Broken Tower Saga: The First Swordsman

"Is this place always this crowded?" Wrik asked, gazing at the slum they were walking. Coupled with the polluted air and the awful smell now and then—this was an awful place to stay. 

"Yes," Byul said and then pondered. "Wait, no, it was always crowded, but not like this now. I don't remember entirely, but about six or seven years ago, something happened and a lot of people appeared in the slam. The wall was still there, and the new people that came crowded the outside. They were still trying to make the atmosphere more life-friendly, but it stopped even before starting." 

"I see." He raised an eyebrow. Abruptly, he heard a loud cry with some yelling. He moved a little faster and noticed some men were beating a person together while a dozen more men watched as if it was nothing new. 

"This sort of thing is fairly common here," Byul added, peeking a glance at the conflict. "Don't go there to help there. The thing is more complicated than you can imagine and the one that was getting the beating might be at fault—who knows."

Wrik listened to the yelling among the curses and figured out it was about money. The man who was getting beaten up now—probably borrowed some money from those they were beating, and the rest was he could not give back the borrowed money. Even though it was a simple calculation, things were more complicated. The money the man borrowed was only a few tinz—yet he could not give back the money he owed. 

Abruptly, clouds swirled in the sky and in about a couple of minutes, it hid the artificial sky. 

"Looks like we have to hurry," Byul said, "The climate here is strange like this, it could rain heavily any minute."

"Rain in winter?!" he had no time to ponder, rushing with the short-haired girl. The people that were gawking at the show rushed out as well while the men kept on beating. 

Thunder roared in the swirling cloud, and the lighting sparkled. As Byul had said it, the shower came though it was not heavy. The wind rose by a marginal level as well, giving the winter more feel of the chilly night. 

Mud mashed under his boot as he followed Byul. Their cloak was of fine quality and resistant to water—saved them from getting wet. 

"How far away is the lair of your old boss?" He asked, considering if they stop in some shade or not. 

"It's only a few minutes away," Byul answered. They moved a little further until a little old factory came into their vision. A few yellow lights were lit in there, while a few people were taking shade. Some were playing games like cards or other sorts in there. But sensing the arrival of the two newcomers, they all stared at them. 

Wrik left the hood from his head, but Byul did not, though it appeared a couple of the men that were playing cards recognised her.

"You are here again, girl," said one of them. "I heard you make it big among the nobles. Why have you come again here? Or the nobles threw you away after sucking your blood sweat from you?"

Byul did not answer and did not even look at them, moved to the stairs that went down in the underground. Wrik followed and during that he gave a few icy glares to the men—making them silent and still. 

A thick iron door restricted them from moving further and it did not only restrict them, but all the sound and lights as well.

"How dangerous are these guys?" Wrik whispered. 

"You could take them down if you are ready," Byul said and equipped herself with a knife. "But they have a few of those weapons that use mana current—if you are not ready it could hurt real bad."

"Well, it would not be as bad as a garrison of well-equipped soldiers," Wrik thought out loud. 

Byul raised her brows at him and, seeing no reply, she knocked on the iron door. She was not restrained in making loud noises. 

"Who is it?" a gruff voice said as a rectangular hole appeared in the iron gate. An eye looked at them and seemed to recognise Byul. "Lazy Finger, you are here again. What do ya want?" 

"I want to meet Bakhan," Byul said in her regular accent.

"Boss had already made things clear with you. I don't think he would be happy seeing you again after you left all of us here."

Byul clasped her fingers unconsciously and felt an arm on her shoulder. Her confidence rose and she said, "Open the door, or I'll break it." She showed her dagger that glittered with mana threateningly. 

The man on the other side of the iron door gulped a little and opened the door. "Boss, won't be happy seeing you again." 

Byul snorted and let the man lead them inside. 

"So, Lazy Finger," Wrik hissed. "How did you get that name?"

Byul gawked at him. "It's a story I would not rather tell."

"That makes me more curious," Wrik said and went into the innermost room.  The room was dimly lit, holding eight men. Two at the sofa while the others were standing. All of them were alert while the ones standing aimed their shotgun at them.

Thick smells of alcohol and smoke came into his nose. Even though he could see far better than others, he did not like the atmosphere like this. The room was not big, only about five square feet. A few guns and swords were held in the wall, with a few sacks of materials.

"I guessed your old boss is not happy to see you again, Byul," Wrik said, as if he had nothing to care about their glares and cold toys. He came forward to the sofa and asked, "Mind if I sit?"

The ones at the sofa did not say a thing while the ones aimed their guns at them waited for a gesture to shoot. Wrik sat anyway.

"I think you guys should lower your big toys or it would not be good for any of us," Wrik said. 

One of the men with a rounder face and big belly looked at him carefully and then at Byul. He sighed and showed his arm to the men, and finally they lowered the gun.

"I wonder if you could make the light any better here," Wrik said again. 

The big belly man, Bakhan, gestured with his arm again and one of the men lit up a limelight far better than the ones lit before. The room became stark lit. There were a few bottles of cheap alcohol on the table and in the glass, while the boss had an uncomfortable expression on his face and even forgot to smoke the cigar. 

"Byul, finish your business here."

"Bakhan, give me my belongings back," Byul said at once. "I'll give you enough money so that you can live your life comfortably. Just give back my belongings.

Bakhan's expression, which was uncomfortable, turned ugly at once. He sweated uncomfortably. Never he would have wondered the little thief he made would turn the table on him.

"I don't think you have someone expensive in the bag," he said uncomfortably. "After a few days ago you came, I already sent men to find it. You have a wait a little longer. As you know, we deal with a lot of things."

"How long?" 

"A week? No, it would be better if we have a fortnight."

"A fortnight to find some belongings of your former crew members?" Wrik said, in a pondering noise. "I found a liar here."

"Backhan, tell me truthfully what did you do with it." She gripped the dagger hard, unconsciously.

"No need to be so worked up. As I said I would give it back to you," the boss of the thieves said. "You know me for so long. Did you forget who gave you shelter after your father died? Who sheltered you from all those remakes or human traffickers?"

"That is the only reason I'm still conversing verbally with you," Byul said in a haughty tone. "I do not owe you a thing. You took away all my father's belongings after his death and made me a thief—I have not complained once for all that. But at that time I was afraid, but things are different now. Tell me truthfully what you did with my things or I'll. . ." 

Byul's voice was shaking and her legs were weak. Wrik felt and stood up. He came to her side and gave his firm palm on her shoulder, indicating he was there with her. 

"Gentleman, as I said," He said quietly in the closed room. "Things could get ugly here if you do not open your mouth now." 

Bakhan nodded and left the half-burned cigar on the table. He took a mouthful of the alcohol, wiping the sweat from his face uncomfortably. "This is quite a tricky matter," he said. "Your things, I already sold that when you left."