Chapter 2 Marching Orders.

“I feel like this is going to just be me briefing the rest of you so I’ll go first.” Thomas replied and pulled out a small pocket journal and opened it to a seemingly random page towards the middle. “After the recent crackdowns the money drop locations have dropped down to ten. From what I can tell only three of them are actually connected to Mr. Nobody. The other seven are just random businesses that happen to be in a good drop location.” Thomas opened the book wide and set it on the table. “Safeharbor General Smithy of course, Tic’s Trinkets, and Westly’s Westside Bar.”

“How can you tell?” Isaac asked.

“Tic, the owner of Tic’s Trinkets, is Sary Smith’s cousin and Westly’s brother.” Thomas explained. “Sary Smith is the wife of Ricard Smith, the owner of Safeharbor General Smithy. None of the other places have any kind of connection. Not even similar patrons. Often workers from those businesses are patrons at the others which by itself wouldn’t be that suspicious but considering the bigger picture it’s enough evidence to hit all three of them at the same time. Assuming, of course, that you can get concrete evidence of organized crime.”

“That’s also assuming I don’t just dismantle them myself.” Isaac cut in.

“Naturally.” Thomas replied, not at all surprised at Isaac’s potential course of action. “Additionally, some of the workers turned patrons will show up with a satchel and leave without it or vice versa. I have a feeling those satchels are bottomless bags.”

“It’s a good way to move a large amount of coin at least.” Isaac agreed. “But what about people? There is some kind of connection between Mr. Nobody and that mortal trafficking ring. One of the arrested guys from that ring confessed to doing business with him but each time he had a different face.” Isaac frowned. “The report also said that no one else had any more information than that.” He pulled out the report from Izen and tossed it on the table. “One of the leaders seemed to have had his memory tampered with at some point but that isn’t really that strange in their line of work.”

“That’s not surprising.” Thomas replied. “As for moving people, my guess is a mixture of sleep spells and Invisibility. It makes the most sense. They aren’t moving more than a few people at a time. That was what the mortal traffickers were doing. Mr. Nobody doesn’t have a reason to move more than a family at a time.”

“How hard are magic items that can cast Invisibility to get?” Isaac asked.

“Hard.” James finally entered the conversation. “You have to steal them. The government tracks who owns them.”

Isaac nodded with a contemplative look on his face. “The wizard theory is holding more and more weight by the day.” He spoke more to himself than the rest of those present.

“So these three shops,” James asked. “anything special about them? I recognize two of the three are fences but I've never heard of the bar.”

“You hit the nail on the head.” Thomas replied. “The bar is a meeting place for the tired and desperate. No one of any importance goes there, ever. It’s suspicious.” He tapped his finger on the bar’s name with a frown. “No gang members, no thieves’ or assassins’ guild members either. It’s eerily quiet.”

“Well, we know that the smithy is working with the smithy in Ben’s End to fence stolen weapons. I could interrogate someone from there and see if they spill anything juicy.” Isaac offered. “But once that happens we’ll be on a tight timer.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “There is also the decision of whether to handle it with or without Izen.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked. “I thought you were going to get money out of the duke for this?”

“Oh I will, but cleaning it up without him and then sending him the bill would be much more satisfying.” Isaac explained.

James looked between them. “We could stake out each place and see what we find. Meet back up somewhere afterwards?” He offered.

“I’ll take Westly’s.” Thomas agreed. “I am best at working alone and blending in with the common folk.” He nodded towards James. “You are obviously a gang member so showing up at Tic’s to try and fence some random ‘acquired’ treasures would be normal.”

“The real question is how heavy handed I should be for information with the Smiths.” Isaac commented. “I’m also afraid of one of these locations having a whole wizard tower packed inside of it. I’m not a fan of my odds if I get caught in some elaborate trap array let alone you guys.”

Thomas nodded. “I won’t be going any deeper than a stool at the bar.” He assured him.

“Lenny can hang around outside and I’ll go in to check it out by getting rid of some, shall we say, ‘discarded’ jewelry I’ve come across.” James added.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Lenna, I’ll send you in to order some caltrops and maybe a ranged weapon.” Isaac told her. “What kind do you want?”

“I prefer a recurve bow. I doubt they’d have those.” She replied. “Maybe specialty arrowheads?”

Isaac nodded. “Good enough.” He looked between everyone at the table. “You have your marching orders. Let’s get to work.”

—

Lenny watched his brother slink into Tic’s Trinkets from an alley across the street. It was dark enough that no one would notice him and even if they did it wouldn’t matter. Not only was the area too dark to make out any details but even if they did he had no delusions of having an outstanding face. Once inside the pawn shop Lenny lost sight of James. There was an area just inside the door that couldn’t be seen from the street. The streetside wall of the shop was a series of large windows that tried to give the illusion of one massive one. It was cheaper to order smaller windows and arrange them in such a manner. Lenny had seen it countless times before.

He watched as his brother walked up to the counter and met an older man. He looked human but it was hard to tell at that distance. His graying brown hair put him around forty to fifty and his build was nothing worth remembering. Even from across the street Lenny felt he was slimy. Once the transaction was done and James had pocketed the coin he leaned up against the counter and started chatting with the clerk. “Shit, James, just leave. The longer you are there the higher the chance he figures out something is wrong.” Lenny whispered to himself.

He continued to watch for a few minutes until James turned to leave. He walked to the door and Lenny lost sight of him. A few seconds went by and Lenny didn’t see anything. “Did he get caught talking again? Damn old men.” He grumbled and waited. Ten seconds turned to twenty and then a minute. “Come on you bastard.” A minute turned to two. A bad feeling started creeping up inside of Lenny’s chest. “I’ll give him two more minutes and then I’ll go look.” He whispered to himself. “He better not have gotten caught.”

