Jaxton strutted through the park. No policemen patrolled at this hour, as they usually secured the streets. They didn’t bother policing the parks since, at night, the few homeless in the city would take their rest. Green from the atmosphere blended with the green of the grass and trees in the park, but on the benches, Jaxton spotted some homeless sleeping as dark-brown blurs.

Steepcreek didn’t care that they slept in the park, so long as they cleaned up before daylight.

It was dark outside; the amber of his cigarette guided him forward in a slight, pitiful glow. The street lamps turned off for the night, with only the dirt path in front of him distinct in color from the environment.

Today, he wore a brown jacket as nights were growing colder and more shrill. If it weren’t for the smoke of his cigarette, his breath would mimic the same fog. His hands, however, were bare, ungloved, and exposed to the blistering air.

Autumn was halfway over with, and the city would lose its most vital source of income in the Winter. The large lake and the two canals that allowed trade by sea. Steepcreek was built a little south of center Soucrest, a coastal city without the coast. Soucrest constructed the large canals to enable ships to enter and leave the lake the City built around. But, during the coldest days of Winter, the lake froze over, and trade by sea became impossible.

The city during the day was quite busy, hurrying supplies on and off the ships before the ports closed at night. Fortunately for Steepcreek, they were close to the Southern Lateral and Middle Long Roads, making trade by land more than doable.

Jaxton’s cigarette withered away. He dropped it to the floor, squashing it, before pinching the remnants he could so he could discard it in a nearby trash can.

He stepped off the path and walked on the fields of grass. The trees were further down, leaving an open view of the group of shadowed figures ahead. Behind them, a bathroom with orange tape circling the circumference, dissuading anyone from entering inside. The doors locked regardless, but the tape on the building was an exciting sight, a plastic-like texture that caught and reflected the light it could from the night sky. It bled a vibrancy of orange and silver letters, highlighting itself even in the darkness.

As Jaxton neared, their eyes started sticking out of their figures. Soon, Jaxton was close enough to see the figures’ features. Primarily Hendricks’ beard and Dara with the bun above her ear. But there were three others, Jaren not included. They carried swords around their waists but kept them sheathed for the moment.

“Jax?” Hendricks opened his arms, pleased. He nodded to one of the guards, which approached Jaxton.

“Nice to see you again,” Jaxton said. “The moonlight does your eyes well.”

“As it does yours,” Hendricks said. The guard went behind Jaxton and lifted his arms up to a t. “Don’t mind him; he’s a little grabby, but it’s for security’s sake.”

Jaxton nodded. He was alone, at least for now. But he didn’t feel as nervous as he had the night in the bar. Tonight, he walked up to Hendricks with confidence, sure eyes, and a determination to get the job done. Complete the transaction, indict him of the crimes of distributing Gem Candy, then arrest him. It sounded simple, but things could go bloody with three guards around him.

“What’s this,” the guard said, patting around Jaxton’s hip. He pulled Jaxton’s gun out of his holster.

“You brought a gun?” Hendricks asked with a frown. Dara looked concerned, holding Hendricks by the arm. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“What do you mean?” Jaxton asked. He genuinely didn’t see the issue in carrying a gun to one of these meetings. “I bring this gun everywhere for self-defense. I even brought it to the bar; you just didn’t see it because you were too busy playing Charge with Jaren to notice me sit down.”

“Do you… have a permit?” Hendricks asked.

“No,” Jaxton lied. He did have one, concealed in the wallet in his back pocket. Most gun owners needed permits to hunt. But Jax, to them, didn’t need to be law-abiding. “I traded for it a few years back. If it unsettles you, I am willing to keep it on the ground by my feet.”

“I think we should hold onto it,” Hendricks said, waving a few fingers his way.

Jaxton let them take it. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if this transaction taking place had been more real. Jaxton was powerless against three swordsmen men anyway. With a gun, he could kill one but would fall to the other two.

“We’ll give it back when the deal ends,” Hendricks said, taking it from his guard and putting it on the floor. He had a bag strapped around his back, which he flung over in front of him. Jaxton first feared that he would put the gun in there, but he simply held his hand out, dangling the bag by the strap.

“Can you promise?” Jaxton asked.

“That we will return your gun? Of course I can. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends? Jaxton thought. After one encounter? No. I like you despite who you are, but no.

“Fair enough,” Jaxton said, “friend.”

Hendricks smiled brightly. His teeth, despite the night's lighting, shone pristine white. He pulled at a zipper on the bag and opened the bag to an explosion of pink light. The Soulgems melted down and cooked to a hard, crystal candy glowed brightly.

“I hope you brought enough gold,” Hendricks said. “This is the deal of a lifetime.”

***

The door to their shed opened up to the sound of water snapping beneath them. The room was dark apart from a few candles that lit the room dimly enough for them to see but not for others to peek inside. During this hour, nobody could know Corolla was in here.

