Vashurst was greatest and richest city in Osetaria. So rich it was called the Silver City but even silver had dark spots, and none were darker than the part of city known as the Blights by the residents. Rolf had grown up there and spent his childhood dreaming of streets paved in silver. He had survived as a petty thief and a ratcatcher, but he knew it would never be enough to flee the Blights. Once the Blights had its claws in you, it would rather see you dead than free. The best he could hope for was trading his rags for slightly better rags.
And now he was going to lose even that.
It had started as a regular night of fun with the gang in the taverns. They had gone from tavern to tavern until they had forgotten their names and worries. When the money had run low, they had spotted an easy mark. A drunk dressed a bit too well for the Blights, who was a bit too frivolous with his money. Had they been more sober, they would have wondered why a man like that was out and about in the Blights.
A few punches had been all it had taken to make the well-dressed fool part ways with his money.
Rest of the night had been a party, and the last time Rolf would know peace. The next morning, they had found out that they had a laid a hand on an untouchable man. One of the Pig’s top enforcers. What was worse… he had to explain the mess to the head of their gang who was not a forgiving man.
The Blind King was one of the more notorious taverns and brothels in the Blights. It was famous for its bare-knuckle boxing matches that made you forgive the watered-down vodka and forget the rumors that beaten boxers were carried off to be cooked into meat pies. During the early hours the Blind King was not open for business, but Rolf had a spare key to the place. When he entered, he was greeted by the smell of booze, sweat and blood. A boxing ring stood in the middle of a large room and tables surrounded it to give everyone a good look of the fights. The owner was a mean looking one-eyed miser who was eating breakfast and nursing a hangover.
“Where is he?” Rolf asked and tried not to show how scared he was.
The owner just nodded at the back and kept eating his mutton unhappily. Rolf rushed past him and got in the backyard where a small sauna had been built.
That’s where Rolf found Maximo.
As the Blind King’s best brawler, the owner had given Maximo lodgings for free as long as he kept winning and Rolf could not imagine there being any man, living or dead, who could match him. Maximo had just gotten out of the sauna and his skin was steaming in the cold morning, but he made no attempt to hide his nudity while he shaved his head with a razor.
Seeing Maximo in a state of undress always sent a chill down Rolf’s spine.
Every muscle in his body was so well-developed that he looked like a mutant. His back and shoulders were impossibly wide, and he had the chest of an ox. His arms were as thick as Rolf’s thighs and his legs hard as tree trunks. The flat stomach could have been used as an anvil to crush rocks. His manhood hung between his legs like the tongue of some large beast and like everything else about him it was grotesquely large.
“Boss.” Rolf said.
Maximo did not turn to look at him and just glanced at him from the mirror while he kept shaving his head.
“Rolf.” Maximo said.
The voice was deep and powerful but lacked any inflection or emotion. Every word just flowed out like a freezing river. Maximo spoke in a hushed voice and people had to strain themselves to hear him. Rolf waited for a moment if Maximo had anything else to say. Interrupting him never ended well. When he was sure, Maximo was expecting him to speak, he cleared his throat.
“We… uh… we have a problem.” Rolf said.
Maximo clicked his tongue and cleaned the razor with a towel.
“Do we now?” Maximo said and ran his hand over his smooth head to see if he had missed any hair: “What kind of a problem?”
Maximo moved on to shave the rough beginnings of a beard while Rolf told him about the night spent drinking. Even while shaving, Maximo kept one eye on him, but Rolf dared not face the reflection of the green eye and just stared Maximo’s bruised, scarred back. Maximo’s whole body was a patchwork of scars like somebody had tried to beat the humanity out of him.
Rolf feared they had succeeded too.
“There… there was this guy and he… well… it looked like he had money and all of us had had too much to drink so we…” Rolf said.
“I can guess. How is this a problem?” Maximo said.
“He…” Rolf said and had to fight back tears: “He was one of Pig’s top guys…”
Every muscle in Maximo’s back tensed up and for a moment it looked like his entire body had been carved from stone. Then he put down his razor and picked up a bucket full of cold water. Maximo poured the water over himself, washing away the sweat and shaving soap. He gasped when the cold hit him and then picked up a towel.
“Come here.” Maximo said.
Rolf tried to move but his feet had been rooted into the ground. When Maximo spoke again, there was a hint of impatience in his voice.
“I said, come here.”
Before Rolf could even think about moving, his legs were already carrying him over to Maximo. It was like the giant had taken over his body with a few words. Maximo left the towel hanging from his shoulders and just stared at him. The glare was a magnifying glass burning the top of his head.
“What am I going to do with you, Rolf? What am I going to do with you?” Maximo said.
Rolf could feel that Maximo was expecting him to say something, and Rolf mustered all his courage.
“… you… when you fled Garuccia… I helped you… set you up…” Rolf blubbered.
