#hertzoon con

[barrel-crow-n]

Margit

So we know that Kaz killed Filip symbolically, with the key to a wind up dog shoved down his throat - the same dogs that Filip used to lure Kaz and Jordie into the con.

In my head, this makes it clear that Kaz had to have done it with the others, too. Why would he do it with only one of them?

Saskia's cause of death is obvious. The ribbon. Kaz strangled her with it, because it was the thing he most associated with her.

But what about Margit? She fed him hutspot. Did he suffocate her by holding her head down in food, or something? Torture her by pouring hot food on her?

[justanotherbarrelrat]

I got a grishaverse fic idea. So a character was childhood friends with Kaz and Jordie, but when the boys’ dad died the brothers had to sell the house and leave. The character wished they could have helped them, but the character and their parents have always been poor, barely able to support three people, no way five. After years, the character managed to save up enough money to travel to Ketterdam and seek answers. They want to reunite with their friends or at least get closure. Despite their parents warnings, citing danger and the man known as Dirtyhands, the character goes anyway. In the city, they encounter a man who goes by the name of Jakob Hertzoon. He promises the character a large fortune, large enough, the character thinks, to seriously change their family’s life. Of course they have to take the deal. They’d be stupid not to, right? Jakob takes every cent the character has, leaving them on the streets as another firepox outbreak sweeps the city. Alone, weak, and in an alley, the character thinks that it’s over. Barely conscious at one point, they swear they had been dragged further into the alley. They swear they saw a vaguely familiar person, a teenage boy, but they can’t think of their name in the fog the sickness drapes over their thoughts. But why is the boy so cold, so pale, and dripping wet? The character is sure they’re hallucinating. But when the body men collect the dead, they don’t get the character because they were so well hidden. And, miraculously, the character recovers. Then they find their way to the Crow Club, and meet the Crows. They relate the story to them, including the “hallucination” of the boy.

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 1

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Masterlist --- Part 2

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Notes: Hi Hello Hi! This is my first time publishing my writings so here goes nothing. I wrote this with the books in mind, though you could still imagine the characters from the show. In my head, this story takes place sometime between Crooked Kingdom and King of Scars. I have much more of this story written including more fluffy Nikolai content than the scraps in this chapter so I will post it if y'all want it (I'm talking about there's-only-one-bed content, mutual-pining-in-silence content, Nikolai being a sophisticated dumbass at times content; it's all great I assure you).

Warnings: Minimal Fluff, Much Angst, Jordie and Kaz's (not really tho) deaths in the past, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of firepox and the Hertzoon con, reader oscillating between super excited and absolutely devastated.

Word Count: 2,800

..........

NINTH YEAR

The Crow Club was a new establishment since you had last walked the streets of the Barrel many years ago. You could remember going past the front of the building on your way to the exchange, but you couldn't recall it being anything but vacant. Back then there were no tourists and gamblers crawling about the place like there were now. It was just as empty as the coffee shop where a dreadful man conned you and your brothers.

You tapped your fingers against the table. In your glass of kvas, you could see your false reflection. This voyage aboard the Volkvolny was the first time your face was tailored to appear unlike your own. At first, Tolya did not make the drastic differences that he employed with your husband; he made more subtle differences with you. Shifts in the eyebrows and the cheekbones, the reshaping of your jaw. Nikolai hadn't been convinced that you looked different enough to be safe, though, so the colour of your eyes and hair were changed and your nose was just slightly offset for extra measure.

Nikolai was staring at you now with the green eyes of Sturmhond. His appearance as the privateer did not make you uneasy, not in the way you assumed your altered appearance was making him, and you smiled as he squeezed your knee beneath the table.

You had met him first as Sturmhond, so you were used to the red hair and crooked nose. After many months at sea on an assortment of ships, you got a permanent spot on the crew of the Volkvolny. It was the ship's first time docked in the Ketterdam harbours, and its captain was a young scoundrel, or so your coworkers had said during the first week at sea.

"He looks too young to be captain of a ship. How did he get his money, eh?" A crewmate bristled as you stood on the deck. This man looked as weathered as some of the sails on the boats in the shabby fifth harbour.

"Heard he stole his wealth off a Zemeni gunsmith," another crewmate said.

"Yeah? Well, I heard he was a Ravkan mercenary who did contract killings for their king." The older one turned to you. "What do you think, kid?"

"I think that I don't care where he made his money as long as he pays my wages." You drew your eyes up from your knot. "Besides, you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"A very wise sentiment, Rietveld," Sturmhond boomed from behind you.

He snuck up without a word, and now your crewmates stood wide-eyed as they stared at their captain. You turned to see him watching the others, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"You might have heard I made my money in magical deer shit, but that doesn't mean it's true."

Then he peered at you with a smirk, called on the others to get back to work, and walked away.

Nikolai gave you that same look now, his gloved hand secure on your thigh. You knew the raised brow and quirked lips all too well. More often than not, the combination spelled trouble. Yet you supposed trouble wasn’t difficult to find in the Barrel. 

A bouncer approached your table and spoke only briefly, “Brekker will see you now,” before escorting your group across the floor of the gambling den.

Sturmhond entered first with you second and Tamar behind you. Your husband smiled as he looked towards a figure seated behind a desk. He approached diplomats, noblemen, and criminals in the same way, with charm, eloquence, and a warm smile. You held back your amusement at that thought, suppressing a smile of your own as you glanced around the room. The paintings and decor looked expensive, and you had to wonder how much of it was stolen. 

“The guy’s a ruthless thief and con,” Nikolai had said when he got home after meeting Brekker for the first time.

You were stuck in Ravka planning your wedding during his trip; it was a dreadful time, and you guilted Nikolai into explaining every little detail of his little journey across the True Sea.

“You might like him, though. He’s got more honour than the merchant council and the rest of those Barrel bosses combined.”

And now you were here in his office. The figure at the desk got out of his chair, and the movement caught your eye. The cheery expression on Sturmhond had not rubbed off on the man, and he stood with his features as hard as a rock. You examined his face, noted the scars that no doubt came from street fights and brawls in the dead of night, and then you looked at his eyes. There was something about them. The dark brown was something you had seen before, perhaps when you were first here in Ketterdam. You met so many people during that time.

When his stare fell on you your throat felt dry. He had the eyes of a calculating lynx, a predator about to ensnare his prey. You knew he was aware of Sturmhond’s true identity, but you weren’t sure if he would correctly assume your position in Ravka. You had only been the queen for a few months, and bills with your likeness had not yet been printed. Few people outside of Ravka could identify you, and fewer still could when you were tailored to fit your new sea-faring alias.

Still, his eyes made you uneasy. You knew them somehow, you just had to know them; but how?

“Tamar, Bos,” Sturmhond said, springing you from the trappings of Brekker’s eyes, “meet my associate, Kaz Brekker.”

There it was, and it hurt as much as being attacked by a volcra. You had taken blows to the gut that didn’t make you as sick as you felt now.

The pain was twofold. Firstly, when either of your dead brother’s names was mentioned you always felt a bitter pain in the pit of your stomach, an acidic burning that twisted your insides like a poison you would quickly succumb to. Your littlest brother was named Kaz, same as the Kaz before you. Seven years your junior, Kaz was too sweet for the cutthroat world around him. Back at the farm, you used to tuck him under your arm and read him stories so he would fall asleep. He was a bright and enthusiastic boy who always made sure to share his sweets with you, even if Da rarely bought them.

But the pain of hearing Kaz’s name was nothing compared to the crushing realization that this was him standing in front of you, all grown up, and very much alive. 

His birthday was last week, and you celebrated it alone with a moment of silence below deck of the Volkvolny. At that moment you thought to yourself how he would have been eighteen by now, how he could have attended the university and gotten a better education than anyone in your family ever had, how he could have had a full life if he didn’t succumb to the pox.

Yet here he was; eighteen and looking worn beyond his years, his life in the barrel undoubtedly having treated him with the cruelty it kept in vast supply. 

“Bos?” Sturmhond patted your shoulder. “Are you listening?”

You turned your attention to him. “I might have missed what you last said, could you repeat yourself?”

“Perhaps your friend should wait outside if she can’t pay attention,” Kaz suggested with a scowl. Was it really him? You had never seen Kaz make such a face at you.

“No,” you rushed to say. After almost nine years of thinking he was dead, you needed every second you could get with your brother. “It was only a momentary lapse. Please, continue.”

They did, and you tried your hardest to listen. You caught snippets of what they were saying, enough to piece things together if your mind strayed, but you were only giving half of your attention. Your eyes kept wandering off course, studying the boy you thought to be dead.

He stepped up to a map on his wall as he spoke with your husband, and you didn't miss the limp in his step. Was that something he got a long time ago or was it new? Did he sustain it when he was taken by the reaper's barge? And how had he survived? You held him and Jordie as they died, but if Kaz was here before you, was Jordie alive too?

No, you shouldn't get your hopes up. And you shouldn't let your mind race with questions like these. Surely you could approach him, ask him whatever you could think of. But you were frozen as you took in the revelation. There was no way you could approach him with it now--you would be incoherent.

Still, as you sat there you had no other thought in your head besides the boy you'd played parent to after Da died.

