Chapter 36: A King Must First Break The Crown
Inside the foul-smelling belly of a Ranevian tavern, the world rotted with every breath.
A long crooked hall of timber and torchlight swayed with laughter, lechery, and the reek of wet blood. The floorboards were warped and sticky, drowned in years of spilled ale and thicker fluids.
Somewhere beneath the din, rats squealed as they chewed each other apart in their cage fights, the onlookers hooting and slapping coins down like it was sacred sport.
A few Mad Vipers lounged near the pit, bellowing encouragement at their chosen vermin.
"That one—bite his damn eyes out!" a man howled, slapping his knee as two emaciated rodents clawed at a shred of moldy cheese.
On the far end, draped across stained cushions, girls danced and laughed hollowly beneath the groping hands of half-conscious men. Some were barely clothed; others simply didn’t care anymore.
A woman with mascara running down her cheek drank straight from the bottle as a man buried his face in her lap. Another lay sprawled across a table, snoring while someone traced circles into her bare thigh with a knife.
But at the center of this den of debauchery, there was less chaos—only conspiracy.
A wide, round table sat like a throne in the eye of the storm. Seven men surrounded it—six leaned in and laughed, but the seventh, seated calmly in the center, listened with a crooked grin that didn’t quite stretch.
That was Venom.
Ranevia’s blood-soaked pit viper. The leader of the Mad Vipers.
A tall, sharp-jawed man with cruel eyes and a jagged scar that ran from his lip to his collarbone. A long dagger spun between his fingers idly as he listened to the latest.