“That you did.” Maximo said and thought things over: “I have a plan. Gather the gang. Gather all the money we have. Be ready in half an hour.”
“… are we making a run for it?” Rolf asked.
“No. We’re going to meet the Pig.” Maximo said.
In the gang Maximo’s word was the law and neither Olav nor Jan dared to question it. They just gathered their meager savings and rushed to meet Maximo who had gathered the winnings from his matches. He was dressed in a dark quilted jacket, rough jeans, and thick work boots taken from beaten opponents. Rolf was always surprised he was able to find clothes that fit him.
“Come.” Maximo said.
Without a word they followed Maximo to the brothel, Pink Pearl, that the Pig called home. It was the closest thing to a mansion you could find in the Blights and had been part of an attempt to clean up the place. One of the many things that had been sacrificed when the Twelve-Year-War began. With no one else wanting it, the Pig had taken it for himself. An outer wall of stone surrounded the brothel and as always, the Pink Pearl was watched over by very serious men with hidden weapons that they reached for instinctively when they saw Maximo approaching. Head of the guard pointed his shotgun at Maximo and Rolf couldn’t help but wonder… would even that be enough to kill Maximo?
“What do you want?” The guard said.
“We have business with Hakan. There has been a misunderstanding that has to be cleared up.” Maximo said and offered the guard a hundred crown bill.
The guard stared at Maximo for a moment and then at the bill. Without putting down the shotgun, he took the hundred crowns and backed away slowly.
“Keep an eye on them.” The guard said.
The guard slipped in through the gate and returned just a few minutes later.
“Let them in.” The guard said.
Guards escorted them inside and for the first time Rolf saw what the best brothel in the Blights looked like. Girls too pretty for him to afford walked around in lingerie that cost more than their entire savings and passed them by like they were just stray dogs. The only they spared a second glance was Maximo and even then… they shivered.
When they arrived behind the Pig’s door, they were told to sit and wait.
So they did.
Rolf sat and stewed in his own sweat while Jan and Olav argued in hushed tones on why they hadn’t just made a run for it. Maximo just sat in grim silence with his arms crossed. They had to wait for an hour that felt like an eternity but finally the door opened and the second most feared man in the Blights stepped into the hallway.
The Accountant.
He looked like someone who’s lunch money Rolf would have stolen as a kid. An owlish looking guy with short hair and thick glasses. Not quite pudgy but soft in the middle. It was only when you looked him in the eyes you could tell he had a heart like a hailstone.
“Rolf, Jan, Olav and… Maximo?” The Accountant said: “Here to discuss the… hmm… misunderstanding, I assume? Why don’t you come on in?”
The Accountant had a measured voice that sounded almost friendly. Almost. Rolf could tell when someone was enjoying the pain of others. They entered the most comfortable room Rolf had ever seen and the Accountant returned to his desk in one corner and began pouring over ledgers. There were so many books and even this time of the year it was warm thanks to the fireplace stacked with firewood. Guards lazed around on the couch, but Rolf could tell that they would react in the blink of an eye if anyone even thought about starting something. He recognized veterans of the Twelve-Year-War at a glance.
Then… there was the Pig.
“Boys. My sweet boys. Rolf, Jan, Olav… Maximo.” The Pig said.
Everyone knew Hakan as the Pig, but no one called him that in his presence. Once he had been called the Handsome for his good looks but that had been a long time ago. After the Twelve-Year-War, he had tried to spread his business into Garuccia only to find out that the Ratking did not share turf. After his bodyguards had been killed, the Ratking had doused him in gasoline and lit a match.
“What can I do for you? I believe there was some talk of a misunderstanding.” The Pig said.
The Pig was big as a walrus and his face… the fire had left him hairless and looking like a… pig. He only had one working eye the other being made of black glass that was too large for the socket. The doctors had done what they could for his nose and ears, but the nostrils looked like a pig’s snout and his ears were just tiny nubs.
“We have come to beg for forgiveness.” Macimo said.
Maximo stepped forward but kept his back hunched and his head bowed to appear as small and unthreatening as possible. Not an easy thing to do for someone who was two meters tall and weighed nearly hundred and fifteen kilos.
“Last night my boys disrespected one of your men and stole from him. Which means they stole from you. We have come to apologize and offer compensation.” Maximo said and laid down the money he had brought: “We offer our sincerest apologies, lord Hakan.”
Rolf offered his own money alongside Jan and Olav like they were making a sacrifice to some dark god. The Pig just watched and occasionally with great effort would stretch his back.
“You disrespected one of my men? Hmm. That does sound familiar. Accountant, didn’t you say we did lose some money last night.” The Pig said.
“Thirty-five crowns and nineteen cents. No paltry sum.” The Accountant said with glee.
“Oh, yes. Now I remember. You also knocked Bjorn the Bull hard on his ass. Too hard I am afraid. The doctor says he will remain an idiot for the rest of his life.” The Pig said.
