Redstone: Sanctuaries
Chapter 1: Blake's

Can ghosts kill?

There are stories and whispers, there are rumors, but only that. Blake Krucher has never seen a ghost kill. He never even saw a ghost. That is if the cold shadows that are seen in the corner of his eyes and disappear every time he looks do not count as ghosts.

Blake felt it again, the feeling that he was not alone. Someone's behind him, but it's not human. Every human being has a special air. Growing up in Redstone, grappling with every human from the dirtiest to the cleanest, Blake was able to smell human existence and sense it even from a few feet away.

This one's not human.

Blake turned his head back abruptly, only finding a desolate muddy path at night, a single vagrant sleeping under the wagon, and, and comfort women who pass by while whispering with a cigars in between fingers. Nothing is strange.

Ridiculous, Blake thought as he shook his head, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that plagued him with self-deprecation. He turned to the corner on the right and accelerated the way to the tavern known to everyone— whose parents were cheap, but the place was always crowded because of the cheap price. Everyone knows Todd rode the wine with some liquid and raised the bottom of the glass to make the drink look full, but no one cares too much about it. At Stonard, his tavern is the cheapest and Todd pays protection services to Blake every week—even when the shop is quiet and there is no profit. That's enough.

The shop in question was located in the heart of Stonard, turning its back against a shallow muddy canal. The building consists of two floors with an additional basement and an attic that is covered with a dome roof model of Rome. Two Qilin statues stood guard on the left and right of the door. Anyone who used to design this place might find themselves eccentric, Blake thinks the guy is tuna taste. But this is where it's coming home now. This was his house which he bought with the first bag of gold ducats he got when he was fourteen years old.

As soon as Blake entered the double door, the atmosphere changed within the tavern. The people who had been drunk became aware and who were still conscious glanced at him with concern. The greeting was common for Blake. In fact, he was satisfied with it. Everyone should tremble in fear every time it passes. That's how an Abysmal gang leader should be.

Todd greets her from behind the bar table, offering a sip of wine. Blake simply said, "Later on," then walked straight towards the twisted metal staircase leading to the second floor.

If the first floor smells of cheap wine that stings the nose, vomit, ash powder, wet wood, and gutters, the second floor is really like heaven. The fragrance of lavender, wet ink, and booty coffee grounds welcomed Blake.

On the second floor waiting for him was only Lucy. The girl was sixteen years old, two years younger than Blake. His dark brown hair was tightly tied and neat without leaving a single strand on the side of his face. Lucy was wearing a cotton outfit and black trousers whose ends were stuffed into her shabby black boots. The girl was sitting on a long sofa by the window, sipping hot coffee in a glass shard.

"Where's Devon?" Blake took off the pet hat he was wearing and combed his damp black hair with a finger.

"Not been back since." Lucy shrugged both of her tiny shoulders. His eyes looked at Blake who was pouring a glass of water. After a few seconds of silence, the girl suddenly chanted, "I still think you should have sold the relic yesterday, Blake."

Blake sipped the water in the glass until it ran out. He looked back, looking back at Lucy emotionlessly. "You remember I asked you for your opinion, Luce? Because I don't remember."

"The previous owner was killed."

"By humans" said Blake agile. "And I don't want to own that relic myself. I just kept it."

"Until when?"

Blake likes to argue with Lucy, but doesn't like to tell her what her plans are, so she doesn't answer. His eyes were directed at the window behind Lucy, staring at the black shadow leaping from the roof to the roof approaching her dome.

Lucy follows Blake's line of sight and greets the black shadow that lands on the window ledge. That's Devon. He is the oldest of the three. He's twenty years old. For the practicality of moving at night, Devon always wore all-black clothes. This time the man was wearing tight black pants with a cotton shirt overlaid in a hooded black jacket. His dark brown hair was cut so as not to block the eyes.

"Actually the entrance is called a door, not a window" Lucy quipped as Devon leapt into the room.

Devon landed smoothly on the wooden floor without a sound. He laughed. "For the thief, the window is the entrance." Now he turned to Blake with a sliced grin. "The new Marquis raises taxes on wine and lagers."

"Prophe dong. Did you swallow the train or what? So rushed." Devon flings his slender body onto the sofa on Lucy's side. "Bakal there was a golden ducat for him to come from Aston, ushered in a chariot disguised as a freight train."

Blake frowned. "Golden trawl? Wh-wh-what for? From whom?"

Devon shakes. "That one, I don't know. But I got the info from the insider. Trusty man."

Blake did not doubt it. He knows he can count on Devon. All this time the information he collected was always correct. But Blake still felt something strange. Usually the new marquis does not give a gap. Did he look too high on the marquis?

"When is the train coming?" ask Lucy.

Devon rubbed his palms with a restless smile. "Tomorrow" he answered. "Tomorrow afternoon."

"That was so sudden" Blake commented, understanding why Devon seemed to feel guilty. A gold mine like this should not be missed from Devon's radar.

"This Marquis is very careful," Devon reasoned. "He always moves suddenly as if not planned when it turns out to have prepared everything. You remember everybody thought he was lounging around and knew the border was fenced?"

Blake sat on one of the wooden chairs beside the nightstand. At first everyone thought the marquis who came would be no different from the previous person, who would lock himself in the castle while drinking and playing women and then just deposit face to the public once in a while. Jose Argent is working seriously. Ignoring the protests of many people, Jose corrected many public facilities and built a road starting from the center of Redstone. Borders with neighboring countries were tightened, which made it difficult for many smugglers and made Jose hated by the Redstone dark circles. Although building a lot of things, what he does is certainly not free. Jose raises taxes and collects coffers diligently, making him more hated by more and more people.

But schools, reservoirs, bridges, roads, there is no way that all of that can be built in a year just with budget capital from Aston and tax money. Blake had already guessed there was additional funding, maybe Jose borrowed from his family in Argent. For a year he tried to track where Jose's money came from. If his guess is correct, from the train tomorrow he can get more traces—as well as gold.

"Where's the road? How many people will control the train?" Blake's eyes shot up towards Devon.

"Less than fifty." Devon smile. "They do it every month, taking a different route, but this time they'll go the safe way. The Golden Path."

The Golden Road is the main road connecting Redstone with Aston. Named so because the royal family once dropped gold or something else, Blake does not remember the fairy tale. What he was thinking about now was the route of the Golden Road. There will be a crossroads connecting with the barren mountains of the Stone Mountains. They could ambush from it, but their opponents were definitely skilled trained people. It needs a more concrete picture.

Can ghosts kill?

Inexplicably, Lucy's question yesterday flashed back when Blake's black eye hit the girl's dark brown iris. Blake closed his eyes for a while then reopened them with a loud spotlight. Now is not the time to think about ghosts. Now it's time to think of a bucket full of gold ducats.

"Who's your informant this time?" Blake asked.

Devon frowned. That's not the usual question asked of him. "You don't believe me?"

Blake could have explained that he was just careful, that his feelings were not good from the beginning and there was a strange taste that bothered him from the beginning he heard the news about this golden ducat, he could have said that what he did not believe in was not Devon but Jose Argent. But Blake just grunted.

"Everyone is lying" he said coldly. "If you want to believe, I'll go to church, not wander around Stonard and make Abysmal."

***