Note: I have a new profile: SrCuervo2
I invite you to read my new novel: Teen Wolf: Hunter, Don't Shoot My Friend
...
"Please, don't kill us!" The pleas of a man echoed through the dark corridors at full volume. Around him, in addition to blood, were parts of corpses that had been severed in half, and on their faces, only expressions of pure horror could be seen.
The smell of dampness and metal permeated every corner of this place, but now only the scent of blood lingered after this place had been attacked by men dressed in black wielding enormous swords.
"You were warned to sell all your slaves to the Three Ravens organization. If you can't meet those requirements, you'll have to pay for it." One of the men pointed his sword at the man who wouldn't stop pleading.
"I'm sorry! You know, those damned nobles have threatened me, and the only thing I could do was beg... I only sold one girl; it's not that serious. I promise that from now on, every slave that arrives here will be delivered to you as promised."
The man behind the mask, who was massacring the slavers here, was Simon. He had received a report that the fledglings had witnessed the sale of a slave to a young noble family member. According to the instructions given by Haldor, these slavers had to pay with their lives.
They had been unifying the slavers outside the capital and implementing new reforms in the city. These reforms included creating educational schools and towers in strategic locations to teach those with a talent for magic and an interest in exploring their potential.
During the buying and selling of slaves, no one knew the true talent of the people being sold. For this reason, few people realized that there were geniuses among the slaves. One of them was a dragon seed who possessed all the traits of the Targaryens and could easily become a dragon rider.
"Please, don't kill me," the slaver begged, with snot running from his nose.
Ravyn smiled coldly, raised his sword, and said, "I don't have orders to kill you; this is just a warning due to your lack of respect. You should have known that we would notice you sold a slave under our agreement, but that's fine. I suppose we weren't clear enough about the consequences of offending the Three-Eyed Raven, so as punishment, you'll have to pay with a hand."
"No, no, you were too clear in taking control of the criminals. Please don't take my hand; I need it," the man said, bowing repeatedly and trying to lick Simon's boots.
Seeing this disgusting act, Ravyn's expression turned cold, and he said, "We'll continue the good work; I'll take all the slaves from this place, and we expect you to keep selling us every slave that arrives here. Of course, I'll take your left hand."
"No, wait!" Hearing these words, the slaver panicked, not knowing what to do to avoid what was about to happen. The only thing left was to beg disgracefully, but that seemed insufficient.
Crack!
But Ravyn was unfazed as he removed the slaver's left hand—a man full of filth who needed to be punished for spitting on his lord. This was just a small warning; they hadn't killed all the slavers, as that would seriously disrupt the distribution of slaves in this area and make it difficult to maintain control over this part of the world.
"Sir, we've taken care of everything!" said one of the men dressed in black with a raven mask.
Ravyn nodded and walked towards the exit through the dark corridor. When he was about to leave, he turned and said, "The Three-Eyed Raven is watching. If you sell another slave to anyone but us, you will die! Remember, if you reattach your hand, next time, I'll tear off your entire arm."
"Tell the Three-Eyed Raven that I understand; it won't happen again," said the slaver, gritting his teeth in pain.
By then, Ravyn had already left the place, and outside, numerous figures dressed in black awaited his exit. When everyone saw him, they respectfully bowed and said, "Greetings, sir!"
"Take the rescued to the shelter; those who are free, come with me to rescue the slave sold today!" Ravyn shouted as he climbed into a carriage.
"Yes, sir!"
Inside the carriage, Ravyn sat in silence, closing his eyes. It had been several months since the Three-Eyed Raven organization was established, with the sole purpose of controlling the channels of slavery and illegal goods. Haldor knew one thing, and Ravyn remembered his words perfectly: "Crime is something that cannot be controlled; if we prevent it from happening, they will find another way! If we keep this in mind, what we must do is control crime and where it is directed."
The answer was simple: most crime was driven by money. As long as Haldor respected the price of slaves, buying every slave that entered the city would give him a complete monopoly that would only annoy the nobles, but the slavers wouldn't care.
There was a rumor among the slavers during the time Haldor took control of the sales, and it was this: "Don't sell slaves to anyone but the Three-Eyed Raven, or they will take your hand, and if you don't obey, your neck will be next!"
The punishments and rumors were true; nothing was done without spilling a drop of blood, so Haldor knew how to control a pack of furious lions whose only pursuit was gold.
After taking control of the capital's underworld, several groups began to expand towards the towers built outside the capital, now controlled by auction houses serving Haldor, thus establishing a strong channel for everything Haldor sought.
The fledglings, on the other hand, were merely simple workers in businesses created by Haldor, serving as work sites, training grounds, and operation centers for the men under his command. As long as everyone had work, that work was tied to missions, and those missions brought benefits; money would flow like water in a river.
The new hideout of the Templar knights had taken control of the capital's walls, and legions of thousands of well-equipped soldiers had been sent to support bases in the north.
It was in this way that Haldor had completely taken control of the capital's underworld without even being king, demonstrating how inept this dynasty was.
...
King's Landing, Silver Tower
"Are the mages a problem?" A servant asked Aria, the girl who had started her studies at a young age in magic and had demonstrated incredible talent.
"There aren't many talented masters who can teach us properly, and our growth is much more limited compared to knights in swordsmanship." Aria had seen her brother Finian's growth and was dissatisfied with her own progress in magic.
The housekeeper had also noticed this small detail. Without powerful mages with immense talent, it was very difficult to share this knowledge.
"I'll mention it to the Lord; he should have a solution to that problem." The housekeeper knew this was all she could do; the men from the north were too rough in their teaching.