“… oh no…” Rolf said.
“Funny. I said much the same when I got the news but don’t worry. It was a short life. It’s always a sad day when you have to put down a prized bull.” The Pig said and took out a cigar.
The guards rushed to light their boss’s cigar only to be beaten to it by the Accountant who lit with a golden lighter. Maximo’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the lighter but not from greed. It was odd but… Rolf could have sworn Maximo hated the golden lighter.
“Thank you, my friend.” The Pig said and blew smoke at them: “So, as you can see, this isn’t about the money. It hasn’t been about the money for me since I stole my neighbor’s piggybank when I was twelve. What matters to me is respect and respect is something money can’t buy.”
“I understand.” Maximo said.
“Do you?” The Pig said and looked at Maximo for a long time: “Maybe you do. Do you know what makes a leader, Maximo?”
“I have never thought about it.” Maximo said.
“I don’t doubt it. A big guy like you doesn’t need to bother with thinking. What leaders need is…” The Pig tapped his glass eye: “Vision. He needs to see how things fall into place and what uses others have to get what he wants. Looking at you… You just might be useful for me.”
Rolf tried to imagine how he would die. There were good ways and bad ways to go. The Pig was a big believer in bad exits to those who disrespected him. Maybe… they could steal a gun and… and…
One look from Maximo was enough to put an end to such thoughts.
“What do you want, lord Hakan?” Maximo asked.
“Lord Hakan… You keep calling me that.” The Pig said and chuckled to himself: “I like that. Now here’s the deal Maximo. Bjorn was a fighter until your boys made him a lackwit. You’re a fighter. I heard you are a nasty piece of work in the ring. Looking at you… Yeah. I believe.”
The Pig blew smoke at Maximo and the two men just watched each other for a while. Measuring each other up.
“Old Man of the North is holding a party and Bjorn was supposed to be the entertainment. You will take his place and this thing between us will be settled.” The Pig said.
“Just like that?” Maximo said.
The Pig smiled wide enough to show off grey gums.
“Just like that.”
“Do I need to take a fall?” Maximo said.
“This isn’t that kind of a bet. All you need to do is survive for three rounds. Bjorn was sure he could do it. I trust you can too. Do that in this unpleasantness between us? Forgotten like a fart in a storm.” The Pig said.
Maximo rubbed the scar on his forehead.
“And what if my opponent doesn’t last three rounds with me?”
The Accountant smirked and the guards began laughing. Maximo’s eyes narrowed and he looked at the laughing men. Laughter didn’t survive Maximo’s glare for long and even veterans of the Twelve-Year-War did not feel like pushing Maximo.
“It won’t happen but if it does? There will be a bonus waiting for you.” The Pig said and clapped his hands together: “I do love surprises and you brought me one already today. Few people would have the balls to just walk in and own up to me.”
“There are no people like me.” Maximo said and crossed his arms: “When and where is the match coming up?”
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“This Saturday. It will start at midnight when everyone has a good buzz going. Where it is? Now that will be my surprise for you.” The Pig said and glanced at Rolf, Jan, and Olav like shit stuck in his shoes: “I will have a ride prepared for all of you. If you try to run, I will find you and then I won’t be so jolly.”
“I understand.” Maximo said.
“Good. Now you can all go your merry way. I will be keeping the money though. An audience with me doesn’t come for free.” The Pig said.
“This is acceptable.” Maximo said.
They were ushered out and Rolf spent the rest of the week in a drunken stupor with Jan and Olav. There were always a few coins lying around and cheap booze to get fucked up on. Maximo meanwhile stayed sober and from what Rolf heard, he kept up his nightly matches at the Blind King. Just more ferocious than before. The few who dared to challenge him in the ring looked like they had been mauled by some wild animal afterwards. It was enough to make Rolf believe they had a shot.
Jan and Olav didn’t share his optimism.
When he woke up nursing a hangover on Friday, Jan and Olav were gone. As was the little money they’d had left. When he realized he had been abandoned, Rolf was desperate enough to consider catching a train or a boat. Maybe to the most northern part of Osetaria or even Garuccia. He could sober up. Try to find a job. Change and forget.
Some dreams were too farfetched to even laugh at.
Instead, he had another drink and fell into the comfort of a drunken stupor. He hadn’t even realized that Saturday had come until strong hands grabbed him, dragged him in the backyard and stuck his head in barrel full of cold water. It was kept there until he was as close to sober as he could get.
“Well, have you found your senses, or do you need another look?”
Rolf saw the Accountant standing behind the hired muscle, looking out of place in his neat, dark suit at the Blights.
“… I… I… I…” Rolf moaned.
“Give the man another look.” The Accountant said.
His head was dunked underwater again and this time he was kept there for so long that he was going to die. But when his vision began to grow dark, he was yanked out.
