The First Clue

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the streets of Grenwick in hues of amber and shadow. Kael and Jax moved through the crowded marketplace, blending seamlessly with the bustling crowd. It had been weeks since they had become an unlikely team, and their camaraderie had proven invaluable. Jax’s streetwise instincts paired with Kael’s growing determination made them a formidable pair.

That morning, Jax had returned to their hideout with a scrap of intriguing information. He’d overheard whispers about a mercenary group called the Crimson Vultures—a notorious band of killers known for their ruthlessness. More importantly, they were rumored to be linked to the massacre of Kael’s family.

Kael clung to this thread of hope, his mind racing with possibilities. If they could confirm the Crimson Vultures’ involvement, it would be the first real step toward uncovering the truth about that fateful night.

“You sure about this?” Kael asked as they weaved through the market.

“As sure as I can be,” Jax replied, his eyes scanning the crowd. “The guy I heard it from isn’t the type to make things up. Said the Vultures operate out of a tavern near the docks—The Rusty Anchor. They don’t exactly hide their presence. But getting close to them? That’s another story.”

Kael nodded, his jaw tightening. “We’ll figure it out. We have to.”

As they approached the docks, the air grew thick with the salty tang of the sea and the acrid smell of fish. The Rusty Anchor stood at the edge of the waterfront, its weathered sign swaying gently in the breeze. The building was as unwelcoming as its patrons—a dilapidated structure with grime-covered windows and faint sounds of raucous laughter spilling out onto the cobblestone streets.

“This is it,” Jax murmured.

Kael hesitated. The thought of stepping into a den of killers set his nerves on edge, but he swallowed his fear. They needed information, and this was the only lead they had.

Inside, the tavern was dimly lit and packed with unsavory characters. Mercenaries, smugglers, and thieves huddled at tables, their conversations punctuated by the clinking of tankards. Kael and Jax slipped into a shadowed corner, doing their best to remain inconspicuous.

“Now what?” Kael whispered.

“Now we listen,” Jax replied, his voice barely audible.

For what felt like hours, they lingered in the corner, eavesdropping on snippets of conversation. Most of it was idle chatter—arguments over gambling debts, boasts of recent exploits—but eventually, a name caught Kael’s attention.

“The captain’s been on edge since that contract with the Baron,” a gruff voice said.

Kael’s breath hitched. He leaned closer, straining to hear.

“Can’t blame him,” another voice replied. “That job was messy. Too many loose ends. Thought we got rid of them all, but rumors are flying about some kid who survived.”

Kael’s blood ran cold. They were talking about him.

“Bah, probably just stories,” the first man said dismissively. “But if the captain hears about it, he’ll have us hunting the brat down. Last thing we need is someone sniffing around.”

Kael exchanged a tense glance with Jax. This was it—proof that the Crimson Vultures were involved. But who was this “Baron” they mentioned?

“We need to get out of here,” Jax muttered. “Now.”

Kael nodded, but as they rose to leave, their luck ran out. A hulking man near the bar turned his head, his gaze locking onto them.

“Hey!” he barked, his voice cutting through the din. “Who are you two? Never seen you around before.”

The room went silent, all eyes turning to Kael and Jax.

“Time to go,” Jax whispered urgently.

Kael didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted for the door, shoving past patrons and overturning chairs. Shouts erupted behind them as mercenaries gave chase.

Out on the streets, Kael and Jax sprinted through the maze-like alleys, their hearts pounding. They could hear their pursuers closing in, the heavy thud of boots echoing off the walls.

“This way!” Jax shouted, leading Kael down a narrow passage that opened onto the waterfront.

Without hesitation, they leaped into the murky water below, the cold shock stealing Kael’s breath. They swam toward the shadows of a nearby pier, clinging to the wooden beams as they caught their breath. Above them, the mercenaries searched the docks, their curses fading as they moved further away.

When the coast was clear, Kael and Jax hauled themselves out of the water, soaked and shivering but alive.

“That was too close,” Jax said, his voice shaking with adrenaline.

Kael didn’t respond. His mind was consumed by the words he had overheard—the Crimson Vultures, the Baron, the loose ends. He clenched his fists, a renewed sense of determination coursing through him.

“This isn’t over,” he said quietly. “We’ve got our first clue. Now we find out who this Baron is and make them pay.”

Jax nodded, a grim smile on his lips. “I’m with you, Kael. Whatever it takes.”

As they disappeared into the night, Kael felt the fire within him burn brighter. The hunt for justice had truly begun.

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