The storm of steel and blood had ended, but the streets of Carrowhelm still sizzled with tension.
Bobby Venhart...
At the branches of the City Watch Headquarters, Bobby Venhart, Head of the City Knights, rubbed a hand over his weary face. His bleary eyes focused on the parchment in front of him and narrowed at the one sentence - no, the one phrase - that promised infinite chaos:
"Fangbangs have annexed all local gangs."
"What insanity is this?" he muttered.
Almost as if in acknowledgment to his quiet utterance, his four subordinates remained silent, concealing nothing but shadows of shame and fear in mocked reflection of his enlightenment. Some even had beads of sweat trickling down their temples.
"No resistance? No patrols? Not even a glimmer of a movement to the upper-districts?" Bobby examined the parchment carefully and his voice lowered to a deliberate menace with each answer.
One of the younger knights stirred to speak; he showed that his voice was even willing to incite the very protests of their now prior wishes, but stammered and stuttered.
"No?" Bobby's eyes glimmered.
"I see. Bribery runs deeper than I'd thought."
He stood and pushed back his chair. "Send a sealed letter to the Marquess. He needs to know his streets are no longer his."
"But Sir—" another knight exclaimed, sounding alarmed. "This could put a lot of us in danger."
Bobby's smile was no longer marginally sardonic but rather bitter: "Then you should have stopped them. Now keep quiet and get me answers. I want to know how Fangbangs have suddenly found their guts. Someone is funding them."
He tossed a different report onto the desk.
A different kind of fire kindled in his eyes when he looked at it.
The explosion near the lower merchant district.
Suspected: Cult of Alofonso.
Bobby tapped the paper with his gloved finger. "If that cult is in Carrowhelm... we have much bigger problems."
_____
Meanwhile, children scurried like rats in the ruins of the Lowlands, weaving in and out of buildings, alleys, and storefronts.
Tio was crouched down beside a stack of crates like a panther, nursing a bruised body that was loaded up with bandages. He pretended to tie his shoelaces, while his eyes focused on a conversation between a Ryker sympathizer and merchant.
"3 shipments late this week. You tell that noble prick he can f**k off if he thinks I am paying him double next time".
Tio whispered each and every word to the boy beside him - Ross, a teenager with sharp eyes - who took notes on ripped scraps of parchment. When the conversation concluded the two boys slipped into the streets; dirt-covered clothing and bare footfall allowed them to be invisible.
The boys and girls gathered in one of the safe house locations in the Lowlands and reported different pieces of information: knight movement, gang suspicions and a rumor about someone named "Maynard".
Each report went to a single teen who coordinated the kids with the gang - Tinto, a lanky boy with a mouth as big as his ears. He reported every piece of information to Gurt, who had a better record-keeping than the best knight.
The underground spy web of Carrowhelm was starting to spin its own shadowy threads, all with focus on a single man.
Alfrenzo fumed behind the mask of a merchant again, sipping weak tea from a chipped porcelain cup.
"Violence is everywhere," said one of the older merchants, a man with a thick white moustache and a humped back. "All these damn gangs. Fangbangs, Iron Rats, and some new kids on the block."
Another merchant nodded, "I've heard the city knights are taking bribery money from both sides. It'll all burn before the end of the year."
Alfrenzo just gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. "The law is too lenient," he said, hiding the sarcasm in his voice.
_____
Later that afternoon, Luenor, Hunter, and Dion arrived at the largest hospital in Carrowhelm.
Arwin lay on the bed, his eyes half-closed but clearly in pain. His chest and arms were bandaged, and he appeared pale. But in his eyes, there was a flame of life burning fiercely: anger.
"I won't sit here and let you go off playing warlord," he grunted.
"You're not sitting," Luenor smirked. "You're lying down."
Arwin let out a heavy sigh. "What happens now? What's next?"
"We wait," Luenor stated firmly, crossing his arms in front of him. "Dion has come back and brought some reinforcements. Hunter put some evidence in Dallast's warehouse, and as soon as Dallast makes a move, we wait."
"And if he doesn't make a move?"
"He will," Luenor replied coldly.
Arwin strained to sit up, but winced in pain. Hunter was nearly at his side to help him when Arwin waved him away.
"Dallast is associating himself with Maynard. A viscount with Duke to back him up. Your rival Linlin's rival," Luenor continued. "When they try to come at us, we can release the gangs and see them burn each other."
Dion moved forward. "And in that, we'll sneak into the forges?"
Luenor nodded. "We'd use the confusion to find paths, map the dimensions, and gather intelligence on the methods used to forge the blades."
"I want to help," Arwin said, clenching his teeth. "I owe them."
Luenor's eyes softened for a brief moment then went cold again. "You owe me for staying alive."
Hunter nodded curtly. "You need to sleep. If they run into you before you've had time to recover, it will ruin everything."
An extended pause. Then Luenor added; "Besides, I need your help back in Echlion when this is all over. I can't have Dion in charge again."
"Hey!" Dion said indignantly.
Arwin laughed quietly. "Fine, fine. I will sleep, but just be sure to bring me back a Skyshard blade, at least as a souvenir."
Luenor chuckled softly. "We'll bring you back ten."
Outside of the hospital, dusk settled across Carrowhelm. Fires smoldered in the alleyways, smoke rising from those fires twisted into the night air, high as the ambitions of those unwilling to cower before the power that ruled the streets.