Seeing the light could concern the patrolling guards, as lights along the lake were supposed to be powered off, as all of the surrounding energy needed to be reserved for the lighthouse.

Leon closed the door behind him, coming forward a few feet to sit down on a stool opposite Corolla. Between them, four candles on the corners of the coffee table. The thing about flames, Corolla realized, their light painted the night the same color as a bottle of whiskey.

Don stirred by Corolla, waking up as he heard Leon enter. Rest was rare to find for the both of them working in the city.

But Corolla… he couldn’t sleep lately. Work was growing stressful, and he grew more and more concerned by his initial goal of addicting Soucrest as a whole. Winter was half a season away, yet their progress in Steepcreek was coming along slower than he first estimated.

Corolla reached over his bottle of whiskey, pouring Leon a drink.

“No thanks,” Leon said, halfway through Corolla pouring him a shot. “I don’t drink, remember?”

I do, Corolla thought. He filled the glass before taking it and downing it himself. Good stuff.

“You needed me for a special task, am I right?”

“I hate using you,” Corolla said flatly. He poured himself another drink.

Leon smiled, his cold face illuminated by the flames burning through the candles. He looked diabolical. Corolla wished he could see his own face as he saw Leon’s, but even if he could, his mask would get in the way. Alone and at night, Corolla had little reason to wear it. Everyone in this room knew his face and identity, but he chose to keep it on anyway.

He just liked feeling its grasp.

“But I’m growing too miserable to let your talents go to waste,” Corolla eventually said. He drank his whiskey, prepared himself to pour himself another but stopped himself. Oddly, he didn’t need it right now. “You don’t agree with me on much, is that right?”

Leon nodded. Good on him. One of few times that he told the truth, a rare occasion where he didn’t bow down to Corolla's feet then whispered behind his back.

“But we both serve something greater than us. The business at hand,” Corolla said. “I believe what I’m doing is effective, and results are showing—not as fast as I had initially hoped—but they are showing nonetheless. Can you agree with me on that point? That targeting the cities is at least feasible?”

“You’ve proved me wrong already, sir,” Leon said. “Our business is back on track, and we have enough product to get us through to the next year. But I worry about growing too fast. We ran out once already in the Summer, but if you push hard enough in Soucrest, we will run short again before the end of this year.”

“You have a good mind for this,” Corolla said. “I should listen to you more often. What you say is right; it’s implausible to influence all of Soucrest. We could do it, but at a greater risk to the syndicate as a whole.”

Leon grinned. “You’ve grown up so much. Alphonse would be proud of you.”

Corolla looked Leon in the eyes, face twitching underneath his mask. His father, proud? Corolla doubted that. His father’s lessons brought him up to be the man he had wanted to be, but he only achieved that shortly after he died. His father had nothing but shame to show Corolla when he was alive. It was almost like… Corolla didn’t want the man’s pride to begin with.

Leon lowered his grin to a line, perhaps seeing Corolla’s discomfort in his eyes. They could reek of dreadfulness at times, but his eyes were mostly just dry, squeezed of every last possible tear growing up.

“You’re not giving up on Soucrest yet, I presume,” Leon said. “I personally think it’s an investment too risky to pursue right now, especially with the Soulgem shortages. I think it’s better to pack up and secure what we already have. But I presume you didn’t call upon me for that, have you?”

“I wanted to compromise,” Corolla said. “For as risky as investing in Soucrest is, it is very lucrative. An untapped market, ripe for the taking. With that money, we could literally purchase the Soulgems we use and still make a profit. So, we break into the market. A little less than what I first intended, but we could go to one more city.”

“One more city,” Leon said, scratching his chin. “So, including Steepcreek, we influence only two cities? That will be the limit of our business here?”

Corolla nodded. He lifted a candle, then stood up from the cheap sofa he sat on. He urged Leon to do the same, and with the flames in their grasps, they moved to the corner of the room. The candlelight revealed five crates. But first, Corolla turned to the curtains, pulling them to cover the window in the back. The room shrouded, Corolla was ready.

He lifted the top of a crate with his free hand, revealing Gem Candy on the inside. It filled the container like whiskey filled a new bottle, hardly any space wasted. In front of them was a pile of hardened souls that could turn into solid gold if they could establish the market. These four crates each held a fortune any mere man could only dream of having.

“Four crates,” Leon said. “You’ve brought a lot to Soucrest.”

“We’ve already used up a single of these crates in Steepcreek,” Corolla said. “To very profitable success, at least what we’ve sold. The people are already itching and willing to spend a lot to get their hands on our product. They aren’t buying as fast as I would like, but it seems like those who are interested can afford to spend more than our typical consumers do in any other kingdom.

