The city itself was divided into four quarters, with the more affluent districts separated by an interior wall. The Upper Quarter, as it was called, housed the nobility and the seat of House Merina, rulers of Seabore City. According to Althea, House Merina was one of the five major families in Nagalon. Controlling a minor capital and the largest trade port in the east, their power was incomparable to the former glory of House Moon-Born. It was their attention Orochi would need to draw.
Orochi and Althea had spent the morning scouting the city for potential business opportunities. Of course, Orochi was not planning to engage in slave trading… at least, he did not think of it that way. There was something far more lucrative in Seabore than elves or dwarves.
They finally made their way to the famous ports. Ahead of them the sun sat high, its warm rays shimmering across the water as ships docked one after another. The most renowned harbour in all of Nagalon was alive with noise and motion. Workers carried sacks, crates, and sealed barrels from ships to waiting carts. The smell of sea salt mixed with sweat and fish guts.
Althea looked around in confusion, trying to understand what they were here to find. "What are we waiting for?" She rose onto her toes, trying to see what might be catching her young master's interest.
Orochi's eyes snapped toward a final ship approaching the docks. He pointed. "That."
As the ship settled in, a trapdoor on the deck opened. The crew was not ordinary. They wore full armour bearing the banner of House Merina, and the officers had yellow and blue plumes on their helmets. This cargo was either highly important or highly dangerous.
Within moments the truth emerged. A bald man's head appeared first, then chains, then dozens more filed up through the trapdoor.
Prisoners.
Seabore City was the prison capital of Nagalon. Prisoners were marched in chains directly from ship to cage, which would then be dragged to one of the famous underground prisons House Merina operated. These prisons were profitable beyond belief. Noble families across the continent housed their worst criminals with House Merina, paying enormous monthly fees for containment.
A piece of the pie that Orochi wanted.
"Now we have a product," Orochi murmured. His lips curled, eyes half-lidded with thought. "We need a customer. Come. Let us go pay a visit to a dear old friend of ours."
╰┈➤.
It did not take long to find the man in question. After all, he was well liked by many for the work he did.
"Physician Thalos lives here?" Althea asked, puzzled as they walked down the cobblestone path toward the clinic of the man who had once tended to Orochi during his coma.
"Indeed."
"But he is just a physician. Sir Thalos would never help us with this." Althea's worry was justified. To her, the man was a saint.
Orochi, however, knew better.
Physician Thalos was one of the best in all of Nagalon, so why had he been serving in the backwaters of Black-Fang Town tending to a hopeless case like Orochi Moon-Born? Upon reading more about Seabore's history, the picture became clear. Decades ago, Seabore City had been infamous for a massive black market. The trade was in human organs. Organs used for experiments, spells, rituals, and things far darker. Everyone involved became immensely rich.
Until House Merina led an investigation that toppled the entire organisation.
Among those arrested had been Physician Thalos, one of the ring's masterminds. A brilliant surgeon in the light, a butcher in the dark. One of the most feared. One of the most skilled. One of the last still alive.
House Moon-Born, with the final scraps of its once great influence, had pulled a favour and saved him from execution. In return, Orochi suspected Thalos had been paying off that debt ever since by serving the family in secrecy. What he gave them, Orochi did not yet know.
But he had not come today to meet a physician.
He had come to meet the Ripper.
The bell above the clinic door jingled as they stepped inside. Rows of neatly arranged jars lined the walls, some filled with herbs, some with odd liquids, and others with things Orochi suspected were not for public treatment.
Physician Thalos looked up from his workbench.
The colour drained from his face.
Before either of them could speak, Thalos shot up from his stool, rushed to the front door, and peered outside with frantic eyes. He scanned both sides of the street twice, then a third time, checking the shadows, checking the rooftops. Only when he was satisfied no one had followed them did he slam the door shut and turn the lock with trembling fingers.
Without a word he flipped the hanging sign from open to closed.
Then he faced them fully.
His eyes jumped from Orochi, dressed as a slave, to Althea, standing perfectly still and watching him like a predator waiting for a reason to strike.
"Inside," he said briskly, leading them through a narrow corridor. His voice was low, the forced calm failing to mask the anxiety simmering beneath. "This way. Quickly."
He opened the door to his office and gestured sharply. They stepped in, and he closed the door behind them with a definitive click.
Thalos looked at Orochi for a long moment. The physician's pulse visibly beat in his neck.
"I heard you were dead," he finally said.
Orochi shrugged, hands clasped behind his back. "I seem to be increasingly difficult to kill. It irritates me just as much as it irritates them."
A dark truth flickered in his eyes, a memory of a rope and a suffocating ceiling. Thalos caught it but did not comment. The physician straightened his spectacles and cleared his throat.
"I would very much like to know what you are doing here," he said stiffly. "And why you look like… that."
His gaze travelled over Orochi's ragged clothing, the dirt smudges, the slave collar.
"Mind your insults, a Moon-Born stands before you," Althea replied, tone polite but cold enough to frost glass.
Thalos swallowed, suddenly aware of the crushing pressure in the room. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of his desk. He kept glancing at Althea as if expecting her to leap at him. Orochi noticed.
Good, he thought. Bringing her along was the right decision.
Orochi stepped forward slightly. "Relax, Physician. We are not here to hurt you. We are here for business."
Thalos stiffened. "Business?"
"Yes." Orochi's eyes sharpened. "Not with the physician. With the Ripper."
Silence.
The temperature in the room changed. It was subtle at first, then unmistakable. Thalos's posture shifted. His shoulders relaxed. His expression smoothed out, wiped clean of fear and tension. The trembling in his fingers stopped. The air around him darkened.
A different man looked through his eyes.
"Well then," Thalos said, voice suddenly calm and silky. "Why did you not say so from the beginning?"
Althea's hand twitched near her boot, readying for a fight.
Orochi held up a hand to keep her still.
The Ripper had arrived.
"Tell me, young master," Thalos continued, folding his hands behind his back with almost surgical elegance. "What business does a dead Moon-Born wish to conduct with a retired butcher?"
Orochi smiled, sharp and unchildlike.
"Profit," he said. "And opportunity."
Thalos's eyes gleamed.
"Then," he murmured, "let us speak plainly."
(ó﹏ò｡)