Chapter 50: The North
The cobblestone streets of Bersáic stretched toward the horizon, a testament to a more glorious past.
Carts, rain, and endless seasons had left visible marks on them. Numerous potholes constantly appeared along the path, slowing down the pace of walking.
Everyone moved among the brick buildings while the cold northern wind swept through the avenues.
And among them walked Gabriel. His coat fluttered gently behind him.
He had been asking for directions, trying to gather substantial information.
He was judged in silence more than once. Asking about the slums always provoked prejudice.
But it wasn’t a closely guarded secret either. No one stopped him or questioned him.
The jester mask covered his face. For the first time, that static smile appeared before a desolate city.
That day he wasn’t simply Gabriel.
He would act as he pleased. Only he could determine his survival.
Little by little, the changes began to become visible.
The brick buildings disappeared, and the patrols decreased.
The streets narrowed and people’s expressions became increasingly indifferent.
When he reached the boundary, there were no signs or a wall to mark it.
But anyone could feel an invisible border between Bersáic and its dark districts.
Gabriel crossed it, with the environment deteriorating gradually.
Many windows remained broken and the facades showed years of abandonment.
Conversations that flowed amicably stopped immediately when an unknown person appeared.
With discreet glances from broken windows and half-open doors.
Gabriel continued advancing with indifference.
There was a simple, unspoken rule... Whoever openly showed fear quickly became prey.
He had experienced the qualities of those unique ecosystems.
***
The landscape in the slums was contaminated by accumulated garbage and groups of people sleeping in the darkest corners of the city.
Along the way, he saw small fights breaking out between drunk men and desperate women. Glass bottles flew and blood was common in that type of brawl.
Quite a few prostitutes and beggars had approached him, offering no real utility. Only with deceptive and deplorable intentions.
Until someone approached him as if drawn by a magnet. It was a woman, who wore few garments and walked with a confidence that radiated from her.
Her smile seemed sincere. Like an orchid posing innocently; but it probably wasn’t.
She positioned herself beside him naturally. A hand rested on his shoulder, bringing her lips close to his ear.
"Mysterious man... Are you really in such a hurry? I can make you forget about time," she said in a soft voice, while Gabriel’s nose was filled with her intense perfume.
He didn’t react with surprise, shame, or interest.
He simply turned his head slightly.
"Pretty, I don’t need your services."
The woman seemed slightly disappointed.
"But I can offer you something much more special."
Those words worked immediately like morning rain on a garden. The woman smiled and moved even closer.
"Look how excited I am... tell me more."
Gabriel responded with a single word.
"Information. I’ll pay you well."
The woman hesitated for several seconds. In her eyes, the risk was being evaluated and she finally answered:
"Silver."
"Done."
The deal was closed immediately.
***
The woman led him to an alley. At no point did they stop playing their roles.
Appearances were very important to remain unnoticed.
They finally reached a relatively isolated corner. Isolated in darkness and with walls that had known humidity.
The woman continued leaning against him, playing her role with professionalism.
"Now then, darling. What do you want to know?"
Gabriel went straight to the point.
"Have you seen anything suspicious lately?"
The woman let out a small laugh at the naive question.
"Suspicious things always happen."
"I don’t mean that."
"Then you’ll have to be more specific."
Gabriel observed the surroundings, perceiving no one nearby.
"Big things."
The woman reflected and said:
"Goods come in and out. Murders happen. Thieves steal. And the authorities have been more frequent."
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. The last sentence had caught his attention.
"Why have the authorities been acting that way?"
The woman bit her lips before answering.
"Because of that place in the north."
Her tone had changed. It was less playful and much more cautious.
"What place?"
"A cursed one. I heard stories," she said hesitantly.
"What kind of stories?"
For the first time she seemed genuinely uncomfortable.
"People disappearing and strange people."
"Strange?"
The woman leaned in and whispered.
"Too many strange ones. They don’t seem human... They never speak and their eyes stay fixed."
His mind immediately raced through the implications, functioning at an abnormal speed.
They were concrete assumptions. And potentially related to his quest.
The woman stepped back slightly.
"That’s all I know."
Gabriel reached into his pouch and took out three silver coins.
He discreetly dropped them inside one of the seams of her dress.
The woman’s eyes widened.
"That’s too much."
"Don’t say anything."
For a second she seemed unsure how to react. Then she smiled genuinely for the first time.
"Thank you."
Gabriel nodded.
"That’s all."
The woman understood immediately. Knowing that the conversation needed a proper conclusion.
So she improvised with a slap.
The sound echoed through the alley.
"Pervert!" she shouted indignantly.
"Don’t come near me again!"
Then she ran off, while making a small, almost imperceptible gesture of apology.
Gabriel watched as she disappeared.
And finally shook his head. She had professional-level talent.
***
The further north he went, the more the danger multiplied. The people became more threatening.
He noticed three men watching him from a corner. One held an iron bar and the other hid something in his pants.
None approached when they saw Gabriel’s gleaming daggers.
He recognized the north as the most conflictive area of the slums. A place that even heartless people frequently avoided.
That already said a lot about the danger.
As he walked, he began to perceive more glances. The news of his presence seemed to spread quickly.
He advanced slowly and never lowered his guard, because he was in the heart of Bersáic’s criminal underworld.
In that place, the rules worked differently.
His hand brushed the hidden handle of his axe. It was already a habit.
He began to think about the information obtained. Strange people who didn’t seem human represented a great accumulation of possibilities.
They could simply be superstitions, but he had learned to respect rumors over time.
Because legends and monsters were born from voices.
Every step guided him north and brought him closer to the center of the mystery.
