Mad Hallow's hand froze mid-motion. At the mention of money. His eyes snapped back to Emil, interest gleaming in them.
"How much for your friend's leg?"
Emil swallowed hard. "One solari."
He scoffed. "Not enough. But since your face is so pathetic, I'll give you a discount. Hand it over, and I'll only break his nose."
"No... no..." Emil fought to stay conscious. His vision blurred at the edges, and his thoughts scattered like loose threads. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to speak. "Two solari."
Mad Hallow chuckled darkly. "You're still bargaining? When your friend's limb is hanging by a thread?"
As Emil reached the very edge of his consciousness, his trembling hands loosened the cloth tightly bound around his waist. The fabric fell open, revealing four solari and a handful of palons glinting faintly in the dim alley light.
Mad Hallow snatched the bundle without hesitation, his fingers sifting through the coins. He counted aloud, his voice void of emotion. "Four solari… and a few palons. That'll do, for now."
This was the money they had scraped together, piece by piece, no one knew how much it had cost them to earn it. And now, it slipped through their fingers as if it had never belonged to them at all.
By then, Emil was already slipping away, the world collapsing into fleeting shadows. The last thing he saw was the worn soles of their boots as the group turned to leave, their laughter echoing in the alley.
Then, darkness.
As the gang stepped out of the alley, the boy with the broken nose hesitated before saying, wincing every time he breathed. "Did we really have to go that far? Breaking the other one's leg… wasn't that too much? If he hadn't paid us, would we really have broken it?"
Mad hallow didn't glance back. His voice remained calm, but heavy with meaning. "I was just testing the waters. If they hadn't resisted, we'd have left them alone after a few punches. But they struggled, against a force they had no chance of defeating. That, right there, is a violation of Mad Eye's Rule No. 6."
He finally turned, his eyes cold and unreadable."Let them lean on you long enough to forget how to stand alone. Then, when they resist, kick the legs out." The person named Mad eyes rules were simple, brutal, and everyone under him knew them by heart.
Then he continued "Those two didn't just resist, they're hiding the fact they work multiple jobs. That tells me they're up to something. Do you understand what that means? Something is giving them the courage to defy us, to the point where they don't even fear losing their limbs. If we don't put an end to this now, they'll slip beyond our control."
Then his's eyes darkened. "I tried to instill fear in them, but it won't be enough. Not this time.That boy, the one whose nose I broke, you missed it, but I didn't. Behind all that fear in his eyes, there was something else, something dangerous buried beneath it. A spark that said: be wary."
His gaze shifted to the boy with the broken teeth, the one who had beaten Theo the hardest. "What are our informants doing? How did all this happen under their noses?"
The boy hesitated before answering. "They're too clever. When working at Athergate Station, they smear oil on their faces to avoid being recognized, makes them look like common beggars."
Mad Hallow let out a slow breath, his mechanical fingers flexing. "Assign two, no, three informants to watch them. Find out where their courage is coming from. And raise their cut. If they're making more than they let on, we'll 'correct' that at the root."
Then he turned to the boy nursing his crooked nose, his look cold and knowing. "Don't think I'm unaware of your sharp tongue. You must have pushed them too far, said something that lit a fire in them, made them fight back. Never push them so far that they start wondering if you're protecting them… or keeping them in a cage."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "You won't see a single coin this month."
The boy forced down his saliva, throat tight.
In his eyes, he thought he'd claimed revenge without paying a price.
With that, he and his men vanished into the alley, already moving toward their next target.
The men named Mad Eye built a second group—rabid dogs masked as thugs—trained to tear through the slums when ordered. And when they struck, it was always Mad Eye who arrived to shield the people with a group named Mad reapers as protectors, for a price.
First, a few resisted to give their money. Then, most obeyed. Why beacuse a man in the slums doesn't fear a beating; he fears losing a limb. In a place where survival depends on every finger, every step, a missing hand isn't just an injury; it's a death sentence. No one in the gutters has someone to care for the broken. And when the slum rats saw others around them maimed, crawling, discarded like useless meat, they surrendered before their own bones were snapped.
Fear did the work long before the blade ever touched them.In time, they forgot the bars he'd built around them. He didn't just take their coin; sometimes he took their limbs, just enough to keep fear alive but never enough to spark rebellion.
A delicate balance, pain and protection, terror and comfort. That's how you turn people into sheep. He didn't control the slums with muscle, he controlled them with fear dressed as protection. No one asked why he took their money; they only asked how to survive the next day. He made sure the slum rats broke their backs from dawn to dusk, under June's heat or winter's bite, just to scrape together one paleon. And without fail, he took five cogs. Not because he needed it. But because once you make a man pay for his own safety, he stops dreaming about freedom.
For years, he had controlled the slums with an iron grip, enforcing his own laws through his underlings. His methods were calculated, teaching them how to keep the masses in check with minimal effort. Give people the illusion of security, and they would submit. But if anyone dared to raise their voice, silence them. Make an example of them.
Emil and Theo had never resisted before. They had grown up in the slums, watching as those around them handed over money to Mad Eye's men in exchange for so-called "protection." Without question, they had done the same. It was simply how things worked. But now, something was changing. Something inside them was shifting, altering the way they saw the world.
While Emil's world faded into darkness, on the other side of Zul'vharra, the city's heart beat to a different rhythm.
The Southern Gate loomed over the city like a titan of stone and iron, its massive archway carved from ancient rock, worn by time but unbroken. Towering spires flanked its entrance, their intricate carvings whispering of a lost era of grandeur. The walls, weathered yet formidable, bore the scars of countless sieges, ivy creeping through cracks like veins of a sleeping beast.
Above, suspended walkways and balconies jutted from the surrounding structures, forming a labyrinthine network of homes and shops that clung to the fortress-like gate as if defying gravity itself. Wooden shutters creaked in the breeze, and the flickering glow of lanterns cast long shadows upon the mist-choked lower levels.
At ground level, an iron-wrought fence separated the commoners from the armored sentries stationed at the gatehouse.
A familiar carriage bearing the crest of House Veyrathis emerged from the gate, but it didn't stop there. Instead, it rolled steadily toward the commoner district, with Jonas' voice drifting from inside as he gave Veylan directions to his home.
The commoner quarter of Zul'vharra was split into three districts. Duskwatch District, where Elrya resided, a place of quiet streets and low chatter. Gloamrest District, where the carriage now seemed to be heading, toward Jonas' modest home.Then behind these two side by side districts is Ashen Hollow district in the end are the slums.
The carriage finally slowed before a house. It was a simple, sturdy dwelling of stone and timber, its sloped roof worn by years of rain and wind. A warm glow spilled from the lanterns inside, casting faint light onto the cracked cobblestone, softening the rough edges of the street.
They stepped out of the carriage. Jonas glanced back. "Since you've come this far, why not step inside?"
His agreement drew a faint frown from both Dorian and Veylan. Escorting Jonas home had already been more courtesy than he deserved, stepping into his house crossed an unspoken line. But Levi hadn't come all this way just out of goodwill; he had other plans.
Without looking at Veylan, he spoke calmly, "You can head back and tell Mother she's free to send invitations to whatever noble families she pleases. I only have one request, add a woman named Elrya Morrthain to the list. Not as a guest, but as a writer. And make sure the butler delivers it personally, not some nameless servant."