Deep in the alleys of Arkenstadt, inside a cramped room at the "Red Snow," a magical lantern cast flickering crimson shadows over the damp walls. The air was thick with the sharp bite of cheap perfume, stale sweat, and the heavy musk of sex. The wet slap of flesh against flesh and breathless moans echoed through the floorboards.
The rickety door shattered inward.
A hulking bouncer reeking of barley whiskey stormed in, grabbed the man kneeling between the whore's spread thighs, and hurled him into the corner. Kaspar hit the filthy floor and rolled to a smooth stop. He took his time. He slowly hauled up his trousers, trapping a thick, heavy cock still slick with the girl's juices, and flashed a crooked grin.
"Fucking hell, Kaspar! Show your face here again and I'll cut off your balls!"
The bouncer roared, spit flying from his lips, fists white-knuckled and trembling.
Unfazed, Kaspar dusted off his threadbare coat. He reached out, his calloused fingers lazily trailing down the whore's flushed cheek. She huddled on the mattress, skin mottled with red handprints, chest heaving. Her legs shook as she squeezed them tight to hide her swollen, dripping slit, but the heavy scent of her arousal still choked the room.
Kaspar's voice was a dark, silky drawl.
"Fuck, sweetheart. Next time, I'll bury it so deep you'll choke. Keep it wet for me."
He snagged his gear, shoved the window open, and swung a leg over the sill. Before dropping into the dark, he flicked a handful of gold onto the scarred table. He paid well for the damage. Every girl in the place knew letting Kaspar between their thighs meant staying bedridden and sore for days.
"Son of a bitch."
The bouncer muttered, snatching the gold. He spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the floorboards, making no move to chase him. The boss had warned him: Kaspar Voss had a past too explosive to fuck with.
Outside, Kaspar landed silently on the damp cobblestones. He whistled a cheerful tune while buckling his belt, though his jaw was clenched. Fucking hell. Ten more seconds and I would've painted her slick insides white.
The alley was dead quiet. Out on the main street, he passed city guards and late-night merchants clustered together, their whispers frantic.
"...heard Dragonwatch Fortress fell..."
"...Count Thomas dragged off by Sarmund barbarians! The supreme commander, a prisoner... what a disgrace..."
The news from the border had thrown the capital into an uproar, yet Kaspar only swallowed a yawn. Wars and lords meant nothing to him. His only concern was finding another brothel to drain the heavy ache still throbbing behind his fly.
He made it three steps before his grin vanished. He stopped dead.
A steel-gauntleted hand clamped over his shoulder. The grip was monstrous, threatening to snap his collarbone if he twitched. Kaspar froze, every muscle pulling taut.
"Into the alley."
The voice behind him was young, but freezing cold.
Kaspar didn't fight it. He let himself be shoved into a shadowed alcove where a pitch-black, unmarked carriage waited. Thrown roughly inside, he caught his breath.
A magical lantern bathed the interior in a dim glow. Across from him sat a woman draped in an ashen wolf-fur cloak. A sheer veil obscured her lower face, leaving only a glimpse of a porcelain nose and pale skin. Raven hair fell in dark waves over her shoulders.
But her eyes anchored him. Emerald green, deep and frigid. They carried a crushing, imperious weight that would have forced any ordinary man to his knees. Yet, as Kaspar's predatory senses flared, he caught the scent beneath the ice. Behind that untouchable facade, her pulse beat a fraction too fast. A devouring fire of desire—violently suppressed—bled into the confined space.
"Have you ever traveled through the Blackthorn Forest?"
Her voice sliced the quiet. Melodic, yet heavy with absolute command.
Kaspar stayed silent. His eyes dragged slowly over her body, the corner of his mouth ticking up.
"Answer, you scum!"
A deep growl reverberated next to him.
Kaspar shifted his gaze. The knight from earlier stood near the door, fully armored. The dense, humming pressure of magic rolling off him screamed master-level guardian. Unruffled, Kaspar looked back at the woman and gave a lazy nod.
"I require you as a guide."
Kaspar chuckled, shaking his head. Only a suicidal bastard would walk into the Blackthorn Forest right now, in the middle of a war.
Thud.
A heavy leather pouch hit the oak table. The drawstrings spilled a flood of gleaming gold. Kaspar's eyes sharpened. Damn. It was enough to buy out the whore district and drink himself into an early grave.
His hand snapped out, pocketing the pouch in a blur.
"When do we leave?"
"As soon as possible."
"Fine by me,"
Kaspar shrugged.
"But I'll need to bring someone."
"Is this someone… trustworthy?"
A flicker of doubt crossed her emerald eyes.
"Haha, My Lady the Imperial Countess, rest easy. He's a damn sight more trustworthy than I am."
"Good. Tomorrow evening at the South Gate. That is merely the down payment. Should you fulfill your task, I will pay you triple. Should you, however, take the gold and flee…"
The air in the carriage plummeted to freezing. An invisible, murderous frost crept up Kaspar's spine, locking his heart in a vise of ice. In the next blink, the magical pressure vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
Kaspar exhaled a sharp breath. His cocky grin returned as he leaned forward, close enough to test her boundaries.
"Trust me, My Lady. I guarantee I'll get you deep into Dragonwatch Fortress safe and sound."
The woman stiffened. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. This ragged street dog had just ripped her true identity and final destination out of a handful of clipped sentences.
"Good."
She replied coolly, turning her gaze away.
"Do not be late."
The carriage door swung open, and the knight booted Kaspar into the street. He hit the hard cobblestones, dragging his already shabby coat through the muck, but the grin never left his face.
As the unmarked carriage rumbled away into the pitch-black night, Kaspar stood up. He dusted off his knees, tossed the heavy pouch in the air to gauge its weight, and slowly licked his lips, his eyes tracking the wheels fading into the dark.