studiobondurri Before the Storm: Act 9, Chapter 4
Before the Storm: Act 9, Chapter 4
Before the Storm: Act 9, Chapter 4
Chapter 4
“Well, look who finally decided to show u–”
Olin seized the wiry man by the neck and scraped his impudent expression off on the nearest wall, leaving him dead at the end of a crimson smear that curved to the wooden floor.
“Anyone else need a lesson in respect?” Olin asked.
The groups of thugs gathered nearby looked away. Olin shook his head as he walked past them. After the loss of the Six Arms, far too many of the Eight Fingers’ members – particularly the ones who were confident in their strength – started testing their boundaries. The Death Knights that the Sorcerous Kingdom loaned to the leadership put most challenges to rest, but one could hardly set the Undead loose in the middle of a city.
He made his way deeper into the alley where the local branch of the syndicate had made a temporary base out of one of the few, mostly unburnt apartments. A broad, middle-aged woman in commoner’s garb crossed her arms as he approached the entrance.
“You better have an explanation for this,” she said.
She’s angry? At me?
A slight frown tugged at the corner of his lip. Upon entering the city, the hostility directed against their caravan was tangible, but he figured it was the usual resentment against the nobility being amplified by the fire. No one was stupid enough to offer even the slightest provocation to the Eight Fingers, after all.
“Someone had better start making sense soon,” Olin growled.
The woman – the Gambling division’s local officer – jerked her head, motioning for Olin to follow her inside. She led him up a narrow, creaky staircase to the apartment’s third floor. Unmarked crates filled its sole room, framing a tiny desk with a handful of papers scattered across its surface.
“This is your doing,” the woman said.
“Mine? How could it possibly be my fault when I haven’t been anywhere near the city for over a month? You were even there to see me off, Marla.”
“You weren’t here, but Louis was.”
“...what did he do?”
Marla snorted.
“What didn’t he do? The same night he got here, he gathered all the men that he could and started a damn war inside the city walls! That blonde-haired brat from the Sorcerous Kingdom told you guys to do this, right? I’d like to give him a piece of my mind...”
“Are you crazy?” Olin grabbed Marla by the shoulders and gave her a shake, “The farther you stay away from him, the better. He might not look it, but he’s every bit the monster that his masters are.”
“Th-Then what do we do?”
Why is she asking that?
Olin could sense the fear behind the woman’s angry posturing. She was hiding something.
“First,” he said, “tell me everything that happened after Louis got here.”
“I said it already, didn’t I?” Marla moaned, “Louis came in last week and gathered all the fighting men. Said he had orders to get rid of the Theocracy’s spies. Orders from you. People didn’t think they could beat ‘em, but Louis said he’d already offed the whole lot over the pass.”
Up until they reached the city, he hadn’t observed any signs of collateral damage from Louis’ efforts so it was a reasonable claim. The fact that he had sent Louis to silence any Theocracy operatives shortly after initially meeting with Liam had entirely slipped Olin’s mind. Still, he didn’t think the plan had any downsides even if the boy proved himself to be a real agent from the Sorcerous Kingdom.
“What did they do after that?” Olin asked.
“They went around killing Windflower agents,” Marla answered. “The ones we knew about – you know, those local guys that just sit around listening and not much else. It was as easy as Louis said it would be. They never even expected it. After that, Louis went after the people he thought might be a Theocracy agent. Louis also sent a bunch of men out of the city to clear out all the places he hadn’t been to at the same time.”
“You make it sound like he was successful in his task,” Olin said. “How did it go from that to burning down half the city?”
“He...he wasn’t satisfied with the result,” Marla replied. “Figured there had to be more in a city like Re-Blumrushur, but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Finally, he figured they’d have to retaliate if he set their chapel on fire.”
“Hah?”
That was the source of the fire that had consumed the lower city? It was no wonder that the citizens were sending them murderous looks. Threatening individuals and small groups of people was a good way of maintaining a reign of terror over the populace, but becoming a clear threat to everyone unified people against their oppressors.
“Where’s that idiot Louis now?” Olin asked, “Don’t tell me he’s gone on to wreak havoc on the next city...”
“He’s dead,” Marla told him.
“Dead? How? Did he get lynched by a mob?”
“I don’t know how he died.”
“Then call for someone who does,” Olin said.
Marla took a deep, shuddering breath.
“What I meant was that no one knows how he died. One moment, he was standing there grinning over his handiwork. The next, he fell to the street, dead.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s what happened!” Panic rose in the woman’s voice, “Everyone around him saw it happen. No one attacked him. There weren’t any visible wounds. Not that anyone would touch him to check. People are saying that the gods struck him down for what he did.”