—

Thomas walked into the old hole-in-the-wall known as Westly’s Westside Bar. The door he entered through was old and thick. The iron hinges creaked like they were trying to announce his presence to the entire neighborhood. The bar only had one exterior window and it was made of four one foot by one foot panels, only large enough to prove that they were open via the soft glow from the lights inside. Half a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto him as he entered and let the door close behind him. The door was mounted at a slight angle so gravity would help it close. Gravity only helped so much. Thomas had to nudge it in the right direction for it to start closing.

The door closed and half of the onlookers turned back to their drinks. The bar was eerily quiet. Not a soul was seated close to another save for the pair sitting at the bar who had most likely been in conversation with the bar keep before Thomas arrived. Thomas’s face was a mask of depression and weariness. His posture mirrored this as he moved towards the bar. His feet dragged slightly as he shuffled up to the bar. He collapsed into an open barstool four stools away from the nearest other patron. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and his expression only saddened further. He pulled out a few coins and set them on the bar. He moved them into two piles. One silver coin and three copper ones. He sighed deeply and then finally looked up to the bar keep who had moved to be equidistant from both him and the pair sitting on the other side of the bar from him.

“Something strong and…” He glanced down at his meager amount of coinage resting in front of him. “Cheap.”

The bartender nodded and reached under the bar for a bottle that looked a little old and was half empty. He set the glass that he had been polishing next to Thomas and rested the bottle next to it. He took the silver coin and nodded to Thomas. “Cheap and strong.” He told Thomas. The barkeep was around ten years older than Thomas and had a full beard that was nearly as gray as his hair. The beard had managed to maintain a few brown squiggles here and there. His hair was thinning on top but that only made him look more scraggly. He was a bit thicker built than Thomas but he didn’t look like a proper fighter, it was more like he had experience being his own bouncer.

“Thanks.” Thomas replied and seemed to focus his full attention on the bottle as he poured enough into his glass that it nearly overflowed. He picked up, only splashing a little off the rim, and gulped it down like it was water. He, not so gently, set the glass back on the table and refilled it just as much.

“Slow down friend.” The barkeep told him. “I don’t want you losing it all on my bar.” The words were a little harsh but there was no bite in his gruff voice. Thomas nodded absently and took a more measured mouthful of his drink. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Thomas wearily shook his head. “No.” He spoke only a little louder than a whisper. That was loud enough that everyone in the bar heard him as the place was still eerily quiet.

“Down on your luck?” The barkeep asked.

Thomas noticed the barkeep's hand twitch slightly and fingers tap on the fresh glass in his hand at an irregular rhythm. He pretended not to notice. “Somethin’ like that.” He conceded with a slight nod. Thomas could feel the alcohol loosening him up and let himself sink even deeper into the bar. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” He opened up. “I’ve got nobody after… after…” His voice started to strain and he gave up on finishing his sentence. He drained the rest of his glass before pushing it away from him and just grabbing the bottle.

“I’ve seen that look before.” The barkeep told him sympathetically. “Listen friend, as long as you’re alive it ain’t over.” He encouraged the drunken wanderer at his bar.

“What do I do now?” He asked almost pleadingly. “No more job, no more family, maybe I should just let the rats have me.” He spoke in a voice that seemed more to himself than anyone else. “Then at least I’d be useful to somethin’.”

The barkeep leaned on the bar close to Thomas. “If it’s bein’ useful you need, friend, there is plenty of work to be had.” He explained. “Plenty of people need runners or lookouts downtown. No one would fault you for livin a life like that and it’d be helpin’ folks.”

Thomas didn’t look convinced. “Only thing I was good at was drivin’ a carriage.” He stared deep into the bottle. “Can’t even do that anymore.” He grumbled in a whisper loud enough for the barkeep to hear.

“I know someone who could use a carriage driver.” The barkeep replied. “They don’t ask questions as long as you can drive.” He gave Thomas a smile that was obviously faked but tried to come off as well intentioned. “It’d be doin’ my friend a great service.” He assured Thomas. “What’s your name, friend?”

“Edger.” Thomas replied naturally and looked up at the barkeep with the slightest sliver of hope in his eyes. “Would it really help your friend?” He asked like a man who just needed to be needed by someone.

The barkeep nodded. “If you come by tomorrow I’ll introduce you.” He assured Thomas.

Thomas nodded with a smidgin of enthusiasm but plenty of lethargy and a bit of a drunken sway. He moved to get up and staggered. He gripped the bar with one hand and used the bottle to press against a nearby barstool to keep himself from falling over. “I’ll be ‘ere.” He promised. “Thanks Jim.” He told the barkeep with a slightly slurred and a bit muted smile.

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. “My name’s not Jim.” He told the drunken man. “It’s Westly. Didn’t you read the sign before you came in?”

Thomas looked at him with some confusion and a slight sway. “What sign?” He asked and tipped backwards slightly. He shuffled his one foot back a bit to keep himself from falling over.

The barkeep shook his head. “Maybe you should rest in the corner for a bit.” He offered Thomas.

Thomas shook his head a bit too much and staggered again. “I’ll be fine.” He said and drug out the final word with an exaggerated wave of his hand with the bottle in it. He started staggering, swaying, and shuffling his way towards the door.

“No friend.” The barkeep said. “I insist you sleep some of this off.”

At the barkeep’s words Thomas felt himself getting drowsy. ‘Shit.’ He swore internally. ‘Sleeping magic.’