9 Raging Against the Dying of the Ligh (1/2)

Oskar Stenzel was a man of no virtue. In his youth, many dubbed him as an outstanding manager whose skills would bring his family to new heights...as far as commoners were concerned, of course. He found himself a gentle wife, pupped her with two lovely children, and replaced his father as the head manager of a metallurgic industry following his demise.

Alas, he contracted two diseases whose combination ruined all men under the vast blue sky: alcoholism and compulsive gambling. In less than three months, he lost all family assets, accrued a debt of 50 qraftas, and drove his family into the slums to escape organ removal.

Soon, he went from a loving father and stately gentlemen to an abusive freak soothing his sorrow in the beating of his wife.

Like everywhere else in the world, currency in Orloth was split into two: coins and banknotes. Bronze, silver and gold coins on the one hand, and qrafta on the other hand. But because one qrafta was worth one gold coin, it wasn't that accessible to commoners.

At first, Oskar considered coining himself out of his debts, tricking his creditors with fake coins. Alas, to say nothing of the metal supplies being monopolized by the aristocracy, even if he had the gold at hand, all state-produced coins and banknotes possessed an invisible, magical code engraved within. A simple check at any reputable institution would expose the fake. Using the slums to evade pursuit, Oskar managed to stay hidden for more than a decade, surviving on his wife's work and the coin earned by his son.

A pity that it wasn't enough. He needed a quick way back to wealth, and like all the unscrupulous, desperate iniquitous, could only rely on one thing: Organ Trading.

His relatives', of course. Lukas' presence prevented him from acting on the thought. But after three days of the brat's absence, Oskar received an irresistible offer from a mysterious slaver.

He sold his daughter, Tamara, to the slaver for 500 silver coins, and smashed his wailing wife's head open with a brick, ready to sell her organs to his other contact. Typically, only the nobility traded in gold coins or qrafta. Commoners settled for bronze and silver.

One gold coin was worth 100 silver coins, and one silver coin, 100 bronze coins. Five silver coins were enough to feed an average artisan family for a year. Oskar truly couldn't comprehend why his daughter was worth that much. Not that it mattered.

But as he counted his silver coins, stroking his unkempt beard with greed-glazed eyes, Oskar didn't expect a knocking sound to come from his door, stopping him mid count. His eyes contorted into a frown.

”It's 3 a.m. I don't have friends. No one knocks on a stranger's door at 3 a.m. without ill intent. Can't be the brat, slum houses don't have locks, and even if they did, he would have the key. Why knock?” Oskar reasoned. His hazel eyes shifted toward his wife's cold corpse that still lay right beside the wooden table.

Undoubtedly, trouble lay beyond that door. First, he pocketed his coin, moved toward the adjacent kitchen space, pulled out a scraped kitchen knife from a drawer, grabbed his brick in his left hand, and moved toward the door as silently as he could. For commoners, Ostria was a shithole run by a despotic viscount, the slums even worse.

Four gangs ran the area, one less scrupulous than the other. Oskar firmly believed that this was one of those ”invitations to organ donation” that emptied houses overnight. He didn't plan to slay the invaders. As long as he could use surprise to open a road to escape, that was enough.

Back against the wall, Oskar made no move, awaiting the intruder's entrance. In loud wincing sounds, the door opened, revealing a cloaked figure that directly walked in. Without hesitation, Oskar struck!

A decade in this hellhole had taught him a lot on survival, the kitchen knife he swung at the invader's neck, while the brick he kept ready for a follow-up!

The knife met thin air, Oskar tripped, but before he could land on the ground, two white pairs of hands grabbed his shoulders, stabilizing him mid-air. Oskar's eyes went wide with fright.

”T...templar?” He instantly realized. Templars aside, who could move at such speed? When did he collide with such an existence?

”Dad, after three days of absence, I didn't expect the first thing you'd do would be to aim at my neck. How sorrowful.” Kilian stated in a deadpan tone. Hearing this, Oskar regained his wits. He'd long expected that resourceful son of his to secretly be a templar trained by some secret cult. Therefore, hearing Lukas' voice, he inwardly quieted down.

With a spin, Oskar turned to face Kilian, and pulled off his hood, revealing a face that, in the dimly lit room, he didn't find that troubling.