“Preposterous,” Olin spat. “Where’s his corpse?”
“Where it fell. Like I said, no one wanted to touch him.”
These people are useless.
Olin stormed out of the apartment in disgust. An officer in the gambling division should have known how empty people’s superstitions were.
“Olin!” Marla called out after him, “What are you going to do?”
“What everyone else is afraid to,” Olin replied.
He made his way across the lower city to the temple district. It didn’t take him long to find the burnt-out shell of the Chapel of the Six amongst the shrines and chapels of the other minor faiths. As Marla described, Louis’ corpse lay on the street in front of the building. While the city folk didn’t dare to disturb the body out of fear of being cursed or struck down in turn, the other denizens of the Re-Blumrushur held no such qualms. Olin kicked away a pair of rats before kneeling to inspect the former bandit leader.
Are these people idiots? Even his purse is untouched.
Olin scanned his surroundings, but didn’t spot any potential observers. Everything that might be considered valuable remained on the dead man’s person. Normally, he would have been stripped within minutes. After checking for traps, Olin took Louis’ coins plus everything that linked him to the Eight Fingers. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find any hint of what killed the man.
No bruises or lacerations; no burns or anything pointing at magic. Was he poisoned?
Louis was one of the toughest people he knew, so the chance of that was slim to none in those circumstances. Needless to say, the robust frontiersman was heartier than an Ox, so a fatal health condition was also out of the question.
With nothing more to gain from his investigation, Olin casually strolled away from the site of the unsolved mystery, mulling over his next move. Had the fire quelled any thought of further retaliation against the Eight Fingers? The Windflower Scripture, as a rule, didn’t butt heads with local organisations unless something forced their hand. House Blumrush’s forces were also making a show of force in the streets if not much more than that.
“Lord Reginald is still negotiating with the Guilds,” his escort told him. “They are being most unreasonable, considering the circumstances. We will rebuild the city ourselves if need be...and if that happens, you can rest assured that we’ll be renegotiating the rents.”
In other words, House Blumrush didn’t want to pay guild rates and used them to fabricate an reason to raise rents across the city. It also explained why they were funnelling imports directly to the castle. If the Guilds didn’t work for them, then they wouldn’t be allowed to work for anyone.
Olin stomped the mud free from his boots before entering the shadowed confines of the castle keep. He was led directly to the great hall on the main floor, wherein Lord Reginald was seated behind the torchlit table at its head. Six Knights and a dozen armsmen were stationed evenly around the room.
“Olin,” Lord Reginald greeted him as he walked up the rich blue carpet leading to the base of the head table’s dais. “Your appearance at this time must surely be a coincidence.”
“It is, Lord Reginald,” Olin offered a respectful bow. “I was shocked to find the city ablaze when I crossed over the southern pass.”
“Truly?” The nobleman raised an eyebrow, “By all accounts, the fire was caused by a gang intentionally setting one of the older buildings in the temple district alight. During the days leading to the fire, there have been reports of periodic violence, also conducted by gangs in the lower city. You truly know nothing about this?”
“I do not,” Olin said. “It’s been at least a month since I last visited your city, and my time away has been out on the frontier.”
Lord Reginald levelled a piercing gaze upon him. He very much took after his father, down to the thin moustache that matched his slender frame.
“Yet it is still your responsibility,” he said. “That was the agreement, yes? You keep the gangs under control, and we make certain allowances regarding your business in the city. Considering your catastrophic failure to uphold your end of the deal, I can only recommend to my lord father that we strongly rethink our arrangement.”
Why does he have to pin his grievance on me specifically?
Normally, the blame for the incident would have gone to the Six Arms, but those idiots had gone and gotten themselves killed. After that, everyone wanted to take control of the security division, but no one wanted to put in the work. The reason why wasn’t a mystery: the security division was a group held together by sheer ruthlessness and that ‘leadership style’ went all the way down to the smallest gang. They could use Death Knights to force the issue on a case-by-case basis, but maintaining control of the division was a feat that required the brutal charisma possessed by individuals like Zero.
That being said, it was no longer an issue in Re-Blumrushur. House Blumrush cared nothing for what happened in other cities, so Olin would be able to satisfy him so long as he was the sole provider of muscle for the local branches.
“I deeply regret you’ve come to that conclusion, Lord Reginald,” Olin said. “In my defence, I can only say that this disaster was beyond my control. But dwelling on the past profits us little. How about we address the more pressing matters facing us presently? There’s been a disastrous harvest in the north and labour shortages elsewhere have put the entire Kingdom at risk of famine. There will be no easy replacement for the food Re-Blumrushur’s lost to the fire.”