“What about now?” The Accountant asked with a smile that was friendly and cruel in equal measure.
“… found them…” Rolf gasped.
“Looks like it worked.” The Accountant said and snapped his fingers: “Bring him to the carriage.”
A carriage black as a hearse was waiting outside the hostel Rolf called home and Maximo had already taken over most of the space. He sat with his arms crossed and looking right past everyone when Rolf was pushed inside. He was forced to share the seat with Maximo, getting crushed between the wall and Maximo, while the Accountant had a bench all to himself. The hired thugs grabbed to the sides of the carriage and hung outside. The Accountant pulled down the curtains so they couldn’t see where they were headed.
“Jan and Olav ran.” Maximo said.
“Yes, but not far.” The Accountant said: “Why don’t you look under the seat?”
Rolf twitched when he heard the elation in the Accountant’s voice and knew exactly what he was. A junkie. They all had that spark in their voice when they talked about their stash. For some it was opium. For the Accountant it was power and cruelty.
“Do it.” Maximo said to Rolf.
When Rolf reached down, his fingers brushed against a rough sack containing something round and heavy. When he opened it…
“Jesus!” Rolf yelled and dropped the sack.
Two skulls rolled on the carriage floor. All meat had been boiled off them, but Rolf had known Jan and Olav long enough to recognize their crooked and gapped teeth.
“Jesus didn’t save them.” The Accountant said with a smile.
“And no one will save Jesus from me when I get my hands on him.” Maximo said.
For the first time the Accountant looked confused and taken aback. Rolf had had over two years to get to know his boss and his eccentricities but the poison in his voice that was usually so flat… it made him think of the string of burned churches in Vashurst. They seemed to always burn when Maximo wasn’t needed in the ring.
Maximo picked up the skulls and stared in their empty sockets.
“If you had just listened to me, you would have lived.” Maximo said and showed the skulls in Rolf’s lap: “Put them away.”
Rolf placed them back in the sack as respectfully as he could. Jan and Olav had been his friends after all, and he had always known they were cowards. He wasn’t surprised that they had run and didn’t blame them for it. Nothing in the world was harder than being brave and a man who didn’t know fear was no man at all.
The carriage ride was over an hour of oppressive silence but finally they arrived at their destination.
When Rolf stepped out of the carriage, he was greeted by a party. All the sofas, chandeliers, carpets, and silk curtains almost made you miss that the place looked like an abandoned factory that had been transformed into a party house for gangsters. Master chefs were offering a dinner and a show while they prepared meats and vegetables. Fire sizzled under grills and sharp knives sliced and diced the ingredients ready for the pan. Topless waiters were serving champagne and vodka that never seemed to run out and sometimes the guests would place a tip in a waiter’s panties. It was the kind of a party you only threw when everyone was there.
Anyone who mattered.
Every mob boss who was somebody had been invited and many of them overshadowed even the Pig when it came to money and influence. But there was one who stood above them all.
The Old Man of the North.
The Old Man of the North was… old. An ancient creature without a strand of hair in his bald head and his long beard had gone white a long time ago. The beard made Rolf think of icicles hanging from roofs. But even with all those years weighing him down, his back was still straight, and those chilly blue eyes were sharp and merciless. All the powerful mobsters were trying to enjoy themselves but no matter how much champagne or vodka they gulped down, they couldn’t help but cast nervous glances at the old man who was content to sit back and watch them.
“Come with me.” The Accountant said to Maximo and led him away.
Rolf was left alone but not for long. The hired muscle that had brought him here soon grabbed him again and carried him to the part of the party house the Pig had claimed for himself. In the Pink Pearl the Pig was the king of all he saw but here… he was one of the lesser vassals.
“Rolf. My friend. You made it.” The Pig said.
Rolf thought of the sack in the carriage that looked like a hearse.
“… Jan and Olav didn’t…” Rolf said.
The Pig laughed and patted his shoulder.
“I am sure they’re with us in spirit.” The Pig said and washed down oysters with champagne: “How do you like the party?”
“… never been to one this… grand.” Rolf said.
“You haven’t missed much. The old man throws these every few months. Or when he is pissed. We have to send a champion to face his and every time his champion crushes ours. Just to remind us of who is in charge.” The Pig said and cast a cold eye at the Old Man of the North: “What do you know about the Wyrding, Rolf?”
The Wyrding… just the mention of it brought him back to his mother’s knee and he remembered the stories she had told him. Stories that had been warnings. Never approach the Wyrd Stones. They ate children. And if he was naughty, Old Flea would ride through them and snatch him away.
“… it’s a den of monsters.” Rolf said.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” The Pig said and motioned at his disfigured face: “I have firsthand experience. After the war, the old man suggested that I try to spread out to Leoden. Turns out I was his guinea pig. He wanted to test out what the Ratking would do and… well… you can see what he did.”
