050 – Extortion

***

Our contact Knogule lived in a small stone house leaning against one of the city walls. He certainly had not spent any of his money—by which I mean other people’s money—on luxuries for himself. The only good thing to say about the run down shack was that it was far away from the polluted canal running through the center of the town. In continental fashion, its ground floor was built like a fort with no windows. The house’s front door was busted into splinters.

“Someone has gotten here before us,” said Zambulon.

“Probably one of his creditors,” Hwilla said. “I hope they haven’t stolen the money.”

Zambulon listened at the door for a moment, but all was silent within. Whoever broke in had already left. I fished out a quartz stone from my pocket and dropped it at the entrance.

The inside of the building lay in ruins. Someone had broken in and searched the place, destroying everything in the process. They had smashed up every piece of furniture, ripped out all the cabinets, punched holes in the walls, and even pulled up the floorboards. We stepped through the trash pit that had been Knogule’s home. Everything of value had been stolen.

“They must have found his silver,” I said. “There’s nothing left.”

“Knogule hid it in a clever place: inside the chimney. And since you have experience as a chimney sweep, junior, you can check to see if it’s still there.”

“But everything I learned, I learned from you, Zambulon. You’re the real expert.”

“It’s time for you to put your light-on-a-stick to good use. It’s a perfect tool for the job.” He pointed at the dirty fireplace.

With no other choice, I cleared out the ashes and crawled in. The chimney was too narrow for a person, but my glowing staff could fit inside. I wiggled the lumestone around, and puffs of soot rained down on my head. Nothing obstructed the chimney, but it did have missing stones on the side that made small niches. Knogule had used these recesses as hidden shelves. Pouches of coins and plates rested there. I had to hook them by the drawstrings to pull them free.

“Ow!” One of the pouches fell on me along with a stream of ashes. “Here’s the first one.” I tossed it out to the others. “I expect a fee for salvaging this lost treasure.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Knogule,” Zambulon said. “I’m sure he’ll put you on his list of creditors.”

One by one I tossed out the pouches until they made a significant pile of wealth. Most of the coins were locally minted silver, but there was some gold mixed in as well. Zambulon counted what we had.

“With this amount, we can make the last payment for the Black Tarnish Casino. Knogule has already worked out the deal and signed the legal documents. All we need to do is pay the former owners and get the keys to the casino.”

“But what do we then?” I stood up and brushed off the soot. “That still doesn’t get him out of jail.”

“It’s up to us to manage his new business. Once it gains enough money, we can pay off his fines and debts.”

We all froze in place as tiny pulses of magic swept through house, like the tinkling of wind chimes.

“What was that?” Zambulon whispered.

“It’s my alarm rune. Someone’s at the front door.”

Whoever came to the house did not enter. They waited for us at the front door, standing over the rune. Magi would have noticed the alarm going off, so these must have been normal people.

“Hwilla. Check it out from above.”

Hwilla was the lightest and stealthiest of us. She darted up the stairs to a window on the second story. From there she looked down on the people outside and made hand signs to us. She made a fist, held up five fingers, wiggled her thumb, and passed her finger across her neck. I had no clue what that meant. These weird hand signs always confused me.

Zambulon and Yurk rushed forward with swords drawn. Hwilla jumped out the window.

“Wait. What?” I floundered around as the others met the people at the front door with a clanging of metal. But my fellow disciples had forgotten the most important thing: our piles of silver. I hastily stuffed the pouches into my satchel. We couldn’t leave this stuff behind.

By the time I caught up with them, the other disciples had disarmed and subdued the men who tried to ambush us at the door. Five rough looking thugs had no chance against a trio of swordsmen. They clearly hadn’t known who they were dealing with. Three of them sat unconscious against the wall. One man held a piece of cloth to his bleeding nose. Their weapons, long dirks, lay scattered across the street.

“Why are you sneaking up on us?” Zambulon asked their leader.

“We came to find Knogule. That dirty rat owes us big time,” he growled.

“Knogule isn’t here. The duke’s holding him in the castle tower.”

“Yeah. We heard the rumor. That’s why everybody in town wants to recoup their losses. Some of them already busted in and looted this place, but the Leech Boys ain’t got our cut yet. We want our money from that sweaty little bastard.”

“How much did he borrow from you?”

“Thirty minae of pure silver. Plus interest!” the man spat. He eyed us. “Who the hell are you people? Out of towners? I’ve never seen you before.”

Zambulon sheathed his sword. “The four of us are also concerned investors. For the time being, we’re taking over Knogule’s disordered affairs. You’ll get repaid eventually, but if you come at us with weapons again, you’ll receive your payment in steel instead of silver.”

“Tell Knogule, we ain’t the patient type,” the man said. He gestured with his bloody rag.

The other disciples were more merciful than usual because we were in the city and trying to keep a low profile. We left the beaten thugs at the house. There was nothing of value left there for them to steal now that we had the silver. I picked up my runestone before we left.

“What the hell is that thing, Strythe?”

