text: [Themes: grimdark fantasy, superhero, fantasy, action]
  
  "So listen here," Taryn started. Harriam learned long ago not to interrupt her when she gets riled up like this. The last time he did, she had cut him with a letter opener. It was a small cut, didn't even need stitches, but her point was driven home. "You know the tainted spice we found? I think I located the source, a gambling den owned by one of those sand-skinned fellows. Nalet'bar? No, let me check here." Taryn ruffled through a few papers and finally produced the one she was looking for. "Kan'balar. That's it."
  
  "And just how did you discover this?" Harriam asked.
  
  "It wasn't easy, I'll tell you that."
  
  "Taryn, I know when you want to gloat."
  
  The woman laughed. "Ha ha. Ok you caught me. Remember the initial stuff we found by accident?" Harriam nodded. He wasn't even wearing a mask at the time. One of the council members overdosed on the stuff not two months ago. The other members chalked it up as overindulgence. Harriam, knowing the man's tendencies, knew he lived carefully. Hell, the man even tracked the amount of water he drank per day. No, it wasn't as simple as taking too much. The spice was altered somehow. He knew it. After stealing some from city watch evidence, Taryn's research confirmed it.
  
  "Well," Taryn continued. "It's all pouring from Kan'balar's den. I've confirmed it, thrice over with randomized samples. "The things men will share once you stuff incriminating letters of bribery and blackmail in their face."
  
  "You blackmailed others with proof of their own blackmail?" Harriam asked.
  
  "In a manner of speaking. I didn't technically have proof. Those with something to hide rarely fixate on anything but. All it took were a few vague threats of knowing 'what they're up to' and wanting to hide it from 'him.' Their minds filled in the rest."
  
  "So it all stems from Kan'balar's den," Harriam thought out loud. "I've been there once. Nice place. Lots of games. The owner felt like one of those ambitious types. Though I much prefer the ower who treats the establishment as a game it itself."
  
  "Tonight you don't," Taryn answered. "I'll let you decide how to approach the den, masked or with," she swirled her hand in front of Harriam's face. "That thing. Just as scary if you ask me. If you decide on that please, please, please don't overindulge."
  
  "Come now; it's me we're talking about," Harriam said with a smile. "Tonight then. We discover the secret of the source."
  
  > use his real identity
  The setting didn't allow for masked figures to use their greatest asset: anonymity. No, if Harriam wanted to blend in, then he'd need to wear his natural face. He'd still draw a fair amount of attention being acting City Lord, but it wasn't anything he's not used to. Perhaps the title would gain access to places the common individual couldn't, a face-to-face with the den's owner, perhaps.
  
  After napping his way through council meetings the rest of the day, it was finally time. The city was primarily ran by the council after all. Even if Harriam wanted to take his fight to the council chambers, he'd be trudging through red tape, bi-partisan votes, bribery, etc, etc. It was a much more straightforward path to simply beat the city's criminals into a pulp; the outcome a lot quicker that way.
  
  Kan'balar's gambling den looked like a regular building from the outside. No vibrant signs or street marketing stood in front. Just a single door, like the one to someone's home, and a sizable man standing next to it. Well, half standing, half sitting on a stool that Harriam would have bet money on collapsing under the man's weight. Most patrons would. And they leave the den unencumbered by contents in their pockets.
  
  "Hold up," the bouncer said, noticing Harriam's approach. Harriam met the man's gaze, his jaw clenched, seemingly to say Don't you know who I am? After a few seconds, the bouncer finally did. "(Ahem) Sorry, Mr. City Lord, sir. Didn't recognize you at first. Woulda thought someone like you would have a whole posse with you."
  
  "I left them at the keep," Harriam answered, putting forward his best privileged foot. "They always expect me to pay for them. I pay their wages. Isn't that enough?"
  
  "Ha ha," the bouncer laughed nervously. "Go on in. Enjoy your stay, Mr. City Lord, sir." As Harriam walked through the door, the bouncer added, "Table six is hot." Harriam didn't answer, just nodded in thanks, and continued into the gambling den.
  
  > The gambling den
  The floor was crowded with drunken patrons and table games. Immediately upon entering, a woman passed by with a tray of drinks. Without speaking a word, she placed one in Harriam's hand, winked, and then left in search of other empty-handed patrons.
  
  The money Kan'balar invested in free drinks paid out several times in cloudy-thinking gamblers, something that wasn't necessarily a secret, and yet the empty palms didn't question a drink being thrust into them. Harriam supposed men (wrongly) thought they were breaking even not paying for their drinks. Oldest trick in the book.
  
