Aegon rushed out of Scorpion Tail Kurk's stone house with Carl and several mercenaries, their footsteps beating a rapid rhythm against the damp paving stones.
The harbor's clamor washed around him, but it could not drown out the chill surging in his chest.
"You," Aegon ordered the fleetest mercenary beside him, his voice as cool as tempered steel. "Gather every man resting ashore and meet us at the entrance to Loach Lane. Hurry."
"Yes!" Without another word, the mercenary turned, squeezed into the crowd, and vanished.
Aegon said no more. He led the remaining men briskly toward Loach Lane.
Carl stayed close beside him, the muscles in her lean face taut, her hand never leaving the hilt at her waist.
Loach Lane was a notorious narrow alley deep in the harbor district.
Low wooden buildings leaned crookedly against one another on either side, shutting out the sun all year round. Unidentifiable filth flowed across the ground, and the air reeked of cheap liquor, rotting food, and worse.
It had always been an ideal place for theft, fencing stolen goods, and disposing of "problems."
When Aegon and his party reached the alley's entrance, this was the scene that greeted them-
Four or five burly gang thugs, bare-chested and covered in garish tattoos, were shoving and dragging someone deeper into the alley.
The man they were dragging was one of the mercenaries who had gone ashore to rest, a young man named Luke. Aegon remembered him. Back in the ruins, Crow's Eye had held a dagger to Luke's throat to force Aegon to take off his armor.
Aegon frowned deeply.
Luke's face was smeared with blood, one eye swollen shut and the corner of his mouth split, but he was still struggling fiercely, mumbling curses.
"Let me go! You bastards! I told you I'd pay you back! Don't touch my sister!"
"Pay us back? With what? Why not let your sister pay for you, you penniless bastard!" A thug with a vicious knife scar across his face drove a brutal fist into Luke's stomach.
Luke doubled over in pain and began coughing, but he continued to glare fiercely at the man.
"Boss!" Carl said quietly, pointing toward them.
Aegon had already taken in the situation.
He raised a hand, signaling those behind him to stop, then took two steps forward himself. His boots struck the damp paving stones with a clear, sharp sound.
"Stop."
His voice was not loud, but it carried with a strange force, instantly cutting through the noise in the alley and Luke's pained groans.
The thugs paused and turned toward him as one.
At the sight of Aegon and the grim-faced mercenaries behind him, their hands resting on their weapons, wariness crept across the thugs' faces.
The tattooed man at their head looked Aegon up and down. His striking silver hair and cold features drew a flicker of surprise, but the man's usual arrogance soon smothered it.
"Who the hell are you?" The tattooed man spat. "Mind your own business. This brat owes the Iron Jaw Gang money, and we've every right to collect. Get lost if you know what's good for you. Don't go looking for trouble."
Luke, still held fast, saw Aegon too. Hope suddenly blazed in his swollen eyes. "Your High... Boss! That's not what happened! They set me up! That wasn't the interest we agreed on! They've multiplied it several times over! And they-they want to take my sister to settle the debt! She's only thirteen!"
"Shut up!" The tattooed man struck Luke again, then turned to Aegon, his tone threatening. "You heard him. Debts have to be paid. Our boss, Bali, is the Archon's brother-in-law! Here in the harbor district of Volantis, I don't care how powerful you are-you bow your head! Take your men and crawl back where you came from. This is none of your business!"
Aegon listened in silence, his face expressionless. Only his violet eyes, in the alley's dim light, were as cold as jade at the bottom of a deep pool.
He glanced at Luke's bloodied face, at the pleading and despair in his eyes, then swept his gaze over the swaggering thugs.
"How much does he owe?" Aegon asked suddenly, his voice calm.
The tattooed man blinked, then grinned, exposing yellow teeth. "Fifty silver coins, principal and interest! What, you want to pay it for him?"
Fifty silver coins.
For an ordinary mercenary, that was indeed enough money to crush him.
Aegon did not answer the question about paying. Instead, he continued in that unnervingly calm voice. "Let him go. I'll have the money sent to your boss."
The tattooed man and the thugs behind him exchanged glances and snickered.
"Sent? Who the hell are you? You think you can take him away on nothing but your word?" The tattooed man stepped forward, his finger nearly jabbing Aegon in the chest. "I'll say it one last time. Get lost! Otherwise..."
"Otherwise what?"
Aegon's voice abruptly turned icy, cutting off the man's bluster.
He suddenly stepped forward until he was almost face-to-face with the tattooed man, his cold violet eyes locking onto him. "Let him go. Otherwise, you and every man behind you will stay in this alley today. And you'll never leave."
His calm words held undisguised killing intent.
Caught off guard by that sudden menace, the scar-faced man instinctively retreated half a step, the flesh of his face twitching.
He had enough judgment to have made himself a minor boss in the harbor district.
This silver-haired boy and the silent mercenaries behind him all carried an air of menace... something unlike ordinary sailors or street thugs.
It was the air of men who had truly spilled blood, who had clawed their way out of piles of corpses.
The atmosphere in the alley instantly tightened like a fully drawn bowstring.
Just then-
"Well, quite a lively little gathering."
A rough, oily voice with a thick local accent came from the other end of the alley.
Amid a jumble of heavy footsteps, another group poured into the already cramped passage.
At their head was a tall, corpulent middle-aged man, balding, with folds of flesh piled across his face. Greed and cruelty glittered in his small eyes.
He wore an ill-fitting silk coat embroidered with gold, hanging open to reveal his hairy chest and the pair of short-handled iron hammers tucked into his belt-the source of his nickname, Bali the Bonecrusher.
More than twenty thugs carrying assorted weapons followed Bali, instantly blocking the alley's other end.
The Iron Jaw Gang's main force had arrived.
"Boss!" Looking as though he had just been granted a pardon, the tattooed man hurried back to Bali's side and pointed at Aegon. "This brat tried to interfere over Luke. He even threatened us!"
Bali narrowed his little eyes to slits, running them over Aegon. His brow creased when he noticed Carl and the others behind him, but it soon smoothed again, and he displayed a sickeningly false smile.
"I wondered who had so little respect for me, Bali," he drawled, his voice like a blunt knife scraping a whetstone. "Turns out it's a pack of strangers. What filthy gutter did you just crawl out of? Do you even know the rules of the Volantis harbor district?"
He paused, his gaze settling on Aegon's face, his tone arrogant, as though bestowing a favor. "Boy, you've brought a fair few men yourself, so I'll do you a courtesy today."
"I'm taking this mercenary who owes me money."
"As for you, take your men and go back wherever you came from. I'll pretend you were never here. How's that?"
He spread his thick hands as though to say he was being perfectly reasonable. "But if you don't appreciate the favor..." His smile vanished in an instant, leaving only cold malice. "Then don't blame me for getting rough."
"I've spent more than ten years in this harbor. I've smashed more tough bastards' bones than you've seen people."
"Get in my way, and I'll make sure you and every man behind you... have no place left in Volantis!"
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