It was a miracle that Kaz was standing in front of you, breathing and with the flush of life in his healthy–if a little pale–skin. It was a miracle, and a miracle was more than you thought your family could ever have after all the misfortune you'd suffered. But if there was anyone who deserved a miracle, it was sweet little Kaz.

..........

The meeting finished, Kaz dismissed you from his office, and you felt the disappointment sink in. There was no reason for Kaz to recognize you while you were tailored, but you still hoped he would somehow know anyways. He was your brother, and he knew you better than many. Though perhaps, like him, you had changed as well. It had been almost nine years, after all.

Either way, you followed Nikolai back to the Volkvolny, elation in your step, and nervous dread splashing in your stomach. Nikolai was a few paces ahead--busily engaged in conversation with Tolya--while Tamar kept step beside you, seemingly in silent argument with herself every time you glanced at her. As you reached the harbour, she finally spoke up.

"Bos," she started, maintaining your identity despite the absence of witnesses around you. "Your heartbeat has been erratic since you saw Brekker."

You gulped, a move you regrettably realized the heartrender would know of.

"It keeps speeding up like a racehorse then lulling below your usual beats per minute. In the meeting, I kept thinking you might pass out."

"I'm alright, Tamar," you assured her, though you felt your heart speed up a bit as you kept away the truth. "I feel better than I have in a while, actually."

"Is that so?" Her eyes were skeptical.

"It is."

She dropped the topic as you reached the Volkvolny. 

You went right to the captain's cabin, eager to have Nikolai to yourself so you could share the exciting–if not bizarre–news. You wasted no time stripping off your heavy coat and tugging off your boots. Nikolai would take his time as captain of the ship, checking with the crew to make sure everything was in shape before he joined you, so you sat down on the bed, face in your hands as you considered your evening at the Crow Club. 

"He's alive," you grinned into your palms. "My baby brother is alive."

The thought was all you could think of, and even as you heard Nikolai's boots coming down the hall, everything besides Kaz was so distant to you.

"The meeting went rather well, I think," Nikolai said as he shut the door behind him. He came to sit with you. "But you were very quiet all night. Are you alright, my love?"

"Better than alright."

"I'm glad to hear that. It didn't seem like that earlier; you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

You looked at Nikolai. "That's because I did." You played with the most ornate of his rings, bringing his hand to rest between yours. "I’ve told you about my brothers, Nikolai. Do you remember their names?"

"Yes, Jordie and… Kaz." He looked at you, realization dawning in his eyes. "You don't think–"

"I don't think, I know. It’s him, I just know it. He’s my baby brother, Niko." You grinned and flopped back onto the bed. It was firmer than the one in your palace suite, but you’d grown accustomed to the roughness again on this voyage after a few years away from this cabin. "Saints, I need to see him again."

Nikolai glanced away from you, silent for a moment as if in debate with himself. "My love, I don't think that’s a very good idea. I know Brekker, and he’s nothing like the stories you’ve told me of your brother. I think seeing him again--seeing how he’s changed--would only upset you."

You sat up again, staring directly into Nikolai’s eyes.

"What upsets me is that my husband doesn’t think I should reunite with the only family I have left," you scoffed.

"I know you want to see him, I'm just afraid you'll be disappointed."

"I thought he was dead, but now he's alive. There is no way he could disappoint me.” You grabbed your husband's hands, squeezing them gently as you faced your body towards him.  “He's alive, Nikolai."

He sighed. "People can die in many different ways, not only when they stop living."

"You think he's so vicious of a criminal that I would rather he be dead?"

"Well, no, I just…"

"You just what, Nikolai?"

"I don't want you to get hurt." He brushed his thumb over your knuckles. "I know the nightmares you used to get about your brothers, I know how helpless they made you feel. I’d hate for you to feel that way ever again.”

Your stare fell to his most gaudy ring. It sat in place of his usual wedding ring, which was safely tucked on a chain beneath his shirt just as your wedding ring rested on a chain beneath yours.

He wasn’t wrong about your nightmares. He’d seen you on your worst nights, held you close as you sobbed into his chest. He watched you in the depths of agony, your lungs on fire and your stomach knotted so tightly you probably wouldn’t feel a bullet tearing into your flesh. And although the nightmares weren’t as frequent or debilitating as they once were, you sometimes still woke up crying from a dream of two boys that deserved more from their short lives.

But there was nothing that would make you want to abandon Kaz again. This meeting was a chance to redeem yourself. You could make amends for not protecting Kaz or Jordie as you should have. You could hold Kaz and never part with him unlike when you let the bargemen roll your brothers’ bodies away. This was a second chance you wouldn’t give up.

“Nikolai,” you began, sturdy in your words, “I know you’re concerned for me, and I understand why, but this is something I have to do. I can’t walk away from this trip without as much as a word to my brother when I’ve thought him dead all this time. Even if it turns out that he isn't what I remember, at least I’ll get to speak with him again, to tell him I love him and that I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him.”

“The firepox wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. Nikolai often repeated this to you whenever you felt guilty or woke up trembling in the night.

“I know.” You rested your head against his shoulder. “I know, but I was still supposed to be the big sister; I was still supposed to keep them safe.” Peering up at him, you said, “I just hope he can forgive me.”

“Why would he need to forgive you?”

“Because I left him for dead in a place crawling with liars and cheats. Saints know what he went through without anyone around to care about him.”

You said this as though the saints deigned to look after anyone in the barrel. No higher power was seeing Kaz through his years here, you were sure of that.

“We can go to him again tomorrow,” Nikolai said. “But for now, we should rest.”

There was no way of knowing how Kaz would react when he learned who you were, but you stayed optimistic as you readied for bed. You imagined hugging him, holding him in your arms again for the first time in so many years. You’d exchange stories of your lives without each other. Perhaps he would be amused that you had somehow gone from a farmer’s daughter to a pirate to the queen of Ravka in your time apart; saints knew you were still a bit bewildered by it all.

You tossed and turned quite a bit, and you knew you were keeping Nikolai awake too, but you couldn’t help your excited mind. Eventually, you sidled up to your husband–who was ready to wrap his arms around you in an attempt to keep you still–put your head on his chest, and listened to the familiar pumping of his heartbeat.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more! Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Part 2

[smolandweirdwriter]

something about inej saying kaz doesn't lie and kaz preferring terrible truths to kind lies and the way hertzoon gave him and jordie kindness and only honest men dont get conned and kaz is, despite all his failings, honest, is making me want to throw up

[lunarthecorvus]

You said you’ve read multiple fics where Wylan and Kaz’s moms were friends, can I get the links?

Kaz Brekker's Mother's & Marya Hendriks fanfiction recommendations

part of Lunar's soc fanficiton rec series

-------------------------------✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧----------------------------------

blood of my blood by @garbagef4iry

Wordcount: 9,332 Chapters: 9/9

Characters: Kaz Brekker's Father, Kaz Brekker's Mother, Original Characters, Marya Hendriks, Jan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker

Tags: Women’s Rights Movement, city girl x country boy, Misogyny, Badass Women, mentions of abuse and violence, late victorian england vibes, Prequel

Author's summary/notes: As Kaz struggles in his confidence with becoming a father, he yearns for his own. For both of his parents. This is the story of his mother and father— Wilhelmina Trapp and Abram Rietveld. My summary/notes: I love this fic so much. You have badass women fighting for the women's right movement, I'm obbsessed with Kaz's mum in this, and it has Anika's parents?! Also Marya my beloved <3 and how she ended up where she did + so many other original characters

---------- ☾₊ ⊹

Keeping Me Alive by @martinakl13

Wordcount: 510,662 Chapters: 175/?

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Jan Van Eck, Marya Hendriks, Anika Imogen, Alys Van Eck, Inej Ghafa's Mother, Original Characters, Jakob Hertzoon, Inej Ghafa's Father, Jordie Rietveld, Specht, Per Haskell, Jarl Brum, Pim, Keeg, Roeder, Tante Heleen, Pekka Rollins, Colm Fahey, Asha, Hanzi, Big Bolliger, Oomen, Hanne Brum, Saskia Rollins, Kaz Brekker's Father (Mentioned), Kaz Brekker's Mother (mentioned), Matthias Helvar's Sister, Matthias Helvar's Father, Matthias Helvar's Mother, Genya Safin, Reyem Yul-Kaat, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Gambling, Dyslexia, Trauma, Violence, Past Child Abuse, Mixed Martial Arts, Past Character Death, Touch-Averse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, Implied/Referenced Sex, Alcohol, Hacking, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Slow Burn, Jordie Rietveld Lives, Soft Inej Ghafa, Soft Kaz Brekker, Drug Use, Depression, Kaz Brekker Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining, Inej Ghafa Needs a Hug, Eating Disorders, Drug Addiction, Survivor Guilt

Author's summary/notes: A boy who lost everything and is still fighting for his chance at a better life. A ballerina who wants to make her dream come true. A soldier running away from a terrible truth. A multilingual girl, abandoned by her own family, trying to find her place in a world. A talented musician who struggles to overcome his father's prejudice and mistrust. A boy who solves his problems by making bad decisions. Six students of University of Ketterdam deal with their past and traumas to find love, understanding and friendship. My summary/notes: I have recommended this fic before so I won't add any new notes but although it is only in the background they do speak about Marya and Kaz's mothers shared past friendship. Also, Martina is so sweet and such a great author with so many other soc fics so go check them out

you'll get the green light (and i'll get the old door in the face) by @honeii-puff

Wordcount: 698 Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Marya Hendriks, Wylan Van Eck (Mentioned), Alys Van Eck (mentioned), Plumje Van Eck (mentioned), Jesper Fahey (Mentioned), Kaz's Father (mentioned), Kaz's Mother (mentioned),

Tags: no beta, Title from Problems (Mother Mother)

Author's summary/notes: In which Mayra Hendriks invites Kaz Brekker for tea twice, and one time he accepts My summary/notes: I know this fic is short and only talks a bit about it, I still think its sweet and is great ground to think about the friendship more.

