with it. And if you had a Lesser or Greater Water affinity with the training to use it, why would you ever choose to be a farmer?

Each farm also had several armed guards to deter the slum dwellers.

But if Vir knew anything about being poor, it was that people got innovative when times grew hard. He was sure the farmers had to constantly deal with raids and crops lost to Warrens folk, despite the guards. It seemed like a bad idea to put the poorest part of the city right next to the farms that provided food for everyone, but then, Daha wasn’t exactly a paragon of prosperity and good governance.

Vir’s feet were sore by the time he arrived at the northeast Warrens. He was here for one purpose only—to scout his target and learn more about him. As Riyan always said, knowledge is power.

He also used to say that knowledge wasn’t power until it was applied. Vir intended to follow that advice. If Ravin proved to be a good person, Vir would abort his mission. No amount of Brotherhood penalty would make him kill someone who didn’t absolutely deserve it. He wasn’t some heartless killer.

But if this man was scum, then Vir didn’t mind ending his life—a thought that scared him. The idea of killing someone felt less foreign and revolting than it ought to have.

If the Eastgate Warrens were bad, the Northeast Warrens were much, much worse. The roads, if they could even be called that, were filled with trash and dung of all varieties. Camp fires blazed at most corners, burning trash. Half naked kids ran around, sneaking furtive glances at newcomers they didn’t recognize.

Vir wore his most basic clothing, but even then, all eyes rested squarely on him. Judging him, evaluating him like a foreigner in another country. Despite the squalor, there was a sense of life and vibrance to the slums that Vir found compelling. He’d never want to live here, but the sheer population density gave it its own distinct feel.

The residents had crammed their shacks so close and so tall that, despite being outside the floating Vimana’s shadow, the Warrens were just as dark as the slums inside the city.

Vir didn’t know how these tall buildings stood. Unlike the four-story buildings inside the city, these looked like someone had come along and built a shack on top of an existing one, paying no attention to whether the roof of the old building could support the weight. And then someone else had come and built another one on top of that.

A swift breeze would topple several of these structures. It was lucky, then, that Daha received little rain and wasn’t prone to high winds.

Not ten minutes after wandering into the northeast Warrens, Vir got a taste of the local culture.

Three ruffians surrounded a meek-looking, haggard man who cowered before them in the middle of the busy alley. The other residents gave them a berth of several paces, going about their business as usual.

“Last week,” their leader shouted, placing his arm on the wall next to the cowering man’s shoulder.

“N-no! It was just yesterday. The money is not due for another week! I swear upon my mother’s name! Ravin will have his money. I just need another day. Please!”

“That’s not how this works, Lahar. When you enter into a contract with Ravin, you pay him back on time. He has placed a great deal of trust in you, loaning you this money. And now you betray his generosity?”

“This is robbery! I’m not delinquent! You can’t expect this of me!”

The Executor wasn’t kidding when he said Ravin would be easy to find, Vir thought.

“Oh? You want to tell that to Ravin? Do you think he’s as forgiving as we are?” the thug said, shaking his head. “Look, we’re trying to be nice to you. You have until tomorrow to get the funds, or you’ll owe double. If you can’t pay up, we’ll be forced to take your wife and child. They’ll sell quite well on the open market. Might even be enough to make up for your debt. If not… Well, I guess you’ll end up joining them.”

Lahar hung his head. “I will have the money tomorrow.”

“I trust you will,” the thug said, finally leaving the man alone. Lamar slumped to his knees and wept.

Vir slipped through the throng to approach the broken man. “You’re Lahar, right? I overheard your conversation. What happened?”

Lahar slowly looked up with unfocused eyes. His confusion immediately turned to suspicion when he spotted Vir. “Who are you?”

“I’m new to this area,” Vir said. “Want to get the lay of the land. I don’t want any trouble. This Ravin guy sounds like someone to avoid.”

Lahar scoffed. “Nobody deals with that man unless they have no other choice.”

“He’s a loan shark?” Vir asked.

“No. That would be a disgrace to loan sharks. He pretends to loan money. His terms are often fair. Then he comes after you before your term is complete, demanding the money early. If you cannot give it to him, he doubles the amount each day.”

