Arcane: Broken Mechanism

Sirion paused by the massive door, considering his next move. The task was simple: deliver a letter. Finn hadn't required him to do it in person, much less told him to meet the recipient. Especially if that recipient was Silco himself, and the likelihood of that was rapidly approaching 100%.

'It would be better if I didn't cross paths with him now,' Sirion thought, wondering how quickly he could leave if something went wrong. Finn had told him to deliver the letter, but it didn't have to be in the recipient's hands, did it?

He carefully pulled the letter out of his inside pocket, looking at it one last time. Packed in a thick envelope, it seemed completely ordinary, if you didn't count the tension that accompanied its delivery.

'I could leave it here and go... but then there was the risk of someone else picking it up.'

He remembered Finn's warning. Failure? That wasn't an option. Meeting such a greedy and treacherous person as Silco was not in his plans at all. It would be good to get rid of him in the future, before the beginning of the canon, to avoid all the troubles that would happen.

Sirion took a deep breath, and for a second thought about simply putting the letter in front of the door and knocking on the door, running away from here. But he himself understood the stupidity of this idea. He looked up, and exhaling, began to climb up the building. According to the canon, he remembered very well that Vi and company came to save Vander and got into this building through an open window. Of course, this open window turned out to be a trap, but no one told Sirion that he couldn't open the window himself, did he? The roof was lined with small windows in several rows, which were closed. Having racked his brains, he moved to the farthest part of the roof, simultaneously looking through the windows at what was happening inside the room. It was empty, surprisingly.

Approaching one of the windows on the other half of the roof, from which it would be much more convenient to go down inside and climb back up, he began to carefully open the window frame. It did not give in, and most likely could only be opened somehow from inside the building itself. Sighing, he pried the window sashes and broke them.

"I hope no one notices so quickly," the thought flashed through his head. Putting the window to his side, he carefully crawled into the resulting opening, supporting his body with his hands. When his body crawled halfway inside, he loosened his grip on his hands and smoothly landed on a pile of wooden boxes that towered above all the others, which allowed him to descend almost silently. There were clear instructions to leave this letter in this building, in front of the largest door. His gaze carefully scanned the room to understand where he needed to go next. A large iron door, perfectly matching the description, was to his left. He headed towards it.

He hadn't even reached it when it creaked, opening a good third. A large figure appeared in the doorway. A man with a gloomy expression, one of those who immediately suggested that arguing with him was dangerous to health. Sirion jumped back a meter with combat readiness, getting into a stance, preparing for a fight. He had remained unnoticed for so long, but at the very last moment he was noticed.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and low.

"The courier," Sirion answered, trying to speak confidently, but without excessive impudence. He pulled out a letter and held it out to the side. "From Finn."

The man looked him over from head to toe, then looked at the letter. He took a step forward to take it, but suddenly stopped, as if thinking.

"Oh, so you're the courier?!" — To Sirion's great surprise, the previously gloomy big guy cheered up in appearance, and seemed more like a nice person than a man who could tear his head off with his bare hands just by looking at him. — From Finn?

Sirion shrugged, taking a calm stance. But he only looked calm on the outside, inside he was tense like a spring, and was preparing to fight or run away at any dangerous move from his interlocutor.

"I work for him. I didn't think they knew me. The task is to deliver a letter, I'm doing it" he took out a letter, which was apparently for Silco, and showed it to his interlocutor.

"We were waiting for you" said the big guy, who towered over him by three heads, sniffing. To be honest, it was rather bizarre to see such a tall man in Zaun. He had already gotten used to the fact that all the people here, with a few exceptions, were quite... average height. Apparently, he was luckier than the others with genetics.

"Waited?" Sirion's insides went cold. What do you mean waited? Silco knew he was coming?

"Waited," the big man repeated, tilting his head to the side. His voice sounded muffled, as if coming from the depths of a mine. — The master always knows who comes to his territory.

Sirion tensed, his hand reflexively reaching for his belt, where, alas, there was nothing to protect him.

"I'll take you to him" the giant added, hesitating a little. He turned and gestured for Sirion to follow him.

"Excellent. The perfect way to do it quickly and quietly went down the drain," — the young man cursed silently.

He followed, trying to remain calm. The big man walked slowly, as if deliberately giving Sirion time to realize the full significance of what was happening. The corridor they were walking along was getting darker with each passing second, as if plunging them into the mouth of some monster.

"The Master doesn't like it when people come to him without a reason," the giant suddenly spoke. His words echoed across the empty space. "You understand that your goal is not empty chatter, right?"

Sirion nodded, although the question was clearly rhetorical.

"Excellent," the big guy sniffed, as if he wanted to add something else, but did not dare.

They stopped in front of a massive door covered with metal plates, on which rough traces of welding were visible. The giant knocked three times, the sound of blows echoing sharply in the silence.