“One crate in Steepcreek, at initial pricing, gained us as much as a crate and a half of what we would normally sell for in Lyce, our next most profitable per-capsule source of income. It seems the cities are more profitable to start in, considering they have more money to spend and more money for us to take.”

“You were right,” Leon said. “I doubted you at first. But… this is incredible, Corolla, you are doing wonderful work.”

Corolla nodded. It was a different tone of voice he heard from Leon. It was the first time in a while that Corolla listened to any such praise come out of the man’s mouth. He had always seemed to be annoyed by how Corolla conducted business, despite everything usually turning out well at the end. Now, Leon saw the same potential Corolla did. If they worked together, they could be very productive.

“And what is my part? I’m on board, Corolla. What’s next?”

“We split what we currently have. We are on our second crate, so we can form a caravan and take three to the city I have in mind. It’s less populated than Steepcreek, but their general populace is much richer, so you could perhaps a crate’s worth would sell at twice as much as we usually do. Plus, if things couldn’t play out nicer than they already have, Soucrest just passed a bill that increased the tax rate of every other city than the one I’m sending you to, giving their people more money to work with.”

“That sounds odd,” Leon said. “What city did they exempt from paying extra taxes? What city are you sending me to?”

Corolla slammed the crate shut; the pink light vanished with it. The Dryhood steel of his mask enhanced the candle's firelight in his hand, sparkling the room its orange, shiny tint.

“I’m sending you, and however many men you need, east to Falcon Hill.”

***

“How much gold did you bring?” Hendricks asked.

Jaxton’s eyes fixed on the bag. He’d never seen something so attractive while also knowing the risks that came with it. The life of another human, recycled through the consumer’s mind. He learned it was dangerous, poisonous not to the body but the mind. It didn’t necessarily rot the brain, but it pulled it closer to insanity.

How does it feel, Jaxton wondered. He’d never tried it, nor would he ever, but he did wonder.

“Jax?” Hendricks asked.

Jaxton snapped back into it. His mind had drifted away for a moment. “You said two was enough,” he said. “But I brought twelve.”

“Great,” Hendricks said. “Unfortunately, my boss has pushed our prices up a little bit. It’s three gold coins a capsule now, so you can get four. But, I suppose I usually offer a free sample, and since I’m no longer permitted to do so, I’ll spare you a coin.”

Eleven gold coins for four capsules? Gem Candy is the caviar of drugs.

Jaxton was skeptical of the deal. His eyebrows pulled down as he considered it. Damn him, actually thinking he was spending his money. “I suppose you can’t go any lower than that? Can you not spare another coin at the least?”

“I’m afraid not,” Hendricks said. “My boss is pretty tight as it is, and the coin I’m sparing you is coming straight from my own pocket.”

That was strange. Why did he go so far for his customers? A gold coin wasn’t anything to glance over, especially for them, who grew up desperate for the currency.

Jaxton pulled a pouch of coins from his pocket. “Very well,” he said, tossing the bag over.

Dara intercepted the pouch, untying the knot to open the bag up. The coins shimmered in the night, making them possible to count in her hands. She flipped a coin back to Jaxton, who slipped it in his back pocket by his wallet. Dara returned the gold to the pouch before squeezing them into Hendrick’s right boot.

Hendricks dug into his bag with a single hand, tucking four of the capsules in his left hand. He dropped the bag, crouched down, and picked Jaxton’s gun off the grass. He stood and crossed the distance between them, leaving behind Dara and the three guards. He first handed over the Candy, which Jaxton tucked into his jacket.

Jaxton looked at the gun in Hendricks' hand. He looked up from his arm to see Hendrick’s smile; his eyes closed as if Jaxton’s own gun was a gift. Jaxton hovered his hand over the pistol, hesitant but ultimately accepting his gun back.

Then the doors of the women’s restroom busted open, the tape snapped, and a group of Colors hurried out, and drawn swords aimed. Orders shouted, but Jaxton could barely make them out. He saw a happy smile turn into betrayed, parted lips. Hendricks’ eyes widened, and the only word that came out of his mouth was, “Dara…”

Jaxton aimed his gun, his barrel to Hendrick’s chest. The dealer hadn’t reacted to it, knowing it was over as it began. The swords clashed behind him, but he stayed frozen. The Colors wouldn’t risk killing them, even the guards who attempted to fight back. Their weapons flew from their grip, as the guards were simply no match for a Color's strength.

Dara wailed on the floor. Aeryn Spring subdued her, holding her lower back tight to the floor with his knee. Gordon and Carter stood together, the former already smoking a lit cigarette while his men cuffed the guards on the floor.

He felt like a traitor, aiming a gun against somebody he liked. But that didn’t matter. For as long as Gordon sought after Corolla, Jaxton would aim his gun at anybody for him to achieve that goal, even somebody Jaxton could see being his friend under different circumstances. Jaxton said the words he came here to say with stress in his throat.

“You’re under arrest.”