These are the only fics I can find now, I will keep on the look for the others, and if anyone has a fic with this friendship feel free to let me know and I'll read it and rec it <3

[thechaoticrow]

for all kaz’s stuff about “he had conned men both good and bad” and “there was nothing, no sin he wouldn’t commit for the right price”, i like to believe the one thing he would never do is con a child. yes, he threatened the five-year-old, but that was when he had no other option. kaz brekker, with the R on his bicep for Rietveld and the voice of jordie’s ghost in his ear, would vow to never scam and swindle a child out of all they had like jacob hertzoon/ pekka rollins had him and his little brother. instead, he would find these children- these impoverished, back-alley children, just like he was- and recruit them into the Dregs. teach them how to fight and how to do business. and that’s how he built the dregs into a group loyal to him. by making sure no child became another jordie, no sibling another kaz rietveld.

[kaitcreates]

In honor of Shadow and Bone season 2 coming out today: If the six of crows were in the shadowhunter chronicles(book spoilers)

Kaz: Kaz and Jordie moved after their father died. As young mundanes with the sight they did odd jobs for Jakob Hertzoon for a short while. Eventually they realized Jakob was conning them but only after he had taken all their money and left them without a word. Fending for themselves when a plague swept their city Jordie contracted it and in a desperate attempt to save his brother Kaz had to half drag his brother to the nearest hospital. Unfortunately he ended up falling into the water along with his brother’s body which he found dead when he resurfaced in the water. Being forced to use his brother corpse to float back to sure Kaz developed an aversion to touch afterwards. He eventually discovered that Jacob was in actually Pekka Rollins a well known member of many local shadow markets.

Inej: As half-fey, Inej grew up traveling around the country with her parents and their friends. Preforming for the locals in shadow markets Inej learned to become a skilled acrobat. She never stayed king enough in any given shadow market to get any real sense of how business was done their. That changed when she was 14 and was captured by slavers and subsequently bought by Tante Heleen to be a prostitute at the menagerie, a prostitute house for members of the downworld. One day she met Kaz and after offering him information the previous day Per Haskell bought her indenture at Kaz’s insistence and she became a member of the dregs, a local shadow market gang that while didn’t allow her to go completely free gave her more freedom to go to different shadow markets that the dregs had become a part of.

Nina: A young shadowhunter whose parent were killed when she was barely a toddler. Taken in by the local institute she grew up to be a skilled shadowhunter and by 17 joined in an expedition going around the world to find mundanes with the sight willing to join the shadowhunter academy after the events of the dark war.

Matthias: Born a werewolf, Matthias’ parents’s pack were murdered when he was eight by extremist shadowhunters who followed Valentines ideology but didn’t participate in the uprising. Taken in by a new pack, he was raised to believe that all shadowhunters were that bad. When he turned 18 he was sent out with other pack members to find a new den after their previous one had been destroyed by the resident vampires. On the way back after finding a possible new base they came across a young shadowhunter girl who they promptly captured and brought with them to be killed in front of the whole pack. Without the help of a portal the used a small boat they rented to get back to the pack but they encountered a storm and the boat was destroyed. He and the shadowhunter who he learners was name Nina were stranded out at sea for days until they landed on wrangel island and bounded during their time trying to find civilization.

Jesper: A secret shadowhunter posing as a mundane with the sight, Jesper spend his time gambling in the dark corners of the shadow market. Even after his mother left the shadowhunters to be with his father she never stopped trying to help people. Sacrificing her life to save a small child during a rampaging demon attack his dad taught him that being a shadowhunter was too dangerous and Keaper never joined their ranks even as he became older.

Wylan: The son of a wealthy and influential mundane with the sight, Jan Van Eck who still abuse Wylan because of Wylan’s Dyslexia, Wylan ran away from his father after a failed assassination attempt. Living on the streets and selling potions he’s barely surviving until a certain someone comes in offering him to join their gang.

[crowleybrekkers]

OKAY I KNOW THAT HAMLET IS *THE* ORIGINAL TRAGEDY BUT CONSIDER:

WHEN KAZ WAS 9 HIS PARENTS DIED SO HIS BROTHER, JORDIE, HAD TO SELL THE FARM THEY LIVED ON TO GET MONEY AND THEY MOVED TO THE CITY WHERE THEY WERE COMPLETELY ALONE

JORDIE GOT EMPLOYED BY JAKOB HERTZOON WHO HAD A FAMILY KAZ WOULD PLAY WITH AND BECAME SOMEWHAT CLOSE TO. HE LET THEM SPEND ALL OF THEIR MONEY TO INVEST IN PLANT CROPS, PROMISING THAT THEY’D BE RICH AND LIVE COMFORTABLY, WHICH THEY DID FOR A WHILE UNTIL HERTZOON SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED THE DAY HE SAID TO MEET UP AND THEY REALIZED THAT THEY SPENT ALL OF THE MONEY THEY EARNED BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T EXPECT HIS SUDDEN DISAPPEARANCE SO THEY DIDN’T THINK TO SAVE IT AND WERE LEFT WITH NOTHING AGAIN. TURNS OUT THAT HERTZOON WAS A CON ARTIST THAT SCAMMED THEM AND HIS NAME AND FAMILY WERE ALL FAKE AND PART OF THE TRICK.

SHORTLY AFTER, THEY GOT EVICTED FROM THEIR BOARDINGHOUSE AND WERE FORCED TO LIVE ON THE STREETS WHERE THEY BOTH CONTRACTED A DEADLY VIRUS. THEIR BODIES WERE THROWN INTO THE OCEAN ALONG WITH HUNDREDS OF OTHER DEAD BODIES. JORDIE DIED BUT KAZ WAS ALIVE. HE WAS THROWN INTO THE OCEAN BECAUSE EVERYONE THOUGHT THAT HE WAS DEAD DUE TO HIS BAD CONDITION. FOR HOURS HE WAS SCREAMING FOR SOMEONE TO SAVE HIM BUT NOBODY CAME. HE SOON GAVE UP SO TO SURVIVE, HE HAD TO USE JORIDE’S DEAD BODY AS A FLOATIE TO SWIM TO SHORE AND BECAUSE OF THAT HAS SEVERE HAPHEPHOBIA DUE TO ALL OF THE COLD DEAD SKIN HE TOUCHED. IT’S SO BAD THAT HE CANNOT TAKE OFF HIS GLOVES AND ENDURE SKIN-TO-SKIN CONTACT WITH ANYONE BECAUSE IT GIVES HIM SEVERE TRAUMA.

FROM THAT MOMENT FORWARD HE COMPLETELY CHANGED AND BECAME RUTHLESS AND SHUT OUT ALL OF HIS EMOTIONS, EARNING THE NICKNAME DIRTYHANDS, AND BECAME A GANG LEADER AT 14. YES. 14.

HE PANICKED AND FAINTED WHEN HE HAD TO BE SHOULDER-TO-SHOULDER WITH PEOPLE WHICH WAS VERY SURPRISING FOR EVERYONE AT THAT TIME BECAUSE HE’S VERY COLDHEARTED AND CALM ABOUT EVERYTHING. THE MOST INTIMATE ACT HE DID WITH HIS CRUSH WAS KISS HER NECK, WHICH COSTED A LOT FROM HIM AND WAS EXTREMELY DIFFICULT FOR HIM TO DO. THIS MAY SEEM LIKE NOTHING SO I’M INCLUDING THE PAGES

VOTE KAZ GUYS

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT: [SPOILERS AND POSSIBLE TRIGGERS AHEAD]

HAMLET:

KAZ BREKKER:

[lady-a-stuff]

I'll never get over that when Kaz realize that Van Eck conned him he goes back instantly to the first time he was conned it's "It was Hertzoon and his coffeehouse all over again, only now Kaz was old enough to know better." and he tries to trick Van Eck back but he ends up losing and it's "He felt as he had looking into the darkened windows of the house on Zelverstraat. Helpless once more" HELPLESS ONCE MORE

and then he's saying to Jesper “Saints, Jesper, you really haven’t learned anything in the Dregs, have you? You’re still the same dumb farm boy who stepped off the boat.” but I can't help thinking this is what he is thinking about himself

[barrel-crow-n]

Obviously, we know that Inej knows Kaz best but really, even she doesn't know him - or at least, doesn't understand many parts to him.

