Strozzino Savings & Loans was a bank with a reputation. A valid reputation, because any bank that outright flew a flag with a shark atop it was being remarkably blunt about what type of business it conducted.
And yet, despite how very blunt and blatant the bank was about how shady its practices were, people still went to it. Sure, the institution had a reputation for taking advantage of the desperate, but that drew people in rather than drove them away. Because a bank that took advantage of the desperate would at least provide service to the desperate, wouldn’t it? There was a guarantee that no one, no matter how deep in the muck of life they were, would ever be turned away from their doors; a loan was guaranteed! It’s just the payment that was the tricky part.
“–you do have to understand, sir, if your previous bank turned over the debt to us, it’s a valid transaction,” the teller–half-human with a faint dusting of blue freckles across his face and pointed ears to denote a nereid heritage–explained to the frowning human across from him. The man in question–his olive skin and dark hair denoting a more Casidolan lineage–looked as though he’d seen better days, though he was far from the worst looking person the teller had ever had across from him.
Mister Enzo–or maybe Señor or Signore, depending on the area he was from–wasn’t nearly as gaunt as some of the people the teller had seen, though his eyes were impressively sunken with obvious stress. He still combed his hair and trimmed his beard, so despair hadn’t sunk in fully, and the olive-green vest he wore still looked clean and pressed, though it was noticeable that the buttons had been replaced. For a merchant, he wore little jewelry or ornamentation; not even the sapphire earring so common to the profession, enchanted to keep them cool in heat and safe from the sea. Though given his recent troubles, perhaps he had reason to discard it.
“I know that,” Señor–No, Signore made more sense with that accent–Enzo groused, his ringless fingers tapping on the armrest of his chair, “That’s not the problem, the problem is–Look, I don’t know what kind of business the Mediama think they can run out here, away from proper civilization, but a man’s word is his bond, isn’t it? So when I say I need more time on a payment, I mean it.”
“Extensions are available, sir–”
“For another fee, I know, I looked. I’ve been looking into it far more than–I can’t pay you back if my supplies keep going missing!”
“Of course, sir. Might I recommend then that you hire–”
“I am not hiring mercenaries just to keep my cargo safe! I work with good, honest, proper sailors, not privateers only in it for coin!”
The teller refrained from pointing out that honest sailors expected to be paid too. Though he did suppose that getting the East Casian navy to handle matters of security was a fairly common practice for those willing to trust their protection to the bloodcoats. Some people were obsessed with the idea of “legitimacy”...but that wasn’t his problem. “I understand, sir. Then how may I help you resolve the issue of your loan?”
“For starters, stop sending people to harass my workers!”
“Strozzino Savings and Loans does not engage in the act of racketeering, sir. If hooligans are disrupting your business, then I would recommend exploring the options made available to you by the Sapphire Serpents Adventurers Guild.” The teller didn’t ignore Mister Enzo’s angry response, though he did put some more attention on the ledger in front of him instead of adding value where there was none to be found. “Furthermore, it is my understanding that your chief issues come from the fact that you insured for acts of piracy and acts of monstrosity at your previous institution.”
“Yes! I did! But somehow FUCKING LEVIATHANS don’t count as either!”
“Please do not raise your voice, sir, it may disrupt other customers. It is my understanding that your previous bank, D’Ambrosio, regarded these instead as an act of gods–”
“THEY’RE LEVIATHANS! FUCKING CRAB RIDERS TOO! How is that an act of–...hold on. Isn’t that…?”
The teller glanced up at his client, then noticed the human had turned in his seat, having caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He followed Mister Enzo’s gaze as best he could behind the iron bars meant to keep him protected from robbery and–more likely–angry customer retribution, then blanched when he noticed who Mister Enzo had spotted. “...Sir, whatever you are thinking–”
But Enzo didn’t listen to him, instead standing up from his seat and heading across the hall, ducking under ropes and pushing past lines as other patrons made various noises of irritation and annoyance on his way towards the manager of the bank, a drake with golden scales that wrung his hands with nervous energy as he smiled–surprisingly sincerely–at the man Enzo actually wanted to speak to.
“Signore Vorco! I thought that was you!” Enzo called out, drawing the attention of the tall, corpulent nereid wearing a sapphire-blue vest and a dark bowler hat with a peacock’s feather sticking up from its blue band. The fat sea-elf wasn’t the merchant’s favorite person–though he honestly doubted the loan shark was particularly liked by anyone–but if needs must and all that. “I didn’t know you were in town!”
“Ah, Messere Chiodi! I wasn’t expecting to see you this far north either!” Vorco grinned the sharp-toothed smile of many men with undersea heritage, common to merfolk and selachi. “Don’t you have an office in Shantiro to be taking care of?”
Enzo Chiodi considered himself a smart man, and he was at least smart enough not to call the shark in front of him out for being a pompous prick. “Of course I do, Signore, but it seems I’ve run into some trouble on that front! Trouble that has brought me further north than I thought, but ah, what merchant is unwilling to travel in this day and age?”
“Plenty around Tesoro, from what I’ve seen.”
