The road grew wider as Ren walked.
Ruts cut deep into the dirt where cart wheels had passed, and the air carried the faint smell of smoke, piss, and too many bodies packed together.
The hills gave way to walls.
Wooden palisades rose against the horizon, crowned with watchtowers where men lounged with spears in hand.
Smoke curled from chimneys beyond, a hundred plumes merging into a haze that smudged the sky.
The sound of hammers, of shouting, of countless feet stomping cobblestones drifted through the gates.
A city.
Ren stopped for a moment, staring. Not in awe but in calculation.
The walls promised protection, yet also chains. Inside, there would be food, but also wolves sharper than those he'd met on the road.
He muttered to himself.
"A bigger pit, with bigger rats."
As he neared the gates, the stench thickened. A ditch ran along the walls, filled with filth and discarded bones.
Beggars squatted near the entrance, hands outstretched, their eyes hollow.
"Spare coin!" one rasped, reaching toward Ren. His fingers were little more than sticks.
Ren glanced at him. "If you can beg, you can steal. If you can't steal, you're already dead."
The beggar spat weakly. "Easy words for a boy who still walks. You'll join us soon enough."
Ren walked on without looking back.
At the gate, guards stood with spears and crooked grins.
Their armor was dented, their eyes sharp. They weren't there to protect they were there to feed.
"Another stray," one said, stepping in front of Ren. "No cart, no goods, no family. What are you, boy? A thief? A runaway slave?"
Ren's gaze didn't waver. "Alive."
The guard chuckled. "Not for long, unless you pay toll. Two copper to enter."
"I have no coin."
The guard's grin widened. "Then you don't enter."
The other leaned closer, sniffing. "Smells like blood. Maybe he's killed. Maybe he's worth more dead than alive."
Ren's hand brushed his dagger, but he didn't draw. Instead, his voice came low, steady. "If you kill me, you gain nothing. If you let me in, maybe one day you'll stand behind me instead of in front."
The guards blinked, then burst out laughing.
"Listen to this pup! Thinks he's a lord already."
The first guard shoved him lightly, more amused than angry. "Go on then, pup. Get inside. We'll see how long you last before the city chews you up."
Ren walked past them. He knew mercy had nothing to do with it. They let him in because they smelled the same hunger in him they carried themselves.
Inside, the city was alive in a way the villages weren't.
Streets crowded with stalls, people shouting over one another, merchants bartering, thieves slipping through crowds. The air reeked of sweat and smoke, roasted meat and rotting garbage.
Ren moved slowly, eyes wide but not with wonder with study.
At one stall, a butcher shouted, waving slabs of meat dripping with blood.
A woman haggled, her voice sharp.
At another, a man sold charms carved from bone, swearing they warded off spirits. The buyers didn't believe, but they paid anyway fear was worth coin.
A beggar tried to snatch a loaf of bread from a cart. The stall keeper saw, swung his cleaver, and cut the thief's hand clean off. Blood sprayed the cobblestones.
The crowd barely glanced. The thief screamed, clutching the stump, until two men dragged him into an alley.
Ren watched it all, silent.
He found himself near a tavern, its sign creaking in the wind. Laughter spilled out, rough and guttural. The smell of ale and piss wafted through the door.
Inside, men drank and shouted. Mercenaries, from the look of them scarred, armored in mismatched gear, blades at their sides. Ren slipped into a corner, unnoticed at first.
At the nearest table, two argued over coin.
"You think loyalty feeds me?" one spat. "Coin does. If the lord pays more, I switch sides. That's no betrayal that's survival."
The other slammed his cup down. "Then you're a dog."
The first grinned. "Better a dog fed than a wolf starving."
They laughed, clinking their cups.
Ren listened closely.
Their words weren't just talk. They were truth dressed in laughter.
A serving girl noticed him, frowning. "Oi, boy. You can't sit here unless you buy."
Ren met her gaze. "I'll buy when I can. For now, I watch."
She snorted. "Then don't get in the way."
Ren nodded once.
A heavy man at the bar, bald and scarred across the nose, leaned back to look at him. His eyes were sharp, calculating.
"You're not from here, are you, boy?"
Ren's voice was steady. "From fire."
The man chuckled. "A burned village, then. Plenty of those these days. So, tell me what do you seek in this city?"
Ren answered simply. "Strength."
The man's grin widened, showing broken teeth. "And how will you pay for it? Strength eats coin. Eats flesh. Eats years of your life."
Ren's eyes did not waver. "I'll pay in blood."
The man's laughter boomed. "Hah! Good answer. Many fools come here thinking to beg or pray their way to power. But not you." He raised his cup in Ren's direction.
"Remember, boy in this city, blood is cheaper than water. But some blood buys kingdoms."
The mercenaries nearby roared their approval.
Ren let the words settle deep into him.
Later, when the tavern emptied into the streets, Ren stepped outside. The city's night was a beast of its own.
Shadows moved with knives. Women whispered promises in alleys. Rats scurried between gutters overflowing with piss.
Ren walked slowly, his dagger hidden beneath his ragged shirt.
A voice hissed from the dark. "Boy."
Two figures stepped from the alley, their eyes hungry. Thieves.
"Hand over the dagger," one said, grinning. "Pretty thing for a rat like you."
Ren's hand tightened on the hilt. "Take it, if you can."
The thief lunged. Ren moved fast faster than they expected. His blade flashed, sinking into the man's throat. Hot blood sprayed his arm.
The second froze, eyes wide. For a moment, he considered. Then he turned and fled into the night.
Ren pulled his dagger free, wiping it on the corpse's shirt. His breath was calm. His eyes colder.
He whispered to himself.
"The city is no different from the wild. Only the wolves wear shoes."