"He just lets go" about a boy who has never let anything go. Who, since he was nine years old, has been unhealthily obsessed with Pekka and taking him down. Who was still obsessed with this revenge eight years later. Who hears his dead brother's voice in his head - cruelly egging him on on this maddened quest for vengeance. Who remembered every single last detail of the Hertzoon con; who killed eveyone involved.

People criticise this line, and rightfully because it's plain wrong, but it goes to show how isolated Kaz is and that even with the person he trusts most, he still holds many cards close to his chest. He still hasn't shed his armour completely - not even with Inej.

Inej also doesn't understand Kaz's language. She knows the signals he has established with her for moves and attacks but, funnily enough, it's only ever Matthias that truly reads Kaz (understanding his micro expressions and how he cares about Inej). She understands that she is trusted because he takes off his gloves - but even then doesn't seem to understand the extent; Kaz strips in front of her, as a show of trust - that he's willing to expose himself to her, but she doesn't understand that this is what he is trying to convey. I highly doubt this is a way of wooing Inej. At least, that that was the main reason. He was being vulnerable with her, showing his underbelly.

Kaz cannot say he cares, but he also can't seem to show it either - not in a conventional way, anyway. He carries Inej to the Ferolind despite it causing him pain, he yanks out the eye of the man who stabbed her. He says "I protect my investments." And that sounds completely dickish, but Kaz doesn't show appreciation. Ever. Inej doesn't understand that "I protect my investments" means "I want to look after you because you mean a lot to me" because that's what it means!!! In Kaz's language. "Protect" -> Look after, take care of, defend. "Investments" -> Very important to him, more valuable over time (liking her more and more as times goes on). "I protect my investments" isn't the stupid, asshole line Nina and a lot of people read it as. It's Kaz's kinda mean, not betraying how much it means to him, round about way of showing he cares. He won't say it outright because living in the Barrel has taught him that that is dangerous.

This is shown again when he says "I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk I'd crawl to you. And no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out, knives drawn, pistols blazing, because that's what we do, we never stop fighting." He can't say a simple "I care about you." but he can say all that. Why? Because he ties his care to violence. Protection. Causing harm to defend Inej. (Strooooong dog motifs for Kaz btw - the people of the Barrel were spot on with the rabid dog nickname)

And it links to how all the characters are always saying "ohh he's so mysterious, I don't know anything about him, where he came from, or what his motives are" when Kaz is literally openly saying everything.

He doesn't not speak of his trauma or his feelings! He talks about them all the time! He just isnt straightforward.

"Barrel boys don't have parents, they're born in the harbours and crawl out of the canals."

"My mother is Ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour."

He's literally talking about being "dead" (thrown on the Reaper's Barge), how that affected him (traumatised him so bad he feels like he is no longer the same boy, that he was reborn as something else - a monster), about having to crawl out of the harbour, wet and weak from fever. He openly admits he's an orphan. He talks about it! Just in a cryptic way. A way no one understands.

It's like he's crying out, with people not far, but no one hears him. Like he's still on the Barge, making a futile attempt to cry out "I'm still alive." The Barge still has that hold on him. It's a manifestation of the trauma. It's the same way the flashbacks taking him back to that miserable night. A prison that he can't seem to ever be free from.

When he tells Inej "Tell Jesper he's missed around the Slat." he's doing it again, just more blatantly and more obvious, so that she picks up on it this time. He's showing her his language! Telling her to read into what he is saying! He's saying that he misses Jesper in his detached, cryptic way.

And this is so important with everything Kaz says. Reading between the lines - that's how you start to understand him. We get a cheat sheet by seeing his internal thoughts, but his dramatic talk is the olive branch for outsiders.

When Inej is asking him to open up, she isn't asking that he should share his problems and vulnerabilities like she believes she is saying. She's asking him to be more direct. And that's the difficult part for Kaz.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

I think about this a lot and I also think that this is why Margit was one of the most important aspects of the Hertzoon con because it was all about the boys being offered a second chance at a family; I feel like I wrote this in the tags of a post before and I can’t find it now but I agree that the implication may be that Kaz’s mother died whilst giving birth to him and considering the very elaborate methods through which he convinced himself away from the blame he places on himself for Jordie’s death - even in chapter 3 before we have the faintest idea of whom Jordie is Kaz briefly panics he is being attacked by a ghost and says “Jordie had come for his vengeance at last”, based on the showdown with the Black Tips and the murder of Big Bolliger in the previous scene my original assumption was that Jordie was someone Kaz had betrayed and got away with it, and this idea is continued throughout the duology - I think it’s arguable that Kaz could, to some extent, blame himself for his mother’s death as well - and not necessarily the fact that he lost her, because he may not feel the loss of someone who was never there, but that he feels he took her away from Jordie. Kaz continually views himself as the reason for any of Jordie’s ‘failings’ (I put that in quotations marks because Jordie may not have been a great guardian but hey maybe that’s because HE WAS THIRTEEN. Maybe you can’t fleece an honest man, but Jordie was not a man he was a little boy and I will defend him to my dying breath) and arguably part of what he saw in the Hertzoons was not only a chance for them to have a family again but also a chance for Kaz to somehow redeem himself for taking Jordie’s family away from him.

Anyway now I’m sad

I think about Kaz's mother a lot... not the Ketterdam harbour lmao, his actual mother. Wylan asks if he remembers her, and gets slapped with the infamous 'my mother is Ketterdam' response, but bc the interaction isn't from Kaz's POV, we're also blocked from an honest response.

Kaz seems to hold Jordie in much higher importance than his parents; he thinks of his father literally once (he was a farmer; he died in a ploughing accident), and his mother not at all. We can surmise he either doesn't remember her, or doesn't care to... so either she died or left when he was very young, I suppose? My personal interpretation is that she probably died in childbirth, since they seemed to live pretty rurally, and if she died in childbirth with Kaz, it makes Nina's 'you probably bargained your way out of the womb' comment kind of true, albeit accidentally. A life for a life...

But her death/departure is the first domino falling, in that it means Kaz and Jordie are left uncared for after their father's death. If she had lived or stayed... Well, I don't think Kaz would have ever gone to Ketterdam. I'm sure Kaz would say it doesn't matter, but everyone else's mothers are important to to them and remembered fondly. There's everything Jesper remembers about Aditi, Inej thinks often and fondly of small things about her mother, there's Matthias's mother who wore her shoes on the wrong feet when she was pregnant with his sister, and there is of course Marya Van Eck... this sort of puts Kaz in a weird position where he's in parallel with Nina, who's also an orphan, but the difference is Nina was raised in an orphanage from, presumably, a really early age, and Kaz had at least his father until he was nine. But the boy who remembers it all... doesn't seem to remember his mother? I wonder if he even knows what her name was. It's not plot relevant, but I still wonder.

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 3

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 2 --- Masterlist --- Part 4

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Hello and welcome to one of the saddest things I've ever written. The next part will be a little lighter I promise. Also the next part will not be the last, this story might go one for another like three or four parts lmao.

Warnings: Death, Lots Of Angst, mentions of vomiting, panic attacks, firepox and illness, mentions of the Hertzoon con.

Word Count: 6,000

..........

FOURTH YEAR

"You're lost, and I'm the one who will pay for it!" 

"I am not lost. We're in the woods of West Ravka," Sturmhond said plainly.

"Oh, really?" You exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to smack him upside the head. "I didn't know that, Captain. And here I thought we were in the Wandering Isle!"

He ignored your sarcasm, forging ahead. You followed like an idiot with nothing better to do. No, only one of you was an idiot, and it wasn't you, the person who'd said to steer clear of those Drüskelle for Tolya and Tamar's sake. Your captain was very much the idiot, and now you were separated from the twins and wandering in what felt like an entirely aimless manner.

You had objected to the trip from the very start. Sturmhond wanted to go to Ravka to expand his communication network--for what reason, you did not know. He seemed to already know everything that happened in the Grand Palace even when he was thousands of miles away; surely there was a line of communication to his family, if that's what he was worried about.

But no, he insisted that he needed informants from all over Ravka, not only Os Alta. So he decided to rope you, Tolya, and Tamar into a little "business trip" as he put it. You didn't want to go, but he made it seem vital that you be there as his trusted second in command. Part of you only agreed because you wanted to see more of Ravka than just its ports; you had a fascination with the country. The interest stemmed from your time with Old Lady Trokowsky and the stories she told of her homeland. She made the vast country sound beautiful with its rivers and mountains and forests and tundra; you had only ever known the field and the city between your youth at your family's farm and the bustle of Ketterdam.

Still–despite your excitement at seeing Ravka–the fact that he dragged you out here only to get you lost and split up from the twins made you want to wring his neck.

"Fucking scoundrel," you muttered to yourself in your native tongue.

"You swear like a sailor," Sturmhond said in Kerch, slipping into the language with the refined lilt of a well-tutored prince. His words made your blood boil, and you sent him a glare. Honestly, it was like he made it his job to irritate you.

"I am a sailor."

He dared to laugh. "An apt assessment."

The two of you traveled until the woods gave way to a field of overgrown grass and miserable-looking crops. You stopped at a barn that looked like it might collapse at any moment as you looked past the field at the main house. It looked just as decrepit as the barn.

"You stay here, I'll check out the house," he said.

"Like hell I'm staying here," you argued, starting off towards the house.

