Eis and Marcus navigated through the maze of The Belows, a district known for its lawlessness yet somehow governed by an unspoken order.
After half an hour, they arrived in front of a building that stood out starkly from the rest. Larger and far better maintained, its exterior was a sharp contrast to the crumbling structures surrounding it. The walls were clean, and the windows were intact, with iron bars.
Two guards stood at the entrance. They wore mismatched armor, clearly well-used, and each had a weapon within easy reach—a sword on one, and a crossbow slung across the back of the other. Their eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings with the keen awareness of men who had seen their share of violence.
Marcus approached them casually. He gave a slight nod and a silent signal with one hand. The guards returned the gesture, stepping aside to allow them through without question.
Eis followed Marcus through the entrance and into a space that seemed to belong to an entirely different world. The inside of the building was nothing short of a mansion. Expensive statues, intricately carved and depicting various figures of both human and beast, lined the hallways. The floor was polished marble, reflecting the soft glow of ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, each telling stories of power and conquest. The furniture was equally lavish—heavy, dark wood pieces that looked more like art than functional items, each one meticulously maintained.
'That old man thinks he is a King or something. The last time I was here was not so lavish. Did he find a gold mine under the Belows or something?' Eis thought as he looked around.
They made their way through the opulent corridors until they reached a solid wooden door, its surface engraved with intricate patterns. It looked like it had been created by a master, and its strength was not sacrificed for beauty.
Marcus paused, his hand resting on the door handle.
"The boss will be with you soon," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He opened the door just wide enough for Eis to enter, then closed it behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The room Eis found himself in was surprisingly orderly, considering the chaos that ruled the streets outside. A large desk dominated the center, cluttered with neat stacks of papers, ledgers, and a few open books. The furniture was as opulent as the rest of the mansion—high-backed chairs with plush cushions, a polished wooden cabinet displaying various trinkets and curiosities, and a thick, patterned rug that muffled his footsteps.
Eis' eyes wandered over the room, noting the meticulous organization of everything.
The room was a stark reminder of the power and influence wielded by the man it belonged to, and it was clear that he wanted his guests to know that. Every detail, from the grandiose desk to the meticulously arranged papers, spoke of control and authority.
The luxury of the surroundings wasn't just for comfort; it was a statement. Whoever entered this room was meant to feel the weight of the decisions made here, to understand that they were in the presence of someone who held the reins of power tightly and didn't tolerate anything less than absolute respect.
Waiting was a trick to show superiority as well. Eis knew that much. But what he couldn't wrap his head around was why the Snake would bother playing such games with him.
Eis was a nobody scraping by in the underbelly of the city. Why would the most feared and influential man in The Belows feel the need to exert his dominance over someone as insignificant as him? What was the point of this charade?
Eis' gaze landed on the only mirror in the room, and the reflection that greeted him was surprisingly unfamiliar. The boy he once knew was vanishing, replaced by the specter of a man. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, a stark contrast to the raven black hair that framed his sharp features. His eyes, dark as obsidian, held a depth that hinted at a lurking menace.
Eis' angular face with high cheekbones gave him a slightly gaunt appearance. His jawline was defined, tapering to a narrow, pointed chin.
The gauntness of his frame betrayed years of malnourishment, but his wiry muscles concealed a different kind of power—not brute strength, but the agility of a circus acrobat.
The door creaked open, and a man entered with an air of quiet authority, not bothering to acknowledge Eis' presence. He moved with a fluid grace to the desk, each step deliberate, as if he owned not just the room but the very ground he walked on.
Without a word, he sat in the high-backed chair behind the desk, his piercing black eyes locking onto Eis with a gaze that could cut through steel.
The man, known throughout The Belows as the Snake, was imposing. Standing at 1.8 meters tall, his fit build was evident even beneath the tailored dark clothing he wore. His black hair, streaked lightly with gray, hinted at his age—somewhere in his fifties—but there was nothing old or frail about him.
His face was a canvas of hard lines and sharper edges, dominated by a long scar that ran down his left cheek, almost resembling a snake slithering down his face. It was a mark that added to his fearsome reputation, a permanent reminder of the dangers he had faced and the ruthlessness he had employed to survive them.
"Eissen." The voice, though not raised, carried a weight that doubled the tension in the room. Eis swallowed hard, his throat dry as his heart pounded.
"Do you know why you are here?"
"Because Marcus brought me here?" Eis attempted a smile, but it faltered, his words stumbling over themselves.
The man before him, known as the Snake but more formally as Arthur Willmore, leaned forward slightly, his black eyes narrowing.