“I guess few people end up paying.”

“If they could afford those amounts, they would not need his money in the first place! It’s just an excuse for that filth to capture more slaves.”

“That wasn’t just a threat, then?” Vir asked. “They’ll really sell your family off?”

“Oh yes,” Lahar said, his eyes devoid of life. “Oh yes. I have seen him do it.”

“Why’d you agree to the contract if you knew he was like this?” Vir asked.

Lahar laughed, but his voice held no mirth. “I was a fool. I planned on repaying the debt well before he called for it. I thought I could head him off. I borrowed the money only yesterday. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would come calling today. I have an entire week! I was only trying to do right by my family. To give them something better than… better than this,” Lahar said, gesturing to the squalid alley.

Vir noticed he’d been getting glances from onlookers standing in front of Lahar, so he shifted his position, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He adopted a stern, detached expression, looking down on Lahar with feigned distaste.

He leveled his gaze at an onlooker. “What are you looking at?” Vir said in the most menacing voice he could muster.

Instantly, no one paid him any mind. Rather, they avoided looking at him altogether on the chance that he might be related to Ravin and his men.

“Why doesn’t anyone do something about this? Surely, even here in the Warrens, some law must exist?” Vir asked.

“The only law is Ravin’s law,” Lahar replied. “He’s been in power too long. Only a handful of Hiranyan guards patrol this area, and he has them all bought.”

Yet again, Hiranya’s corruption and mismanagement reared its ugly head. With every day that passed, Vir’s opinion of his country declined. He knew it was no simple task keeping everyone in the kingdom satisfied, fed, and clothed. But this? This was too much.

“A few people rose against Ravin, initially.”

“What happened?”

“They died. Dead men cannot mount a rebellion, after all. And no one wealthy enough to commission the Brotherhood cares about these slums.”

Until now, Vir thought. No wonder the payment was so low for this contract. He suspected it’d taken the work of several—perhaps several dozen—to scrounge together enough for this contract. He’d never know; commissioners’ identities were a tightly kept secret.

Ravin was scum. That much was obvious. If what Lahar said was true, then Vir would sleep better knowing the world was rid of such a man. The only question was whether Lahar was telling the truth, but Vir had little reason to doubt him. The man would soon lose everything.

“Tell me,” Vir said. “Where can I find this man?”

Lahar’s eyes bulged. “You want to find him!? Are you mad?”

Vir looked down at Lahar. His heart wanted to spill the details of his contract to the man, to tell him that everything would be alright and that his wife and child would be safe.

But the wiser part of him held his lips taut. Lahar seemed like a nice person, but if he blabbed to Ravin hoping to curry favor with the man, it could put Vir’s mission in jeopardy.

Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to remain silent.

“If you don’t pay Ravin’s men tomorrow, how long until he takes your family?”

Lahar shook his head. “Tomorrow night? He is quick to claim what he thinks is rightfully his property.”

If I end up going through with this, that’s my deadline, Vir thought.

Vir retrieved ten coppers from his sack and placed them in Lahar’s hands. “I have some friends. They may help. I promise nothing, but stall Ravin for as long as you can. And hide your family, in case he acts preemptively.”

“I—I shall. Thank you, friend. Who are you? Why would you—”

“Does it matter?“

Vir made up his mind. He knew that helping Lahar was nothing but his own selfishness. That Ravin’s men were likely on their way to threaten and extort another poor soul right now. That helping Lahar was but a drop in the bucket.

For most, that was all they could hope to achieve—bandage the wound while it continued to bleed.

But not Vir. Vir was different. He had the means to make a real difference in these peoples’ lives. He could remove the blade and close the wound. Maybe someone else would come to power after Ravin, but if Vir knew the Brotherhood, they would have a plan in place to handle the aftermath.

More than his desire to help those in need, Vir found himself driven by another motive. A selfish one. If he walked away, he would feel bad. How could he sleep at night knowing he’d failed to thwart Fate when he had the power to do so? Would such conduct honor his dead father?

No. There was only one path forward.

“Tell me where I can find this man.”