Sturmhond muttered something snippy beneath his breath, and you glared at him over your shoulder. Despite his muttering, he still followed you.

You took the main floor as Sturmhond took the upstairs. There was nothing useful to you inside, but through the front window you spotted a well. You went outside and drank and splashed your face with the water before Sturmhond emerged with some blankets and a few dry matches.

"The place is pretty picked over," he said after taking a turn drinking the water. "But it looked like someone might have been squatting there recently, so I'd rather not run into them if they come back." 

You gave him a sour look which he easily deflected. "You want us to stay in the barn, don't you?"

He made no apology or a sheepish look of any sort, though he really should have. This was all his fault.

You shook your head and went back to the field. The crops were mostly unsalvageable, but once you searched the grass you found some gourds that had managed to survive without care. You cut them from their stems and brought them to the barn where Sturmhond had travelled off to.

He was setting the blankets over two beds of hay. You sighed at the sleeping arrangement. You were so used to your cabin on the Volkvolny now, and you dearly missed your real bed.

"I haven't been camped out like this since my army days," he said. "The nostalgia is almost nice."

The last time you'd slept without a real roof over your head was when you were on the streets of the Barrel, and you had no desire to reminisce on those days. You started building a fire with some scraps of wood Sturmhond must have gathered.

"Do you miss the army?" You asked him this question to keep your mind off the cold cobbles of Ketterdam.

"Sometimes. My family was proud of me then," he confessed. "They liked that their son was fighting for his country, but they liked it even more because I was good at it. My mother would brag to the court about how her son was the youngest Major in the First Army."

He sat beside the fire you started. 

"What about you? Does this barn remind you of your home?"

You pursed your lips. "Our barn wasn't quite as big." 

He nodded, letting the topic lapse as he knew you wouldn't divulge more information.

It was completely silent–save for the crickets–as you ate. The sun slowly set in an orange haze, and you had to admit the view was pretty. But once it was gone the air turned cold, a tell-tale of a long and miserable night.

……….

You shivered awake. The cold was something you hadn't borne since the nights you and your brothers spent on the streets of the Barrel. It leeched through your veins like the freezing northern waters of the True Sea. You were too numb to move your body, and you could only rub your arms to keep warm. Then you heard Sturmhond speak.

"We're going to freeze to death out here," he said, his teeth chattering.

"An apt assessment," you responded.

"I shouldn't have made our beds so far from each other."

"I'm not moving them now. I think my legs are frozen through."

You heard him get up, and in the next moment he was standing beside your bed, his blanket around him. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he nudged you.

You snapped at him, “What?”

“Move over,” he said, nudging you again.

“You’re not sleeping beside me on this shitty little bed.”

“I made that shitty little bed, thank you very much, and it’s either I sleep beside you or we both spend a night in frozen agony on separate beds and get killed on our travels tomorrow because we're too exhausted to think properly." He nudged you once more. “Now, move over.”

With a frown, you rolled onto your side, making space for Sturmhond to lay down beside you. He pulled his blanket over the two of you and huddled closer to you. His hand was shaking as he slowly brought his arm around you. When you didn't elbow him in the ribs he slunk closer to you.

He gave you some warmth as he rested against you, but he was still shivering and it made sleeping beside him more than a little uncomfortable. So with extreme hesitancy, you grabbed his shaky hand in yours and drew it close to your chest. He stilled for a second, but then you felt him chuckle, his arms softening. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the cold in your veins ebbed.

“Not so bad, now is it?” He said lowly, his voice close to your ear.

“Shut up, you twat.”

……….

In the morning, neither of you spoke about the night before, though you could tell Sturmhond wanted to. He kept staring at you and then looking away when you caught him.

You woke up with your face in his chest and your hands gripping his shirt for dear life. He was still asleep, and you thanked the saints that you were spared the humiliation of being caught in that position. You slipped away from your bed before he awoke and went to find food. The whole morning was spent dancing around the sleeping arrangements of the prior night.

You had no idea how you'd survive the rest of this unexpected journey.

After you ate, the pair of you packed up your things and took to a road off of the farm. It was a long and lonely walk, but after forty minutes you reached a village.

Sturmhond posted a letter to an address in Novokribirsk, a contact in the network that he had been building before your untimely encounter with Drüskelle. The contact would reach Tolya and Tamar and the four of you would be reunited soon enough, or so Sturmhond assured you. But, for now, you were to lay low in the village. 

There was the issue of where you would stay, but Sturmhond left you in a pub to order food and said he would sort it out. When he returned the first thing he did was grab your hand. You narrowed your eyes at him as he slipped a ring on your finger and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had half a mind to punch him with your new ring, but you held off because of the people around you. There was no need to attract attention, especially when you were supposed to be laying low.

"Hello, my dear," he said, sitting down. "You should be more excited that I found your misplaced wedding ring, you know."

"I'm over the moon," you told him, rubbing a thumb over the flat gold band. Sturmhond had worn it since the first day you met him, but it fit you surprisingly well for a hand-me-down.

He hummed in response, picking up his knife and fork. You followed suit, suspicious and slightly confused, but too hungry to bother. 

On the walk through the village, he held your hand and explained to you that he told the innkeeper he was spending a few days in town with his wife.

"He seemed the old-fashioned type so I thought he might start asking questions about the two young people sharing a room." He gave your hand a squeeze. "This was easier."

"Alright, but why did you have to kiss my hand in the pub and why insist on holding hands now?" 

He flashed you a smile, his green eyes crinkling a bit. "We'll be stuck here for who knows how long; we have to keep up appearances."

You weren't thrilled about this, but you nodded to yourself. "Fine. What are we to be called?"

"Pytor and Ilse Ivanov. I gave you a Kerch name to explain away your accent."

"And here I thought my Ravkan accent was perfect."

"It's passable at best."

"Now you tell me."

When you arrived at the inn, you learned that Sturmhond was right about the innkeeper. The man had a razor-sharp stare on your hand, eager to spot a ring. Only then did he give you a polite nod. 

When you got to your room you weren't surprised to find a double bed instead of two singles, yet the sight of it still made you frown. You didn't want a repeat of last night in the barn and the embarrassment that came along with it.

"One bed," you commented.

"It's more cost-effective." He took off his drab coat; brown was an odd colour for him. "Plus, I thought you wouldn't mind seeing as we've slept together before."

He phrased it like that just to see you squirm, you were sure of it, but instead of giving him a reaction, you walked into the bathroom where you promptly began muttering swears at him in Kerch; he would still understand them, and you would still be giving him some kind of reaction, but you were too tired to bottle it up completely. 

You were glad to scrub off your travels with a warm bath. While you were at the pub, Sturmhond booked this room and went to a nearby shop to pick out an outfit for the both of you, so you were able to change into something clean, thank the saints. Once finished, you sat in a chair by the window as Sturmhond took your place in the bathroom. You started reading a slim book he also purchased. 

He'd spoken of cost-efficiency, and yet here he was making unnecessary purchases.

When he came out of the bathroom he looked rather put-together. The sight wasn't what you were used to from him. He was usually a rugged scoundrel, but right now he looked almost respectable with his face clean and his hair slicked back from the water. It wasn't a bad change, especially not when the ties at the top of his shirt were open and you could see droplets trailing his chest.

What was it about him with his shirt undone that sought to poison your mind? You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck as best as you could and returned your attention to the book. 

He was your captain–your employer–and you would not get more involved with him than you already were. A freezing night spent in each other's arms was one thing, but actually pining over him was something else entirely. 

And then there was the issue of his feelings toward you. You knew he liked you as more than a captain liked their second--he had practically told you that night in the Ketterdam harbours--but you couldn't encourage his crush. It wouldn't be right to lead him on when you did not intend to be with him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning against the bed post.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I mean, how are you--a lovely sailor from Kerch--reading a book in Old Ravkan?"

You turned your page. "Because I know Old Ravkan."

He chuckled to himself, laying down on the bed. "Never a real answer with you, is it?" Once he was settled against the pillows he spoke, "Read to me."

"Was that a request or an order?"

"That book is the entirety of our entertainment budget and I'm frightfully bored just sitting here with nothing to do, so read it to me, please."

You rolled your eyes and flipped back to the beginning, reading it aloud this time. He listened peacefully, staring at the ceiling as he laid back. After a while, you peered over and his eyes were shut, so you closed the book and climbed into your side of the bed.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, definitely not asleep. 

"It's late and that book isn't very long. We have to pace ourselves since we're stuck here until further notice."

"It should only be a few days, a week at the most."

"Still," you said, "it'll be done and we'll be bored out of our minds."

"It's nice being read to." He turned on his side to face you. "It didn't happen much in my childhood; the nanny said I was too impatient to sit still and listen, though I suspect she just didn't want to read through the boring histories that collected dust on the shelf. But besides that, your voice is pleasant to listen to."

"I used to read to one of our neighbours. She was Ravkan."

"And I presume she's the reason you know Old Ravkan," he speculated, a light smile tracing his lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you teased.

"That's the thing," he said, his hand reaching for yours. "I'd like to know everything about you."

The sincerity in his eyes had you at a loss, and you pulled your hand away. Facing the wall, you murmured goodnight and turned out your lantern.

