POV: Chris Blackwood (Disguised as a Beggar)
The room was cold, the walls thick and unwelcoming. The flickering light above me swung slightly, casting dancing shadows across the concrete floor. I sat there, hunched in the corner of the room, my cloak drawn tight, the stench of the street still clinging to me—intentional, necessary. My face remained hidden behind grime and unshaved scruff. They hadn't figured it out yet. That was the plan.
When the door creaked open again and two guards stepped in, I looked up slowly with hollow, desperate eyes.
"Please," I said, voice hoarse, cracked like a man broken. "I… I need a lawyer. I have rights. Even beggars have rights in the Blackwood Empire… right?"
The guards exchanged glances.
I pushed further, eyes wide, like a man clinging to the last piece of his dignity. "The king… he would never allow a beggar to be punished for being hungry. Please, I took a coin pouch, I know. But I was starving. That's not a crime, is it? That's survival. Please, help me. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I didn't even resist when you caught me."
The older guard narrowed his eyes. "A lawyer? You think this is a courtroom? You're lucky we didn't shoot you on the spot, thief."
"But I didn't steal from the palace," I replied, shivering, tone still humble. "It was from a merchant stall. Just food, sir. I've not eaten in days. I'm not a danger. I don't even have a blade…"
The younger guard frowned. He was listening now. I could tell. His jaw clenched, and he looked at me with a mix of suspicion and sympathy.
I leaned forward slightly, not too much, just enough to sell it. "Please… just give me water. Let me see a lawyer. Or… or a priest. Someone. Please. Don't let them hurt me for being hungry."
They didn't reply.
Silence hung in the air like fog. Thick. Suspenseful.
"...He's just a beggar," the younger one finally muttered.
The older guard didn't move. His eyes were trained on me. "There's something off about him."
My heart raced, but outwardly I stayed still, breathing shallow. I lowered my head again, mumbling to myself, as though I were half-mad. "The king wouldn't want this. The king protects the poor. He's kind… everyone says so… that's what they say in the alleys… Chris Blackwood is good."
Saying my own name like I didn't own it? Now that was the performance.
The older guard barked out a dry laugh. "Hah. You think that name's going to save you? You think the king's going to come down here for a beggar like you?"
"I'm not asking him to," I murmured. "I'm asking you to remember who he is."
That landed.
They left the room without another word. The door slammed shut again. I leaned back, exhaling slowly.
Still disguised. Still in control.
Let them think I'm a nobody. Let them report it to the higher-ups. And when the truth comes out? The entire empire will know: no one, not even the Blackwood Axe Men, can see everything.
Not even them.
And that makes me dangerous.
Let's see who visits me next.