Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
D rake took his sweet time picking eight men from those who'd volunteered, clearly enjoying the little slice of power as he got to decide which of them would end up with a cut of the loot they brought back from the treasure Magdor had told me of.
I waited by the exit, watching the gang as I figured out the hierarchy and how they all functioned with one another.
Egos wasn’t present which left a power void amongst the masses.
It was predictably filled by the biggest motherfuckers in the room who stomped about and claimed their share of the food by force as well as the best seats by the fire and anything else they wanted.
But it was clear who the other players in the room were too.
Drake and a few thieves like him clearly commanded respect and where they walked, others moved out of their way.
I guessed he hadn’t been lying about his so-called legendary status, at least among these delinquents.
Not that that was much of an accolade to be proud of, but after he’d told me of his upbringing, I couldn’t exactly blame him for the life he led.
I’d always known things were tough out in the slums, but seeing it first-hand made me even angrier at Magdor for changing the plans of my emperor.
This place shouldn’t have even existed anymore.
There shouldn’t have been a need for thievery if the emperor were able to look after his people better, but here we were, hell breeding more hell around me while Osaria fell deeper into chaos every day.
Balthazar seemed to cast a similarly intimidating shadow to Drake and my gaze trailed him as he stalked across the far side of the room to claim a drink from the well that stood there, snapping his fingers at a kid in his teens so that he hoisted the bucket up for him and handed it over.
His wound had been bound and he didn’t seem to be concerned about the injury as he moved about the space topless, making me wonder if he had been subject to the same crazy ritual as I had by their healer.
Or perhaps some of the thieves here just knew how to cover the hurt of their injuries in the same way that we were taught to in the barracks.
The only thing worse than having an injury was letting your enemy know about it after all.
A man with no teeth glared at me and I folded my arms, resting my back to the wall in my best impression of someone who didn't give a fuck. And in all honesty, I didn't. I would be getting out of here in the next thirty minutes and I wasn’t planning on ever coming back. I didn’t know what my future held after I had stolen and destroyed that coin which Magdor was hunting, but I did know this wasn’t it.
I was not one of these men and never could be.
If I survived then I guessed I’d be heading far away from this kingdom, though the thought of that stung my soul.
But I was a condemned man, so no life could await me in Osaria besides that of an outlaw.
Perhaps I would travel to one of the other kingdoms. I could see the mountains in distant Arenia where the city sat between huge peaks and the wind howled so wildly that Fae were said to have created winged contraptions that allowed them to soar across the sky from place to place.
Or I could sail the seas in western Shamba, explore the fabled forests of Dunemare, or even risk the legends of ice drakes and rotfangs in the deep west where the city of Havendale lay among the clouds.
The toothless cretin stuffed a finger up his nose as he continued to glare at me, and I couldn't conceal the disgust on my face.
A shudder ran down my spine at the uncleanliness of these rats.
At least Drake took pride in himself - maybe a little too much.
But this particular arsehole clearly hadn't washed in at least a month. And if I’d been a betting man, I would have placed a thousand kurus on it being more than three.
“What you lookin' at?” he snarled.
My eyes drifted to the abandoned sword lying behind him and anger flared inside me as I realised it wasn't just any blade.
It was a curved scimitar inlaid with the royal seal on the hilt and it sat in a scabbard of tanned red leather.
That was one of the emperor's weapons, gifted to him by the Forken Empire in the south.
It was rumoured to have been forged by the Fae of old, its blade imbued with the gifts of Efries, the god of war and might, the god whose Affinity my fighting gifts were linked to.
It was a rumour that was no doubt untrue, but it was still a seriously valuable item.
I'd heard about the wagon going missing on its journey to Osaria a few weeks ago and I had studied the itinerary of stolen items just like every other guard in the city so that we would recognise them if any showed up.
I eyed the man before me, clenching my teeth – yes, I actually have teeth you beastly motherfucker.
I glanced at the scimitar again, thinking out my next move. It wasn't stealing if I intended on returning it to the emperor. But then again, how the hell was I supposed to steal something from one of The Forty Thieves? That was the equivalent to beating a bird at flying.
“I'm trying to work out what you remind me of,” I said airily, taking a step closer to him, sure that sword was going to cost me more than a punch.
“Huh?” he grunted.
“Well, you either remind me of a pig-ugly cock, or a cock-ugly pig.”
He lunged at me with a roar, stumbling as he went and it hit me in a moment of ecstatic clarity that this arsehole was blind drunk.
I shoved him as he came at me, meaning only to throw him aside, but he staggered, smashed into a table where five men were sitting and fell down on top of their cards and wine, spilling it everywhere.
A brawl broke out and I barked a laugh, unable to believe my luck as I darted forward and snatched the sword.
I could feel the exquisite craftsmanship of the blade in the weight of it, the balance and the way it would cut through anything with ease even as I merely held it by my side.
To wield such a prize in a true fight would be a damn dream, and my pulse was racing with the idea of it, my Affinities burning to be let out.
I didn't have anywhere to conceal the large blade so I strapped it to my hip and rotated my belt so that it hung behind me, hoping no one would notice it before we left this grotty hell.
I returned to the wall, pressing my back to it, vaguely watching the street folk beat each other within an inch of their lives while my heart thundered in my chest and the victory brightened my mood.
Am I thief?
No, I'm just taking back what was stolen. If I return this sword to the emperor and destroy this coin, maybe he will thank me...maybe he will let me return to my old life.
Idle wishes.
I gritted my jaw, spotting Drake moving towards the brawl with eight men at his back.
My gaze scraped across those he'd chosen; all of them were big and carried large bags on their shoulders, one of them had tattoos of naked women instead of eyebrows and I had to admire his commitment to the pornographic art he’d chosen to eternally adorn his face.
I sensed Drake had picked the men he thought could carry the most and had to force myself not to roll my eyes.
Greedy fucker.
I wasn’t sure what else I’d been expecting though; Drake’s only interest in this journey lay in the treasure he’d be able to claim because of it. It was the only reason I still drew breath in my lungs instead of my body lying chopped up in a coffin somewhere.
I almost pitied him really, this life he’d led having tarnished his opinions and jaded him so thoroughly that he could no longer see anything beyond his own selfish desires.
But I had more important tasks to achieve than trying to convince a thief that there was more to life than self-gratification.
There’s sacrificing everything you are to the cause of others. Which made me eternally happy, right?
Yeah…right.
My focus was solely on Drake so as he walked past the fighting men, I noticed as his hands slipped into their pockets and I arched a brow as whatever he found went straight into his own.
Not a flicker of guilt crossed his features and as his gaze whipped over to meet mine, he winked, clearly having known I was watching him the whole time.
I felt like he was trying to show me something with that act, but I wasn’t sure what it could be other than to remind me that I shouldn’t trust him so far as I could throw him.
Though maybe that was the point. Maybe he was happy for me to see him for what he was, and this was a warning not to cross him or fall for the trap of his smiles and jesting.
This man wasn’t a man who had friends, no matter how he may have seemed.
I pressed my tongue into my cheek, wondering what the hell the point was in these men banding together if they were constantly undermining one another.
My training had taught me to look out for my comrades, to have their backs under any circumstances.
We would have gone to the sun and back for each other for the sake of the crown.
Not that we’d had much of a bond beyond that.