……….

You started your second day in the village with arms around you. Sturmhond couldn't keep to himself when he slept, and he was leaning the entirety of his weight into your side as you lay there on your back. Your head was tilted towards him when you opened your eyes, and you could see the top of his head from this position. His red roots were no longer red, a blond colour bleeding into his hair.

It seemed strange to you that his real hair colour was blond, but you supposed it wouldn't not suit him; he seemed like he could sport any look. 

A part of you was interested to see his real face and hair. Though it might pose problems if the people in the village caught on to his changing appearance. Worse still, they could recognize him as prince Nikolai and ransom him or commit some other terrible act. You were stuck in West Ravka, after all, and there was not as much support for the royal family to be found on this side of the fold.

When he woke up he didn't immediately remove himself from you. He slowly looked up at you, meeting your waiting stare.

"I'm surprised you didn't push me away," he said, a smirk encroaching on his features.

"My arm is numb from being trapped by you, how could I ever manage to push you away?" You asked. He still hadn't shifted, but you moved the conversation along anyways. "There's an issue with your hair."

"I've only just woken up," he grumbled. "You should see your hair."

You glared at him. "That's not what I meant, idiot. You're going blond."

That got him up. He hurried to the mirror in the corner of the room and peered at his hair. "Tolya re-tailors my hair and face every week. I'll probably be back to myself by the time we see him again."

"Will people here recognize you if you look like yourself?" you asked, rubbing the feeling back into your arm.

"They might." 

"Then maybe you should stay inside. I can bring you meals and--"

"I can't stay inside," he complained. "I'll go crazy being pent up in here."

"What other choice is there?"

He pursed his lips. "You could get me a hat. And a scarf for my face. Maybe some glasses for when my eyes change."

"We'll be spending too much money."

"How about we stay here one more night so we can hear back from Tolya and Tamar then move on to another village tomorrow?" He sat down beside you on the bed, reaching for your hand again. What was it with him and holding your hand?

"How many nights did you pay the innkeeper for?"

"Two."

You gave him a look. "You knew we would be leaving."

"Preposterous." He waved you off with a smile. "It's nothing but a happy coincidence, my dear."

You stood and went into the bathroom. His antics were getting on your nerves.

He called after you, "I wasn't joking about that hat, though. By tomorrow I'll be blond again."

..........

FIRST YEAR

Sleeping on the streets was less than ideal, but it was the only way you could stay with your brothers.

Working reception at the Exchange barely afforded you lodgings with one bed, and the houses you had looked at were strict with their tenants. Lodging houses were either split in gender, meaning your brothers wouldn't be allowed to join you, or they had a ratio rule of beds to people so renting for three was impossible. You were saving your money for a sufficient room for your family, and the Kruge that would help you do so felt heavy in your pockets.

After the Hertzoon scheme that Jordie talked you into fell through you insisted that you should be the one responsible for what little money the Rietvelds had left. Jordie couldn't argue much, and the money he and Kaz scrounged in odd jobs always went straight to you. 

Tonight as you shivered on a bridge, staring at the Barrel flash and hoping for one moment of rest, you felt particularly run-down. You had to look presentable and clean for your office job, yet it was easier said than done when you were living on the streets. You knew a woman from work who was kind enough to let you get ready at her house every morning, but she was not kind enough to do more than that. She had once offered you a room in her home, but when you asked if your brothers could come with you she shook her head. 

"Not enough space for rambunctious boys," she'd said.

"But they're not like that," you defended. "They behave very well."

"Look, I can take you alone or I can't take you at all."

In the end, you chose to stay with your brothers. They needed you, and you wouldn't leave them. You couldn't.

Kaz was slumped over in your lap, and even Jordie was leaning against your arm. The elder of the two wasn't asleep, but he had lost enough pride that he was no longer too good to cuddle up to his big sister. He would pass into a realm of bad dreams soon enough, though, and it would only be you staring at the gaudy lights.

It was the early morning, and in a few hours you would make your way to the more respectable neighbourhoods and enter through a backdoor so that none of the neighbours saw a Barrel rat coming into your associate's house. You would emerge respectable-looking, walk to the Exchange and scribe letters and brew coffee all day, then you would meet your brothers at the abandoned coffeehouse and try to find a safe place to sleep for the night.

It was the same as it always was, and you left as the sun started rising, shifting Kaz into Jordie's arms. They would try to find work during the day, but you imagined all they would find was trouble. It was the Barrel, after all, and there was no place there for little boys with decent hearts.

When you met up with them the sun was setting. There was the issue of dinner, and you shared something unfulfilling from a street vendor. You took the smallest portion because you always did. They fed you lunch at your work, but you never knew what your brothers might have had during the day. Every morning you left them enough money for one meal shared but it was hard to say what they could have gotten.

Kaz was against your side as soon as he saw you, and he barely separated himself once you were eating your dinner. He sat next to you, packing food into his mouth like a squirrel about to hole up for winter; you had to remind him to slow down. 

Jordie didn't have that issue tonight. He ate with small bites, as though the taste of it was abhorrent. It wasn't particularly bad, and saints knew you all had eaten worse from the street vendors of the Barrel, so you looked your brother over with wary eyes. When you pressed your hand to his forehead and he barely swatted at you, you knew something was amiss. He was burning up, and in the dim light you could see a patch of inflamed skin on his neck.

Firepox.

You had contracted it as an infant and survived, meaning you would be immune to it now, but Kaz and Jordie had never been exposed to the detrimental disease. You tried to contain your panic as you watched Jordie's eyes gloss over.

He was sick, and there was only so much you would be able to do for him. When you were sick with it, your parents had paid an arm and a leg for a Grisha Healer to keep you alive, but it cost them for many years. Now your remaining family was impoverished and without so much as a roof over your heads, and there was no way you would be able to pay for a Healer or university medik. 

You just prayed that Kaz wasn't infected yet, but it was unlikely he would be unscathed. They spent every day together. You let Kaz sleep in his brother's arms, for saint’s sake. There was no way that if Jordie was sick then Kaz wouldn't soon be sick as well.

"I can't finish this," Jordie said, pushing his portion away from himself. "It hurts my throat."

You scooped up his food before your littlest brother could reach for it, mixing it in with yours. Kaz frowned but said nothing as you kept eating.

You couldn't sleep at all that night. Tucked away in a narrow alcove, you kept Kaz on one side and Jordie on the other. He was coughing, a raspy noise that only got worse as the night went on. It was keeping him up, too, even though he needed the sleep if he was to recover. Kaz was safe in your arms, with no symptoms popping up yet but plenty of time for them to make an appearance. 

"It's firepox, isn't it?" Jordie wheezed as a gondel of masked revellers passed. 

"It is," you said, grabbing his hand. "But don't worry, we'll figure something out."

You had no idea what you could do for your brother but your reassurance was enough at that moment, and when you left the boys in the early morning they were both asleep, propped against opposite sides of the alcove.

When you saw them again at the end of the next day, Kaz was sluggish and Jordie was still glossy-eyed. They sat on the ground in front of the coffeehouse, skin burning up. You brought them dinner, but neither of them ate much. For once, you had a full belly, but you felt so sick with worry that you could have emptied it into the canals. 

You slept in the cover of a wall of wooden crates for the rest of the week, and you didn't bother trying to keep your brothers apart. As much as it pained you to think about it, there wasn't much hope for them to survive. You figured if they were going to die they might as well die in familiar arms. You couldn’t give them much, but you could at least give them the comfort of each other.

From then on your family stayed beside the piled-up crates your brothers had named the Nest. You would finish work every day and hurry to them, checking on their worsening conditions before finding dinner and forcing them to eat.

Kaz still attached himself to you like a leech, but his arms were weaker now and when he coughed you could feel his little body shake from head to toe. Jordie had abandoned all his pride and allowed himself the comfort of your arms in his last days. He seemed to know better than Kaz that you wouldn't be able to do anything more for them besides bringing hot chocolate and reciting old bedtime stories. One day you bought a vial of pain relief made by an alkemi, slipped it in their hot chocolates and prayed that it would do something to help them, but it only numbed some of their pain.

The fever did not wane and the cough did not subside. They were still terribly sick, and it was your fault. You hadn't kept them safe like Da had told you to. And now you would lose your brothers in a matter of days, maybe even hours; they were completely pale and clammy, and they both could hardly stay awake.

Every time you approached them after work or when you were bringing them food you had to brace yourself for the fact that they could be dead. And yet, all the preparation in the world couldn’t have made the sight of it any less terrifying.

It was only a week after Jordie had initially fallen ill; you were coming back from the university where you unsuccessfully begged a medik for aid. There was dread in your step, and you had taken to speaking to any saint who might be listening to protect your brothers. Your family wasn’t raised religious, yet you recited every blessing and prayer Old Lady Trokowsky had uttered in front of you. They were made in vain, though, you realized as you finally saw their lifeless bodies. A sob struck you and you fell to your knees, trying to rouse them awake, trying to bring them back to life, but it was no use.

They were dead. 

Though they were limp in your arms, you couldn’t help but hold your brothers. You should have been there when they passed, should have kissed their sweaty foreheads and whispered that it would be alright. But you weren’t there.