“Bah, dwarves are different. Travel is difficult for them, what with their short legs, so it’s only natural to stick to where they’re from. That’s not my point though! My point is–”
“That your bank transferred your loan to mine, yes, I am aware, Messere. Maybe they caught wind of your ideas of people having their places, ah?” He laughed, his smile sharp, and Enzo tried to keep his own up despite the strain.
“No, no, no problems on that front, Signore, not at all! My issue is a financial one, a problem of circumstances being what they are. My recent losses, they are hitting much harder than I anticipated! So, you understand, the debts that I have, they–”
“Have gone unpaid, ah? I assume that is what you want to speak about.”
“Yes! Yes, of course, the matters of debts and repayment are your forte, yes?”
“As much as it can be, certainly. You want an extension then? Because my tellers can help with that.”
It was getting harder to keep the smile up. “I know, they’ve made that clear, but don’t you think it’s unfair to require a fee for extending a loan? I wouldn’t need an extension if I could pay, now would I?”
“Ah, but the fee is far lower than the principal for exactly that reason! It’s easier to pay for an extension so you have time to pay back the full loan, isn’t it? All you need is a good windfall to get back on your feet, and the extension gives you time for that! I would say that is fair, wouldn’t you?”
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t at all. “Signore, you have to understand, my ‘windfalls’ do not seem very likely at the moment, so having to pay money that I could be investing isn’t a good investment, yes? I just need time! All I need is time, without paying for it!”
His voice had nearly risen to a shout there and he could see amusement in Vorco’s eye because of it. “You know, most banks, when they meet a debtor who cannot pay, tend to, ah, what is the word…repossess, was it? They take what you own to pay your debt? Terrible word, really, for a terrible practice little better than thievery! It’s outright cruel, really, to rob a person of their possessions for a debt, to treat their attachments as worthless in the face of gold.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Er…yes, I would agree,” Enzo said, rubbing his ringless fingers in lieu of speaking further. Where was Vorco going with this?
“That’s why I prefer to lean on attachments instead. To put it bluntly, I prefer collateral.”
He blinked. “…so…you intend to loan me property?”
Vorco smiled, showing sharp teeth. “No, not quite. I mean you hand over something of yours, and I keep it unless you pay back your debt. Depending on the value of the item, I will grant you an appropriate extension, and if you do not pay by the end of it, all I will do is keep what you have given. No more debt.”
Enzo stiffened. “No more…you mean to say once you keep the collateral, I have nothing more to pay? At all?”
“Of course! It needn’t be especially valuable either, simply something of your person.”
He didn’t even need to think. All of his debt erased? And for what, something he had on him? He didn’t even have any jewels left, there was nothing of value to take! “Deal! Deal deal deal! Take whatever, but I am holding you to that!”
“Ha ha! Ah, I would be displeased if you didn’t! Now then: eyes, tongue, or heart?”
“I–What?” He blinked, staring in confusion for the last time. “What did you–“
“Eyes then? An excellent choice.” And Vorco, like the shark he was, lunged for his prey.
----------------------------------------
Strozzino Vorco, such was his name in the realm of mortals, hummed a long lost shanty under his breath as he strolled to his office. He rolled his newest prizes between the fingers of his right hand and reached for the door with his left, before pausing as he noted an unfamiliar presence…and a very familiar one.
A grin came to his face as he pushed his way through. “Lonnie, you son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing around here, ah?”
Lonicran glanced away from the bust in his gloved hands, his smile obvious even with the crimson helm hiding his face. “There you are, Zolin! See? I told you he’d been up soon after the screamin’.”
Zolin, a name far closer to his real one, followed his colleague’s gaze to the unfamiliar presence, a woman in white sitting on the couch he kept for more comfortable meetings. She reeked of plague and wore a beaked mask, though the most curious thing about her was the small white dog currently laying in her lap. The plague demon seemed unsure of where to rest her six arms, but at least three of her hands were busy petting the relaxed hound with a fluffy coat and triangular ears.
“Is that Coconut?”
“That it is!” Lonnie laughed, setting the bust down and sitting on Zolin’s desk. “He lost to an angel, but you know how attached the boss gets.”
“She’s got a greedy soul,” Zolin noted with approval, “I assume she’s keeping Pineapple close then?”
“Ya assume right, my friend, you most certainly assume right! The smug little shit sure ain’t leavin’ her lap anytime soon.”
Coco chuffed, amused at his partner’s lack of dignity, before deliberately nuzzling Labatu’s hand so she’d scratch behind his ears properly.
“Speakin’ of smug little shits.”
Zolin just laughed as he moved over to his eye jar and dropped his most recent acquisitions inside. “You can’t blame a devil for taking advantage, ah? Especially in such a reduced state.”
Coco knew better than to try growling at the Ace of Diamonds, so he contented himself with his comfy seating position.
“Oh and Labby, you oughta greet our host,” Lonnie noted, startling Labatu out of her dog-petting reverie.
