Chapter Text
Will had never hated the streets of the Barrel, not like his mother did. Or, perhaps she didn’t. He wouldn’t know. Up until a few years ago, she’d hardly ever spoken of it. And after that, all she’d ever done was complain.
About the stink.
About the filth.
About the danger.
She hadn’t been wrong. She rarely ever was.
But as time went on, it became more and more clear that Will’s mother had wanted to keep him home in Lij.
And as time went on, it became more and more clear why.
The clouds today were like a thick blanket over Ketterdam, as always. Will had heard that the skies were blue here, too, just like they were in the rest of the world.
I’ll see it to believe it, he thought.
He’d just arrived back from a job in Ravka, where the weather was freezing, but infinitely more sunny and enjoyable. They’d wanted a noblewoman’s necklace. But, they were foolish, giving Will a payment far more than he’d have asked for originally.
Will had obliged happily.
Now, with kruge tucked into the hidden pocket on the inside of his shirt, Will walked the streets of the place that had been his home for…how many years now? Three? Longer? He’d lost track a while ago.
His mother hadn’t wanted him to come. Ever. Of course she hadn’t. She’d grown up here, ripped from the comfort of her parents and forced to survive on the edge of knives.
His godfather had…not really had a problem, which led to him once having four daggers promptly implanted into the wall behind him, two on each side of his head.
Will’s mother had a bit of a temper.
Will looked around as he walked. There was grime on every surface–every cobblestone tile, every brick, every crumble of concrete–of the street. A few buildings even had something that looked like vines crawling up the sides.
Will shuddered. It was like a horror story. Perhaps this was one of the reasons that his mother didn’t want him coming here.
Don’t be stupid. I’m sure a little filth is the last reason Mama didn’t want you coming here.
He kicked a rock near his foot. Why had he come here? For the money? For the jobs?
He knew the answer was none of those, though he wasn’t sure if it was much better.
He came for the legacy.
Here in the Barrel, you could get rich quick if you played it right. It was why it was so popular with tourists, despite it being such a horrible place.
But, along with that, this place carried a part of Will’s heart. Well, maybe the place itself didn’t carry it, but some people in it did.
Will had grown up hearing his mother’s stories, and even though they were phrased like horror stories to get him to stay in bed or come home before dark, they intrigued him. He’d never been good at school, and he remembered forever missing his parents. Will had practically grown up with his neighbors in Lij, and ever so occasionally, with his grandparents in Ravka.
Sometimes, he recalled, his mother visited him. In Lij, she wore a white apron dress with a brown poet’s shirt underneath, hair in two braids and occasionally threaded through with flowers. But, Will once saw a dark hooded tunic and leggings in her bag, along with something that looked suspiciously like a pack full of daggers. He hadn’t been able to investigate, but he’d never forgotten it.
As for his father, well…
He wasn’t gone. He wasn’t one of those fathers that left their families behind. The reason Will knew this was that his mother had admitted to him what his father was when Will was sixteen.
A monster.
Will’s father was a monster.
Isn’t that what they said on the streets of the Barrel? That he was a monster, with clawed hands, hands stained with blood, hands that burned anything they touched?
They called him Dirtyhands, after all.
Will didn’t know him. His mother had insisted that his father had seen him as a baby–held him, even–but Will wasn’t sure if he could believe her. After all, he doubted he’d been held by the infamous leader of the Dregs, who was known for being opposed to physical contact in every way, shape, and form.
Will shook his head. Pay attention. The Barrel wasn’t the place to be zoning out in. A mistake here could cost him everything–his money, his future, his life.
He needed to be extra careful.
He was careful not to touch his hand to his pocket from reflex—it would label him as a target for pickpockets, though Will couldn’t think of a way as to how a pickpocketer would be able to reach into his hidden pocket. Head remaining high, he headed to the nearest inn.
Tomorrow was a big day.