“It’s a simple alarm rune. I based it off the magical ward in the eye-titan’s nest. When a living thing comes close, it will radiate a warning signal. Ambient mana can power very simple runes like this.”

Zambulon examined the stone and turned it off and on. “You spent our Student Improvement Funds on this thing?”

“Think of it as an investment in my workshop. This is just the first pay out.”

***

The people of civilized nations emigrated to the colonies in search of adventure and wealth. Despite the monsters, daemons, and bad food, the continent was a treasure box of valuable resources. Those who came to the Sandgrave Peninsula started trading companies, plantations, mines, and other businesses. But they did not always intend to live their whole lives here or to have their children become natives. After accumulating enough wealth, most adventurers planned to return to the safety of the civilized islands.

Sandgrave’s brewing succession crisis had a paradoxical effect on immigration. On the one hand, it attracted soldiers and mercenaries who hoped to get rich by serving in a civil war. But on the other hand, many peaceful business owners fled the country before getting swept up in the coming violence. These immigrants had no loyalty to any of the factions and little concern for the ultimate fate of Sandgrave. This land wasn’t their home.

A family of immigrants owned the Black Tarnish Casino. Three generations of them lived and worked in the Casino, including young children who had never seen their ethnic homeland, an island called Sprogros, in the western sea. Profits wrung out of Drainditch they sent to one of the sons who maintained the family estate back home. Now, with a looming war on the horizon, the whole family decided to cash in their chips. Staying in Sandgrave was too much of a gamble even for casino owners.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Knogule managed to talk the anxious owners into selling their profitable business for a fairly small sum, but even that was a lot of money. The devious agent used every trick at his disposal to scrounge up silver and buy out the casino. We handed over the last payment to the former owners, who had already packed up their belongings into a cart and were ready to leave town. We exchanged several kilograms of silver for a piece of parchment and an iron key.

“Let’s go check this place out,” Zambulon said.

The Black Tarnish Casino, fittingly, had the same coat of grimy soot that covered everything in Drainditch. Newer buildings had a light coat while older ones, such as this Casino, had one as thick as black paint. The glass windows on the upper floors had become totally opaque. We had to wipe the soot away from the sign to make sure we were at the right place.

When the family from Sprogros first built their casino, they had spent a great deal to make it lavish and inviting. The interior had ornately carved woodwork and marble floors. But in recent years, knowing they would eventually sail away, they had failed to maintain the old building. Now everything was cracked and crumbling. The floor tiles were loose. Termites ate away at the timbers. Broken railings had been replaced with rough hewn planks. Water dripped from holes in the roof down into clay pots.

“What a dump. Knogule would have been better off making a new casino,” I said.

“The deed comes with the right to run a gaming house for one hundred years,” Zambulon said. “That’s worth a lot more than the structure itself. Since there are no other casinos in town, Knogule has purchased a monopoly on legal gambling. No one else is allowed to build a competing business without permission of the duke.”

The main hall of the casino had a number of tables for gambling. Some had marks painted for playing games. A few had spinning roulette wheels or standing wheels of fortune. The gamblers here expected more variety than the simple dice games played onboard ships. They used dice, cards, tokens, tiles, chips, lots, figurines, pieces, and marbles. Games of chance and games of skill. One table had a miniature racetrack where tiny lead horses rolled around the course in imitation of an actual horse track. They did not race any living creatures, however, like at the Rat Race in Blandwick.

“How does this place make money from gambling? Isn’t it too high risk?” I asked.

“All the games are weighted in our favor. So even if a dealer loses a few games, over the course of a night, the casino will always come out ahead.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“I suppose it is. But everyone knows the games are rigged ahead of time, yet they still decided to play. So that makes it fair again.”

I didn’t agree with that logic, but it must have convinced some people. They came here to throw away all their hard earned money on games of chance.

The owning family rolled out of the city gate as soon as they received their money, but they didn’t take all the dealers with them. The handful of employees still worked for the casino, people who knew how to play all the games and entertain the customers. With them at the tables, the Black Tarnish Casino could continue to operate with no interruption.

Zambulon spoke briefly with the house manager and the dealers, explaining to them that the new owner, Knogule, wouldn’t show up for a few days at least. Everything was to continue as normal. This is where we encountered a serious wrinkle. The workers had not been paid for over eight weeks. The previous owners had neglected to pay their employees, and now the casino was stuck with balancing the sheets. Zambulon had to assure them that they would get the proceeds from the first night, put above all other creditors. After all, the place couldn’t function without them. None of us knew how to actually run a casino.

***

“How can a casino lose money?” Zambulon groaned.

“No one wants to come to this old dump,” Hwilla said. “It’s depressing, and the carpets smell funny.”

Our first night at the Black Tarnish Casino did not impress us. Only a handful of old miners drifted in to play the cheapest games, losing a few copper coins and chatting with their friends. They only came to this place out of long habit. These old men happily regaled us with stories of the casino’s hey day, back when it first opened. Most of the dealers had nothing to do and sat behind empty tables.

