——Icarus, the Demilitarized City, Northern Nations.
In the midst of the war-torn Northern Nations, one city remained neutral—Icarus, also known as the city of evil, home to brazen human trafficking and arms dealing, where every drug imaginable flooded the streets alongside prostitutes of both sexes. Many a criminal had sought sanctuary in Icarus over the years, as there were no laws nor extradition there. Naturally, the likes of crooked merchants and drifting mercenaries found their homes there.
Even in the early morning, the people openly drank moonshine and indulged in dangerous drugs on the streets. Dubious shops and booths lined the alleys where prostitutes called at passersby. At the center of a crowd, one might have found a drunken brawl or a game of knife throwing with an unwilling participant as a target.
A woman known as Big Mama strode through those chaotic streets, wearing an outfit of full mourning. Wherever she walked, the crowd recognized her and parted to let her through. She was one of the powerful crime lords and ladies of Icarus, in charge of the bars and brothels. She held as much power here as a royal did in their own kingdom. As the crowd made way, the rabble were careful to avoid her gaze—no good would come from making an impression on a woman like Big Mama.
Behind her, a knight in full, golden armor followed, crimson cape fluttering in the wind off his shoulder—a remarkably gaudy getup.
Gruff mercenaries whispered behind their backs as they went.
“Th-That’s King... I thought he was missing...”
“Tsk. The monster’s come home from his playground. We’re gonna see some clashes in the city.”
“Who’s Heaven’s Ward gonna side with, Roses or Xenobia?”
“Look at that flashy armor... He must have made a fortune in this war.”
Without stopping or acknowledging the whispers, Big Mama and King walked to a large tavern—the hangout of Heaven’s Ward, rumored to be the fiercest mercenary company around. There was a raucous atmosphere inside, with mercenaries engaged in drinking competitions, high-stakes arm wrestling, or maintaining their armor. As soon as Big Mama stepped through the door, the tavern froze.
“Mama...and King! You’re back!”
“What’s going on, Mama? Last I heard King was missing. How’d he end up with you?”
From the back of the tavern, a hulking man strode through the whispering crowd, his muscles threatening to burst the fabric of his clothes. With a giant sword in his hand, a bandana around his head, and a gnarly scar on his face, he was the picture of a hardened mercenary.
“Varkas. Glad to see you’re still a piece of eye candy,” Big Mama greeted.
“I know you’ve been taking care of King, but you crossed the line this time.”
“How so?”
Varkas stared Mama down, his voice as cold as ice. “You sicked King on Jack in some grand standoff. King would have never done something that reckless. It had to be your idea.”
“Speak for yourself, big boy. What do I have to gain from throwing hands at Jack?” Big Mama asked.
“So you’re going to make me spell it out? You’re pining to be the next don, and Daedalus was a thorn in your side. He and Jack were as tight as brothers—taking Jack down means stopping Daedalus in his tracks. If you’re gonna start spewing excuses, you’ll talk to the sword.” Varkas lifted his enormous blade like it was a twig and slapped its side with his palm—a visual aid to his threat.
“That’s quite the conspiracy theory. Did you strain your little brain connecting all those dots?”
“You can talk the talk, Mama, but it’s time to pay up. How are you gonna settle the score for this mess?”
“Settle the score? Do you have any idea who you’re threatening?” Mama asked, her voice ringing deep and hard, shaking the mercenaries in their boots.
Those in the room sensed an incoming explosion and rushed to bring Varkas back from the edge—Heaven’s Ward might have been the most notorious mercenary company in the Northern Nations, but even they knew who not to mess with.
“That’s enough, Varkas! There’s nothing to gain from pissing Big Mama off in this city!”
“I know you’re pissed, but you gotta pick your battles...”
“Take a deep breath, man. King made it back safe and sound. Let’s call it a win, huh?”
The other members were treating Varkas like a raging horse ready to buck and run, consequences be damned.
Of course, Varkas’s accusations were completely off the mark. There was only one person they could blame for the mess they were in, and it was the Demon Lord who’d stolen King’s identity. However, the Don of Icarus and its crime lords were in constant conflict under the surface. Alliances were formed and broken in a matter of days, and no one knew when a turf war would erupt in the city. So, Varkas’s accusations weren’t entirely groundless—it was all too easy for residents of Icarus to believe every word of them.
The way the Demon Lord could cause mass confusion from across the continent was an impressive feat that practically elevated his status to that of a global pollutant, like greenhouse gas, acid rain, or a garbage island.
Varkas finally relented, shifting his gaze to King, who stood silently behind Big Mama. “You and I haven’t known each other for long, but I know enough about you to say that you’ve never shared your identity or so much as taken off your armor around others. And you’ve never said a word. Maybe you’ve been cursed to silence, or your face was burnt to hell by some fire...” Varkas said with sincere understanding. Some of his mercenary brethren had lost limbs or had been disfigured by a monster’s stomach acid—Varkas had seen enough of it through his career. That’s why he’d never interfered in King’s business until now, until King had left the battalion for an extended period of time. “You only have to nod, King. You’re one of us, aren’t you? Not some goon who serves her whims. This shrew doesn’t own you—we’ll make sure she can’t touch you. Don’t leave us again...not without a note, at least.”
A long silence hung in the tavern. All the mercenaries seemed to hold their breath as they focused their attention on King’s helmet—would it nod or shake? The answer was neither. Suddenly, King’s helmet hit the floor. “Okey dokey!” Akane said, standing in King’s armor.