The tense silence returned after Jesper spoke.
After a brief moment, Nikolai's eyes drifted from Jesper to the coins, then back again.
A few more tense seconds passed, then he let out a raspy chuckle and leaned back into the couch.
"Impressed? No, I'm actually surprised. I figured you two would end up face down in the canal long before you scraped together enough to pay me."
He took one last drag of his papirosa and flicked the ash onto the floor, then waved a hand for Butchy. The big man walked over to a heavy iron wall-safe. He spun the brass dial with practiced, clicking rotations until the heavy latch groaned open, then retrieved a rolled-up piece of paper tied with a dirty red string.
Upon seeing that old yellow parchment, both Jesper and Yar immediately brightened. This paper was called a Slave Contract, and they were crafted by the Awakened of the Warlock archetype.
Slavers like Nikolai bought these to bind their property.
A slave whose name was inked onto a contract was restricted from many things. They couldn't harm their slaver, they couldn't refuse any sort of order no matter what it was, and they couldn't leave the town where the paper was kept.
They couldn't even touch the contract themselves, and if they tried to destroy it by any means, their heads would explode. Worst of all, since the magic fed on the life force of the slave, no slave ever lived past fifty. And those last years of their lives were riddled with misery, misfortune, and illness.
One might think they could put an end to it by taking their own life. Wrong. Since their lives did not belong to them, they couldn't take it until it was time for them to die.
The only way to get out of this horrible contract was to buy one's own freedom. It was stipulated in the contract itself that as long as a slave had the money, they shouldn't be refused and the bond must be severed.
The only time a slaver could choose to refuse was if there was a valid reason to deny the trade.
Nikolai reached out and took the paper in his left hand. In his right, he held his brass petrol lighter. After casting the kids a look of cold, calculating amusement, he struck the flint wheel and a wavering flame caught the wick.
He then touched the fire to the edge of the parchment, holding it up like a dying torch so the siblings could watch the orange glow spread through the paper.
Jesper was filled with immense joy seeing that. He had been a slave ever since he was eight, and now that he was eighteen, he was finally going to be a free man.
His sister too was overwhelmed and almost couldn't believe it. She was his twin, and they had been brought to Frankenfurt the same cold, rain-slicked night ten years ago. Seeing their shared sentence finally turn to ash, tears clouded her eyes and spilled over.
When the fire eventually reached Nikolai's fingers, he flicked the last blackened scrap into a brass ashtray that Butchy brought to him.
At that moment, the tattoo of the coiled viper on the siblings' necks suddenly began to itch. The black ink bubbled, then turned into a foul, black smoke that faded until it disappeared entirely, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unbranded skin.
Just as Jesper reached up to rub the sensitive skin on his neck, Nikolai snapped his lighter shut with a heavy clink. "There. You brats are free. Now get out before I remember that I do not like your faces."
Jesper was so overwhelmed with joy that he even dropped into a deep bow of gratitude.
"Thank you! Thank you, boss," he repeated, as he backed away.
His sister, however, did not speak. Instead, a look of immense hatred for Nikolai filled her tear-streaked eyes, which she quickly tried to hide by looking at the floor.
While Jesper was lost in his immense gratitude, she grabbed him by the arm and immediately hauled him toward the door. When they got out, she slammed the door loudly behind her!
The room fell quiet, after they left.
Then, Nikolai chuckled and rubbed his thick beard. A few seconds passed, and then the smug amusement on his face slowly began to change into a look of irritation and annoyance.
He turned to Butchy and gestured with his smoldering cigarette.
"Tell one of our guys to tail them. Let the little vermin get a mile out. Then, once they begin to savor that freedom of theirs... kill them."
Butchy nodded.
"Yes boss."
***
"Where are we going now?" Yar asked as they got outside the banya to the spot where Jesper had hidden his cloak.
When Jesper picked up the rough, damp wool, Yar looked around first, before looking back at him. Then she lowered her voice and added. "Is it going to be Dushbirsk, or the Little Country?"
"Neither." Jesper turned to her, then looked her in the eye and added, "We are going to Djuvik."
"Huh?" Yar's eyes widened and she arched a brow in utter disbelief. "W-we are going to Djuvik? That cold mountain region? Why?"
She looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but Jesper didn't blink and his expression was quite serious.
Now, why were they going to Djuvik?
Well, you see, after Jesper suddenly awakened memories of his past life, he found out that the world he was living in now was very similar to the world in a novel he had begun reading a few months before his death called The Games after the New Order.
In that novel, the plot began with a massacre that set things in motion for the female lead. That event happened in her hometown, Djuvik, in the year 1816. Which, as his racing, jumbled mind reminded him, happened to be this very year.
If he got to Djuvik, depending on what he saw, he would be able to confirm a lot of things about this reality. He would also be able to figure out how to live his life moving forward.