  An entire wall, the southern side, was one long bar. The workers behind it scrambled to keep up with their impatient guests. But the majority of the place was filled with table games. Every kind imaginable was here, even viewing seats to watch some of the high stakes tables. Across from the front door, a balcony overlooked the entire floor. No guests were in view, likely the place where Kan'balar oversaw his work. When you have power, prestige, and wealth, where do you look? Down.
  
  Harriam took a sip from the glass in his hand. Hmm. Sparkling wine, hint of citrus, gahh. The bubbles make it hard to discern flavor. Still, it was a nice sensation. Relaxing, quenching. Before he knew it, the glass was empty. Fully expecting another to be placed in his hand, Harriam was pleasantly surprised that one did not appear. Not a big deal, he could always grab another at the bar. Taryn wouldn't like it, but that was his cover, right?
  
  > Table six
  No. There would be another time to enjoy the bar. The bar brought a bit of danger. He wouldn't admit it in front of Taryn, but every once and a while overindulgence took over. Sure, it was his cover to explain lack of sleep and mysterious disappearances, but the story was similar to his own. Too similar. Harriam, instead, decided to visit the gambling floor. Which table did the bouncer recommend? Six? Noticing that each had a red number painted on one of their legs, Harriam made his way to table six.
  
  The dealer smiled as Harriam approached. She was small in frame with dark hair braided behind her. Harriam returned the gesture and sat down. All of the chairs were open except one, which was filled with a man struggling to remain conscious, surrounded by at least five empty glasses. The man rested his head on an arm, somehow still managing to play the game, although Harriam guessed he hadn't won in many hands.
  
  "What do we have here? King's Draw? Harriam commented.
  
  The dealer nodded holding up a six-sided dice. "That's right. Six is king, four is knight, five could go either way depending on the state of the council. Three is high -- except for the king, of course, two can be both high or low, depending on your--"
  
  "Resources, yeah, yeah," Harriam cut the dealer off. "One is a reroll, unless the August Festival is underway--"
  
  "--and the moon is full." This time, the dealer cut Harriam off. After hearing the rules out loud, Harriam wasn't surprised the table was empty. They all made sense to a seasoned player; however, it sounded like pure nonsense to amateurs.
  
  "Deal."
  
  Many hours later, Harriam piled up empty cups around him like the man who was sitting at the table before him. At some point during the night, the man had dropped unconscious, falling completely on the floor, and two no-nonsense guards walked over and threw him outside. Apparently, that wasn't irregular behavior from the patrons.
  
  The bouncer was right. Table six was hot. Along with the empty glasses, gold pieces began to pile up around Harriam's seat. The large mountain of coin attracted more guests, and soon table six became the center focus of the floor. All the chairs at the table were filled, and many stood behind to watch.
  
  "Well, City Lord," the dealer asked with a smile, motioning to the dice on the table. It didn't take long for Harriam's identity to be revealed. He had a reputation to maintain. "Your roll."
  
  Harriam thought out loud. "That's acting City Lord. Hmm. A five would do no good with the council's state, and the king doesn't have strong favor either. A knight could do the trick... if I wanted to play it safe. Lucky number three here we go..."
  
  He rolled a five.
  
  The crowd gasped, then began in an uproar. Money changed hands, although none went to Harriam. On the contrary, the dealer scooped the entire pile from Harriam's position. "Better luck next time, City Lord."
  
  Harriam glanced up to the balcony as movement caught his eye. A man stood watching the scene unfold at table six. Kan'balar. His tan skin highlighted the smirk he flashed towards Harriam, likely caused by the large sum of money he just had lost. Then as quick as he appeared, Kan'balar faded from view.
  
  Addressing the dealer, Harriam said, "Well played. Might I have a word with the owner? To congratulate him on his winnings and to commend him for running a fine establishment."
  
  The small woman eyed the guards, briefly. She tried to make it subtle, but Harriam noticed. "I'm sorry, City Lord. We have strict instructions not to let anyone up. If the High King himself arrived, he'd find arranging a meeting difficult."
  
  God. It dawned on Harriam. No wonder Kan'balar wouldn't meet with him, or anyone near his position for that matter. Harriam was technically in charge of the city's law while his brother was away. Someone operating a spice ring wouldn't let his biggest adversary near it. Little did he know Harriam partook every now and then. Still, that fact wouldn't get him an audience. Defeated, out of money, Harriam left the den with his tail between his legs, but not before stopping by the bar to purchase a bottle for the road. He wished he wore the mask tonight.