Olat and Morhan had been a great investment. With their help, Fane had been able to haul several more loads of valuables into the city. Better yet, the dumb oafs hadn’t pried.
Fane left on his own for trips into the Clain, where he collected more treasures from the dead, then he would store the loot in chests and leave it for them to collect. And with all the chaos that had erupted across the kingdom, few others had taken to looting the battlefield.
The bounties alone made him a small fortune, one that was almost denied, due to most of the participants dying. However, when news started to spread of the duke’s refusal, he paid. No doubt wanting to avoid the hunt’s name being tarnished further.
Once coin had started to pile up, Fane opened an account with the Royal Bank of Ome, but he still kept most of his wealth with him.
Now, with the dwarven army only a short distance from the walls and building their contraptions of war, even fewer eyes were on him.
“Mika,” Fane shouted from behind his hardwood table at the corner of his study, tapping his fingers against its satin overlay as he stared out the window.
Stumbling into the room came a thin, young man, who bowed before speaking. “Master Fane.” He said, waiting for a reply.
“Have we got the guild charter yet? I haven’t the patience to wait another week on incompetent bureaucrats. If coin is what they are after, let them have it.”
"We ah-"
“Go on,” Fane said with a wave of his hand.
“The lord’s men are busy preparing for the dwarven army. And the magistrate has entirely refused my visits the last couple of days.”
“Of course they are,” Fane whined and spun around on his timber chair to face the boy. “What about Olat and Morhan, have they returned yet?”
“Yes, an hour or so ago. They’ve unloaded the cargo, and it is awaiting your inspection.”
“Why does nobody ever inform me of these things.”
“Well-.”
“No, don’t answer,” Fane interrupted. “This building alone cost me a hundred gold coins, did you know that?"
Mika nodded.
"So, do you think I intend to let this city fall?”
Mika shook his head.
”Right, so, we need to make sure the lord and his magistrate know this. The merchant’s guild cares about little beyond trade and the profits it brings, and for too long the city has relied upon that. Yet it has the largest hub of adventurers within all of Ome. If we get that guild charter, if we become the Witch Hunters Guild of Caedstad, or in other words, the adventurer’s guild, we will be able to leverage this resource. Tell them that with this, we will draw more adventurers to the city, and with them, more manpower to defend the city. And when this is all said and done, I will secure a position of power like few others in the city.”
Mika nodded. “I will do as you ask, Master Fane.”
“See that you do,” Fane said, gesturing for the boy to leave.
Mika bowed and exited.
There had been a few obstacles, but Fane’s plans were coming together. The city already passed thousands of contracts and quests through the Withering Vine every year, and if they were required to pass through his guild, and in the process, earn a fraction of their worth, Fane would become a very, very, rich man.
He hadn’t forgotten Iliana or Earon though, and had sent runners in search of them, but no information had returned to him. It was grim, and he had no choice but to assume they were dead. Further reason for wanting to avoid returning to the adventurer’s life. Being a guildmaster seemed far more profitable and safer.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Signing off on a few contracts of sale, Fane rose from his chair and made for the door. Hopefully, Mika could handle the magistrate. But there was another who needed to be courted, the Duke’s bailiff, Droger Withrim.
The bailiff signed contracts within Caedstad, legally binding them and handing out the ones offered by the Duchy itself. An adventurers guild would be in direction opposition to his influence in the city, and a compromise would be needed, else he would no doubt petition the magistrate to throw out whatever requests Fane sent his way.
Catching up to Olat and Morhan in the kitchen, Fane waved over his two brutish thugs and ordered them to collect the chest they had just dropped off into the treasury.
“Really, we just dropped that off.” Olat groaned as he dropped his half-eaten bread against the table.
“I’m aware,” Fane replied. “But it has a special job to fulfill.” He said, snapping his fingers. “Quick, the pieces need to be set into place before the city falls under siege.
“Get up,” Morhan sneered from across the table. “The young master has given his order.”
“Fine,” Olat moaned and pulled his hefty figure up.
“So, where to?” Morhan asked, hastily catching up to Fane with a toothless grin and pushing back his greasy, balding hair.