“On the contrary,” Lord Reginald told him, “the threat of famine is not an issue. Rather than that, it is something to be taken advantage of. Those ever-greedy Guilds refuse to relent on the matter of their exorbitant rates. Their members will come to their senses once their families begin to starve.”
“What about the unskilled labourers?” Olin asked.
“The fate of vagrants is not my concern,” Lord Reginald answered. “They are not contracted tenants of House Blumrush and we thus have no obligation to ensure their wellbeing. It would be convenient if your organisation has some designs on them that will help clear the streets.”
“It just so happens that we do,” Olin smiled. “On an unrelated note, I’ve noticed that you have some untapped revenues in the form of bored Mercenaries with bulging purses. We can help House Blumrush recapture some of its expenditures.”
“I suppose that you could,” Lord Reginald said. “What’s the catch?”
“I want the northern harbour block.”
“What!”
Lord Reginald slammed his palms on the table as he rose to his feet. The ring of steel sounded as his men drew their sidearms.
“You push the limits of my magnanimity, Olin,” the nobleman growled.
“On the contrary,” Olin replied, unbothered, “the net area our establishments occupied before the fire was at least that much and what I’ve asked for is the least valuable piece of riverfront. By consolidating our former holdings into a single complex, we’ll be better able to serve the city’s needs. If things go well, you may be proud enough to consider it an attraction.”
The lordling reseated himself and his men resheathed their weapons. He unrolled what Olin could only assume was a map of Re-Blumrushur, putting on a show of careful contemplation.
“What of the harbour itself?” Lord Reginald asked, “Surely you don’t need so much infrastructure for whatever you’re planning.”
“You are correct, my lord,” Olin said. “Two berths reserved for the exclusive use of our pleasure craft should be sufficient.”
Several moments of silence passed before the lordling slowly nodded his head.
“Very well, the southern harbour block is yours to do with as you wish. In return, I expect some happy Mercenaries and a fifth of this new establishment’s revenues.”
“A fifth?” Olin frowned, “I believe our old arrangement was one-tenth.”
“One-quarter, then. Also, you’re on your own when it comes to materials and labour for construction.”
“One-quarter,” Olin reluctantly agreed. “Expect my organisation to hold House Blumrush to its word, Lord Reginald.”
With their business concluded, Olin was unceremoniously rushed back out of the castle. It was only after he entered the lower city that he allowed himself an ambitious smile.
He was getting away with far more than he expected. Whether Lord Reginald had been more desperate than anticipated or simply looking to negotiate a more lucrative agreement for his house didn’t matter. Now that he had House Blumrush’s permission to redevelop a piece of the waterfront, the syndicate members in the city would defer to him as the path of least resistance. Losing a quarter of his revenues initially felt like a painful sacrifice to make, but he suspected that the new complex would bring in far more than the fragmented operations of Re-Blumrushur’s past.
Marla was still in her office when he returned to her base. He almost laughed at the look of resentment she sent his way as she knelt amidst the clutter generated by her task.
“It turns out that our dear Lord Reginald wasn’t anywhere near as much of a saint as you believed,” he told her.
“I never claimed he was a saint,” Marla grumbled. “I take it that the meeting went well?”
“You could say that,” Olin replied. “I secured the southern harbour block.”
Sheets of paper drifted over the floor as Marla abruptly rose, mouth ajar.
“The southern harbour block? H-How–”
“Does it matter?” Olin shrugged, “The point is that we’re clear to build our...hospitality complex. Inns; brothels; eating establishments – different levels of quality for different levels of clientèle. The same will apply to the casino on the inside. No more makeshift betting houses or gambling dens: this will be big enough to put our operations in the capital to shame.”
“Which is too big,” Marla said with a calculating look. “We don’t have the manpower to do this.”
Olin raised his hands to indicate the city surrounding them.
“There’s plenty of labour to be had. They’ll be trying to break down your doors once they figure out that working for us will be one of the only ways they’ll be able to feed themselves this winter.”
“That’ll work for common labourers,” Marla said, “but what about skilled artisans? The Guilds will be stubborn about working for us and they’d rather turn to House Blumrush if food becomes a problem.”
“I’ll send a few dozen men to help you sort things out. Break as many fingers as you need to. Oh, and be sure to gather all the best-looking girls and boys before they start getting sick and malnourished.
“Me?” Marla raised an eyebrow, “That’s a job for the Prostitution Division. I’m in Gambling. We’ll have to wait until they send a new guy from the capi–”
Marla fell silent as Olin raised a finger in the air between them.
“Or,” he said, “you can be in charge of both Gambling and Prostitution. Everyone’s so busy these days as it is.”
A gleam of greed lit the woman’s eyes as she licked her lips.
“Of course, boss,” Marla said. “I’ll get right to work.”