In the Shadows

In a dim, spacious room, a man was admiring a peculiar oil painting.

Its subject was strange. A man holding a longsword stood at the very center of the canvas, atop a long staircase made of countless bones. He tilted his head back, gazing at the pitch-black sky as if deep in thought.

Looking at the painting, the man stood with his hands behind his back and nodded appreciatively.

He was dressed simply, wearing only a robe, but it was anything but plain. The edges of the dark purple robe were embroidered with exquisite stitching. In fact, its material alone would have been enough to astonish anyone.

Lightweight, well-fitted, and just the right amount of comfortable.

On Nostramo, a garment like this could mean many things.

He had a long face, his features arranged upon it with elegant precision. His eyes were deep-set, and two black lines ran from his brow ridge to his lower cheekbones. His beard was perfectly groomed. All of this made him look both imposing and noble.

Mantas Skraivok. That was his name.

As for his identity—

"My Earl."

A strange, hissing voice rang out from the darkness of the room, sharp as the sound of grinding teeth. "Tremor-Tooth has sent a messenger who wishes to see you."

"See me?"

Mantas Skraivok chuckled. "What? Have they only just remembered that one of their servants was murdered under mysterious circumstances in the Underhive?"

"Tremor-Tooth's messenger didn't mention that, my Earl."

"Is that so?"

Mantas Skraivok turned and nodded toward the figure in the darkness. "Then send the Tremor-Tooth representative to the reception room."

"As you command, my Earl."

Ten minutes later, Mantas Skraivok arrived at his reception room.

The place was lavish to the point of absurdity, but that was the Skolevok Family. Their reception room was a far cry from what one might traditionally expect.

In one corner of the hall, a fearsome-looking woman dressed in black was waiting.

He approached quickly. The woman immediately stood and bowed respectfully. "It is an honor to meet you, esteemed Count Tattoo, Lord Mantas Skraivok. Tremor-Tooth sends you its most sincere greetings."

"Spare me the pleasantries, Magina."

Count Tattoo smiled faintly and beckoned her over to the long table in the center of the hall. He took the seat at its head, while Magina sat beside him.

"Tell me," Mantas Skraivok said gently. "Why did Tremor-Tooth send you?"

"We haven't come with a specific purpose in mind, esteemed Earl."

The woman, who had no lips and whose eyelids had been nailed shut, answered stiffly.

"We haven't come intending to strike a deal, my lord. We have no particular interest in laying claim to Quintus. Everyone knows it's already in the Skolevok Family's grasp."

"Oh, please don't say that. There are still four families in Quintus who haven't been driven out."

Mantas Skraivok smiled faintly. "So, when have you decided to withdraw from Quintus?"

Magina fell silent for a moment. Her eyeballs didn't shift as other people's did when they were thinking. Instead, they remained fixed and unnaturally still.

After a while, she slowly replied, "We can officially announce our withdrawal from Quintus as early as tomorrow."

"Mm. I'm listening. Go on, Magina."

"But there's something we'd like to ask of you, my lord."

Mantas Skraivok looked intrigued.

"Tremor-Tooth is willing to let the servant's death go. We won't send anyone into Quintus. In return, we hope you can give us a small discount on the hallucinogens."

"A discount?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You mean Tremor-Tooth is willing to give up all of Quintus and its reputation, all for a small discount?"

"The size of the discount is entirely up to you," Magina answered dully. "We trust your character."

Count Tattoo burst out laughing.

"Of course. Anything for you, my dear Magina."

He winked at the woman in an affectionate manner. "Thirty percent. How does that sound? And, of course, I'll throw in a little bonus, like finding the real killer of your servant."

"We're not concerned about that, my lord."

"Think nothing of it. Business is a matter of give and take. You're willing to make a concession, so I can't be too stingy. It's settled, Magina. You may leave. And forgive me for not offering you tea."

Mantas Skraivok grinned, showing his teeth. "Do you mind?"

"I don't drink tea, my lord," the woman said.

She rose, bowed once more, and left the reception room. Mantas Skraivok watched her go, his smile growing wider and wider.

"They're afraid."

Count Tattoo spoke softly.

