The Last Blood Mage

Information Brokers

With his payment secured, Xander left the guild, ignoring new quests. He held all ten thousand coins, a relief for his situation. The coin purse safely tucked in his jacket, he joined the bustling streets.

A carriage moved through the street. Seizing an opportunity, Xander leaped onto the back, a trick he'd mastered as an orphan to travel without spending a coin.

Holding on, Xander rode toward his destination. The carriage stopped on the bustling north side, where ships anchored and goods moved. The silvery ocean glowed under the moon.

The carriage halted. Xander dropped onto muddy streets, blending into the crowd and navigating the busy streets.

Amid the chaos, a sudden criy erupted.

"My purse is gone!"

"Thief over there!"

"Quick! Get him!"

As Xander navigated the bustling port, he noticed a yelling nobleman nearby. But he didn't plan to intervene; pickpockets were common here, and he avoided trouble. Walking past the nobleman, he felt eyes on him. With his rough look, thieves likely considered him not a target. He trusted his skills to guard his coins.

"Stay focused, Xander. No distractions," he muttered to himself, avoiding the commotion.

As he continued his journey, the clamor of the port area filled his ears with a medley of voices.

"Anyone wants a voyage to Mooncrest!"

"Twenty gold coins for the voyage to Mooncrest!"

"We have nice cozy accommodation!"

In the bustling scene, Xander noticed street urchins on crates, shouting for customers. Ignoring them, he took stairs to a bridge. Under the bridge sat a young man, candlelight revealing stacks of papers in the dim room.

Approaching Anthony, tension filled the air. His smug expression showed his thoughts on Xander's return.

"You’re back, huh? Still after that information?" Anthony's voice dripped with arrogance and annoyance.

"That's right. Nine thousand coins for the information," Xander replied, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the coin pouch.

To Anthony's surprise, Xander produced a pouch filled with ten thousand coins, as requested.

"There are ten thousand coins here," Anthony observed, weighing the pouch in his hands.

"I want you to take nine thousand coins and provide me with the rest in a leather pouch. How soon can you get me the information I need?" Xander asked anxiously, his sense of urgency palpable.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Anthony replied matter-of-factly, already starting to count the coins and transfer a thousand of them into a smaller leather pouch as per Xander's request.

"Is there any chance I could get the information by tomorrow morning?" Xander inquired hopefully, only to be met with Anthony's condescending snicker.

"You can try other information brokers, but wait, there aren't any. This is your only option," Anthony retorted with arrogance.

"Desperate people don't get to make demands, my friend. If you want the information you seek, come back here tomorrow afternoon," he added, sliding the smaller leather pouch back to Xander.

Xander cautiously stashed the pouch inside his jacket pocket, securing it with the pocket's strings. In the world of information brokering, little room for bargaining existed. He had to wait until tomorrow for the needed information.

"What I've asked stays confidential," Xander's expression was serious.

"No secrets, Xander," Anthony replied casually. Xander was surprised momentarily; he hadn't mentioned his name to Anthony. But in this world, where information was currency, Anthony's Sewer Rats likely had such details.

"Sewer Rats deal in secrets for the right price. That's our business," Anthony explained, pride in his voice.

"I'll return tomorrow afternoon," Xander said, then left Anthony's chamber beneath the bridge. He disliked Anthony's arrogance but trusted the Sewer Rats' reputation.

With a weary sigh, he walked back to his lodging, the "Horse Shoes" tavern. It was conveniently close to Anthony's shop, a respite from Emberlyn's chaos.

Approaching, Xander heard raucous noises from inside. Cheers, breaking tables, and rowdy shouting echoed from the wooden walls. Steeling himself, he opened the creaky door and stepped in, only to be greeted by utter chaos. Inside the tavern, two burly men fought, tables flipped, and patrons cheered. Chaos was the norm.

Ducking and sidestepping, Xander moved through the crowd, the cheers filling the air.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The patrons roared, reveling in the violent spectacle while quaffing ale from their wooden mugs.

As he made his way to the bar, he locked eyes with the big woman with flowing red hair who was efficiently cleaning up a table amidst the chaos. He approached her, carefully navigating through the crowd to reach the tavern's owner.

"Hey, Agatha, I'll take my room for another night," Xander said, pulling out seven gold coins from his pouch and placing them on the table.

"Prices are going up, Xander. It's eight gold coins for a night now," Agatha replied, revealing the rotten row of her front teeth.

"Eight gold coins? For this dump? Are you messing with me, Agatha?" Xander complained, caught off guard by the sudden increase.

"This 'dump' is the only place you can afford, Xander. Plus, the Duke's gala is bringing more people into the city. How can I raise the price if not now?" Agatha rolled her eyes, shutting down any room for negotiation.

With a heavy sigh, Xander grudgingly took out another gold coin and placed it on the table. Agatha flashed a triumphant smile as she swiped the coins and handed him a copper key.

"Aren't you going to break up this fight?" Xander asked, taking the key and glancing at the brawl over his shoulder.

"Nah. The more stuff these assholes break, the more they'll pay," Agatha said with a serious glint in her eyes.

"Poor bastards have no idea," Xander shook his head, feeling a pang of pity for the two fighters before he headed upstairs, climbing the creaky stairs beside the bar counter. He knew a woman like Agatha could run a tavern in the most dangerous part of the city only if she had some serious connections.

Climbing the narrow stairs, Xander faced a dark, leaky corridor. He turned left, reached the end, and opened the door with a rusty key. The space was more a closet than a room. A small bed occupied one corner, a rickety table with a broken leg stood, and a single candle holder completed the furnishings.

The room was shrouded in darkness and creaked with every movement, as the only light source for Xander was the faint moonlight seeping through a tiny gap in the wall above the bed. Without bothering to remove his clothes, Xander closed the door behind him and collapsed onto the bed. Exhaustion and the strain from using his powers weighed heavily on him, and he found himself slipping into slumber within moments.

As the city outside fell into complete silence, Xander's sleep grew deep. Yet, in the depths of his slumber, a familiar voice started to echo within his mind. It was the voice of Lucious, his mentor, the man who had bestowed his powers upon Xander.

“Embrace your destiny,” the voice whispered.

“Don't run away from your powers. Embrace them,” it urged.

“Be who you are,” it echoed, urging him to come to terms with his true self.