"Come in," the giant nodded to Sirion and stepped aside, allowing him to go first.

The young man took a deep breath and pushed the door. The room he entered was in semi-darkness. The only light came from a few lamps hanging from pipes near the ceiling. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and something chemical, subtle but unpleasant. In the center of the room, at a table, sat a man whose face Sirion would recognize in a thousand.

Silco looked up, his yellow eye glinting in the lamplight.

"Have you brought me a letter?" he asked, his voice both soft and icy.

Silco, seated at the desk, looked like the embodiment of charismatic terror. His sharp, predatory face was emphasized by deep wrinkles, especially around the mouth and one eye. The left eye, surrounded by rough scars and a subtle sheen of chemicals, glowed with an ominous golden-yellow light. The other eye, cold and dark, burned with its gaze, as if it could see right through you.

His hair was combed back, with gray streaks that added to his age and dignity. He wore a severe dark suit, perfectly tailored to his figure, but without any hint of luxury. The jacket was slightly frayed at the elbows, as if it had often been used in fights or negotiations, where force was not always dispensed with.

The thin, long fingers with which he played with the letter seemed almost aristocratic, but they felt the toughness of a man accustomed to dirty work. On one of his fingers, a dark ring with an unknown symbol gleamed, and his nails were meticulously manicured. The smoke from his cigar surrounding him emphasized the atmosphere of his presence - a mixture of relaxation and menace. He emanated the aura of a man who was in control not only of himself, but of everything around him.

Sirion took a slow step forward, trying to keep his composure. His mind was racing with thoughts:

Silco. That Silco. What do I do? What does he know? How do I get out of this if it all goes wrong?

"A letter," Silco repeated, pointing lazily at the table in front of him.

Sirion took a deep breath, pulled the letter out of his inside pocket, and carefully placed it on the edge of the table.

"Here," he said, trying to sound confident.

Silco reached out and picked up the letter. His fingers, with long but well-groomed nails, easily tore the seal. He unfolded the paper, his single eye running over the text, but his face remained unreadable.

"Finn," he drawled with a grin, shaking his head slightly. "Always knows how to surprise."

He folded the letter and set it aside. His gaze, sharp as a blade, fixed on Sirion again.

Silco was in no hurry to get up from his seat, only leaning forward slightly, his glowing eye glinting in the dim light of the room.

"So you're that famous courier, Finn's watchdog," he chuckled, smiling at the corner of his mouth. "I've heard of you."

Sirion swallowed hard, feeling how Silco's attention was binding him like chains.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about," he began carefully, trying to keep his voice even. "I'm not that famous, I'm just a courier."

"You don't understand?" Silco raised an eyebrow, his voice was soft, but there was a threat in it. "Finn was quite generous in describing your talents. He said that you were smart, quick, and didn't ask questions. But I was wondering...

He paused, thoughtfully running his finger along the edge of the table.

"Why did he decide to trade such a valuable asset to me so easily?"

"Trade me?" I am merely delivering a letter," Sirion tensed. Silco laughed, the hoarse sound filling the room like an echo.

"Oh, boy, you are not as naive as you pretend. Finn sold you out. For a place in my ranks, for access to resources," Sirion clenched his teeth, hiding his shock.

"Why do you need me?" he finally asked, maintaining an outward calm, although inside he was seething.

"Why?" Silco repeated, his voice almost gentle. "Everyone has a role in this city. Some rise, others fall. And you… you will be part of something greater, whether you like it or not."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze piercing.

"There is only one question, boy. Will you accept this willingly, or will I have to show you how things work in this city?"

Silco leaned back in his chair, blowing out a cloud of cigar smoke. His golden eye flashed, as if testing his reaction.

"Ah, Finn. It's amazing how the little fish always look for sharks as allies," he chuckled. "You thought you'd just bring the letter and disappear, didn't you?"

Sirion remained silent, clenching his fists in his pockets.

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret, boy. Finn is a sly fox. He needs someone like you to make... connections," Silco paused, studying Sirion's expression carefully.

"And I've agreed to accept you as... a guarantor of our deal."

Sirion froze. Anger was boiling inside him. A guarantor? Is this a joke?

"So I'm... what? Collateral?" he finally managed.

Silco smiled at the corner of his lips.

"Not exactly. You're a tool, boy. If Finn fulfills his obligations, perhaps you'll return to him. And if not… well, what do you think I'll do with a tool I no longer need?

Cold sweat trickled down Sirion's back.

"Are you serious? Finn just… gave me away?"

"Are you that surprised?" Silco chuckled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Welcome to the real world, boy. There are no friends here, only deals."

Sirion felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Finn had used him, but he wasn't about to show weakness.

"I see," he said shortly, meeting Silco's predatory gaze with his eyes. "So what now?"

"You work for me now. Goodbye," Silco said with a grin. "Show me what you're good for, courier. And maybe I'll let you live."