“O-Oh, of course. I am Labatu, daughter of the Conquering Plague and Intern of Lady Thrillseeker,” she dutifully informed her host, prompting an impressed whistle from Zolin.
“The Plague’s daughter, ah? Our lady certainly picks the interesting types.”
“Ha, you’re one to talk,” Lonnie commented, ignoring the hypocrisy in said comment.
“I suppose I am, but back to greetings–” He swept the hat from his head into a flourishing bow. “–you may know me as Zolin Blueford, vassal of Principessa Daiza, or Lady Thrillseeker, as you call her.”
“E-Er, are you allowed to invoke her like that?” Labatu asked, nervousness radiating from her tone.
“I am afforded that dignity, one of a rare few,” Zolin explained as he set his hat down, before smoothing back his nonexistent hair with a smirk, “Oh, though I should add, I go by another name amidst the mortals, that being Strozzino Vorco.”
Lonnie laughed, as Zolin knew he would. “You’re kiddin’ me! You’re actually playin’ a loanshark while goin’ by Strozzino? Who in the hell could take that name seriously?”
“You’d be surprised. I do have plenty ask what my real name is though.”
“Oh yeah? And what do you tell them your ‘real name’ is?”
He showed his teeth. “Squalo.”
As Lonnie barked another laugh, Labatu raised an unoccupied hand. “Er, pardon me for asking, Mister Blueford, but, uh, how are you even up here? You’re not on the same contract as Mister Redridge…I don’t think you even are on a contract.”
“Oh no no no, no, don’t get things wrong here, I do have a contract of a sort, albeit not the one I was summoned for. No, some decades ago, an idiot by the name of Don Orteca thought he could use me to handle some enemies. Crush them into despair, that sort of thing, but he failed to account for several things at once, such as the consequences for botching a containment circle. Long story short, I was a free devil, so I’ve been something of an ‘upstairs agent’ for our lovely principessa.
He grinned again. “If anyone asks though, I do have quite the ironclad compact with the Mediama family. Pleasant people, fond of usury, good for granting legitimacy, and all I do is handle some dirty business for them every so often. Everyone wins!”
“Ha, can’t say I expected ya to take that attitude, my friend,” Lonnie said, “No offense if I’m unintentionally stereotypin’, but ain’t it in your nature to make sure no one but you wins?”
“As much as it’s in your nature to rage against the world, amico,” Zolin replied, before gesturing around his office, “Besides, leaving aside the way la principessa introduced me to the delights of avaritia, I’ve found I’m more fond of desperation than pure despair. Rip a man’s eyes from his skull and you might break his will, but there’s always the chance to rise again. Not everyone chooses death or waste in the throes of despair, and those that hit the bottom have a chance to climb again.
“But dangle a way to get them back in front of him, a chance to reclaim what was lost, and he’ll destroy himself and others for that chance. Despair can ruin someone seemingly beyond all repair, but even a shattered vase can be mended with gold!” He would know. “Those that sink the lowest can accept their circumstances and heal, but not if you dangle opportunity in front of them. Hope is the worst vice because it grips the tightest, as some say, and it will drive the foolish to bite straight into its hook for the merest chance of a morsel~”
“Ya mixed your metaphors there, bud.”
“Eh, maybe I did, but it works well enough.” He glanced at Labatu. “You should’ve been taking notes.”
“O-Oh! Right, I’ll get right on that, understood…”
“Don’t mess with the intern,” Redridge chided, prompting a laugh from Zolin, “We should get around to why we came by here to begin with anyhow.”
“I presume your task comes from our lovely princess?”
“Oh, droppin’ the full princhy thing? But yeah, you guessed right. Remember that angel the boss is into?”
“Angel the boss is into…the black-wing?”
“Nope! The red-winged cardinal, the one presidin’ over Zem and currently tourin’ these lightly lands along with a druid and a ninja.”
“Sounds like the start to a stupid joke, but ah, I know the one you’re talking about. Well, at least I think I do.”
“I’m sure you’d recognize ‘em on sight. Lab here would, especially since the cardinal punched her out, and Coco definitely would, given they’re the reason he’s a pup now.”
Coco grunted, displeased at the reminder, and nuzzled back against Labatu’s abdomen, earning a little delighted noise that the intern did her best to hide. She failed, of course, which just got Zolin to grin wider.
“Alright, so the angel’s at least tough enough to take our intern and a second-stringer.” Coco barked there, offended, so Zolin just laughed outright. “Alright, alright, I get it! At least I think I do, but if you want to be clearer on the job, I’ll hear you out.”
“It’s nothin’ too big,” Lonnie explained, “Redwing just need to be directed a certain way. They have a knack for makin’ plots go off the rails, so Draz wants them outta the way, just so things go off without any hitches ‘round here. Don’t wanna make the clients mad and all that.”
“Is that all? Heh. Alright then, consider it done. By tomorrow, no one will see anything of that angel in this city. Not ‘til the sky burns and the king dies.”
“...Don’t pronounce things like they’re a prophecy, that’s gonna fuck us over.”
Zolin sighed, slumping. “Just let me be dramatic.”
“Nah.”