Chapter 23 – A Map of Shadows
Axel had always known that the Ember Hearth would draw attention. It was impossible to open something like this in a place like the Slums and not make waves. But he hadn't anticipated this—the slow and steady rise of interest from those who operated in the shadows.
It had been a week since the grand opening, and things were running smoothly. The Ember Hearth was busier than ever, with the line of customers stretching outside on some nights. It was drawing in all sorts of people: workers, adventurers, travelers, and even a few nobles who had caught wind of Axel's reputation as a competent and generous businessman. The free food for kids policy had cemented his popularity among families, and the Mana-Boar steaks—along with their temporary strength-boosting effects—had become a prized dish.
But that didn't mean it was all smooth sailing.
Axel had heard the rumors: whispers about his place, his food, his ability to create something new in the middle of a crumbling, broken city. He hadn't realized just how much attention he was drawing. And though his customers seemed to enjoy the food and the atmosphere, Axel couldn't ignore the feeling that something was amiss—like an unsettling presence, a shadow that loomed over the Hearth.
And then, just when he thought things were settling down, the one-armed beggar returned.
Axel had seen the man before—several weeks ago, when he was just starting the renovations on the bathhouse. The beggar had appeared on his doorstep with a strange, cryptic request: a simple meal in exchange for a bit of "knowledge." Axel had brushed him off at the time, but the man's half-hidden eyes, constantly scanning, had left an impression.
This time, however, the beggar wasn't just asking for food. He was offering something of his own.
Axel noticed him just as he was about to leave the Hearth after the dinner rush. The beggar stood just outside the door, leaning on a crutch, his ragged clothes barely able to hide the wear and tear of the streets. His one remaining arm was thin, the skin taut over bones. He caught Axel's eye and nodded as if he had been waiting.
"Axel, yes?" The man's voice was rough, but there was a strange edge to it—like he knew things.
Axel frowned. "Yes? What's going on? You back for more food?"
The beggar smiled a thin, crooked smile. "A meal for the week, yes. But also, something else. Something you might find useful. A map."
At first, Axel didn't understand. The beggar's condition didn't seem to match the kind of person who could offer anything worth noting. But Axel had learned by now not to dismiss things out of hand—especially in a city like this. He studied the man, noting the way his eyes flickered to the alleyways behind him, the way his shoulders tensed, as if he were trying to hide something.
"What kind of map?" Axel asked, crossing his arms, leaning against the doorway.
The beggar shifted uncomfortably, then produced a worn and creased piece of parchment from the folds of his coat. He handed it to Axel with a careful, deliberate motion, as though the act of giving it away carried some kind of weight.
Axel unfolded the map. It was hand-drawn, crude in appearance, with jagged lines and uneven markings. But there was no mistaking the layout. The map showed the entirety of the slums—streets, alleys, and hidden corners marked with ink—and in the farthest reaches, beyond the crumbling district, were territories marked with ominous symbols: skulls, triangles, and crossed blades. The map detailed the slum gangs' borders, areas marked with "no-go" signs, and hidden pathways—the kinds of places one would go only if they were desperate, or had something to hide.
"This…" Axel trailed off, scanning the map carefully. "This is incredibly useful. Why are you giving this to me?"
The beggar's silver-gray eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of something hidden behind them. "Because people are watching you. People who don't like the idea of you setting up shop here. You've stirred the nest."
Axel's stomach tightened. "What do you mean, 'people watching me'?"
The beggar lowered his voice. "Gang leaders. Black market operators. Those who keep to the shadows. The Ember Hearth is a beacon in the darkness, Axel. They won't take kindly to the attention you're getting."
Axel stared at the beggar, his mind spinning. The gang territories weren't something Axel had been unaware of. He had grown up in the slums, seen how the gangs operated, how they controlled the flow of goods, services, and information. But he hadn't expected to attract their attention this quickly. He was just a cook, after all—just a guy trying to make a living.
The beggar's words echoed in his mind. He had stirred the nest.
"Alright, you've got my attention," Axel said, straightening up. "But why are you helping me?"
The beggar looked over his shoulder, ensuring no one was within earshot. Then he met Axel's gaze once more, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Because I have no interest in seeing the Ember Hearth burn. It's a light in a dark place. But I also know how quickly the darkness can snuff out a light. And I'm trying to keep it from happening."
Axel studied him for a moment longer before nodding. The beggar's eyes were full of secrets—old, dangerous ones. Axel could see that he wasn't just some random, rambling fool. He was someone who knew the city's underbelly better than anyone.
"I'll give you a meal for a week," Axel said, offering the man a nod of agreement. "But there's a catch."
The beggar raised an eyebrow. "A catch?"
"I need you to tell me more about these 'people' you're warning me about. I'm not looking for trouble, but I'm not going to roll over and play dead, either."
The beggar gave him a wry smile. "I can tell. You've got fire in your blood." He paused, looking Axel up and down. "I'll give you what I know. But don't say I didn't warn you."
And with that, the beggar limped away, disappearing back into the streets like a shadow in the night.
The following day, after an early morning breakfast rush and a few hours spent tending to the kitchen, Axel called Elyria over to the Hearth. She had been helping him with some of the business logistics—acquiring supplies, helping with enchantments, and offering magical assistance where needed. Her specialty, it seemed, was weaving enchantments that blended seamlessly into everyday life.
She entered through the back door, her raven-black hair tied up in a tight bun, her robe of deep blue hanging around her slender frame. Elyria was a woman of few words, but there was an undeniable sharpness to her presence that Axel had come to appreciate. It had been her idea to enchant the Hearth with subtle, protective charms that would shield it from unwanted attention. She had helped Axel set up a few spells that allowed him to listen in on whispers from outside, and even a few fire-based protections around the kitchen.
Axel laid the map out on the counter in front of her, tapping it with a finger. "Can you work some of your magic on this? I want to know if anyone's paying attention to the Hearth. I'm getting the feeling that we've attracted some unwanted attention."
Elyria's sharp eyes studied the map. She hummed softly, running a finger over the inked lines. Her hand hovered over the slum's borders, tracing the symbols for gang territories, before she nodded.
"Consider it done," she said with a slight smile. "I'll enchant the map to track movement near the Hearth, so we'll know if anyone gets too close."
Axel stepped back, letting her work. Elyria murmured a few words under her breath, her fingers weaving patterns in the air as glowing runes appeared along the edges of the map. The runes flickered and pulsed for a moment before settling, and Elyria nodded in satisfaction.
"All done. The enchantment will alert you if anyone enters the area and stays too long. If someone gets too close, you'll feel it."
Axel gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks. I'm starting to feel like we're under surveillance. And I'm not okay with that."
"Trust your instincts," Elyria said, her voice quiet but resolute. "They're rarely wrong."
Axel folded the map carefully, tucking it into a small wooden chest under the counter. He was about to say something else when a strange feeling crawled up the back of his neck—like he was being watched. His eyes darted toward the window. The faintest flicker of silver in the corner of his vision caught his attention.
It was a reflection. A pair of eyes—pale, almost silver—staring back at him from the rooftop across the street.
Axel's heart skipped a beat. The feeling of being watched had only intensified. Slowly, he stepped toward the window, trying not to make any sudden movements.
And just as quickly as they had appeared, the eyes vanished, disappearing from view. Axel's mind raced.
"Did you see that?" he asked, turning to Elyria.
She was already at his side, her sharp gaze scanning the area outside. "I did. Someone's on the roof. It could be nothing… or it could be someone testing the waters."
Axel's