Gifted

1

The mass of people parted as the three men strode down the street. It was after dark on the main thoroughfare through the City's squalid southeast quarter and the street was packed with night-time revellers; the squabbling hawkers and tradespeople of daylight had been replaced by labourers and vagabonds looking to fritter away their wages on the area's many pubs, brothels and illegal betting shops. The dark sky was overcast so no moonlight reached the street's murky depths and the place was instead lit by a string of feeble candle streetlights. Under their hazy orange glow, men brawled, drank and laughed while others were entertained by prostitutes and raucous jesters. The three men carved a path through this debauchery, none daring to block their way. Two of them were soldiers wearing black tunics, wool trousers and the steel breastplate of City Watchmen. Cruelly-shaped silver masks hid their faces and they carried curved swords rather than the traditional Watchman's halberd. The third man was thin and tall with a bald scalp and sunken eyes that matched the colour of his simple grey suit. A gold pin depicting a small pile of coins was fastened to his lapel. He walked slightly ahead of the other two with hands clasped behind his back and an air of imperious menace that scattered those before him. They remained silent as they walked, the masked men stopping only briefly to swat at any drunkard who staggered too close.

After a time, they turned off the packed earth of the main street onto the thick mud of one of its many intersecting backstreets. The ramshackle timber buildings on either side of the alley were close together, so the men walked in single-file down its winding length. The man in the grey suit despised this part of the City. These people have no grace or dignity about them: they live, work, fornicate and die in this sandy mud that seems to creep into every crack and crevice it can find. It was a dirty, chaotic place and, in short, it was everything the grey man disliked. However, the grey man understood its necessity. This part of the City was built around the vast docks that lie on the bank of the adjacent Serpent river, and it was the people of this area that work long, hard hours hauling cargo at these docks. Situated only a half a mile from where the Serpent reaches the open sea, the city docks are an ideal place for overseas merchants to come and distribute their cargo to the mainland. It was this trade that brought huge wealth to the City, so regardless of this area's distasteful nature, the grey man knew that its peoples' labour was an unavoidable necessity. They were a means to an end and the grey man smiled to himself at the thought that it was he and his part of the City that benefitted from their toil. It was the affluent families of the City's northwest quarter who owned the docks, and a lack of alternative employment meant these families get away with paying their labourers pitiful amounts while they amass vast personal fortunes.

After a few more minutes of walking, the three men emerged from the alley into the corner of a small courtyard that appeared to be a junction for half a dozen similar backstreets. The three men began to cross the courtyard but stopped when four dark figures stepped out from a door in one of the courtyard's walls and blocked their path. As the figures came closer, they revealed themselves as burly dockworkers in grimy overalls and thick boots. Each man carried a club.

"There's a toll for passing through here," the tallest one among them said, stepping up to the grey man. "You rich boys better pay up or I might have to put a few creases in this suit of yours," he continued, prodding the grey man's chest with the end of his club.

The grey man wrinkled his nose in distaste. The two masked men had stepped up on either side of the grey man and stood there with unnatural stillness, each with a hand resting on their sword.

"I shall only say this once," the grey man said in an exasperated tone. "Get out of my way and I may let you live."

"You think they can take us?" the thug asked, nodding towards the masked men. "Maybe they can," he smiles, "but how about now?"