The guard didn't press further. He just watched, like he'd already taken the measure of him.
He turned his head slightly.
"Oy."
The bartender looked up.
"Stout," the old guard said, pointing, "and a glass of soda after. Make it a slow pour."
A heavy mug slid onto the counter. Dark liquid settled in the mug, foam crept up and stopped. The guard nudged it closer to Ren with two fingers.
Ren frowned and leaned away from the counter.
"Relax," he said in a low tone, "it's just one drink. You look like you'll die any second now if you don't steady yourself."
The soda glass followed, fizzing softly as the bartender set it just out of reach.
The guard folded his arms and leaned back against the counter, his firm eyes still on Ren.
"Aren't you too young for trade?" the older man asked.
"Um..."
Two guards passed. Ren pulled his cup closer and fidgeted a bit. He took a sip from the cup, swallowed with a heavy gulp and grimaced.
'Never knew beer tasted this bad.'
The guard chuckled as he watched Ren's reaction.
Ren cleared his throat, "M-my dad... is a merchant, so I had to join the family business."
"Ah, one of the Imperial families ey?" the man sipped his beer.
"I thought you'd be over the seas off to Zenith like the rest of your lot?"
"Uh, no... He thought keeping the business here was better."
"There's no life here, lad. You think those invisible walls and the Awakened would hold those things for long?"
He sipped his drink and shook his head.
"It's only a matter of time and we'd all be dead like the rest of 'em or become those hideous bloodsucking demons."
Ren took another torturous gulp.
"I sent my kids out of here five years ago, even if the Imperium never gave us such privileges."
"How did you do it then?"
"Ha! Your sneaky traders, that's how," the man laughed and banged the table with his palm. Ren didn't get it.
"You sold your children?"
The man spat out his beer, "Bloody no," he said, wiping his mouth.
"Well, if you must know..." he dragged his stool closer to Ren, "...I used your merchant ships. The lower deck is the best. Only goods go down there, so no one disturbed my kids till it was time to unpack. Paid your greedy men some crowns and they turned dumb."
The man shrugged and gulped his entire beer.
"Oy! I said keep 'em coming," he yelled, dropping the mug with a loud thump.
The bartender filled the mug immediately with beer, while the man still watched Ren.
Ren hesitated, then spoke like the thought had just wandered in.
"People not of Imperial blood," he said, eyes on his mug, "they can travel with Imperials, can't they?"
The old guard snorted.
"Course they can. As long as an Imperial claims 'em. Responsibility and all that rot."
Ren nodded slowly. The man grabbed his filled mug and gulped a mouthful of beer.
"What about the mines?" he asked again.
"Mm?" the man swallowed hard.
"If an Imperial family takes people from the lower mining pits... can they move them out too?"
The guard paused mid-sip.
"Aye," he said at last. "I've seen it."
Ren's fingers tightened around the mug.
"Where to?"
"Where else? Zenith, for sure. I mean, c'mon the whole world revolves around Zenith." the guard said and finally took his sip.
"A week ago," he started when he swallowed, "there was this big ship with Imperial banners and all that. Taskmasters were aboard too."
Ren swallowed the bitter stout.
"And they were with miners?"
The guard rolled his shoulders. "Yeah. Slaves all shackled, but they were cleaned up and dressed better than usual. Didn't look like punishment to me."
He frowned, "Felt more like a gift, I guess."
Ren sipped his stout, dropped the mug and stared down into it as he imagined the whole scenario.
'Mace must've been dragged from the pits and taken to Zenith on that ship.'
A shout rose near the door.
"I saw him! He was here. Pale young man with a dirty green merchant cloak and a mark on his face," a young, thin man explained to three guards, pointing into the pub.
The old guard stiffened with his mug halfway to his mouth. Ren was already stepping back, away from the counter.
One of the soldiers turned to the counter.
"There he is!"
Ren moved quickly. His mug tipped, stout spilling black across the counter.
"Oy, what's going on?" the old guard asked, but Ren was already weaving through the crowd of men and finding his way to the back door he came through.
Some men tried to grab him as he pushed through, but Ren was slim enough to slip past their palms without a single scratch.
Two soldiers chased after Ren, while one stopped beside the old guard, who was watching the scene with a puzzled look.
"What in the Abyss were you thinking?" the other soldier snapped.
The old guard drained his mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Kid was an addict," he said flatly. "He was shaking, looking pale and could barely stand. I was helping him out."
He scoffed.
"Bloody hell, how was I supposed to know he was your wanted criminal?" he jerked his chin toward the door, "He doesn't even look like one."
"I've always known you were a good-for-nothing alcoholic, Manfred. He is the collector that escaped!"
"Huh," the old guard shrugged as he watched his colleague run after the others.
Ren ran back to the market square. The sun had already settled down in the horizon and the clouds looked a tinge darker. He had to get to the docks fast enough to catch a merchant ship to board. It was his only ticket out.
The soldiers didn't stop chasing him. As he maneuvered his way through the large crowd, they tailed four meters away.
He slowed down when he spotted one ship still loading up crates and goods. He switched to sharp walks and adjusted his cloak as he approached the ship. He huddled aboard the ship with a crowd of merchants when the guards began shouting and hailing the other guards who were checking the merchants by the ship to stop Ren.
Ren blended into the crowd aboard the ship. It was useless to go searching for him. There was no chance in hell that the guards could flip the heads of about a hundred merchants aboard before the ship sailed. The law lost its jurisdiction when once the merchants paid their fares and were up on the sea. No guard would risk their life getting on a ship without orders.
Ren squeezed through the crowd and some crates, finding his way to the opening that led to the lower deck. He jogged down the wooden stairs and walked into the dark ship basement.
The lower deck was darker than Ren expected. The only source of light was the lantern light that leaked down through the slats above in thin, dirty lines. Crates were stacked high, lashed together with ropes and tar-stained netting. The ferry creaked as men moved overhead, their boots thudding on the board.
Ren slipped between two stacks and crouched. The entire place smelled of iron, oil, sawdust and damp wood, and a scent of something else that he couldn't place his finger on. It made him a bit sniffy.
'That's a very familiar smell.'
He squinted, scanning the entire place. He couldn't understand if it was this new smell that made him feel so off, or the lower deck just smelt wrong.
He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and listened.
A cough came from the dark. The cough dragged on, ending in a low wheeze.
Ren froze. He was right after all. He wasn't alone down there.