Fairy Tale: With Sin Of Pride

As the tavern resumed its lively atmosphere, the air buzzed with conversation and laughter.

"Rory, you're late again! Hahaha! What kind of work have you been picking up lately? How about sharing a little with us?"

The voice came from a rowdy table nearby. Their tone was rough, but Koroli understood the underlying implications. He nodded in response, offering only a brief acknowledgment before turning his attention to the man sitting across from him.

"I've completed the task you gave me. The information is all here," Koroli said, tapping the side of his head.

The man opposite him smiled faintly, though it was clear he wasn't thrilled to be in such a place. Few would willingly enter this den—a gathering spot for mercenaries, adventurers, and those who thrived in the shadows. It was a hub for work that could never be done in the light.

"Quickly, tell me what you found. You'll get your promised reward—750 gold coins," the man said impatiently.

But Koroli shook his head. Greedy as he was, he knew when to follow the tavern's unspoken rules. Yet, this time, things were different. His anger bubbled to the surface.

"No, no. The risk of this job was far greater than what you claimed. You never mentioned that the target was a demigod!" Koroli snapped.

The man frowned. Rhodes did indeed exude the aura of a demigod, though his true strength surpassed even that. The accusation put him on edge.

Koroli held up five fingers. "We need to renegotiate. Five thousand gold coins, not a coin less."

"Five thousand? Are you mad? Why don't you just ask for ten thousand? All I asked for was some basic reconnaissance!" the man roared, slamming his fist on the table.

The room fell silent as the other patrons turned their attention to the commotion. Realizing his mistake, the man paled. This was not his domain, and there were no guards here to back him up.

"Pay him," came a calm voice from a back room. It carried an air of authority that silenced any further protest.

Grudgingly, the man handed over the gold. Koroli pocketed the coins, a sly grin on his face. "Don't worry," he said with mock reassurance. "I wouldn't have asked for so much if it wasn't worth it. I walked into the presence of a demigod and nearly met the God of Death himself!"

Koroli delivered the information, completing the transaction. As the pair of men left the tavern, Koroli tossed the coin pouch in his hand and muttered under his breath.

"What a pity. You have no idea what kind of being you've provoked. If the gods of this world are stirring, Rhodes isn't just a demigod—he's a living god."

---

The other patrons surrounded Koroli, offering their congratulations. Despite the dark nature of their work, there was camaraderie in the tavern. Recognized skill and bravery were met with respect.

"It's nothing," Koroli said modestly. "I couldn't have earned this without the help of all you brothers. Drinks are on me tonight!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Generosity went a long way in maintaining good relations, especially in a place like this, where strength and alliances meant survival. Still, running a tab for the entire tavern and handing over 3% of his earnings to the boss meant Koroli's profits dwindled to 4,000 gold coins.

"This place really does eat you alive," Koroli muttered. "But compared to that man's realm, it's still the lesser evil."

His hand unconsciously touched his chest, where the lingering heat from Rhodes' flame burned faintly. The sensation served as a constant reminder of his precarious position.

"Time to get back to work," Koroli sighed. Rhodes had tasked him with gathering intelligence on nearby tribes, races, and gods. The signs were clear—divine powers were awakening everywhere. If Rhodes was to hold his domain, he needed to know who or what might threaten it.

---

As Koroli's carriage left the village, a figure hidden behind a mound of earth watched him go.

"Five thousand gold coins? Looks like Koroli picked up a lucrative mission. Are you certain the people he dealt with are from the Mahad family?"

The observer's companion nodded. "Yes, Master. The carriage bore the Mahad family crest—a horse's head. I'm certain of it."

A young man in the shadows furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Beside him, another man, impatient and brimming with energy, spoke up.

"Brother, why hesitate? The Mahad family is wealthy! Just give the order, and I'll lead our men to arm themselves!"

"Ladd," the elder brother replied sternly, "we have rules, even as bandits. If we break them, who will work with us in the future?"

"But Brother—"

"No! Listen to your elder brother. There's much you still need to learn," the young leader cut him off, his tone firm.

At that moment, an older man entered the room. His kind eyes rested on his eldest son.

"Cord, remember this," he said gently. "Even as bandits, we must maintain credibility. Without trust, we have nothing."

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