"You're a smart kid, Eissen. At least usually you are." He paused, letting the silence hang in the air. "But last night was not one of your smart moments." A sigh escaped him, though it felt more like a quiet storm than an expression of weariness. "Darel and Wyll weren't the brightest or most loyal but were my men."
"So you know…" Eis began, his voice shaky, panic creeping into his veins. "I was defending myself! They jumped me in the middle of the night," he tried to explain, his tone desperate.
Arthur's gaze remained unyielding, a cold, unforgiving wall. "Do I look like someone who would send Darel and Wyll to kill you or sell you to slavers for a few coins, Eissen?"
"Well, you are the Snake after all…" Eis shrugged, trying to mask his fear with bravado.
Arthur's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "I told you not to call me that long ago, didn't I? I've never disrespected your name or called you the Mad Dog, right?"
Eis flinched at the mention of his own notorious nickname, a label he had earned but never wanted to wear. "That's true... Arthur."
"Now that's better." Arthur nodded, seemingly satisfied with the acknowledgment. "But the fact remains: we'll never know if the brothers acted alone or someone else ordered them to capture you. Do you know why, Eissen? Because dead men tell no tales. And such information… I would very much like to have known."
"They mentioned the new slavers," Eis muttered, the memory flashing in his mind.
"That's progress," Arthur conceded with a nod. "Not as much as I would have liked, but beggars can't be choosers." He stood and moved to the window, his back to Eis as he looked out over the squalor of The Belows. "Do you see the people outside, Eissen? Their daily struggle is mostly pointless, yet they continue striving to improve, even when life is cruel, and they find themselves stuck here. Do you remember what I told you the first time you came here, so many years ago?"
"Loyalty and persistence," Eis replied, shifting uncomfortably
"Exactly." Arthur's voice was calm but carried the weight of years of experience. "In The Belows, you have nothing except your word and the will to move forward, no matter what. Good or evil, it doesn't matter here. Everyone carves out their own path until the burden is removed. But to be unburdened is not the goal, Eissen. It never is."
Arthur finally turned back to face him, those black eyes now softened with something that almost resembled pity. "You, however, have never changed from the day you walked in here. I think you died back then in that orphanage, and only your shell survived. I've helped you over the years, covered for you, and hope you will change. But that didn't happen. You've spent three months doing nothing, not lifting a finger to prepare, just waiting. I can't protect you from yourself, Eissen. No one can."
Eis' hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "You realize you're not my father, right?" His voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "It's my life, and it's my choice. If I want to die, I will. It's none of your business!" he shouted, the words tearing from his throat like a release of pent-up frustration.
"That is true," Arthur acknowledged, his tone even though a flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. He moved back to his chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "You don't have to worry about your debt or Darel and Wyll. It's been taken care of."
"Alright." Eis turned for the door, eager to escape this conversation, but as his hand touched the handle, Arthur's voice stopped him.
"Don't go. What you and your friends are trying to do is foolish."
"I don't need your help, Arthur," Eis said, his voice cold as he pushed the door open and walked out, letting it close behind him with a soft click.
Arthur Willmore took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. Behind him, a hidden door slid open, and Marcus stepped into the room, biting into an apple.
"You said you'd be harsh, but that was more like a father lecturing his child and then covering for him," Marcus commented, his words garbled by the fruit in his mouth, pieces of apple spraying onto Arthur's desk.
Arthur shot Marcus a look of disgust as he cleaned up the mess with a handkerchief. "I can't interfere more than I already have, no matter how much I like him. You know that very well. Do you think you can take his family on if I do?"
"Nah," Marcus replied, plopping down into a comfortable chair, propping his feet up on another. "They'd annihilate us in a day and still have time for side activities. Even our agreements with the Seekers wouldn't help much."
"Then why bother asking?" Arthur's tone was sharp. "We knew this would happen. What's left is to wait and see. What do you think his odds are if he's forced to survive?"
Marcus scratched his chin, thinking. "Normally, I'd say zero percent and move on," he admitted. "But we both know what kind of monster is hiding inside him. Even his family doesn't know—they think he's trash. If Eis survives, I bet he'll turn into a powerhouse in no time. That is, if you're willing to go against them."
"For now, I won't," Arthur said thoughtfully. "If Eis survives, that's another question entirely. We can finally start moving if that happens."
Marcus's tone grew serious and respectful as he asked, "General, don't you think you're betting too much on that boy?"
"If we think logically, it is a stupid move," Arthur admitted, leaning back in his chair. "But my instincts are screaming at me to trust that boy and his return. And my instincts have never been wrong, Marcus."