The streets of Valantis were slick with evening mist. Lanterns reflected off the wet cobblestones in fractured patterns, making the alleys seem alive, almost breathing. The scent of smoke from distant chimneys mixed with the aroma of roasting meat from food stalls, and the faint metallic tang of the river carried on the wind. Prince Arnault adjusted the hood of his merchant disguise, eyes sharp as they scanned the crowd. He wasn't here as a prince tonight; he was another stranger among strangers. But in truth, he could never truly hide.
Behind him, Kael followed silently, his expression unreadable. Every flicker of movement, every shadow, drew his attention.
"You really think the Marquess would approve of this?" Kael muttered, voice low. "Patrolling the slums in disguise? A prince in the alleys of Valantis? It's reckless. Dangerous."
Arnault didn't respond immediately. His gaze caught on a cluster of narrow streets where shadows seemed thicker, and a hushed conversation drifted out from a corner tavern.
"—Viperbolts tonight. The Silver Chalice."
Kael froze. "Did you hear that?"
Arnault's pulse quickened. "We're going. Now."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You do realize this is illegal and dangerous? Arms dealers, brothels, criminal networks… you could get killed."
Arnault's lips curved into a faint smile. "I know exactly what it is. And I intend to see it through. If Helvareth's future depends on courage, I will not hesitate."
The streets grew narrower as they approached the tavern. Lanterns flickered in the fog, illuminating faces worn with poverty and hard lives. Children darted between carts, merchants shouted their wares, and beggars held out hands, silent eyes pleading. Arnault observed it all, taking mental notes, measuring the pulse of his capital. Kael whispered, "You really think witnessing the suffering of the streets will make you a better ruler?"
"It will," Arnault replied firmly. "I must know the lives I govern before I am expected to lead."
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the city, Raven crouched in shadow, adjusting her hood to conceal her hair and soft features. Her disguise was convincing: a lanky boy with rough edges, every gesture calculated to appear casual, unassuming. Kieran, her closest friend, walked beside her, alert but leaning into his usual bravado. Liora stayed a few paces behind, hands twitching near her coin pouch, eyes flicking nervously to every passerby.
"Remember the plan," Raven whispered. "Viperbolts aren't just illegal; they're lethal. And the dealer doesn't like mistakes."
Kieran snorted. "You always say that. Nothing ever goes wrong."
"Don't test me," Raven muttered, eyes narrowing. "I lead. You follow. And Liora keeps watch."
"I keep watch," Liora replied flatly, eyes scanning the street. "Someone has to make sure you don't get us all killed."
Together, they approached The Silver Chalice. The brothel's façade was decadent: polished silver letters gleamed dimly on the sign, and heavy velvet curtains hung at the doorway, slightly parted to reveal a warm, dangerous light. A faint melody from a lute drifted into the street, punctuated by soft laughter and the clinking of glasses. The aroma of incense and perfume mingled with alcohol, hinting at secrets in every shadow.
As they entered, two escorts moved to intercept the newcomers. One, a tall woman with sharp green eyes, approached Arnault, mistaking him for a wealthy foreign merchant.
"Well, well," she purred, circling him with practiced grace. "What brings such an exotic gentleman to The Silver Chalice tonight?"
Arnault straightened, careful to maintain the foreign accent he had practiced. "Business," he said smoothly. "I seek… rare goods. Nothing else."
The woman leaned closer, teasing, "Rare goods, is it? And what might your coin be worth?"
Arnault's jaw tightened. "Enough to satisfy the seller. And no more."
Kael's gaze flicked around the room, noting every movement, every patron. "Stay focused," he murmured.
The other escort, a woman with fiery red curls, approached Raven, mistaking him for a young male client.
"You don't look like you belong here," she said, smirking. "And yet, here you are. Curious, aren't we?"
Raven straightened, forcing a rough tone. "I'm here for business. Information. Nothing else."
The red-haired woman laughed softly, brushing a hand along his arm. "Information, you say? We all have our secrets here."
Kieran muttered under his breath, "I hate this part."
"Quiet," Raven snapped, eyes flicking toward the curtained alcove where the dealer waited.
Arnault's eyes found the arms dealer. Behind a thick velvet curtain, the man lounged, flanked by two muscle-bound guards. Every inch of him screamed danger and control, like a predator coiled and waiting.
"Viperbolts?" Arnault whispered to Kael.
Kael's voice was low but firm. "Wait. Let them approach. Don't make a move yet."
But Arnault's pride flared. "We know the goods are here. Viperbolts. We are willing to pay handsomely."
The dealer's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Oh? And who are you, little merchant, thinking you stroll in like you own the place?" His voice was sharp, crude, dangerous.
Raven's fingers brushed the dagger hidden under her cloak. Kieran's gaze flicked toward the exits. Liora's hands tightened on the coin pouch.
Arnault leaned forward, curiosity and recklessness blurring caution. "We know there are others involved. It will be easier if you cooperate."
The dealer's eyes darkened, lips curling in a dangerous smile. "Easy? I don't like easy. And I don't like prying little merchants." His hand twitched toward his belt, signaling the guards.
Raven's stomach dropped. "That's it. Game's over," she muttered under her breath.
Every patron, every shadow, seemed to tense. The brothel's warm glow suddenly felt suffocating, the air thick with expectation and threat.