The Pig laughed but Rolf could have sworn he heard an undercurrent of a whimper in it. A man trying to laugh away an old pain.
“They said I was burned but that is not true. The Ratking was a sorcerer and he put a curse on me. Look what the Wyrding has done to me. The old man set me up when he got scared, I was too big for him to handle.”
A bell was rung, and the Pig sighed.
“Time for tonight’s entertainment.” The Pig said.
In the middle of the party house was a concrete hole. Five meters deep and four times the size of a boxing ring. There were steel doors on both sides where the fighters would step out. The floor was covered in sand to soak up the blood and Rolf spotted teeth and fingernails among the gravel.
“This used to be a slaughterhouse and in a way it still is.” The Pig said: “They would have cattle in that hole and let them out one by one from the smaller door. Little did the cattle know there was a strapping lad with a sledgehammer waiting on the other side.”
An announcer stepped forward with all the pomp and circumstance of an entertainer.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome! Can I have applause for our host?! The Old Man of the North! Long may he reign!”
There were roars and cheers that reminded Rolf of the kind of welcome Maximo got. When he dared to look at the Old Man, Rolf realized that Maximo and the Old Man of the North had something in common. Both had charisma born from terror.
“Tonight’s champion has been brought to us by Hakan the Pig! Maximo the Mad! Maximo the Monster! Maximo the Murderer! Maximo! The! Outlaw!”
The Pig growled at the mention of his nickname but didn’t dare to show his anger. Not when the true king was here. One of the steel doors opened and Maximo stepped forward. He wore only loose pants and wrappings around his fists. Despite his size, he looked nimble and ready for anything.
“That idiot.” The Pig sighed: “He didn’t even pick a weapon.”
Rolf could not imagine Maximo needing one but then… he saw his opponent.
“And on the other side! The reigning champion!”
The steel doors were almost kicked off their hinges when Maximo’s opponent rushed into the ring wielding a club that looked like a tree trunk ripped off the ground.
A wave of terror washed over the party.
Instincts that Rolf didn’t even know he had reared their head. It was something primal and nauseous. The kind of fear you could only feel when you realized that outside the walls of civilization the food chain was waiting with hungry maws for you to fall over. An instinct that had told his ancestors to be afraid of the dark and what might hide in it.
Predators in the darkness.
This thing… to it there were no enemies. Only food. For a moment Rolf thought it was some circus freak turned into a prize fighter. A mutant. But that was not the case. Whatever it was, a human it was not. Almost three meters tall with rough fur covering its head and back. The hide that was exposed was blotched and grey. The red nose was massive and bulbous like some cancerous growth. The arms were hairy and thick as a gorilla’s and it they could wield the massive club like it was a spoon. The eyes were bulging and far apart. Its maw was filled with teeth shaped like gravestones. The creature did not believe in clothes and its massive, mushroom shaped genitals hung between its legs. Much to Rolf’s disgust, he realized the monster was aroused.
“Ugly bastard, isn’t it?” The Pig said while lighting a cigar: “I think those are called cave trolls. Nasty little buggers. This one wandered past the Wyrd Stones and somehow the old man tamed it. I don’t even want to know how.”
Bloodlust took over the spectators who demanded to hear bones snap and see flesh torn. The cheers cast a spell over the troll, and it let out a war cry that turned Rolf’s insides into liquid shit. It pointed its club at Maximo and growled something that Rolf did not understand but he recognized insults and threats in any language. If it was enough to faze Maximo, he did not show it and just spread his feet for better balance and raised his hands like the troll was just another fool who had wandered into the ring with him.
“Fight!” The announcer yelled.
A drum was struck, and the night’s entertainment began.
***
Strong!
There was no one stronger than him! He could break trees with his bare hands! He could crush leagues of enemies with a single swing from his club! None could match him in power and because there was no one who could match him, the old human chieftain had promised him a never-ending sacrifice of meat and females. All he had to do was kill anyone who ventured into the pit, and he did because he was the strongest!
The old human chieftain thought he had been tamed but no one tamed a troll!
He would play along and fight as long as the meat and females were brought to him. When the old human chieftain became too old to provide, he would learn that a troll took what he wanted and killed anyone who had a problem with it.
Just like he would kill this human who had dared to challenge him!
The troll let out a roar to let the little man know that he was going to die screaming but there was no fear in that grim face or green eyes. It was odd. All should fear him because he was the strongest! This petty human was odd in many ways. He was much bigger than the rest of his kind and there didn’t seem to be a strand of hair on him aside from those lines of fur above his eyes. The troll roared again but the human just bared his teeth and roared back. The insult! He dared to roar back at him! Like they were equals! Like a puny human could challenge a mighty troll! None of his enemies had suffered like he would! The fool hadn’t even brought a weapon! What an arrogant man!
Trolls were not only strong but fast as well and he slashed out with his club.
