At the end of the building, a tall man stood guard, leaning against an entrance, a pistol strapped to his side. His face— half-lit by the glow of a nearby light source, his sharp eyes scanning keith and jerron.
Then Jerron approached the guard calmly, stopping a short distance. "We need to see your dealer. It's urgent."
The man didn't speak. He simply held out his hand, his palms open and expectant.
Then Jerron glanced at Keith.
Keith sighed, pulled out a folded stack of crowns, and pressed four crisp 100 note bills into the man's palm. The money vanished into his coat without a word.
The guard nodded once, then pushed open the door behind him, as Keith and Jerron stepped inside.
The room hit them at once with thick smoke, spilled liquor, and the heavy thrum of music from a battered gramophone in the corner.
Men and women lounged across couches, snorting powdered substances from glass trays, their laughter loud and broken. Some danced drunkenly to the music, others slipped into side rooms with half-buttoned coats and seeuctive eyes.
At the far end of the disco hall, sat a man in a luxury booth, basking in his own solitude. Gold rings locked on his fingers, as well as a fat cigar resting between them. The haze from the cigar curled lazily around his face.
Jerron leaned toward Keith, his voice low.
"That's Ren. If anyone knows what's moving in the shadows, it's him. He might have an idea"
Keith gave an understanding nod.
Together they marched across the disco hall heading towards the expensive booth where ren sits.
Ren crosses one leg over the other. His left leg revealed a crafted steampunk prosthetic, fire tattoos crawling up his neck and jaw.
Ren didn't waste words. His voice rolled out smooth, and filled with boredom.
"What information do you need?"
"One of ours was abducted," Jerron said, leaning forward. "Words travel fast down here. Have you heard anything?"
Ren said nothing at first. Taking a glance at keith then to jerron, the cigar smoke curling around his head. "Place?" Ren asked.
"Olsmere" keith responded.
Then he stretched his palms open in request for money.
Keith reached into his coat, pulled out a neat bundle of crowns, and set 5000 crowns on the table. Ren plucked the notes with a smirk and dropped them lazily on the cushion beside him.
"Alright," Ren said. "Please do note, this is an information i am willing to risk. However If this were something bigger than me, you'd leave here with nothing."
Jerron and Keith nodded once, and in silence.
Ren leaned forward, puffing out a stream of smoke.
"When Lord Eryndor ruled, he put an end to trafficking in Olsmere. Shut down the trade, gave protection, built your town into something clean. That move ruined some very wealthy people. People who still claimed olsmere is theirs to terrorize."
Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a thin card. He flicked it across the table, the corner spinning as it landed in front of Keith.
The words stamped in red read: Kroons Krane.
"They're the ones you're looking for, they were hired to abduct your women" Ren said. His eyes glittering through the smoke.
Keith picks up the card, his jaw tightening.
"Why target our women?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Ren's smile widens.
"Because they're sick bastards. They cannot profit from men, but women? They sure could use some helping" ren says.
"and Olsmere women, who were protected by eryndor for years fetch the highest price underground. That's all they care about."
Keith's fist curled so tightly the leather of his gloves creaked. Jerron glances at him and then turned back to Ren.
"Do you have a location? A hideout? Any warning about what we'd be walking into?"
Ren leaned back in his booth, tapping his cigars ash into a silver tray, he stretches his hand out again.
Keith reached into his coat as well but paused, as Jerron pulled 3000 crowns from his pouch and placed them into Ren's palm.
Jerron looked at keith with a body language that read "i got this"
Then Ren smirked.
"Kroons and Krane keep their dens around the Stone Mountains in the east," he said.
"They have heavily armed mercenaries, disciplined enough to hold ground their grounds. And If two days have passed since the abductions… chances are slim you'll find your people with them or alive even."
Keith's jaw tightened, but Ren continued, with a smooth voice.
"You'll need to move quickly—and be ready to spill blood. Because they wont give in easy" his smile widened, "you could hire my men to even the odds."
"How much?" Jerron asked flatly.
"15,000 crowns."
"Four," Jerron shot back without hesitation.
Ren chuckled, leaning forward. "Twelve."
"Six." Jerron continued.
Then came a calm silence.
"Deal." Ren says as he gestures his hands again requesting for payment.
Keith pulled out the crowns this time, his movements sharp and deliberate, and pressed the bundle into Ren's waiting hand.
Ren rose from his booth, the hiss of pistons from his prosthetic leg echoing faintly, and gestured for them to follow. They trailed him through the smoke-heavy room, out into the alley where the night air was colder, cleaner.
"Kroons and Krane," Ren said, pausing just before the street. "They use blades not rifles. Don't mistake that for weakness. Their men are killers. Underestimate them, and you won't walk back."
He stopped, nodding toward a cluster of rough-looking mercenaries at the corner. Broad-shouldered, scarred, and armed with mismatched weapons, they looked up as Ren pointed at them.
"They're yours," Ren said. "Give the order, they'll obey. Nothing more, nothing less."
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a rolled scroll to Jerron. Jerron caught it cleanly.
"That's a map of Kroons and Krane's main hideout. Cost me six hundred crowns. Take it as my gift—for good business."
Ren turned back toward the den, his cigar trailing smoke into the night.
"Good luck, gentlemen. I hope we meet again." His voice faded with each step as he disappeared inside, swallowed by the music and haze.
Keith and Jerron exchanged a long look. No words. Just a single, heavy nod.
The scene faded into silence.