I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The riverbank seethed with tension as a group of men, their faces contorted with anger and impatience, milled about.

Some paced back and forth, while others sat on rocks or fallen logs, their eyes constantly darting to every possible path they could see.

"Where the hell is Gustavo?" growled a burly man with a thick beard. "He's twenty minutes late already!"

Another man, thin and wiry, spat on the ground. "Maybe this whole thing is just a setup. I knew Xylar shouldn't have trusted that snake."

"If he doesn't show up in the next five minutes, I'm out of here," declared a third, his hand resting nervously on the hilt of his knife.

A fourth man, his face red with anger, kicked at a pile of pebbles. "Maybe Gustavo ratted us out, and they're just waiting to ambush us."

As the complaints and threats continued to fly, one man, Mordred, remained apart from the others. He sat silently on a large rock, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around him.

His attention was focused solely on the black blade in his hands, which he tended to with meticulous care.

Occasionally, he would pause to adjust the dreadlocks that hung across his face, revealing glimpses of intricate tattoos etched into his skin.

His calm demeanor stood in contrast to the agitation of his companions, as if he alone knew something the others did not.

Suddenly, a rustling came from the nearby bushes, followed by a fit of coughing. All eyes, including those of the silent man with dreadlocks, snapped towards the source of the noise. Gustavo emerged, disheveled and slightly out of breath.

He stumbled past the group without a word, ignoring their glares.

Instead, he walked to the water's edge and washed a small trail of blood from his hand. Turning back to the group, he finally spoke.

"Gentlemen," Gustavo said, his voice hoarse. "Welcome. I appreciate you all coming here today."

The group remained silent, their faces a mix of anger, suspicion, and impatience. Gustavo's eyes darted from one man to another, finally registering their hostile expressions.

He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. I must apologize for my tardiness. There were... unexpected complications."

The burly bearded man grunted. "Twenty minutes late, Gustavo. Some of us were about to leave."

"Yeah," the thin, wiry man added. "You better have a damn good explanation."

Gustavo nodded, a thin smile on his lips. "Of course, of course. I was trying to gather more information that could potentially make our mission easier," he said, his voice low and serious.

The thin, wiry man leaned forward. "Was it fruitful?"

Gustavo shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. But," he quickly added, seeing the looks of disappointment, "I do have the basic information we need for the hunt."

He continued to explain, "Our mission will be a simple one. Keep a low profile, but stay alert. We're going to a familiar place."

Mordred, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, "Where exactly is this place? Even Xylar didn't tell us anything."

Gustavo smiled, placing a hand on Mordred's shoulder. "Gentlemen, we're going back home."

A confused silence fell over the group. One man voiced what they were all thinking, "What do you mean by home? Are you talking about Drakoria?"

Gustavo nodded, and immediately, a ripple of murmurs erupted among the men.

"Why would we go back when we're still wanted men?"

"Have you forgotten why we fled to Astoria in the first place?"

As the complaints grew louder, Mordred's voice cut through the crowd. "Silence!" he shouted. "If anyone says another word, we'll be one man short. Xylar sent us here because he trusts Gustavo. We follow his orders."

Turning to Gustavo, Mordred asked, "How safe is this mission?"

Gustavo explained, "Noble Lucian, whom we tried to kill, has died. The people have forgotten about us. We'll enter discreetly and keep a low profile, but stay sharp. It should be an easy job."

Mordred nodded, a glint in his eye. "No risk, no reward," he said. "This mission sounds fun. We're ready."

With that, the group approached the boatmen waiting at the dock.

The group boarded a large boat, spacious enough to accommodate all of them comfortably.

As they set off, the atmosphere was mixed - some men still harbored doubts and unease, while others seemed eager for the adventure ahead.

Each of them held a picture of Matilda, their target, studying it intently before they would need to destroy the evidence prior to reaching Drakoria.

Mordred took a seat beside Gustavo, and they began to converse in low tones.

"How did you come to know Matilda was in Drakoria?" Mordred asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gustavo leaned in closer. "I traced her last known location to the village by the river where she treated a boy. I questioned the dock workers who were on duty that day. Most of them claimed ignorance, repeatedly mentioning that only a boatman named Kojo would know. But one let slip that he overheard talk of Drakoria."

Mordred's eyes narrowed. "And Kojo?"

Gustavo shook his head. "Couldn't find him."

"What about the others you questioned?" Mordred pressed.

A grim smile played on Gustavo's lips. "There's a chance other bounty hunters might come asking the same questions. I... ensured their silence."

Mordred's expression mirrored Gustavo's smile. "I see the blood of the brotherhood still runs strong in you, old friend."

As the boat cut through the water, carrying them towards their old home and new mission, in the dark, the two men fell into a companionable silence.

As the coastline of Drakoria began to appear on the horizon through the faint moonlight, Mordred turned to Gustavo with a concerned look.

"Shouldn't we cover our faces?" he asked in a low voice. "We might be recognized."

Gustavo shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Think about it, Mordred. What's more noticeable - a group of 50 men entering the city normally, or 50 men in long clothes with covered faces? We need to blend in, look as ordinary as possible."

Mordred nodded, seeing the logic. "Fair point. But where should we dock? Drakoria has numerous boat landings."

"We'll stop at the first one," Gustavo replied confidently. "Matilda had an injured companion that day. She would have sought the nearest dock for quick treatment or rest. The first landing is our best bet."

As they approached even closer, Gustavo silently walked up behind the boatman, his movements swift and precise. With a quick slice across the man's neck, he ended his life.

Without a word, Gustavo shoved the lifeless body into the water. Turning back to the group, he coldly stated, "no witnesses. We can't afford to be traced."

As their boat approached the first dock, they noticed a few Enforcers patrolling the area. The group maintained their composure, acting as normal travelers. To their relief, they didn't draw any unwanted attention as they disembarked.

Once on solid ground, Mordred whispered to Gustavo, "Where to now?"

Gustavo's eyes scanned the familiar surroundings. "I know an old friend nearby who can help us. Follow me, and remember - act natural."

With that, Gustavo began leading the group away from the docks, blending into the flow of people in the bustling port city.