The Preying City

The train station was crowded with all kinds of men and women. Tens of thousands of people entered and left the city every day. One could stand there and observe people throughout the entire day and still find a unique person every minute or two.

Everyone was acting as if they were running out of time. The passengers who alighted couldn't wait to leave the heated station and catch up on some fresh air while the others were in a hurry to get on the train and not miss their time. The porters hustled continuously for hours to earn enough to make the day worthwhile. Even the staffs couldn't catch up on breaks properly. It wouldn't be an understatement in the least to say that the Royal Station was the busiest place in the entire Estil kingdom.

Vincent joined the wave of hundreds of other passengers on exiting the train and blended into the sea of people on the waiting platform. Carrying his suitcase in one hand, he skillfully navigated his way through the crowd and made for the exit.

Having just come out, he was welcomed by the bustling streets of Kindlewich. Hundreds of pedestrians were walking by enduring the scorching sun while carriages and a few cars zoomed by the wide street. Vincent immersed himself in the moment as a strong sense of nostalgia hit him.

'I am finally back. It's been six years. This place hasn't changed much, still overflowing with life.'

Collecting himself, he headed for the corner where multiple carriages were parked. He stopped in front of the closest carriage and spoke to the coachman, "Take me to the Golden Maple hotel please."

"Certainly. How should I address you?" The coachman asked politely as he loaded the suitcase into the carriage.

"You can call me Dr. Burns." Vincent answered while cleaning his spectacle with a small square cloth.

The coachman doubted Vincent's words but didn't voice it out after looking at the gold rimmed glasses and expensive looking clothes. The young man looked too young to be a doctor and it wasn't his business if a passenger lied to him. He would continue doing his work while maintaining a professional attitude. Besides, the young man looked rich and his destination was a high end hotel.

"What brings you to Kindlewich Dr Burns? Judging by your clothes, I would say you are from Arcadia Empire." The coachman had served a fair share of passengers and could tell at a glance where they were from. The flowery pattern on the young man's brown vest was a fashion vastly popular on Arcadia Empire but not appreciated much in Estil kingdom. By making a good impression, he could be called on in the future whenever people required a carriage.

"I completed my studies in the empire. No matter how prosperous any place is, one would still miss their home. I came back because I couldn't stay away from this city."

"Welcome back to Kindlewich."

"Thank you."

"His highness really named the city well. This place does indeed set your soul on fire. It is only natural that you couldn't stay away. I cannot imagine living anyplace other than this wonderful city." Every citizen residing in the royal capital had a certain pride and the coachman was no different. He jumped on the first opportunity to sing the city's praise.

"The king is indeed wise." Vincent went with the flow and conversed with the coachman. He learnt a lot of things. Though the city looked the same, many things had changed. It would have taken him many days to learn these if he didn't have a chatty local to talk to.

The carriage stopped by a luxurious hotel and the coachman alighted and helped Vincent carry the suitcase. Though old with graying hair, the coachman carried the heavy suitcase with ease. One could tell from his comfortable posture that he was used to it.

"How much?"

"20 penny please."

Vincent took out two shillings from his wallet and handed it to the old man. "I enjoyed our conversation. It felt good to be welcomed by a true local. Consider the remaining four penny as my tip."

"I found the conversation pleasant as well. Please don't hesitate to call my company if you need my service in the future." The old man handed a business card in a practiced manner. "Please ask for Lachlan and I will be there to serve you."

Vincent received the card and gave it a cursory look. It contained the company's name and address. Putting it inside his pocket he asked, "Can you come pick me up at 10 a.m. tomorrow?"

"Of course Dr. Burns. May I ask where the destination will be?" The coachman didn't reveal his joy and asked in a professional manner.

"We will go room hunting. Don't worry, I will compensate you sufficiently." Afraid that the other party would decline thinking that much time would be wasted on such a tedious task, he promised to pay well.

"I shall see you tomorrow then Dr. Burns." The coachman bid Vincent farewell and parked his carriage in a nearby corner. The place was a great spot for people in his profession as anyone coming out of the hotel would most likely require their service.

Picking up his suitcase, Vincent entered the hotel and got a room. He took a quick bath and ordered some food along with a newspaper. Soon, freshly cooked food were delivered to his room along with a newspaper. The food tasted great especially after the long travel. He spent the next hour reading the paper.

'I should catch up on my sleep. It's going to be a long night tonight after all.'

Making up his mind, he lay on his bed. Maybe it was because of the long and tiring train ride, he had a long, peaceful sleep. It was already past sunset when he woke up. Checking his golden pocket watch, he found the time to be 6:48 p.m.

'Time to make my move.'