You added this to the long list of things you would never forgive yourself for; it would be right at the top. 

You huddled close to them for a long time, breathing in grime and sweat and the residual filth of the Barrel; it was the smell of death.

When the body men came through you had trouble parting with your only family, but after a bit of coaxing, you let go of them. No matter how badly you wanted to look away, to focus on anything besides their limp bodies, you forced yourself to watch them be rolled onto the sickboat. They deserved your attention at that moment, even if it pained you to see them rowed away. 

Then–hours after they were gone and you felt strong enough to move–you wandered up the streets, stopping only to vomit into the canal every so often. It was pitch dark by the time you reached the abandoned fifth harbour, and you were only dry-heaving. You sat there and stared at the boats. Your vision was blurry, your tears had not dried, but that didn’t matter. There was no one to remain strong for, so for the first time in forever, you were allowed to fall apart.

..........

FOURTH YEAR

Trembling awake, you sucked in a halting breath. You could see the dull blue wallpaper on the walls. You weren’t in Ketterdam, you weren't huddled against some crates in the streets of the Barrel; you were in a cheap little inn settled in a small town just outside of Novokribirsk.

A hand met your shoulder, and you turned to see Sturmhond's worried eyes in the dark. Without a second thought, you clambered into his arms, welcoming the comfort of his embrace. He smelled of soap and pine, and you were able to shake the scent of death from your head. You couldn't get the image of them being nudged onto the sickboat out of your mind though. How they rolled along the cobbles at the prodding of the bodymen's hooks.

Another shudder went through you and you squeezed Sturmhond tighter. He was sitting up, so you were practically in his lap, but you couldn't care less at that moment.

As always, you were completely unprepared for the nightmare recount of your brothers' deaths. It happened every so often, and you would normally cry alone and wait until morning for things to get better, but this time someone was willing to help you through it.

He leaned his cheek against your head, whispering to you that it would be okay.

"I'm here," he kept repeating. "I'm here."

He held you as your breathing slowly levelled out and you opened your teary eyes. He rubbed circles into your back and swayed back and forth in gentle motions.

It had been so long since you were held this way. Even when you had a living family it was usually you who was doing the cradling, whether that be Kaz on a stormy night, or Jordie when you were kids and he'd broken his arm. Or when they died, you thought with a near-retch.

You swallowed the bile in your throat and forced yourself not to think of that. Focusing instead on the lull of Sturmhond's heartbeat, you were able to distract yourself. It was more than unprofessional to be in his arms like this, yet you didn’t want to be anywhere else. He felt so warm, and after the bitter chill of your memories, you could do with some of that warmth. 

……….

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you must have because suddenly it was morning and you were still lying in Sturmhond's arms. He had barely moved, simply settling the two of you down against the pillows. His shirt was soft against your face, and you pinched the fabric between your fingers, tethering yourself to the world around you through the white linen. Despite how small they were, your movements woke him, and his grip tightened around you for a second then relaxed again. He was a light sleeper.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his cheek resting against your head as it had in the night.

You should have slipped out of his arms and asserted that it was wrong to be so close to each other for the sake of your working relationship, but your position on the matter hadn’t changed since last night when you hurriedly sought his arms.

Maybe it was a defect of being away from the ship for too long, but you simply didn't care anymore about your working relationship. It was a crazy notion–a notion that made so little sense to you yet somehow made more sense than breathing. Suddenly it didn't matter if things would become awkward or stilted between the two of you; he was cozy and warm, and for the first time in so long you were completely comfortable.

Sturmhond shifted, moving down the mattress so that he could be at eye level with you. He studied your face like a book, reading every line with careful consideration. You thought you might collapse under the weight of his stare, but you held steady. When he finally spoke his voice was low and calm.

“Can I ask you about last night?” He inquired.

Dropping your eyes, you let out a breath. You knew there was an explanation to be had, but you weren’t sure you could give it. For so long you had hidden your past, and now it was jumping out at you. 

“I only want to help you,” he said, closing a hand around yours. “You were thrashing and kept repeating ‘don't die, don't die.’ If I'm being honest, it scared me. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

A heavy breath escaped you and you clamped your eyes shut. He wanted to know why you had woken up in the dead of the night, thrashing and sick to your stomach. He wouldn't have to pry–though you were sure he was too polite to pry anyway--because he deserved an explanation for the circumstance in which you willingly sought his arms.

And so you buried your face in his shoulder as you slowly told him everything. You outlined your move to Ketterdam with your brothers, how you had been swindled out of your money, how they’d gotten sick, and how you were powerless to help them.

It took a while, especially since you began crying halfway through. It came out in stuttered, breathy sobs, and you couldn’t look at him the entire time. His shoulder was wet with tears, and you held tight to his shirt.

"It's not your fault," he said once you had finished.

"Didn't you hear a word I said?" You rubbed your eyes. "It is my fault."

"It was an outbreak of firepox. You were in no way responsible for that."

"But I was supposed to look out for my brothers, Sturmhond." You sat up, slipping from his grip. "I should have kept them away from it!"

"You did everything you could," he insisted, leaning forward and gently setting his hand on your back. "I've read about firepox. It's not easily contained or cured. You did the best you could in a bad situation."

"It wasn't enough."

You slumped back down in resignation and he followed. After a moment you sought his arms again. He sighed and gave up trying to convince you of your innocence in the situation. For now, he just held you as he had for hours and hours. 

……….

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! The next part should be out in like a week. If you want to be tagged please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Part 4

Taglist:

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[crowgreeds]

Dev Tea Room’s vital headcanon challenge: take your vital headcanon (from today’s yesterday’s discussion), & drop a five sentence or less preview of it in #rpcdev

It is widely believed and stated (even by Kaz and his closest compatriots) that Kaz Brekker is a monster willing to take on any job and do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. This is more or less correct but there is one act that Kaz will not commit and that is he refuses to do anything that would bring undue harm to young children. 

Why, you might ask? This all stems from what happened with the little girl, Saskia, that pretended to be Jakob Hertzoon’s daughter in the con that would cost Jordie and Kaz everything that they had. I believe that whatever Kaz did to that girl, it was horrific enough that once the deed was done and they looked at what they did - it terrified them. That they were capable of a level of bruality and viciousness against a child no more than a year older than they had been at the time (this is supported by the fact Bardugo wrote about Saskia’s fate but decided not to include it cuz it felt like ‘too much’) . He had lashed out in a moment of anger and hurt feelings, compounded by the brief crush he had on the girl, and it cost him greatly. 

After all, what had Saskia done against him really? She had her part to play in the con, yes, so she wasn’t entirely innocent, but she was his age and she hadn’t deserved what she got either. His anger had been misplaced when it should have been focused elsewhere  —  Kaz knows this  — and it is because of that, his guilt over his actions, that Kaz avoids harming children of a similiar age when at all possible as shown with Hana and Alby in the second book of the duology  — both instances where he absolutely could have done something but stayed his hand. Everyone might believe that Kaz Brekker is a monster and nothing more but the truth is far more complicated than simply that.

[affcgato-archived]

Canon timeline for Kaz Brekker

because fuck it if you think I’m going to remember all of this without a reference. as a personal note, I have Kaz’ birthday set on December 24th, but the bulk of events in this timeline are assumed to have happened in the following January or later unless noted otherwise specifically. other Kaz blogs are free to snag this info, it’s sourced from the wiki’s timeline for convenience.

AGE 9: (six years before the ravkan civil war)

jordie & kaz leave lij for ketterdam after the death of their father. their first few days in the city go well, but jordie struggles to find a job. a boy named filip claims he knows a man who could employ jordie. the following day, jordie begins to work for jakob hertzoon for several weeks. while jordie & filip are working, kaz stays at hertzoon's coffee house. jordie invests in sugar stocks & makes a profit. 

a few days later, he invests all the money from the sale of his father's farm into the jurda stocks, loaning the money to hertzoon.

one week later, kaz and jordie return to the coffeehouse to find it and hertzoon's house abandoned. they learn from the maid next door that hertzoon only rented the house a few weeks ago. 

the money hertzoon left with kaz and jordie runs out the following week & they are evicted from their boarding house two days later. they try to sleep under a bridge, but are roused by the stadwatch & wander until morning. that night, they head south and sleep safely in the lower barrel. the next night, however, they are attacked and robbed by razorgulls.

the following morning, jordie wakes with a fever from an outbreak firepox that will later become known as the queen's lady plague. bodies begin to pile up in the streets. kaz develops a fever two days after jordie. jordie dies not long after, & eventually the bodymen transfer the boys to a sickboat. kaz, still alive, is too weak to scream & finds himself caught in a tangle of dead bodies. they are then transferred to the shallows of the reaper's barge.

after kaz's fever breaks, he waits for another day and night on the reaper's barge. at night, he uses jordie's body as a raft to swim back to shore and emerges from the harbor just after dawn.

kaz abandons his family surname rietveld & adopts the name brekker.he heads toward the neighborhood where the hertzoons had lived & attacks a schoolboy outside a sweetshop. he takes the money he stole & buys bread, then walks to east stave to find a job. the gambling den tells him they already have a boy to clean piss pots & refuse kaz employment. when the cleaning boy leaves at night, kaz follows the boy home, knocks him unconscious, & slashes his feet with a broken bottle.he returns to the gambling den the following evening & takes the boy's job.