A swing from his club could split boulders and cut humans in half. The troll prepared to feel the resistance of breaking bones and crushed flesh. He could already smell the bile and organs spilling out from the arrogant man’s broken body. He would crawl on the ground. Helpless. In agony. Trying to scoop back his insides.
But the only thing his club reached was air.
The troll looked around wildly trying to understand what had happened. Was he fighting a ghost? How else could he not have hit the arrogant man? There was a sudden, sharp pain in his knee when the arrogant man kicked him in there and the troll knew exactly where he was. He swung his club behind not really understanding how the arrogant man had gotten there. Maybe he was a ghost. It didn’t feel like he was fighting a living being. Had the old chieftain sent a corpse to fight him?
Once again, his club didn’t hit anything.
The audience who worshipped him with their cheers and bloodlust could feel that something was wrong. That this was no longer a slaughter but a battle between equals to establish dominance. There could be only alpha. The rest were bitches!
Bitches…
He was nobody’s bitch! He was mighty and he would win! The arrogant man would die like the rest! All he had to do was catch him! He would! Even if the arrogant man kept slipping between his blows. He would win and mate! He would win and feast! He would win and rip the arrogant man to pieces and stomp on his remains and piss on them!
And… and…
And bury old memories the troll would rather have forgotten.
He had been a child but already mighty.
Chasing a wasp.
It had been small. Smaller than his fingernail. But it had evaded him. Dodged him. Outsmarted him at every turn. The wasp had mocked him by flying around him, daring him to keep trying until he was exhausted. But he had caught that wasp eventually. He had killed it between his mighty palms but when he had been ready to claim his prize and devour it, a pain worse than death had exploded in his mouth when the wasp had strung him even when dead. Why did the arrogant man remind him of that wasp?!
The arrogant man would die for reminding him of that wasp!
The arrogant man might have been fast! He might have had magic that turned him into a ghost but those were just tricks that could never match a troll’s club! He had killed the wasp, and he would kill the arrogant man too!
He was mighty and he would win!
He began swinging his club with all his weight behind it. It might have seemed he had lost himself in his rage, but he was rearing the arrogant man in one of the pit’s corners. The arrogant man seemed to realize what he was doing but the flow of the fight was again on the troll’s side. Soon the arrogant man would have nowhere to run, and he would die! The troll roared and laughed when he had the arrogant man cornered but it wasn’t enough to just kill him. He wanted him to know he was going to die. He wanted to see the arrogant man weep and beg. Like they all did. They always cried.
But the arrogant man did not cry or beg.
When the troll raised his club to crush him with a single blow, the arrogant man stepped forward. The troll had never seen anyone’s hands move so fast and he understood why the arrogant man had faced him without a weapon.
Somehow, he had forged his hands into clubs.
The arrogant man’s hands were made of steel, and something exploded behind the troll’s eyes when his nose broke. He was blinded by tears and choking on blood. The arrogant man had turned truly invisible and all the troll could do was swing blindly.
The arrogant man’s hands were mighty, but his legs were so much worse.
Pain… pain that made his broken nose feel like nothing took over him when the arrogant man kicked him between the legs and the troll could feel something far more precious than his nose getting crushed. It was bad enough for him to drop his club and just roll on the floor covered in sand and teeth. When everyone could see his humiliation! Him being unmanned! He tried to wrestle down the pain, but it was too much for him. The pain had bested him.
Enough…
… he’d had enough…
… no amount of meat and females was worth this…
… the arrogant man had won tonight…
… a man who stung like a wasp…
The troll began limping towards the steel doors… towards safety…
… only to find the arrogant man standing between him and his nest…
… holding his club…
It was the only respite from the pain he felt. It was impossible. None of these puny humans should have been able to lift his weapon. They were weak. Even the mightiest human was weaker than a troll child. Which meant… that the arrogant man was no man at all. Through the veil of blood, he could see the arrogant man clearly.
This was no man.
Under the guise of an arrogant man was a horrid ogre filled with hatred for all living things and he would not rest until he had devoured all. The monster he had been warned about as a troll child.
The ogre had come, and it would eat the sun.
The ogre swung the club and brough the troll to his knees when his leg was snapped in half. The troll tried to weep and pray when he saw the world for the first time through the eyes of the prey but with an ogre there was no mercy. You won or you died.
“You were supposed to kill me? Pathetic.” The ogre said: “Tell me, have you found Jesus?”
The troll could only stare in shock when the ogre brought down the club on the troll’s head.
***
The party had fallen silent when Maximo killed the troll with his own club. Even the Old Man of the North… the unquestioned master of his world… looked shaken. His bodyguards took turns looking at Maximo who was covered in troll blood and the ancient man who owned them. Rolf could tell what the Old Man was thinking. Maximo had been brought here to die and die he would. Rolf did the only thing he could think of.
He broke the silence and began to applaud.
