Archius wondered what type of person would work the best with Osmond. From the information he had, Osmond was a stern but caring person, key word being ‘was’, but the years have made him weak. He’ll try carrot and stick, see if he budges - though Archius was already formulating sixty backup plans. Because unlike Kazuki, he took failure into the process of his planning.
Most people were chatting and drinking to their heart’s content, though he could tell that the alcohol was heavily watered down, but their faces were no less merry. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, the inside felt warm, with insulated walls and heating to the whole place, with each beating heart full of alcohol and joy - in some combination of the two.
Looking across, he saw his target, Osmond, with his light blonde hair and green eyes. He was sitting in a booth by himself, drinking and smoking with a briefcase under the table.
He had an armband, signifying his status as one of the planet’s ‘elites’. Other than that, he blended in with the rest of the people, all wearing thick coats and scarves, hidden beneath tightly knotted cloaks and layers of fabrics.
Sliding through the bar, he made sure not to draw attention to himself, sneaking his way towards the booth. He kept both hands in his pockets as he stood beside the table. Osmond slowly looked up, nodding at Archius.
“New moon’s here,” Archius said, stating their code-phrase for a business deal.
“You’re the client then?” Osmond asked, wanting to confirm his identity.
“Yes. Let’s get to business.” said Archius, sitting down whilst slowly reaching for the briefcase underneath the table. He had secured this meeting on the pretence of an arms deal, a profitable one at that - probably why Osmond was sent, but: of course, this deal was riddled with lies.
But Osmond slapped his hand away. “Payment first. Then you can touch it.”
“Oh… come on, I just want to look at it.” said Archius, “I’ve heard from previous customers that you allow it.”
“Those are privileged clients… and I’m sorry to say but you are not on the list, it’s not up to me, sorry about it but it’s just the way things are.” Osmond apologised profusely, placing his hands on the table, Archius did the same. Osmond had no guards, Archius noted down. Probably since this place was considered safe… probably on the payroll of the smugglers.
He nodded. Osmond’s boss was always a bit on edge; anything can set him off. And he had the perfect ploy to get Osmond into line. He was thankful for what happened, and Archius wasn’t all cruel. He’ll let Osmond live, after all: the Loyalists’ lack of heavier explosives and weapons in the P-2 Incident was caused by him. Osmond stopped the shipments, called them off. For whatever reason, he couldn’t care less - because it was perfect. Perfect as it helped Kazuki win, perfect as in the perfect blackmail against him. But first, testing the waters.
“So then, let’s talk business shall we?!” asked Archius, ordering a drink from a hovering drone. It quickly served the two cups of beer. He picked one up. “For Narisa.”
Osmond nodded, taking the cup of beer as he downed it. Archius paused for a moment, before downing his. He did his research before, and knew that Narisans liked to down alcohol…
“But first, let’s talk about some ground works, are you fine with that?”
“Sure,” Osmond said. He nodded as he leaned back against the booth. “I too prefer defining actual terms before shaking.”
Archius smiled. “Great to hear, first of all, I’d like to talk about the operations of this… thing you have going on; the Board’s information has been very subtle. Is it safe to invest in?”
“Safe?” Osmond chuckled. “Nothing’s safe on this planet, but to sure hell it is safe compared to the other options.”
“Well, yes… But I’ve heard words about your boss, mind answering them for me?”
“Leon? Look…” Osmond paused for a moment, before continuing. “He’s tough, but he’s fair. He expects no failure, good for you, right? You know that your investments won’t fail.”
Bullshit, Archius thought. Their mission to Anagora failed. But he nodded nonetheless. “I see… but… I want to know what you think of him.” said Archius, placing a hand to his chin. “Nothing against him, trust me. But you seem trustworthy, and I need to know if there’s good blood in your business.”
He pulled a pack of holocards from his pocket, with Osmond nodding slowly. Archius flicked it onto the table, showing a miniature set for Dullahan’s Calling, one of the galaxy’s most popular strategy games. He’s never mastered nor cared to get good at the game, but against some smugglers? Why not?
