Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 53: The Vipers [2]

The automated train announcement crackled through rusted speakers as Kyle stepped onto the weathered platform.

"Now arriving: Maplewood Station."

A floating security robot whirred toward him, its single blue lens scanning his ticket before emitting a dull chime.

"Welcome to Maplewood," the mana robot intoned in its flat mechanical voice before drifting away to harass another passenger.

Kyle adjusted the hood of his travel-worn cloak, feeling the warmth of the disguise ring against his finger.

The magical artifact subtly reshaped his features, adding years to his face, dulling his bright mismatched eyes to a tired green, streaking his bluish-black hair with black.

He hunched his shoulders slightly, adopting the weary slouch of a mercenary who had spent too many nights sleeping in roadside ditches.

The difference between Valtheris and Maplewood hit him like a physical blow.

Where the capital gleamed with polished marble and humming mana-lights, Maplewood’s streets were paved with cracked cobblestones that reeked of piss and industrial runoff.

Neon signs flickered erratically above boarded-up storefronts, their glow reflecting in oily puddles. A group of factory workers trudged past, their faces smudged with soot and exhaustion.

"Keep moving" Kyle muttered to himself, fingers brushing the hilt of his new tachi - a plain but serviceable blade he had purchased for his new identity.

The academy-issued weapon stayed safely hidden in his spatial ring where it couldn’t betray him.

Following directions gleaned from a chatty street vendor in exchange for few Crystas(money), Kyle spotted his destination - the Black Lotus Tavern.

The establishment leaned precariously between a pawn shop and what might have been a brothel, its sign featuring a neon lotus that buzzed and sputtered like a dying insect.

Kyle took a steadying breath, tasting cheap tobacco and stale beer on the air, then pushed through the scarred wooden door.

The tavern’s interior was exactly what he had expected shadowy, smoke-filled, and instantly hostile to outsiders.

Conversations died mid-sentence as two dozen hardened faces turned toward the newcomer. Kyle ignored the weight of their stares and made straight for the bar, his boots sticking slightly to the alcohol-soaked floorboards.

The bartender - a mountain of a man with a knife scar bisecting his left eyebrow, he didn’t look up from polishing a glass. "We are full."

Kyle dropped seven Crystas on the stained counter. "Didn’t come for a room. Just a drink."

The man’s eyes flicked to the money, then to the sword at Kyle’s hip. "Ale’s seven Crystas. dwarven whiskey’s fifteen."

"Whiskey then." Kyle added two more crystas. "Keep the change."

The bartender grunted, producing a chipped glass and pouring a finger of amber liquid that smelled more like paint thinner than proper liquor.

As Kyle raised the glass, he noted two men watching him from a corner booth.

One with a badly set broken nose, the other a shaven-headed brute with fresh stitches across his cheekbone. Both wore the coiled serpent insignia on there clothes.

’Perfect targets.’

Kyle downed the whiskey in one burning gulp, then carried his glass toward their table. "Mind if I sit?"

Broken Nose looked him up and down with open disdain. "Yeah, we mind. That booth’s taken."

"By who?" Kyle asked mildly. "Your imaginary friends?"

Shaved Head’s meaty fist slammed onto the table, making the empty bottles rattle. "Listen here, you little shit-"

"Easy, Jory," Broken Nose said, though his smirk suggested he enjoyed his companion’s temper.

"You got a death wish or something? This ain’t no tourist tavern."

Kyle slid into the booth anyway, signaling the barmaid for another round. "My name is Dain. And I didn’t come for the ambiance."

The two thugs exchanged glances as three fresh whiskeys arrived. Jory apparently didn’t touch his, but Broken Nose took an experimental sip.

"What brings a fancy sword like you to our shithole, Dain?" Broken Nose asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Work" Kyle said simply. "Heard Garrick pays well for skilled blades."

Jory barked a laugh. "Oh this is rich. Another washed-up merc thinking he can waltz in and-"

"Shut up, Jory." Broken Nose studied Kyle with new interest. "Garrick’s particular about who he hires. What makes you special?"

Kyle shrugged. "I’m breathing. That puts me ahead of half the idiots you probably employ."

Jory half-rose from his seat. "You little-"

"Sit down before you pop your stitches," Kyle said without looking at him.

He looked at broken nose and said, "Take me to Risha."

That got a reaction.

Both men stiffened.

Broken nose’s fingers twitched toward the knife at his belt. "How do you know that name?"

"Overheard some guys at the train station" Kyle lied smoothly. "Said she’s Garrick’s right hand. The one who actually runs things while he plays crime lord."

Jory looked ready to commit murder, but broken nose surprised Kyle by chuckling. "Not wrong. But if you think insulting the boss is gonna get you hired..."

"Just stating facts." Kyle finished his drink.

"Look, either take me to Risha or don’t. But if Garrick finds out you turned away someone who could have been useful..." He let the implication hang.

Jory cracked his knuckles. "I say we test him first."

Broken Nose considered, then nodded. "Arm wrestle. You beat Jory here, we will introduce you. You lose..." He patted the pistol under his jacket.

Kyle rolled up his sleeves, revealing the lattice of scars from years of combat training. "Standard rules? No magic, no artifacts?"

Jory grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "Oh, we allow enhancements. Just no outside tools." He flexed arms thicker than Kyle’s thighs.

"Changed your mind yet, pretty boy?"

Kyle placed his elbow on the sticky table. "Let’s get this over with. I have got a job interview to attend."

Laughter erupted from nearby tables as patrons gathered to watch. Someone started taking bets, the odds were overwhelmingly against Kyle.

Their hands clasped.

Jory’s grip was like being caught in a vice, his calloused fingers grinding Kyle’s knuckles together. The thug’s smirk widened as he began forcing Kyle’s arm down with terrifying ease.

"Looks like we will be scraping you off the pavement tonight," Jory taunted.

Kyle let his arm tremble convincingly, allowing his hand to be pressed halfway to the table.

Then he met Jory’s eyes. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing."

A tiny spark of lightning mana surged through Kyle’s muscles, not enough to be visible, just sufficient to augment his strength at the critical moment.

His arm snapped upright like a sprung trap, slamming Jory’s fist into the table with a crack that sounded suspiciously like breaking bones.

The tavern fell silent.

Jory stared at his hand in disbelief, his face cycling through shock, pain, and rage. Broken nose looked between them, then burst out laughing.

"Well I will be damned" he said, clapping Kyle on the shoulder.

"Guess you are worth introducing after all." Standing, he jerked his head toward a back hallway. "Come on. But fair warning, Risha eats pretty boys like you for breakfast."

Kyle stood, leaving his cloak on the booth. "Good thing I’m not pretty" he said, following the two thugs through the crowd of murmuring patrons.

As they approached a reinforced door guarded by a mountain of a man with an eye patch, Kyle allowed himself a small, private smile.

’Phase one was complete.’

***