Of Daggers and Ledgers
Copyright© 2026 by CyndNoxhill
Chapter 6
Soren was silent, weighing his words, considering his options.
“There’s a man,” he finally said, his voice low and serious. “A merchant named Caldris. He deals in rare artifacts, but his real business is information. He’s the one you’ve been hunting down.”
“What?” Aoba frowned, her heart skipping a beat. “How did you—”
“He’s holed up in a fortified manor on the outskirts of the city,” Soren continued, ignoring her. “He’s paranoid, surrounded by guards. We need to get inside.”
“Hold up!” She stood from the chair, almost knocking it over. Her chest was heaving. “I never told you anything. Who the fuck are you?” Her hands were on the hilts of her daggers now, her eyes flickering with rage.
“This isn’t just about revenge anymore, Aoba,” he said, his grey eyes locked on her. “It’s about cutting the head off the snake. And we’re the ones who are going to do it.”
“Answer me!” Aoba shouted, now holding up the daggers tightly in front of her, knuckles white.
Silently, Soren stood from his chair and walked over to his private chest, pulling out a rolled parchment, then laid it on the table. It was a rough map of the city and the surrounding area.
He traced the lines of the city streets, but his gaze was elsewhere. “Caldris and I grew up together. He was my partner once. Before he decided that profit was more important than loyalty. We both admired a man, a hero of the little people. Aspired to be like him, the legendary rogue thief.” His eyes turned to Aoba. “It was your father.”
“You ... you know who I am? Who was my father?” Aoba lowered her daggers, still cautious.
“We were only 8 when we heard rumors of his semi-retirement. Apparently, to raise a family,” he added, giving her a knowing look. “Only taking jobs that would actually contribute to the betterment of the people.”
“You fucking asshole,” she snarled at him. “You knew who I was since the beginning.”
“Yes,” Soren admitted unashamedly. “It was no coincidence I showed up at the tavern, Aoba.”
He paused, his gaze distant again, lost in a memory. “Your father was the best. Calling him a legend is no exaggeration. Caldris and I were ambitious, stupid kids who wanted a piece. We talked our way into one of his jobs.”
His eyes darkened, like chips of grey ice. “It was a trap. Caldris sold us all out. We were ambushed. I saw your father go down. Then I saw the blades coming for me. I made a choice: die, or run and live to fight another day.”
After a while, he turned his gaze to Aoba. “I ran, and I don’t regret it. I spent the next fifteen years in the gutters, in battlefields, learning how to be what I am today. Ruthless. Alive. Caldris built his empire on the bones of my past. I’ve been dismantling it, piece by piece, waiting for the right moment to take his head.”
“The lead I was supposed to meet at the tavern, did you kill him?”
“No. Caldris got to him. He was a loose end, just like me. Those bandits that attacked you?” he said, as she instinctively touched her scar. “They were sent to hunt me down, but they were dumb, lazy, impatient, and settled for any random target. Unfortunately, it was you.”
“This is not about guilt or redemption,” he added, his voice lower and business-like. “I caught wind of a female rogue sniffing around, trying to find who got her father killed. The people you traced were all connected to Caldris. That’s when I decided to seek you out.”
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