Chapter 1: The Order
"Five golds for each." Said the old woman.
"Are we going to do this again?" The white hair man retorted.
"Seven." She hissed.
"Ten for each or I will leave."
"FINE! Give those to me and get lost, thief." She snapped. "Oh, and take a bath, you smell like a damn corpse, Evan."
As he left the store, another dirty girl with something in hands rushed in. Probably another thief. It's a routine for every thief to sneak in the town, snatch somethings, and get back to sell them in the slum biggest store, "Mama knows", where the old lady who is called "Mama" deals with goods and bounty.
"Boring." A whisper.
He continued walking.
"I'm thirsty." Still whispering.
He ignored.
"Talk to me, Vladimir."
"Don't call me that." He snapped.
"Oh, why I can't, lord Vladimir."
"Shut up." He whispered back.
"Someone is following you." It said.
"I know." He replied
"Let's taste him, I'm thirsty." It commanded.
"Get lost." He said out loud enough for him to hear. Still following. Fine, let's spill some blood. Evan turned back but saw no one. An assassin it seemed. "Let's make it quick. I don't have time for this." He shouted as he stopped at the end of the valley. A man in the black hood emerged.
"Don't you tell me that my little brother sent me another assassin in the middle of the night." He said.
"You are not that....old." Wait, a girl?
"And who are you?" He demanded.
"Olivia Asbrok." She lifted her hood high enough for him to see her pale face and canine. "My father told me to find you before the other could."
Olivia Asbrok, the princess of Benark. Whatever reason brought her here must be pretty bad.
"What you want?" Another demand from the thief.
"You know what we want. What Benark needs. Train our army and command them." A burdensome task.
"Why should I?"
"Because Illuke declared a war." She said harshly.
"What!? Why now? Why did he want a war right now?" Damn Illuke, what was he thinking? Why does every god-damned noble want to fight.
"Whatever he wants, I can't let him have it. Help us." More like a command than a request.
"Because he is my brother doesn't mean that I have to help your kingdom." He responded.
"But you are the only one who has enough blood strength to confront him. You and him share the same bloodline."
"I'm half-blooded." He snapped.
"Without you, we will be destroyed. Please." A polite request.
"Someone is coming and his blood smells like shit." The voice whispered to him. Illuke's spy.
"I will sleep on it." He said before walking away.
The spy just arrived but no one was there anymore.
———
Evan returned home in the next morning to take a bath and change his clothes. Black suit seemed great for the meeting with Hammorth, king of the biggest and the most dangerous slum, Abyssia.
"You look dumb. Dress like a man." That annoying voice again.
"I need no advice from a thousands years old man, Grimmore." The first king of the land, the betrayal, the soul dealer.
"Hammorth's guard will toss you out before you can get inside." He said back.
"Yeah yeah, whatever."
Knock. Knock.
"Hmm....another problem." Grimmore said before he vanished.
Click. The door swung open.
"What is it?" Evan scowled.
"I'm Bane. Asterl's emissary. The king sent me here." The man bowed. "He bade you presence." Go to hell, Weyn. He thinks he can summon me whenever he wants because he is a king now?
"Let's slap that boy in the face." Grimmore whispered. Indeed.
"I will be there tomorrow evening." Evan said before he closed the door.
———
Silver and gold, the castle itself is luxurious despite its location. "Evan, the myth, the legend of all thieves. Never been caught. Hunt and kill without hesitation. The beast." Hammorth praised.
"My honor, your highness." He rejoined. "What a special task that you have to summon me by yourself?"
"For the last mission. To repay the blood debt." Finally, the last task to get over this damn pledge. "I want a noble head." He had to be kidding.
"Whose." His thought went blank.
"The king of Benark."
Shit. SHIT.
"Teraqe Asbrok."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
BLittleT
BLittleT UnderRealm is a fiction about Vladimir Kruzel, the Capitare king's illegitimate child, who was the impending king but has been exiled by his own brother, Illuke Kruzel. Hundreds years later, war erupts and it is his responsibility to subdue it for the land, his own land, where blood cuts steel, where words are more lethal than fists.
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This fiction is written by an 18 years old boy who loves fantasy novel. Trails and errors are the only way.
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Please leave any comment so that I can improve!!
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