But even more than that, his entire life could change because if that event had already happened, exactly as it did in the novel, then there will currently be something of massive importance in Djuvik that only he knows the whereabouts of — at least for now.
If he could get his hand on it, he would be able to evolve and ascend into one of the eight archetypes making him an Awakened.
'I need to get to Djuvik,' he thought. 'But I cannot tell Yar why just yet. I'm not even exactly sure what's happening, and although this world may look similar to the world in that novel, I am not sure that this reality is actually the story that I read. It could just be that I am in that world or a world similar.
'Regardless, whatever it is, I'll think about how to handle the matter with Yar on the way there. In the meantime…'
He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, then said quietly, "Can you just… trust me? I'll give you an explanation later."
She frowned and arched a brow questioningly. But barely a few seconds after, her expression relaxed. She exhaled, and gave a small nod. "Okay."
Jesper looked away and turned his attention to the bundled up cloak in his hand. He quickly took out the coins, the pocket watch, and the cufflinks, then stuffed them into his pocket. As for the coat, he plan to toss it away when they left this vicinity because not only was it deeply stained, it also reeked of blood, and the last thing he needed was to draw too much attention to himself along the way.
"We need to buy a few things like some food and another cloak. Then get some kopeks while we are it," Jesper said as they began moving hurriedly. "After that, we'll head to the railway stop and take the train to Djuvik."
They got into a narrow street between old leaning tenements. Along the way, Jesper saw a pile of industrial waste. Without slowing his pace, he let the blood-stained cloak slip from his hand into the pile.
Some time later, they eventually got out of the street into another which had rows of stalls with people yelling prices for their wares.
Despite the fact it was night, the market was still teeming with life because the nearby factories and the railway operated on a twenty-four-seven basis.
At the moment, all the siblings had was ten gold coins. Since gold, otherwise known as imperial, was the highest currency, they could not spend it openly here in the slums. To break the gold they were holding without drawing unwanted attention, the siblings decided to head to a money changer first.
Quickly, with their heads down, they passed through the thickest part of the crowd until they got to a small wooden booth tucked between a butcher and a rug-seller, after which they waited for the merchant to finish weighing a handful of silver for a nervous-looking man.
Once the man scurried away clutching his coins, they stepped up to the iron-reinforced window. Upon Jesper sliding two gold Imperials across the scarred wood, the short, balding merchant studied Jesper's face. As he did, he licked his lips in a lustful manner and muttered. "What is a pretty doll like you doing in a place like Frankenfurt?"
Now, it was important to note that Jesper was born with a genetic condition that made him have white hair, pale skin and eyes which were a light, crystalline blue or a haunting violet depending on how the light touched them.
Because of this, and coupled with the fact that he was extremely handsome, he grew used to many people calling him a doll. Some people treated him like a fragile, ivory thing that looked more like a beautiful museum piece than a living boy. Others treated him like a disabled freak despite his really handsome face.
Ignoring the man's leering gaze, he said in a stiff, clipped voice, "I'm currently in a hurry, so could you quickly break the gold for me, please?"
His eyes darted around the shadowy corners of the market as he spoke.
The man did not move with urgency, which made Jesper begin to grow annoyed. After a few seconds, the man muttered something under his breath as he plucked the two Imperials from the wood with stained fingers. As he slid them onto a small brass scale to check their weight, he said to Jesper, "It is five percent, pretty boy."
Jesper did not complain about the commission as that was the standard price. He watched the man's stained fingers as he counted out nineteen silver coins.
In Frankenfurt and many other places, these silver coins were called rubles, and it took ten of them to make a single gold Imperial. With the commission being five percent of twenty rubles, the merchant was taking one ruble for himself and leaving the siblings with nineteen.
An Imperial could also be exchanged for ten State Credit Notes, as they were valued the same as rubles. But here in Frankenfurt, banknotes were not used, as most people believed that if the currency did not jiggle, it was not real. So, they only traded in coins.
The merchant stuffed the nineteen rubles into a small, grimy canvas pouch, then he shoved it toward the window. "Nineteen silver birds for two gold ones."
Jesper picked it up without a word. He was about to turn to his sister when his instincts suddenly pricked. He instantly tensed, and instinctively, without turning his head, his eyes darted around the crowded, noisy market.
It felt like someone was looking at him, but when he couldn't see anyone watching him directly, a small frown creased his brow.
'Not long after we left the banya, I began to have this feeling of being followed,' he thought as he turned to his sister. 'Is someone following us? Perhaps one of Nikolai's men? Or is it one of Batiz?'
Yar was leaning against the wall with her hands folded, looking cautious and exhausted. She straightened up as he approached. When he got to her, he reached out and handed her the pouch, then said urgently:
"Change of plans. No more shopping. We need to get to the railway now."
Yar frowned and immediately began moving with him. As she matched his hurried pace, she whispered, "Is something wrong?"
They quickly darted into a narrow gap between two vegetable stalls, then Jesper replied, "I think some bastard is following us."