The Bloodnight Society

The south gate of Frost City could be said to be the busiest. Lines of merchant wagons escorted by mercenaries waited on inspection before entering the city. Teams of adventurers and seekers of fortune came from other kingdoms. Most of these travelers used Frost City as their point of information before venturing into the plains and valleys near the North Pass.

The lure of becoming a Sersen brought thousands of these visitors to this city. Yet, this city never overflowed since over half of these men would rest their adventurous bones on the stony northern landscape.

The long lines outside the gates, however, would quickly be siphoned out when they entered the city. The wide thoroughfares, large boulevards, spacious squares, and parks gobbled the crowd faster than a parched man roaming the desert. The crowds soon scattered among the numerous streets and businesses of the city.

Retribution Square was the largest and first openly paved area a visitor met on entering the city. At the center of the square, one could see a towering weatherbeaten stone statue, of a man, standing over and beheading a kneeling man with an oversized ax. Four raised stages surrounded this statue in the cardinal directions. Each of these stages contained a gallows and a stout wooden skiff from which dropped numerous nooses.

Sometimes these nooses swayed empty in the wind, sometimes they rubbed burns across a guilty neck.

"The Hangman's Tea House is actually a quaint little tea shop overlooking the east gallows. The east gallows is commonly called the second gallows. It's usually reserved for hanging or beheading thieves, murderers, and gangs caught by the city guards."

"Who the heck would want to sip tea while watching someone die?"

"Hey, you would be surprised. Around this square only has taverns, tea houses, and eateries. The locals here appreciate a good public trial and hanging."

"You do know one day we might end up there if we're not careful right?"

Singh coughed on hearing the reply before continuing. Currently, he sat on a stone bench with Doug, overlooking the first gallows.

"Anyway, the street urchin who provided this information only had two days to show those children from the orphanage around. See that beggar over there? There are five more like him who lurk around the tea shop every day. The little boy who begs in this park, says that man there has also been reading the same page of his book for over three months."

Doug nodded while biting between a loaf of bread and a piece of meat. Wrapping most of the bread and meat in the greasy paper, he left it on the bench and stood up. Singh followed him as together they strolled towards the tea house in question. A short time later, a boy less than ten, dressed in filthy rags scurried over and grabbed the remaining food.

The Hangman's Tea House had a small, well-kept hedge separating it from the road, with a low shingled roof to keep out the sun. The open courtyard at the front had small tables and chairs, offering a splendid view of the gallows. Inside the building, the owner had converted the second floor into small private rooms, all overlooking the square. The rear of the building served as the kitchen and residence of the owner and his staff.

"Greetings customers, how may we assist you today?"

A thin and capable young man walked up to them while asking.

"We'll like that table over there, the one overlooking the hedge. Two cups of your normal tea for now."

"As you wish, your order will soon arrive. I am sorry to say though that the garrison has informed us there will be no hangings today. The Flatley street murder case should finish tomorrow so you can have a treat then."

The young orderly reported before leaving.

Doug glanced at Singh who simply replied with a shrug of the shoulders. The businesses here really paid attention to their main attraction. Reaching into his sleeve, Doug pulled out the shield token and placed it on the table between them.

The servant who brought the tea turned out to be a well dressed young woman. She placed the tray on the table and on hearing they had no more request, politely left the table. Doug did notice her eyes flicker and open wide for a second on spotting the wooden item.

"Seems like we came to the right place."

"You still doubted me? Which tea house do you see on the street which has so many eyes focused on it?"

"Fine, fine, you're right but I hope Chong has arrived. I feel comfortable knowing we have a sound backup plan."

"Ah, excuse me, young masters. The owner of the tea house has decided to offer you a private booth since we have no attractions today. Please follow me."

While they chatted, an old man interrupted them. His standing seemed to be one higher than the others. Seeing the two men remain seated, he continued.

"The underground rivers of the city continue to flow unabated since ancient times. Those who hold onto the withered driftwood can never drown."

The old man looked at them in the eyes before glancing towards the token on the table. Doug's pair of eyebrows jumped on understanding the words. Clasping his hands at the servant he rose from the table with Singh following.

"Lead the way..."

The old man led them inside the tea house and into a room overlooking the square. Together they sat around the small table.

"May I?"

Doug gazed at the old man before pulling out the token from his sleeve and handing it over. A pair of frail, spotted hands reached over and reverently received the wooden shield. The old man then began speaking while running his fingers across it.

"Since ancient times, thirty-seven tokens have circulated among the elite of the underground. Only those who hold a token have the right to speak among the Bloodnight Society. Thirty-seven tokens represent the territories of Frost City divided by the first council."

"Why hand this over to us? Compared to the large gangs in the city, our boss remains a small fry."

Doug said while looking at the man who seemed to be more reminiscing than holding a conversation.

"Where is your Boss?"