The sound of his hands slapping together made people tear their eyes off the dead troll and the man who had killed it and stare at Rolf. So, he kept clapping. Soon the Pig joined him and then the Pig’s men. The applause was infectious, and it didn’t take long for everyone to be cheering the new champion. Even the Old Man of the North had to take part in it. Just to save face. Once the applause died down the Pig put his hand on Rolf’s shoulder.
“Come. Let’s go congratulate our new champion.” The Pig said.
Rolf was led to the underground passages that were only open to the fighters and they found the Accountant. The usually unflappable man seemed ruffled. Even scared. The Pig ignored the warning signs and just smiled.
“Where is the golden boy? I…”
“Water!”
Maximo rushed out of the arena and Rolf could have sworn the troll blood on him was smoking.
“It burns! Get me water!” Maximo howled.
The Accountant pointed at the buckets by the wall and Maximo grabbed them and poured them on himself, scrubbing the troll blood off himself. Every part of him that the troll blood had touched, had a red tint to it like Maximo had been standing too long in the sun.
“Yeah. Magic can burn you.” The Pig said and handed Maximo a towel: “You said you’d surprise me, and you did not disappoint.”
Maximo took the towel and began drying himself but winced when he rubbed the tender, burned skin. Rolf tried to congratulate him, but no word came out. Maximo looked… even bigger than usual. More muscular. Too big to comprehend. Too big to follow. If he made it out alive, he would run. Not from the Pig but from Maximo. Their partnership had made him a fair share of money, but this was too much for him.
“What did you say to that thing before you killed it?” The Accountant asked.
“What?” Maximo said.
“You said something to the troll. Just before you killed it.” The Accountant said.
Maximo snarled.
“I asked him if he had found Jesus.” Maximo said.
“I… see.” The Accountant said.
“Is that your thing? Sending people to Jesus? Oh, well. We all have our eccentricities.” The Pig said.
Rolf cleared his throat.
“He won… Does… does that mean we’re even?” Rolf asked.
The Pig smiled.
“Yes. Maximo and I are even but…” The Pig said and smiled at him: “That doesn’t change the fact you still stole from me, and I still need compensation.”
Cold sweat ran down Rolf’s back and a rusty knife twisted his insides.
“… I… but…”
“The devil is in the details, Rolf.” The Pig said and patted Maximo’s arm: “You, my boy, have a bright future ahead of you. I can see it and a leader needs vision but… we need to be sure who’s side you’re on.”
The Pig pointed a finger at Rolf.
“Kill him and join me.” The Pig said.
Rolf’s guts were tried in a knot.
“… boss?” Rolf whispered.
When Maximo stood over Rolf, he was big enough to become your entire world. Big enough to block out the sun.
“… boss… we’re pals…” Rolf pleaded.
Maximo put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Run. We have a better change getting out of here if we split up.”
Rolf’s eyes widened and a tear ran down his cheek from gratitude.
“Thank you, boss.”
He turned to run and…
***
For a moment Hakan thought that Maximo would let that sewer rat go, but the moment Rolf turned his head, Maximo grabbed him by the hair and slammed it against the stone wall. Rolf was dead before he hit the ground. Hakan had known that Maximo was strong, but it was still a shock to see him crush a man’s skull with a single blow. Blood mixed with the brain matter and made Hakan think of an eggnog. Hakan took out a cigar and let the Accountant light it for him while Rolf’s body twitched on its own. Dead men always twitched when their soul left them.
“For a moment there I thought you’d let him go.” Hakan said.
“He took me in when I came to Vashurst. I didn’t want him to die scared.” Maximo said.
“Don’t make a habit out of it.” Hakan said and blew out smoke: “When I send you to meet someone, I want them to be very scared and very dead when you’re done with them.”
The Accountant adjusted his glasses.
“Maybe you should reconsider, boss.” The Accountant said.
“Why? Did you not see what he did?” Hakan said and slapped Maximo’s thick arm: “You served the old man some humble pie. Now everyone knows he is not as untouchable as he would like us to think. He has lost respect. Which means he won’t be around forever.”
Hakan ran his fingers down his face. The face that had given him his nickname.
“And I happen to have some unfinished business with him.” Hakan said and patted Maximo’s arm again: “Why don’t you go and enjoy the party? Get your dick wet. I’ll take care of Rolf.”
Maximo nodded and picked up his shirt and quilted jacket before leaving. Hakan could already tell that the Accountant was ready to whine and moan about his decision. It started the moment Maximo was gone.
“Boss, are you sure this a good idea?”
Hakan looked at the dead Rolf.
“I made him sacrifice his friend for me and when a man sacrifices something for you, he is yours.”
“Yes but… are you sure Maximo is a man?”
“If he’s a monster, he is my monster now. The old man had his troll. I have Maximo. If the old man could tame a troll, I can tame Maximo. Vision.” Hakan said to himself: “That’s what a leader needs.”