AGE 10: (five years before the ravkan civil war)

kaz learns to pick pockets & steal. he does two stints in jail after he turns ten, & earns the nickname DIRTYHANDS during this time. he is also banned from every gambling hall on east stave due to his ability to cheat at cards.

after finding out jakob hertzoon's real identity as PEKKA ROLLINS, kaz realizes he'll need a gang to take on the barrel boss. he joins the dregs the next day.

AGE 12: officially joins the ranks of the dregs

AGE 14:

kaz is picked upfor the last time when the stadwatch roust a gambling hall.

he develops a crush on imogen, & subsequently works to overcome his touch aversion. when this is unsuccessful, he begins to lean into the darker aspects of his nature & stops letting people see his humanity, effectively solidifying the foundations of dirtyhands' worst rumors.

it's during this time kaz recruits JESPER FAHEY to thedregs after the other's gambling addiction lands him in hot water with the other barrel gangs.

puts together a crew to rob the bank that had helped hertzoon con the rietveld brothers. his crew gets away with 50,000 kruge, but kaz breaks his leg jumping down from the rooftop. the bone fails to set correctly, leaving kaz with a limp. he has a fabrikator create him a cane.

AGE 15: events of shadow & bone trilogy

AGE 16:

meets INEJ GHAFA at the Menagerie, & recruits her to the dregs. he teaches her to pick locks & crack a safe.

six months later, tasks inej with recruiting the heartrender NINA ZENIK right out from rollins' nose.

three months before the events of the duology (early winter in Ketterdam), tasks inej with looking into WYLAN VAN ECK, a merchant's son.

AGE 17: plot of six of crows & crooked kingdom

15 days before the spring equinox (at midnight) the dregs parley with the black tips at the exchange, & geels makes an attempt on kaz's life with help from big bolliger. afterwards, kaz is abducted & offered a job by jan van eck to break bo yul-bayur out of the ice court. at four bells that same night, kaz talks to nina at the house of the white rose.

one day later, kaz orchestrates matthias' escape from hellgate.

the crossing on the ferolind to fjerda takes ten days. ultimately, they arrive at djerholm the day before the spring equinox & the hringkälla.

AGE 18: plot of king of scars duology.

[narnie]

ok so we know that barrel boss fashion in SOC is described as very flashy and pattern-clashing right

if there is not at least one barrel boss in Ketterdam cough cough Pekka Rollins who dresses like Fegan Floop in Spy Kids (2001), I’m gonna riot

pictured above: Kaz Brekker and Pekka Rollins in Crooked Kingdom

pictured below: Jakob fucking Hertzoon conning Jordie Rietveld

[mostly-delusional]

Like a phoenix, I will rise

!!!SPOILERS FOR KAZ'S BACKSTORY!!!

I dwell in the nothings and the nowhere places

The void of emptiness is my home

Kaz stared at his reflection in the mirror. A new face was looking back at him, one he didn’t, couldn’t recognize as his own. His clothes were damp, heavy with the burden of the ordeal he had just gone through. Wet locks of hair fell in his eyes, drops of water dripping from them one by one. His eyes were puffy and red, traces of tears washed away by the water. His skin itched, as if hundreds of insects were crawling upon it. His head felt heavy and he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He was soaked from head to toe, and his breath came out in short puffs. His chest thumped at a pace he could not keep up with.

Don't look back and maybe all of it will disappear. You'll wake up in a few moments. All of this will be gone. It's just a bad dream. Jordie will shake you back to reality and hold you close to him. You'll be fine.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried driving out the images of his brother among a hundred other bodies. But in the darkness behind his eyelids, Kaz could only see himself pushing against the waves in the Reaper’s Barge, his brother by his side. He could still feel the waves hitting him, trying to propel him towards the horror that had lain behind him. The stink of bodies was still fresh in his nose and bile rose up to his throat. A faint sound of giggling reverberated in his mind.

Saskia.

Jacob Hertzoon’s daughter. But she wasn’t actually a part of his family, was she? No, just another con artist. Kaz felt his heart shattering into a multitude of little shards. He felt himself slipping away. He tried holding onto that nine-year-old part of him, but to no avail. It was too late now.

But it is here that my soul can create itself

And I'll emerge full born as my own

His eyes shot open. Kaz looked into those brown orbs in the mirror. But they weren’t his. He saw hatred pooling inside them, their brown darkening with hunger.

Kaz Rietveld was dead. The little boy who clutched his brother’s hand a little too tight when afraid, who brightened at the sight of candies and toys, who was far too innocent for the sordid streets of Ketterdam was dead. He was floating somewhere in the Reaper’s Barge, forgotten.

I walk in the gutter of my humanity

As one who is disfigured and frail

Yet still believe, that one day I will be transformed

And in spite of my limits, I will prevail

The streets looked mammoth without Jordie by his side. Kaz felt small walking among the crowd. No one paid him mind, as if he were a phantom passing through. People pushed past him and he struggled to stay on his feet. They were mindlessly walking on the streets, eyes set on defined goals. Kaz wanted to scream. He wanted to ask them to stop and look at him. To let him pass through. To help him. But everyone just went about their business and he could do nothing but stare at his feet helplessly. Tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes and a sob threatened to tear past his lips.

“Lift your head up and walk right through them. Don’t stop, don’t hesitate. If you do, they’ll just drag you back to the bottom of the Barge. Ketterdam is not a place you can afford to be soft in, Kaz. You need to make a place for yourself. Will you do that? For me?” Kaz didn’t know if it was Jordie’s voice in his head, or if he was just being delusional. But he pushed his fear aside nonetheless.

A man harshly collided with Kaz and he staggered back.

“Watch where you’re going, boy!” The man bit out.

Jordie’s words echoed in his mind and Kaz simply stomped on the foot of that man as hard as he could before running away. He didn’t stop running until he reached the doors of a dingy looking building. A rusting crow sign hung on the door with the words ‘The Crow Club’ engraved on it. He pushed open the double doors and walked inside.

The place could hardly pass as a gambling club, what with the chipped paint on the walls and the dank atmosphere. Thugs and thieves huddled in every corner, their raucous laughter banging on his eardrums. He pushed past them and walked around the tables when suddenly a hand shot out and seized his wrist.

Kaz bristled. He could hear waves slapping against his mind again. The voices muffled, as if his head was pushed under water. His own shouts of help began blaring like an alarm inside his head.

He needed to get the hand off of him and leave this place.

“Let go!” Kaz cringed at the rasp that escaped his lips. His voice was barely recognizable, sounding like two rocks being rubbed against each other. His throat itched and forming any words hurt. Still, he conjured every fiber of confidence and said, “I told you to let go!”

“What do you think you’re doing in here, huh?” The man ignored what Kaz had said and tightened his grip. “A little pigeon like you shouldn’t be lurking around places where you’re not supposed to be.”

Kaz was disgusted. The man’s touch reminded him of the countless bodies he had been surrounded with in the Barge. The contact of his skin felt like someone was clawing at his arm.

“I’m here for a job. Get your filthy hands off of me.” Kaz snatched his wrist away.

The man laughed, his head tipping back in merry. “Would you look at that? Pigeon says he wants a job.” He sneered and the other males sitting around the table laughed along.

“Don’t listen to them. They’ll realize who you are and what you can do soon enough. The door across the room is the office of this club’s owner. Go to him.” He could hear Jordie again. His brother’s voice guided him to the wooden door, leaving those laughing men behind him.

I must wait for my value to be recognized

By others that have forced me down here

And until then I shall be my own counsellor

To nurture my progress through the years

The old man argued a lot and tried to push Kaz out of his office. He even called a few of his bouncers to drag Kaz outside, but Kaz bit one of their hands as they tried getting a hold of him.

“Get that filth away from me or I'll rip them out of their sockets and feed them to you.” Kaz glared up at the men towering above him, and then turned back to Per Haskell as if his bouncers were a bunch of flies he had brushed aside. “I know how to land a punch when necessary. I can pick locks and steal. I’m better than any of your errand dogs.”

“Are you now?” The old man challenged.

He wasn't. The lie had slipped through effortlessly and Per Haskell didn't need to know that as long as Kaz got the job.

“They’ve been sitting out on the tables wasting away their money, not even noticing the notes being slipped out of their pockets by the waitress. They’re a bunch of rabid dogs who need to be controlled. I can do that. Give me the job.”

It wasn’t an offer or a request. Just a full-fledged order. “They won’t listen to you if you talk to them like a lonely child in need of help. Don't let them see your weakness.” Jordie had reminded him before Kaz had pushed open Haskell’s door.

I shall become the hero of my tragedy

The master of my fate and intent

To become the very person that I need to be

The force that will plot my ascent

Kaz never looked back after that. He pushed through life, kicking down anyone who tried to drag him back to the Barge. he learned the ways of gambling, picking locks and stealing without being caught. He learned how to think like a businessman and how to outsmart people. Even Jordie's voice had silenced, taken over by the whispers of revenge.

Kaz was well on his way to become the king of the Barrel and he wasn't going to back down until he claimed the crown.

The words written in red are taken from a poem on google.