Filed to story: A Bullied Boy Died: A Mafia King Woke Up In His Body
Kyle remained quiet for a while, contemplating. “Can the goblins understand human language?”
“Only fundamental words, but yes, communication is possible. But they generally kill on sight, so it’s preferred to avoid them whenever possible. Hold on, you’re not planning anything funny, are you?”
Kyle let out a slight grin, the same whenever he had a plan in play. “Have the pub and casino ready by the time I come back. It’s time for a small excursion.”
A slight shudder went down Damian’s spine.
Why do I feel bad for the goblins now?
*****
At the edge of the South Sector bordering the West Sector was a towering gate embedded in the ancient walls of the city. It was one of the major entrances into Raktor. Thousands of caravans dragged by horses and donkeys went to and fro each day, many from the neighboring county of Kregol, passing by the immigration checkpoints.
A timetable lit up in dull blue arcia lines showed all the private transportation services to nearby villages, towns, and even other cities. Passengers wearing thick coats ran down the crowded cobblestone street, trying to find their assigned caravan while dragging their bulky luggage along, some sighing as they missed their ride.
Adventurers, mercenaries, and local gang members from the Veiled Angels and the Ardent Cretins were hanging around as well, as were local enforcers who performed random inspections on passing cargo. There seemed to be a sort of tacit agreement between the Veiled Angels, the Ardent Cretins, and the local enforcers-any wagon marked by the gangs was not inspected at all, or at least the enforcers closed one eye when they saw what was inside. Such was business at the overlap between major sectors.
A lone cloaked man held onto a thin ticket detailing the time and destination. He squinted at the timetable, trying to decipher the myriad of lines that changed rapidly.
“LAST CALL! LAST CALL FOR CULDAO PEAKS TOWN!” A young boy yelled with a loudspeaker as he stood on top of a stack of boxes. “AT BERTH 19-C, RIGHT NOW!”
The cloaked man shifted the backpack on his back and moved, buffered by the sheer number of travelers and peddlers shouting at the top of their lungs, selling goods and potions of all sorts.
“Traveling alone? Need some companionship? Buy this crazy lizard off me right now- it’s sure to keep you company with its incessant laughter! If you feed it right, it can grow to human size and laugh even louder! No, seriously, buy it off me. I can’t shake the damn thing off! One rakel!”
“Sleeping Potions! Don’t get woken up by snores or even a bandit attack! It ain’t worth your time! Just let them rob the others! Hell, just let them rob you! Sleep is way more important!”
“A headband engraved with a silence skill! Why even tolerate the dumb idiots in your wagon wagging their tongues? Get one now for five hundred rakels!”
“Afraid of your wagon and cargo being overturned? Hostile monsters got you surrounded? Don’t worry; our emergency response mercenary team got you and your merchant business covered. Simply activate the device in trouble, and our nearest patrol will respond immediately, no matter the threat. Only for the low, low cost of two hundred thousand rakels!”
“Arctech wagons too slow for your liking? We got the fastest likrids on hand, race-winning steeds that haul you a thousand yards in a jiffy! Comes with an attached handler too for an additional cost!”
The cloaked man shoved his way through the dense crowd, pushing past weary travelers and dumb tourists from the towns and villages gaping at the sight of the city. He soon made it to Berth 19, where a gruff man in dirty overalls was impatiently tapping his foot as he leaned against the metal-spoked wheels of a covered wagon dragged by two obviously jittery horses. His eyes glanced at the cloaked man, eventually landing on the flimsy ticket he was holding.
“You the guy I’ve been waiting for?”
“Only if this is the transport to Culdao Peaks.”
“Finally! Get on. I’m already ten minutes behind schedule. My boss is going to whip my ass if I run any later.” The gruff man motioned to the back of the wagon, where there were already five others sitting in place.
The cloaked man gingerly entered the wagon and placed his backpack on the floor, nodding with respect to the other passengers before sitting down quietly. The other five were already engaged in a seemingly heated debate as the wagon moved out from the berth, the cobblestones causing the seats to rumble violently as it jerked back and forth.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of Euria you’ve been sniffing, but there’s no chance in hell the inquisitors are going to allow any sort of gang or secret society to exist in Raktor again. Mark my words; it’ll be a short few years till Raktor will finally be cleansed!” One of the more wealthy passengers, who seemed to be a merchant, scoffed. “I’d rather have a healthy business environment than a dangerous one when I have to succumb to the gangs.”
“You really believe that? First time in Raktor? Hundreds of inquisitors have come and gone, half of them even dying. We got the highest enforcer death rate in the damn Yual Dominion. This time ain’t any different. They only come in when the nobles’ pockets are being threatened or they are looking to expand. To me, the bans are ridiculous and just a façade for the enforcers to take in anyone-no one outside of the major city even adheres to it,” another merchant rebutted angrily.
“I agree. The bans are far too ridiculous and should be lifted.” A third merchant chimed in.
“Prostitution is a sin! Drunkenness is a sin as well!” The first merchant angrily wagged his finger at the other two. “This world is sorely lacking in morals, and I, for one, am glad the inquisitors are here to purge them!”
The wagon suddenly came to a halt, with two Sanctum enforcers checking for their identity. Each of the passengers handed over their identity card as well as a city permit.
“Kris Grayborn…” The enforcer looked at the face of the cloaked man, comparing it to the identity card. He was a bit suspicious, but the enforcer couldn’t be bothered to pursue the matter, signaling to the front to let the wagon pass. The cloaked man let out a sigh of relief internally.
Guess I haven’t been marked yet by the enforcers.
Kyle stared out of the back of the wagon, looking at the towering stone walls engraved with various glyphs, boosting its defense. It wasn’t until they had moved far away enough up a hilly slope that he truly saw the scale of the city, sprawling across a large area with a massive river flowing through it. The South Sector looked tiny in comparison with the horizon, but it didn’t surprise a galactic crime lord, who always had his sights further.
Finally, I’m out of the city.
Forest Ambush