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𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗆, 𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐚𝐳 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬.
Every unfortunate soul that lived in the Barrel of Ketterdam knew this and kept it very close on the back of their heads, whenever they spotted the boy roaming around with that devious grin and cold stare. His hand, hidden behind the leather of his globes, always held with a tight grip his cane.
How he had become a cripple was also something left to wonder. Assumptions and false tales spread around as the muddy water from the canals, one more strange than the other but not a single one truth.
Like most of the kids that joined the gangs of Ketterdam, nobody knew much about the bastard's past. The only history that people counted on was seeing Kaz over the years ranked up among the Dregs, that was his past and his present was that night, for his future only the boy could tell.
He strolled around with a dull expression until he stood in front of the pub that he had been looking for since leaving the Crow Club. The couple of stares that were on his back made him groaned with annoyance and cursed low under his breath, on occasions like that he minded those snoop's eyes. Sometimes he wanted an audience, but sometimes he didn't.
He made his presence known as he walked into the bar, leaving the raw scent of the rain behind as the warmth of fire reached his chest. All the pubs in Kerch were the same to him, same drunks that spent every Kruge from their broken pockets to the gaming table for a quick gamble. The same women dressed in silk and feathers were sent from the pleasure house looking for customers among the people sitting on the edge of the bar, those who were careless about getting caught.
The entertainers from the streets came for a quick drink and some sense of warmth before stepping outside once again, into the chaos that was the markets and streets during a bustling night like that one. The barrel during broad daylight could still seem like a place that holds on to a little innocence that might still hang around before showing its true colors after the sun had sunk and the moon had risen.
When the thieves came out to play and money was placed on the table, still there was never a winner, all of them were poor enough and a few dimes wouldn't make a difference, they would spend it on liquor anyhow.
Kaz found his seat away from the gambling tables, trying to stay clear of the commotion that erupted from the crowd. He let his damaged leg rest for a short while and placed his cane on the side, still never fully losing the grip around it. He clung to the stick better than the poor did to money.