“The Bailiff's manor, in the temple district. We’ve friends to make.”
Olat’s beady eyes followed as he chomped away at his loaf of bread, speaking with a half-full mouth. “The Bailiff, what’s he to you?”
“Nothing,” Fane rolled his eyes. “It’s the value of his station which is important.”
Patting down his vest and turning in his cuffs, Fane straightened and tied his black hair into a knot behind his head. He had spent so many years hiding behind a cowl that it had become second nature, but elevating himself to a position of power required a certain finesse, and he needed to look the part.
“How do I look?” Fane asked, extending his gloved hands to his sides.
“Like a real nobleman,” Morhan grinned and nodded.
“Olat?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” Fane sighed and opened the heavy timber doors to the estate and spun out into Caedstad’s streets.
The streets were already empty as fear gripped the city. The dwarven army marched from both the Clain and the Yarges, and so few had been brave enough to escape the city. Not that there was anywhere to go. The roads between Caedstad and any other settlement worth fleeing to within Ome were covered in all manner of monsters and beasts, whilst the Clain was the Clain.
The temples were filled with worshipers and the stores and blacksmiths worked overtime as anything with a sharp edge fetched a premium price. And as such, this was a time of opportunity. And Fane sought to make the most of the chaos, it was the least he could do to honor his lost companions.
A degree of danger had also crept into the streets, as the desperate looked to take advantage of any opportunity, but Fane wasn’t too worried about that, not with his two guards at his back.
The Bailiff’s home and office was a small brick structure, lightly adorned with flags and symbols of authority.
As Fane approached, the door opened, held by a stiff-faced guard in plated armor.
Fane nodded and entered.
"He's been waitin'."
Inside, he was directed through official-looking corridors, covered in mounted weapons and armor before coming to an open doorway, beyond which was the Bailiff’s office.
“Come in, Fane Su’diane,” came a voice from beyond.
Fane’s brow raised as he entered and glanced over to the graying man hunched over his desk, scribbling across what looked like official documents.
“You did your homework, Bailiff. I don’t share my family name with many.”
The Bailiff’s wary eyes glanced up. “It is my job to know those who create waves in my city, Fane.”
“That it is,” Fane nodded. “I suspect you know why I am here then.”
“I do.” The Bailiff’s eyes drifted back down to his documents. “But I would like to hear it from your mouth.”
Fane cleared his throat. “Well, my request for a guild charter.”
“Yes, I plan to have it rejected.” The Bailiff interrupted.
“Bailiff Droger, please, if you would.”
“I’m letting you speak, am I not?”
Fane flashed a curt smile. “Yes, thank you. You see, as it currently stands, we are not attracting enough talent into the city. We need swords and bows if we plan to repel this army.” Fane gestured for Olat and Morhan to place the chest on the Bailiff’s desk.
“And this is?” Droger Withrim’s eyes rolled upward again.
“A gift,” Fane smiled. “I hope we can come to some kind of arrangement, one that benefits all parties, including the city of Caedstad.”
“Let me get this straight, Fane.” Bailiff Droger pushed his documents aside. “You want me to hand over my most important duty in this city to you because you believe you can do something I am unable to?”
“With all due respect, Droger, within a guild structure we will be able to provide guidance and promotion amongst our members. We believe that this structured approach will entice cautious adventurers in greater numbers, as it has in other cities.”
“I’m well aware of what other cities do, Fane. But this is Caedstad, and I rule here.” The Bailiff snapped his fingers. “Rickhus, show these three out, please.”
"Please, Bailiff. Just a minute," Fane interjected, raising a finger.
"Rickhus," Droger repeated.
Fane snarled and nodded to Olat and Morhan, who moved to recover the chest.
“It was a gift, was it not?” Droger’s brow raised as they moved closer.
Olat and Morhan turned to Fane.
“Let him have it,” Fane hissed and turned for the exit.
As the trio exited the building, Bailiff Droger turned to his guard and assistant, Rickhus. “Keep an eye on that man. He will be trouble, I’m certain of it.”