Chapter 197 - White Gold

Two weeks later…

The truce between the Duke and Versia was a welcome respite. With the fighting ending, soldiers from the frontlines were pouring back into the region, returning home in the hopes of rest and finding peace.

Yet instead, many soldiers found themselves destitute – with no economic prospect in the war-torn Raktor. Thousands fled to the South and East in the search of a better life, but those with families or relationships tying them down to the area, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and bear the hardships.

Riker was one such person. His life had been a terrible mess since he ran into Kyle. Not wishing to go anywhere close to where Kyle could possibly be, he decided to return home to the Cordian Plains, to his family that he once spurned in the hopes of being a bigshot in the city.

Yet the fantasy was not to be – he was no longer the bright-eyed cocky boy from before, sitting atop his favourite hill and gazing at the glitz and glamour of Raktor. Instead, he had become yet another cog in the machine, slumped over at the corner of a busy street in his hometown Surrat, wearing a ruined tunic stained with the grease from days before, holding a ragged hat in his hand.

Once a squad leader in the Red Lions, now a beggar for the Violet Demons. Does this count as moving up the ladder? Riker scoffed at the joke. He had once glorified the major gangs, but now he knew just how oppressing its hierarchy was.

His current condition saddened him even more, especially when he heard about Alvin Teras becoming the leader of the Seven Snakes – the new major gang in the South Sector. Riker could barely hold back his disbelief when he heard the Ardent Cretins had fallen to a mere five districts. What is the world even coming to?

It was for this reason that he did not dare return to the South Sector to try and reclaim his old stomping grounds. The Seven Snakes would be swarming all over, and he would be captured in an instant. But even at night, he tossed and turned on his pitful haystack in the middle of an abandoned house, thinking whether life would have been better if the Seven Snakes had captured him.

Like fucking hell I’ll let myself get experimented on again! Riker could swear he never felt the same after that harrowing experience, his addiction symptoms requiring nearly two weeks to wear off completely. Since then, he had vowed off smoking and drinking, but it wasn’t like he had the chance to do it often in the military – he wish he had.

Every time he tried to rest, all he could think of was the harrowing days in the mud trenches or in the streets of Ocra, wary of every corner. He found himself thinking of battle incessantly, his hands itching. Is this the rest of my life?

Right now, he was very much enticed by the smell of alcohol and laughter filling the street that he was begging in, wishing he could drown his sorrows and war trauma away. If I even had the money. Can’t even borrow from anyone.

He also had no one to rely on – his family had long left the town for greener pastures in Kregol, part of the first refugee wave fleeing Raktor’s instability. Now he was all alone, though he did not begrudge his family for leaving. I would have left too. And it’s not like we were on good terms either.

Riker continued to beg, sometimes loitering in the street while travellers, traders and locals instinctively tried to avoid him. Those of good heart that donated to him, he eyed them for an opening, taking every chance he could to pickpocket anyone stupid enough to get close.

Just as he laid eyes on his next target and was about to begin his usual approach, a weird scene caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Instead of continuing his approach, he shambled over towards a noodle stall, where two men were casually talking over bowls of soup and meat.

“Got a new sample, straight from the tips. Improved.” One of the men muttered absentmindedly before slowly slurping the soup bowl, savouring the taste.

“How much?” The other asked.

“Two thousand rakels a pouch.”

The other man was clearly taken aback, nearly spluttering out his meal. “That’s a ripoff!”

“Keep your voice down – you want the Violet Demons to get in on this?”

“Right… still, it used to be half the price!” The other whispered angrily, his eyes darted around for any eavesdropper. Riker quickly ducked behind a pot, staying out of sight while he kept his ears wide open.

“This is a new mix – two in one. Like a rollercoaster, guaranteed or your money back.” The first man pried open a small pouch, revealing a brownish granular substance within, mixed with an unknown white powder.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t take too long: prices fluctuate every day.”

Riker quickly moved away, acting like the beggar he always had been since he return, shambling awkwardly away. He locked eyes with the first man briefly, memorizing his face before leaving.

“Who’s that?” A young voice suddenly spoke behind him, causing Riker to immediately jump in fright and throw a tight elbow at whoever was behind him. Enemy attack!

Just before his elbow hit the person behind, he quickly stopped himself, his heart pumping wildly. “Evan? Don’t sneak up on me like that! What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Sorry, sorry!” The young man apologized, also shocked at the speed with which Riker reacted, the killing intent palpable. “You’ve changed, man. You used to be cool, but now…”

Riker sighed, exhaling a long breath before rubbing Evan’s head slightly. “Kid, we all change eventually. For better or for worse.”

“I’m not a kid, bitch. I’m already eighteen. And no way in hell I’m going to end up as ugly as you – you look like you’re about to croak.”

“You…! Never mind. You know who that guy was?” Riker motioned with his chin at the first man who was now leaving the food stall.

“Nope. But I’ve seen him around. He’s always hanging out at the trading post near evening time.”

“Right. If you help me out here, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Evan glanced at Riker, examining his ruined tunic and ragged hair. “Uhhh I don’t think you got anything I want…”

“How about this?” Riker pulled out a gold ring he had snatched from a passerby before, causing Evan’s eyes to lit up brightly.