He changed into a fresh set of formal cloth which was rustic in comparison to his previous dress and retrieved a pistol from his suitcase. The weapon was pitch black in color and a size larger than its counterparts. Securing its custom holster to the lower end of his vest's side, he placed the weapon on the holder. He put on a long black coat on top concealing the weapon. He grabbed a combat knife hiding it in his coat and put on a top hat at the end. Having completed his preparations, he locked the room and headed out.

The air was chilly and the streets had significantly less people walking on it. But that didn't mean that the streets were deserted. The streets of Kindlewich were frequented by the inhabitants of the city until late into the night. It was after all, one of the few cities in the entire continent with a bustling night life.

Enjoying the bright lights and peaceful atmosphere, he made his way to the red light district. The place was full of bars and brothels. Beautiful women dressed in revealing clothes were walking the streets attracting customers using all kinds of methods. Stream of men were flowing into the area having just completed their work and looking for a place to enjoy the night. Vincent skillfully blended into the crowd and avoided all distractions and harassments.

Soon, he was standing in front of a deserted alleyway. A blind peddler was seated in a corner selling completely white masks. Vincent approached the blind man and spoke in a rough voice, "How much?"

"A pound for a mask." The peddler replied in a direct manner. A pound was a lot of money. A laborer could barely earn two shillings in an entire day and the man was asking for 10 days worth of earning for a single mask.

Vincent retrieved a pound note from his wallet without making a fuss and bought a mask. The man having received the note, felt it to make sure that he was handed the right amount. Confirming that he got the full payment he continued, "The code for tonight is 'The whitewash got washed away'."

Having memorized the phrase, Vincent left the blind man on the dark alley and rejoined the bustling streets. Feeling the mask inside his coat's pocket, he made his way to the slums.

The streets of the slum were narrow and filled with filth giving off disgusting smells. Starving people were sitting with their backs against the house walls. Their eyes were dim and devoid of life, almost as if they had no will to live.

Tearing his eyes away from the depressing sight he increased his pace. As he headed deeper into the impoverished zone, the number of street lamps that were lit kept on decreasing. When he reached the heart of the slum, no traces of life or light remained anywhere. Even seeing a few feet in front of you would prove troublesome, let alone navigating through the area.

'This place fits the description. Now I just need to find the right person.'

Vincent took off his glasses and put them away. Soon, his vision became as clear as day if not better. He could make out the seams between the tiles paving the road, read the horribly made shop signs and see the buzzing wings of the flies feasting on the garbage in a corner. Each and every details were extremely clear and the amount of information would leave a normal person with a headache.

Confirming that his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, he put on the cheaply made mask. He mapped his surrounding after looking around. After failing to find the correct location, he continued walking around. He came across several places conducting shady businesses but wasn't fortunate enough to find the person he was searching for. Just as he was wondering if he made a wrong turn somewhere, a man wearing a similar mask appeared in a narrow alley with a lamp in his hand.

Vincent approached the masked man and spoke in a rough voice, "The whitewash got washed away."

The figure nodded and replied, "Follow me."

The duo took dozens of turns before arriving at an inconspicuous house. The man extended his hand carrying the lamp towards Vincent indicating him to carry it. Vincent took the lamp and stood still while the man knocked on the door. Another masked person opened the door slightly to get a look at the people outside. Recognizing the man who brought Vincent over, he opened the door and invited the duo inside.

The inside of the house was well lit and the man took back his lamp and put out the fire. He scrutinized Vincent in the bright room and spoke, "Go upstairs to attend to your business."

"What about my weapons?" Vincent asked to make sure that the masked men hadn't forgotten about anything of such sorts. He didn't want any trouble and was willing to remind the two.

"You can keep them. Not like you can do any harm to our boss with it anyways." The man scoffed and replied in a contemptuous manner.

Vincent ignored the rude remark and headed upstairs. All the rooms were firmly locked except for the one furthest. Steadying his nerves, he made his way to the room. A middle aged man was sitting comfortably in a reclining chair reading a book. He was dressed like a gentleman and gave off a very scholarly vibe.

"Please come in." The man spoke before Vincent could knock. "Would you like to entrust a task to us? Or are you here to become a bounty hunter?"

"Bounty hunter."

The man put down the book and gave Vincent a cursory look. "You do know that you are required to complete a task before you can gain access to our channels right?"

"Of course."

"Very well. The howling wolves is a gang of supernaturals active in the red light district. Kill three of their grade 1 members or a single grade 2 member. You can find them in a bar that goes by their gang name. You have until sunrise to return with their fangs as proof. It's a suitable task for a grade 2 supernatural like you. Do you accept?"

Vincent nodded to show his understanding and got up to leave. The middle aged man could tell that he was a grade 2 supernatural at just a glance. A supernatural with the ability to do so was rare but also equally troublesome. He wanted to associate with the man as little as possible and left without making any small talks.