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The door to the abandoned mansion opened with a creak. The chilly night air slipped through the gap, brushing against the patches of skin not covered by his leather armor. Beyond the darkness that had settled all around, a few flickering lights became visible.
They were torches. Leon narrowed his eyes, and the shadows cast by those flames sharpened into clearer silhouettes.
There are five of them.
It was an awkward number to guess their purpose. If they had come to rob him, they would’ve snuffed out the torches and snuck over the wall in secret. Not that it would’ve gotten past El-Cid’s detection.
Their clothes didn’t quite match the image of common thugs either. The matching black leather armor, each marked with the same unfamiliar beast, looked almost like a uniform.
A gang. Could it be the Bastards? Leon wondered.
While he had spent most of his time training, he had made sure to eavesdrop on gossip near the slums and asked around at the Guild. He had gathered information on the powers that split the slum’s interests into thirds.
There were three men of significance: Simon the Golden Pig, known as the loanshark, the Keeper, who was an assassin shrouded in mystery, and at the top of them all, the man known as “the Fang,” Khan. The gang he led was called the Bastards.
“What do you want?” Leon asked across the iron bars.
Politeness only made you look weak to people...
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