Chapter 53: Charles
For the first time, Francis cursed being a thief. He had meddled in a matter from which he only wished to escape at that moment.
His fear only increased when that monster kept his gaze on him. As if his entire existence could disintegrate with the snap of his fingers.
It was the fear that now lay embedded in him. A simple innocent thief.
Gabriel observed the boy with absolute indifference.
His mind was still spinning with the grotesque image of the black worms leaving the mercenary’s body. He would catalog the curse as brutal and terrifying.
The Ring.
Probably the entire situation had degenerated from that word. But he did not even know what its meaning was.
"Get up," he ordered in a cold voice.
Francis reacted like a soldier before a general. He jumped to his feet, although his legs trembled.
A wide and forced smile appeared on his pale face. It was the most he could offer without wetting his pants.
He looked him up and down.
"What am I going to do with you? You’ve already served me enough. You’re no longer useful to me."
The words fell like a death sentence for the livid boy.
His face was even paler. Panic shone in his eyes and he fell to his knees dramatically.
"My Emperor, don’t say that! I will stain the rivers with blood for you! I will cover the nations that are your enemies with plagues! I will take every firstborn of their houses as a trophy! Please, don’t sacrifice me!" he exclaimed in a broken but grandiloquent voice.
Gabriel gave him a sharp blow to the nape of his neck.
"I’m not going to kill you, fool. Just disappear and try to go unnoticed... What is coming will not please you."
Francis’s expression changed a dozen times, trying to process the information.
Then he sighed with relief, his eyes filling with tears. He straightened his clothes with trembling hands and performed a forced bow.
"Of course it won’t please me! I wish you much luck, Your Majesty. Goodbye!"
The thief circled around him without turning his back, avoiding touching the scattered corpses. As soon as he had enough distance, he turned around and ran away terrified, disappearing into the shadows of the labyrinthine alleys.
I hope you don’t die uselessly after dodging death twice.
It was no longer his business.
***
He knelt beside the bodies and began to meticulously check their clothing.
He only found coins, hidden weapons, cheap amulets and even a bottle of wine. Nothing that was of interest to him.
Is that all, mercenaries?
He stood up, wiped the blood from his hands on his overcoat and merged once again into the shadows.
From a nearby rooftop, he silently observed how several men arrived at the place where he had carried out his confrontation.
They checked the bodies quickly and coldly. No one showed even a hint of panic.
The district operated with its own rules.
Implicit rules and dominant factions, Gabriel thought. Probably a combination of both.
He was in no hurry. He had discovered the base of his next investigation, focusing on the mysterious identities of The Ring and The Despots.
He measured every step as he moved.. He avoided crowded corners and remained patient in the darkest nooks.
His steps blurred between reality and illusion, under the effect of Shadow Illusions.
Soon he began to hear fragments of conversations.
"That crazy masked man burst in like a fool..."
"I heard he killed those unscrupulous dogs in less than a minute."
"Those idiots don’t even recognize where they step. Charles doesn’t allow that kind of behavior."
Gabriel immediately noticed a name that stood out: Charles.
In the streets where bread was valued, personal names carried weight and influence.
He continued advancing, absorbing as much information as he could.
***
Until at the end of a particularly lit street, he spotted a tavern.
A place that was bustling with activity. The noise of laughter, glasses and conversations reached the street.
In places like these, such places could have deep implications. It was probably not a normal location.
Gabriel approached with a firm step. Several men who recognized him opened their eyes in astonishment, but no one dared to stop him.
He pushed the door and entered.
The atmosphere was one of informal revelry. Men drank, ate and told exaggerated stories.
The smell of beer, roasted meat and smoke filled the air.
However, in the center of the long bar there was an empty space. No one sat there.
It was a circle that everyone avoided with deep naturalness.
Gabriel walked directly to that place and sat on the stool.
The bartender, a bald man with scars on his face, looked at him mockingly but said nothing.
"A beer," requested Gabriel in a calm voice.
The bartender nodded modestly and served the drink with steady hands.
Little by little, the bustle of the tavern began to decrease.
The conversations faded, the laughter died and the gazes turned toward him.
Silence spread, quickly infecting the atmosphere.
Gabriel slightly lifted his mask and took a slow sip of his beer without flinching. His posture was relaxed, but his mind was on maximum alert.
He could feel the palpable tension in the air.
A burly man at a nearby table murmured in a fatalistic voice:
"I’ve heard of him, he’s the masked man. Charles, without a doubt, is going to enjoy this. Like a little rabbit escaping from the burrow only to fall into the wolf’s mouth..."
Gabriel set the glass down on the bar with a soft sound. His eyes slowly scanned the place.
He had quickly become the most interesting man in the tavern. He recognized the probable reasons.
His latest actions... Or the stool.
No one moved, maintaining a sepulchral silence.
Only the bartender obstinately cleaned a cup with an old rag.
Insulting in a language he did not recognize.
And in the midst of that stillness, the tavern door opened again.
Only one man had entered, his steps echoing on the old wood.
Gabriel did not turn immediately. But he felt the new presence.
It was powerful and threatening.
The atmosphere became suffocating. With many lowering their heads in submission.
