[This is my characters origins story, set in Korvosa, a few years before our Curse of the Crimson Throne campaign]
Kevan sighed as the small, rat like man in front of him tried to avoid informing him of an unfortunate turn of events, but evading the subject with such talent as to not have said much other than a string of half-excuses and apologies. “In the name of the gods, just get to the point already!” he burst out once his patience had finally expired.
“Well, you see sir, it looks like the apprentice you hired for that job at Pillar Hill, well, sir, as it happens, the way he was supposed to carry it out, sir, as per your instructions, of course…”
“Enough!” Kevan roared, slamming his fist into the worn wooden table in front of him. Apart from a cabinet and a set of drawers, also seemingly old and worn, it was one of the few pieces of furniture in the dimly lit room that did not look ready to fall apart. “Just tell me the outcome, and if you beat around the bush any longer I will make you shingle spider food.” His choice in employees, began to think Kevan, appeared to be lacking. As if competing with the other gangs, those part of the Cerulean Society and those working for the Varisian Sczarni, was not difficult enough.
Kevan had ambitions. His time as a Korvosa Guard had been very educational, but the lesson that had stuck the most was that criminals profit. Not only that, but if you become a good enough criminal in Korvosa, you practically became untouchable. Guards, on the other hand, don’t really amount to much, he thought. So when the time came he used his experience and his contacts and started his little enterprise. His plan was a simple one, but one he had seen work a number of times during his career as a Korvosa Guard: gather an efficient crew, prove yourself to the Cerulean Society, don’t step on any toes or make much of a mess as to draw unduly attention, and you were set to operate under the auspice of those who really ran the city. Become good enough at that, and you might even become a prominent member of society yourself.
Gathering a few useful members was simple enough, time patrolling the streets had aquatinted him with both ex-guards looking for new employment opportunities, or criminals smart enough to avoid ending in the dungeons. But in order to prosper, he needed to differentiate himself from the Dusters and the likes of them, thugs and ruffians only good for their talent in the use of brute force.
Korvosa attracts all kinds of people, especially young ambitious kids looking for power and greatness in the Acadamae. Sadly for many of them, not all are cut out for it. Some that don’t pass the exam end up at some of the other schools and universities to be found in Korvosa, but those were of no interest to Kevan. He was more interested in those that had a few years of experience and are forced out for other reasons, particularly those expelled. A recruit like that, an apprentice with already some good education under him or her who just had the world collapse under them is prime material for the kind of organization he had in mind. He knew what those wizards were capable of. Some could even instill incredible terror on you by simply touching you, he had seen it himself, a very useful skill in this line of work indeed.
The apprentice had seemed the perfect candidate. Third year in the Acadamae, Rique was competent in his learning, but then kicked out when caught sabotaging the work of a fellow alumni, or, as he would put it, getting retribution. Turns out the other student in question, a tall blond son of a noble had made a habit of picking with poor orphan Rique. Not willing to stand up for it any longer, Rique used magicks that were strictly prohibited, resulting in a couple of students in need of the attention of the school healers. Even though no serious or lasting damage had ensued, the use of forbidden magic coupled with the unfortunate choice in target meant that Rique was out on the street, friendless, family less, and without a copper pinch to his name. Kevan, who had eyes and ears in the local inns and taverns looking out for just such prospect, jumped at the opportunity. It took almost no effort to bring in Rique into the fold.
“Well, sir, it appears like the apprentice may have, ehm, killed someone.”
“Killed someone?” Kevan growled as his eyes bore into the small, rodent looking man shaking on the other side of the desk.
“Actually,” said the man, his hands nervously fidgeting, “it was actually two people. That he killed. Which he wasn’t supposed to. Right?”
Kevan rose from his chair with, thought the little man, more drama than was called for. “How do you know this? How did you come to this information? How long ago was this?” he asked between clenched teeth. Death of a rival was a serious enough crime in Korvosa, but the death of two innocent people, that carried extra weight, and heavier consequences.
“From Rique, sir. He just told me himself, it just happened a few hours ago, he came straight here and told me. The kid is up there shaking in his boots. He’s got a cursed smile on his face, looks like he might have gone mad, sir. Said he went to the marks house in Pillar Hill, was just going to give ol’ Spencer a scare, get him to subscribe to our services, just as you ordered. Sneaked in when the night was old enough and no more lights could be seen in the block. Turns out ol’ Spencer had company of the female sort. A surprise for sure, as we well knew he was unmarried.”
Kevan lowered himself forcefully onto his chair, let out a deep breath, and rubbed his temples. He had few little options. His small enterprise was just starting, and he was about to call in very big favors and put himself in considerable debt.