“Vision?”
“Just thinking out loud. What makes a leader? Vision. You need to be able to picture how the world could be and the steps you need to get there.”
That night Hakan lost himself in champagne and vodka. It was the first time he had enjoyed one the old man’s parties. When he woke up, he didn’t even have a hangover. After that running his business became a childlike game for him. The sun shined brighter, and the money rolled in easier than ever. If anyone ever gave him trouble, all he had to do was send Maximo to deal with it. Eventually the mere threat of Maximo was enough to smooth things over. Who would dare to challenge a man who had killed a troll?
But the best part was seeing the old man’s power waning.
No one had been happy with taking orders from an old man, but the great grey cunt had managed to keep them busy by turning his lieutenants against each other to notice how the old man was fucking them all. The dead troll had changed all that. For the first time there was a real understanding between them. And should the old man happen to die, he had Maximo. His very own troll. He had envisioned a world where he would take the old man’s place and he could see the steps he had to take to make his vision real.
But… That was the problem with vision. He wasn’t the only one who had it.
One of his indulgences was having his biggest lieutenants meet him at his town house every other Friday to pay tribute to him. All the pimps, bootleggers and bonebreakers would kneel before him and hand him over a slice of their profits. Just to remind them who they served. And if anyone had a problem with it? Maximo was always looming behind him, and Maximo cast a large shadow. That Friday he was in too good of spirits. He had eaten and drank too well, and the Accountant had promised him a fat harvest. Business was going exceedingly well. His lieutenants were let in, and he welcomed them in his parlor wearing only his bathrobe. All of them had their usual tribute and even though he wasn’t a bean counter like the Accountant, he could recognize a hefty payday.
“Well then, show daddy how much you love him.” Hakan said.
His lieutenants looked at each other, nodded solemnly and then offered tribute.
But it was not his feet they laid the money on.
It was Maximo’s.
If his meal had started talking to him, Hakan couldn’t have been more shocked. Even the Accountant who was used to handling fortunes of men who would kill him for losing a single crown, was confused and… scared.
“Lord Maximo.” The lieutenants said.
A vein started pumping in Hakan’s forehead.
“Guards!”
No guard answered his summons… and he felt Maximo’s hands on his shoulders.
“Don’t bother.” Maximo said: “No one is coming. You are alone.”
Even with the fire crackling on the fireplace, the room felt cold like General Winter had broken in. His lieutenants… his former lieutenants were looking past him… at Maximo. Their faces were full of… fear and worship. Like they were in the presence of a god.
“Thank you, my friends.” Maximo said: “Now leave. Me and the Pig need to have words.”
Maximo’s lieutenants made their exit and to the Accountant’s credit he hesitated for a moment before leaving. At least he had some degree of personal loyalty that made Hakan think he could still get out of this alive.
“Not you.” Maximo said.
The Accountant froze in place when the door to safety was slammed shut in front of him.
“The two of us have much more to discuss.”
Hakan emptied his vodka glass and wished he could have had a refill.
“… Maximo… I…”
Maximo grabbed the chair and despite Hakan sitting on it, turned it around so they could look each other in the eyes. How had he missed… just how truly gigantic Maximo was?
“Look at me.” Maximo ordered.
Hakan could not even think about disobeying, and he looked at Maximo. His shaved head looked like a large stone. The poison green eyes were hard and cold as stones in winter. The scar in the middle of his forehead was the shape of a pale star. Hakan could recognize another man with a vision, and he saw a world Maximo envisioned.
The nightmare he wanted to force on the world.
A dead world where the cities of men were burned to a husk by weapons, he had no names for. Mushrooms made of smoke would grow from death seeds. Wiping out continents in the blink of an eye before disappearing. All they would leave behind was invisible poison that contaminated everything. Air, water, even the flesh of the survivors. The poisonous mushrooms would grow in an instant, eat the sun, and leave behind a world were nothing would grow for a thousand years. And in the midst of it all sat a terrible ogre on a throne of corpses. Nodding with approval.
“… Accountant… kill him…” Hakan said.
The Accountant was no fool and always carried a gun. Hakan’s voice broke him out of the trance he had been lulled into and he pulled out his small pistol. The Accountant was a lousy shot but… this close… such a large target… he could do it. Maximo looked at the Accountant like he was a kid trying to take down a hurricane with a slingshot.
“I have met the devil. You will not kill me. You cannot kill me. Put it down.” Maximo said.
Maximo’s and the Accountant’s eyes locked and there was a brief battle of wills. A very brief. The gun fell to the floor and the Accountant stared at his feet. Broken. Owned by a new master.
“Don’t look away.” Maximo said and returned his attention to Hakan.
Maximo trapped Hakan’s head between his hands. He had a grip like the jaws of a shark.
“Tell me, Pig. Have you found Jesus?”