Rise or Burn

Chapter Nine

Prince Wenlliam held his breath as he stepped over a stream of slime green liquid pooling on the asphalt road. It reeked of something foul and rotting. He fought the urge to gag. The lower districts were worse than he'd imagined. The streets were heavily littered, the buildings thick with graffiti and most of the windows broken. The further they walked the more dilapidated the buildings appeared. The lower districts had been forgotten. Left to waste away, uncared for.

And it was his family's fault.

Wenly failed to understand how he's mother could have let this happen. She had to know of the atrocious conditions of the lower districts. She was empress. Why had she let things get this bad? Why had he let things get this bad?

He could argue that he didn't know. Which was true. He had no idea the city was in such a state. But that argument would be nothing more than an excuse. He was crown prince. It was his responsibility to know. He's responsibility to do something about it. He had to do something about it.

"Hurry up princeling," Orrick Hast called as he walked ahead. "You wouldn't want to get lost on this side of town."

A group of teenagers, all dressed in dark distressed clothing, turned to look at him. They glared, one of them snarled and another made a threatening gesture, running the back of his thumb over his throat. Wenly swallowed and hurried to catch up with Hast. "Would you stop calling me that," he hissed.

"Stop calling you what, princeling?" Hast said intentionally.

Wenly sighed exasperatedly. Reasoning with Hast was a futile pursuit. He should know that by now.

They made a turn and came to a stop in front of a dingy looking bar. It had a flashing red neon sign in the front that spelled out the bar's name, 'Fregg's'. By the door, next to the bouncer was who Wenly had ventured out to the lower districts to meet. Jemma Crone.

"Are you sure she'll talk to us?" Wenly asked as he leaned closer to Hast. Crone was not the biggest fan of the royal family. She'd publicly stated that.

"Yes," Hast insisted. "She's an old friend."

That did not bring Wenly any comfort. He'd taken a massive risk coming here and an even bigger risk coming here without his guard. Hast had suggested it would be too conspicuous to move around with six armoured royal guards. That it'd be smarter not to draw attention, considering who Wenly was. It made sense but it didn't make this any less of a risk. They were a meeting a suspected M.A.G.E member, a known rogue coven head and an infamous critic of his mother's reign. Nothing about this was safe. But it was too late to turn back now. He had to see it through.

"Just let me do the talking," Hast added.

Jemma led them into the bar and to their seats in the back. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Jemma said to Hast. "I heard you were dead."

"And you believed that?" He laughed.

"I was hoping." She raised her hand, hailing a waitress. She ordered three drinks for the table. Wenly tried to decline but she insisted. He accepted the drink reluctantly.

"So," she said a moment later. "Why'd you call me here?" she asked as she folded her arms over the table and leaned in. "If this is about Liaah—"

Hast shook his head. "This isn't about her," he said then paused before he added, "We're looking for the head of M.A.G.E,"

Jemma leaned back into her chair. "You and half the island."

Hast gave a knowing look. "I heard a rumour that you might know who it is."