Kaz Brekker

Being royalty always had its ups and downs. You got whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. That was great. Not to mention, being Kerch royalty, you were raised much better than most kids your age. However... being a royal had its downsides. It felt as though you were criticised daily because of your parents (let’s just say they weren’t the best monarchies for Kerch... at all) and their stupid, need-for-power fuelled ideas and actions. That was probably the worst part of (specifically) your royal family, but it was something you had gotten used to enough over the years.

Something you hadn’t gotten used to... the gangs in the area. Okay, yes, you knew about the main ones around Ketterdam. The Dime Lions and the Dregs were the main two who always seemed to appear in the newspaper. At first, the Dime Lions had interested you more. A wealthy man using his power and place in the system to attack those lower than him to get higher... it was interesting. And as you read through his recent escapades printed in the newspaper, you noticed a new face poking through. A new ‘threat’, perhaps? A threat to Pekka Rollins’ reputation, for sure. This boy’s face had filled the newspapers now for the last three weeks.

Dirtyhands, they called him. A brutal, methodical murderer who was your age. It was insane. Him and five other teens had broken into the ice court in Fjerda and kidnapped Bo Yul-Bayur’s son. He had committed numerous crimes that were paper worthy, crimes which made you believe this boy may just be a little insane.

One night, now having finally gotten rid of your servants, tucking yourself into bed, all after a long day of your parents having pathetic company over, everything had seemed normal. Nothing particularly new or crime related in the day’s newspaper, unfortunately. A relatively boring day, really. You set the newspaper down on the nightstand beside your bed before pulling the canopy curtain shut and sitting back with a content sigh.

It wasn’t until a loud crash from downstairs disturbed you.

You sat suddenly, your heart pounding against your ribcage as screams from the servants, your parents and your siblings bedrooms all echoed boisterously throughout the grand halls of the castle. Shouting and shooting rang loudly in the surrounding bedrooms, all telling their own tale. A gang has finally taken their attack on the monarchy. Impressive, but horrifying.

Thump.

A heavy knock on the floor near your window, followed by two more...

Thump. Thump.

Should you call out? They already know you’re there, so there’s no harm in doing so.

“Hello?” You said simply, trying to sound unfazed but failing miserably from the shake in your tone.

“Curtain.” You heard a low mutter, followed by footsteps leading towards your canopy curtain. The fabric was yanked to the side, and there you saw it; Dirtyhands himself. And his two trusty helpers who often featured alongside him in the newspapers, Inej Ghafa and Jesper Fahey.

“What business do you want with my family?” You asked.

Dirtyhands scoffed. “Your father harbours money we expected returned to us months ago. We’re taking action in hope for getting it back.”

The boy stepped closer, his mahogany cane hitting against the wooden floorboards with a sound that gave you a headache. “Kaz Brekker.” He stood triumphantly with his cane to the side, one hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small watch.