"They're afraid that if they enter Quintus at this critical moment, I'll cut off their supply of hallucinogens. So they've decided to stop pursuing the matter of that servant's death."

"How pitiful. They may have noble blood, yet they're still lost in flesh and chemicals. What do you think, Shadow?"

From a corner of the hall untouched by the candlelight, a strange, hissing voice slowly emerged, sharp as grinding teeth.

"I agree with everything you've said, my lord."

Mantas Skraivok chuckled. "Three children and one gang, all in a single night. What terrifying efficiency."

"And we still haven't even found out who did it."

"The instigator hung the bodies of my son and my eldest daughter at our servants' quarters, let them bleed dry, and left them swaying in the wind. And we don't even know who the killer is."

His smile grew wider and wider until it reached some unseen limit. Then it vanished.

All that remained was an unsettling calm.

"This is more than I can bear," Mantas Skraivok said gloomily.

"Jando was arrogant and incompetent, but in some ways he had the tenacity of a hound. Lena was foolish and empty-headed, but she had a decent talent for military affairs. And my eldest daughter..."

He drew a deep breath, his tone suddenly turning gentle.

"My eldest daughter, Irene. She was perfect. She should have inherited the Black Mark after killing her siblings, then carried the family forward after I grew old. But she's dead, Shadow. My eldest daughter is dead."

"Please accept my condolences."

"No, I'm not grieving. I only regret what might have been," Mantas Skraivok said. "And I'm angry. But not because they're dead. It's because—"

"Because, at the very moment the Skolevok Family's sixty years of plotting were about to pay off, at the very moment we were finally on the verge of becoming the first family on Nostramo to rule an entire Hive City outright—"

Mantas Skraivok clenched his hands. His cheek twitched, but his voice remained gentle.

"Someone dared to challenge us."

"What would you like to do, my lord?"

"Investigate," Mantas Skraivok replied indifferently. "Investigate at any cost. The Great Purge is coming soon, so I'll bring it forward. Send people to make the announcement tomorrow. As soon as it's done, begin the Great Purge."

"Turn every stone if you have to. Find the killer. I'll interrogate him myself, and make him say before the nobles' council who was behind this!"

"As you command, my lord."

A shadow slipped silently through the lavish hall.

The biting wind howled as two shadows swept across the dark sky. They moved through the darkness like wraiths, then soon came to rest atop a gargoyle.

Karyl looked down, his expression calm, though a cold blue light glimmered in his eyes. Wraith watched his back, lips pressed together, and said nothing.

"Look," Karyl said suddenly, raising a hand.

Following his gesture, Wraith looked down. Between the overlapping spires was a wide plaza that had been deliberately left open. It was far cleaner than the rest of the Underhive, clearly maintained every day.

There were many gang members patrolling around the plaza, which was unusual.

"This is the place," Karyl said in a low voice. "Look, Wraith. They've already started sending people on patrol and setting up in the surrounding buildings."

At that, Wraith frowned and carefully studied the area. With his keen eyesight and ability to see in the dark, he quickly confirmed that Karyl was right.

The gangs had occupied all the buildings around the plaza, and figures moved back and forth behind the windows in groups of two or three. Wraith could make out their appearances from a great distance, and he doubted that any of the people in his line of sight were civilians.

No civilian would have tattoos or wear bizarre clothes. Only gang members used such things to set themselves apart and show which gang they belonged to.

After all, civilians were lucky just to have clothes to wear. How could they afford to be picky?

"What should we do, Karyl?" As usual, Wraith asked.

Karyl turned and glanced at him, but didn't answer right away. Instead, he brought up something else. "How did you feel about improvising last time?"

"I thought it went pretty well?"

"Answer me with certainty, Wraith."

"I thought it went very well, Karyl."

"Good. Then we'll do the same this time, Wraith."

Karyl smiled faintly. "We wait first."

"Mm. Patience is an important quality?" Wraith asked hesitantly.

"Yes, patience is an important quality."

Karyl's soft chuckle gradually faded into the cold wind. Below them, the gang members went about their work, completely unaware.

No one knew what would happen tomorrow.

Yes, no one would know.