“By Yual, this could go for two thousand rakels!”

“Exactly.” Riker quickly pulled back the gold ring before Evan could touch it. “But you have to help me out here.”

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Help me track him, for a while. Observe his patterns for three days then report back to me.”

“Just like old times huh?”

Riker smiled for the first time in a long while, reminiscing of the days past when he and his makeshift gang of young boys in Surrat would terrorize the town. He used to be king, but now he was a mere beggar, fallen from a ladder he tried to climb. He nodded in response. “Just like old times.”

Evan grinned, leaving Riker alone as Riker shambled back to his original resting spot, sighing as he joined two other beggars there.

“Long day?” Another beggar in the Violet Demons remarked.

“How long will I stay like this?” Riker lamented in a low voice. “How long will we stay like this?”

The beggar did not reply, though it was clear from his expression that he too was agonizing over the answer. “I don’t know, but if you ever find a way out, I’m in.”

Riker didn’t really trust the other beggars – not all of them were locals of Surrat. Some were refugees from other towns or soldiers who were spurned from their hometowns. Yet now, at the bottom rung of the ladder, they felt a sense of camaraderie through shared suffering. I fought hard for Raktor, yet I returned to be shunned…. I should sleep.

He closed his eyes as he slouched against the rough brick walls, resting in the shade afforded by an awning from an apartment above. He could still hear his mother’s snoring and his father’s usual berating in his ears as clear as day, like they had never left….

Riker suddenly jerked, his eyes wide open as he realised both the snoring and the scolding were real sounds. He knew the snoring was coming from the old lady sleeping next to him on a frayed mat, but he could not immediately see the source of the scolding. Yet, for some reason, the source was getting closer to him.

“Get off me, you bitch! You just want this for yourself!” A man’s voice rumbled through the walls that Riker leaned on, permeating his body with thumping vibrations that marked the man’s footsteps. A tight slap could be heard as well, followed by the distinctive thud of a body.

“Dad, please! You have to stop using that stuff! We’re doing this for your own good!” A kid’s voice wailed, but to no avail, as the man bellowed even harder, slamming everything he could get his hands on.

“I worked so hard for this family through thick and thin, and my only pleasure is being taken away from me. Fuck it, I had enough. You and this bitch can go find someone else to suck off, I’m done!” The door next to Riker swung wide open, revealing the man in question, raging like a bull as he stomped off into the distance, a conspicuous pouch in his left hand.

As the kid cried and tried to bandage the mother’s injured head, Riker hardly gave a shit about the family – what he cared about was the split second in which he saw the man’s face. I know that look anywhere. And I just saw that pouch.

He craned his neck, checking around for signs of the Violet Demons. There was usually one who overlooked the entire beggar business, making sure Riker stayed put in place and never strayed. Right now, Riker was meant to hustle for donations in this street. He focused his sight on a nearby café, where the overseer usually hung out, smoking Euria, yet he did not find anyone. Weird. Did they change?

Nevertheless, the opportunity was far too big to give up. He quickly abandoned his position, slowly trailing the furious man into the depths of Surrat, the snaking alleyways from mishandled land allocation and egregious property profiteering.

The man stumbled slightly, showing all the signs that made Riker’s suspicions even stronger. The moment the man reached a safe corner of the alleyway, the man squatted, opening the pouch and grinning to himself. “Finally, peace and quiet.”

With a firm resolve, Riker stepped right up to the man, instantly choking him from behind in a tight grapple before the man could react, arms snaking around his neck. The man attempted to shake Riker off, but months of military training and years of gang fighting made Riker a competent street fighter, overpowering the man and preventing him from seeing his face.

Their two bodies thrashed violently as the man tried to break free, slowly losing consciousness as his airways were constricted further, eventually passing out and slumping to the floor, the pouch dropped. Riker picked up the pouch, checking the substance within. This looks like the residue of a potion. And there was only one place where he recalled seeing such a thing.

The Seven Snakes.

Riker instinctively shuddered at the thought of going through the same addiction withdrawal process, not even daring to try the powder himself. But despite the aversion, Riker knew he was holding ‘gold’ in his hands. This pouch was worth the same as the gold ring he had nicked. And he already had Evan tracking the source of the powder.

He searched the man’s pockets, nabbing everything of value and quickly moving away, back to his original position. He kept the pouch close to himself, not revealing it even to the other beggars over the next few days.

Soon, Evan had completed his observations, tracing the first man’s schedule. “Whatever that guy is, he is obviously a dealer. He’s selling those pouches like hotcakes. Even Auntie Danna is in on it.”

Riker nodded, racking his brains quickly. This was something that even the Violet Demons were not aware of. If he wanted to break free of his current beggar status, he needed to overtake the dealer in any way possible.

An inkling of a plan began to form in his mind, Riker grinning to himself. It’s my turn to profit off the Seven Snakes. Evan stared at him in confusion, wondering what the hell has gotten into Riker.

“Gather the boys. It’s time for a takeover.”