“It’s clear as day.” I looked through the casino’s daily log book for the past year. “Every dealer gets paid three silver shekels a day, plus one sixtieth of the winnings collected from their table. The deed and charter requires the casino pay one twelfth of the night’s gross winnings directly to the duke’s coffers. The city of Drainditch taxes the business at a flat rate of one talent of pure silver per year. When the expenses are greater than income, the business loses money.”

“Knogule is out of his mind buying this place,” Zambulon cursed.

“Maybe he had some plan for revitalizing business.”

“If no one is here, they must be finding entertainment elsewhere. Let’s go around town to check out the competition. Strythe, you stay and finish reviewing the financial records. Keep an eye on the place for us.”

“As you wish,” I said.

There wasn’t much to keep an eye on. A few old miners stood around a roulette wheel, watching the metal ball bounce around the spinning slots. A group of gray haired men smoked pipes and played a quiet game of cards. It was a sleepy night for senior citizens. I rather enjoyed things like this, but it wouldn’t do for a profit seeking venture.

My research through the older records showed the casino had been profitable in the past. I had expected for it to have earned well in the beginning then slowly decreased over time as the place became decrepit and unfashionable. However, that was not the case. The Black Tarnish Casino raked in money until two years prior, at which point it experienced a sharp drop off. Something had changed.

Halfway through the night, a gang of five men wandered in through the front entrance and meandered through the casino, checking out all the games but not playing any. Several of the dealers decided to go on break when these menacing thugs arrived, as did the house manager, leaving me alone behind the bar to serve them. The men sat down and ordered distilled liquor.

“We heard this place has a new owner.”

“The new owner’s not here yet. I’m watching over the place for him,” I said. “Didn’t I meet the five of you earlier today? The Leech Boys?”

“We ain’t the Leech Boys! Those lousy bums. They got a whole different racket than us. They do loans and collections.” The leader of the group sneered at that name. He didn’t want to be associated with the other gang. “Nah. We’re the Spry Knucklers. We do protection.”

He was right. None of these thugs had broken noses or black eyes, so they couldn’t be the same men the other disciples had brutalized earlier, although they looked cut from the same cloth. They had the same long daggers at their belts, just short enough to not legally be considered swords.

“You see, the previous owners of this fine establishment paid us protection money. So we’ve come to offer you the same services at reasonable prices.” The man downed his liquor in one gulp.

“And what are those services?” I asked.

“As you may know, this town is full crooks. All sorts of despicable characters show up here in Drainditch. Robbers, vandals, arsonists, and more. The place is lousy with ‘em. So we help to protect local businesses from any unfortunate incidents,” he said with a sinister smile. “This is a nice place you got here. It would be a shame if something happened to it.”

“Aren’t there police for that?”

“The duke and his knights don’t have time for patrolling this dump. It’s up to enterprising townsfolk such as ourselves to sort out these problems. And the Spry Knucklers sort ‘em out real good.”

“I see. What are your rates?”

“We take a one-thirtieth cut of the gross. Collected weekly.”

This added another expense to the Black Tarnish Casino, but one not recorded in their accounting books. Were these men plain extortionists or private police? The lines blurred when the city did not have an actual police department and when the duke arbitrarily meted out justice. I could have trounced this gang as the other disciples had earlier, and the idea of smashing their smug faces had a sort of visceral appeal, but our goal was to help Knogule set up his intelligence gathering network. Beating up locals might disrupt his plans.

“Well, friends, I can’t make any agreements on behalf of the official owner. But I will keep a tally of the casino’s winnings. Come back in a week to speak with Knogule and collect your fee.” I uncorked another bottle. “For tonight, drinks are on the house.”

***

The next morning, the disciples ate breakfast at the empty casino. I shared what I had learned from going over the accounts and speaking with the local gang of extortionists. The others reported what they had found exploring the city’s night life.

“There’s gambling all over the place,” Zambulon groaned. “There are pits for dogfights, dens for card games, and people playing dice in the back alleys. All of them are halfway hidden but easy to find. No one wants to come to a grimy old casino with so many other options available. Knogule’s monopoly is worthless because the authorities don’t bother enforcing it.”

“This seems like a thing a protection racket should handle,” I said.

“Then the Spry Knucklers aren’t doing there job either. Instead of beating up these illegal gambling operations and sending the customers our way, they completely ignore the problem.”

“The duke or the gangs must have done so in the past. Until two years ago, this casino was highly profitable. Something changed.”

At that moment, one of the upper windows shattered to pieces. The blackened glass fell inward, letting in piercing rays of morning sunlight that fell on the dingy interior of the old casino. A brick landed on one of the dealer’s tables.

“What’s this?” Zambulon asked as he picked up the brick.

“A message from the Knucklers, I’d bet. A demonstration of what happens when you don’t pay your local gang of extortionists.”

Zambulon tossed the brick between his hands. “Knogule must have a plan for all this, buying a discount casino in a town full of gangsters.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because. He wouldn’t have called in swordsmen just to help him serve drinks, now would he? We’re here to break some legs.”