"He is out of the city on business. We act as messengers for him."

The old man nodded.

"The last owner of this token died a few years ago. Since then a majority of gangs have competed in trying to conquer that worthless piece of territory. If not for the other owners being forbidden from having more than one, your location might be flowing in blood. The closest person who came to success was Guido but he ended up killed by you. I should warn you in advance that Guido was actually the cousin of..."

The old man handed over the carved shield.

"Little gangs compete for scraps like fishes in a pond while the large ones swim unhindered. Did you not think it strange that all those gangs never had a large backer? Next week the Bloodnight Society will gather at this address to welcome their newest member. If he is not back by then, have a representative. I can only answer a few questions for you..."

***

Doug and Singh walked out of the tea house over an hour later. A bell tolled from the center of the city, answered by waiting bellringers from the churches scattered across various city districts. The locals never grew tired of informing visitors about the midday bell. Everyone knew the Churches Union in the city, owned a device called a clock that measured time accurately, even on cloudy and at night.

"Noon already? Haha, Doug, what would people say if I told them I chopped the wood for the very first clock?"

"Have you seen the nobles who keep lining up every day at the Churches Union? All to catch a glimpse of the clock? Lin even said it's a big trend in the city if one can say what hour it is. You try mentioning you had a small hand in building such an important device, and people are going to laugh at you."

The scent of baking bread and various stews wafted through Retribution Square, causing pleading growls to sound from his stomach. Glancing around at the bleak platforms and swaying nooses, Doug wondered if his mind had gone mad or he had become a local. Two ragged and grimy little beggars rushed up to them while holding out tiny, dirty hands. Singh paused on the cobbled street listening to their pleas.

Such a scene occurred daily in the city, with the outcome being either to cane the miserable tykes or concede and shed a few coppers. Singh chose the latter as he reached into his sleeves and then counted a few coppers. Unfortunately, three coins fell during the exchange with one even entering the iron-wrought manhole leading to the sewers.

The nearby beggars lying on the pavements beside the benches cackled at the children's misfortune. Doug shook his head while they could only walk away. From a window inside the teahouse, an old man looked out at the incident while stroking his wispy white beard.

"I expected nothing less. Who would believe they ran an orphanage if they drove away or caned street urchins. No one would believe such caring young souls held a position in a large gang. Something about them, however, causes these old bones to become wary. Hahaha, since when have I last felt this feeling..."

Ahem.

A cough from the doorway of the room interrupted the old man's thoughts.

"What is it?"

He asked without turning around. For those whose lives dipped into the darkness, such an action was considered taboo. Nobody left their backs open to others.

"Master Arash wonders if this Behemoth gang is worthy of a seat on the council. Any midsized gang can topple them from their territory."

"Your master needn't worry. The Blind beggar has already informed me that not a single scout from those rival gangs who entered into their territory escaped unharmed. As to power, since when has the Society sought to raise an army to defeat others?"

The old man turned around while gazing into the eyes of the steward. The steward of Lord Arash acquired this position after bathing in blood from numerous adversaries. He once massacred an entire small gang by himself in one night.

Under the stare of this old man, however, his legs buckle while his steady fingers trembled. The smile on the face of the old man felt as if a mountain pressed down on him. An image of being locked onto, by a feral demon beast flashed across his mind causing him to wheeze.

The constricting pressure suddenly vanished as if it never appeared. His drenched clothes on his back told a different story.

"Jadeknife, Iron Bow, Sticky Fingers. They all control territories while standing alone. Unlike your master who has numerous gangs working for him inside and outside his territory, they work as individuals. The Society has always admired those who grasp strength and territory through intellect and personal power."

The old man sighed while continuing.

"If your master wants to test this newcomer in the council then let him. But I hope he heeds the warning imprinted on the token..."

After a few words, the steward left the teahouse. Not even Lord Arash as head of the council would dare to flaunt his position in this place. He walked out under the gaze of the old man who stood by the window with folded arms hidden under the wide sleeves.

"Retribution comes Swiftly. Greed manifests the dangerous Beast."

***

A few hours later, Chong and three others joined Singh and Doug in the cellar of the orphanage. A trapdoor below the table led to the network of sewers below.

"Little Tim showed us the signal when he pretended to scramble for the copper inside the grate by the square. You won't believe how terrible it smells down there. We also had to cross about twenty stagnated tunnels to reach that place. Twenty! Why can't we rotate this job, Doug?"

"Stop complaining. You and the others can only hold the part of desperate folks in the slums. Why else would we invite you to a meal in the Red Light District? It becomes more believable if you pitiful guys pop in to stare at something beyond your reach. Besides, don't tell me you didn't like it when you scared the piss out of the last gang by appearing like ghosts?"

"But the smell..."

"The sewers are the best place for you to run around so forget it. Let's talk about this, I think today we just entered into the big leagues..."

****