“Good blood?” asked Osmond.
“Business. Profits. Is your organisation the type that kills off shareholders?” asked Archius. “With what happened to Clandestine, many private investors like myself are… worried.”
Ironically, Archius chose to be the attacker, as he flicked up more small cards onto the table, a simulated game-field prodding up between the two of them. Even if this place as a shit-hole, they still spend time playing the classics, Archius thought.
“What?! No!” Osmond’s face grew in disgust, offended at the proposition. He thinned his eyes at Archius. “No, we’re not like those Contract-Breakers… Who do you think we are?”
He shrugged, it seems like he’ll need to be a little more direct. “People that get other people killed… civilians included.”
At the mention of civilians, Osmond paused. His eyes glanced elsewhere, before returning to Archius. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man, do you wanna invest or not?”
“I do,” said Archius. “But, first and foremost: cooperation between you and me. We can both agree that we should work together, right?”
“Yeah, I guess?” Osmond said, “We’re... we’re gunrunners, alright? That’s all you need to know.”
“Gunrunners, yes, but you sell merchandise to some of the biggest scum in the galaxy,” Archius said, placing his hand on his chin. “I’m questioning such an investment right now, please do persuade me otherwise.”
Archius smiled, finally destroying the steel gate that Osmond’s defence had put up. He started to stack up more holocards, might as well take advantage of this… Osmond said, “Don’t compare us to the Republic, they ship more product than we do in a year for a single rotation... You can trust us.”
“Then, why did you lie? You say your boss does not tolerate failure. Yet… my eyes tell me that your men failed on Anagora. And not only that, but a particular failure of your part.”
“Huh…”
Archius slowly slid a disc across the table, it projected out an order. It was an uplink communication box. It read perfectly, ‘DO NOT send weapons to the loyalists. I do not want a repeat of what happened with the skyliner. I don’t care how much they pay you. CEASE ALL SHIPMENTS - Osmond Kellyr-Unith.’ It had the sigil of the gunrunners, a spire of steel eclipsed with munitions.
“That’s you! Isn’t it?!” Archius leaned in close as Osmond’s face went pale. He tapped at the information disc. “Mind telling me about this? Interesting piece of information, don’t you agree?”
“I…” Osmond looked away, then back, his teeth gritting as stress permeated through his scalp, “Have no idea what this is… what trick do you think you’re pulling?”
“Well, say what you might, but your boss will definitely have an idea of what this is. And keep your eyes on me, Osmond.” Archius explained, leaning back and relaxing against the booth seat as he slowly slid the disc back to himself - Osmond will put the pieces together.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Fuck…” Osmond slowed down as he shook slightly, “SHIT… Fuck… Alright, what the fuck do you want?”
It seems like Osmond quickly broke, Archius didn’t blame him, having to work under Leon for a decade must have been nerve-wrecking: and now the blockade breaks. But he needed Osmond alive and active, not dead. He has a mutually beneficial deal. Osmond gripped his head with both hands.
“Why do you look so stressed?” asked Archius, looking out towards the bar as he caught a few glances. Osmond slowly looked up at him. “I simply want a new gun, to invest and it’s not that deep… Oh, and a confession.”
Osmond glared at Archius. “The gun is the least of my worries… And confess to what…”
“District 22.”
“That was not us.” said Osmond, his voice faltering as it quivered. “Look… I—we only armed them…”
“Then who are they?”
“Fixers? Just some fixers from the Board… look, just take the gun, I...” Osmond tried to deflect Archius. “I’m sorry, alright? I tried to talk Leon out of it; attacking the AGENCY is a mistake—please! He said he had assurances… but…”
Realising he was saying too much, he sealed his lips shut. Interesting information, but it was irrelevant for now. He can deal with the Board, or whoever gave them the green-light, later. Osmond’s eyes were off the Dullie game, giving Archius free reign to win without need to call upon reinforcement cards.
“You assume that I’m with the AGENCY? Interesting. Well then, we are looking at a very fruitful relationship, one where you get off this shit-hole.” commented Archius. Osmond glanced across, but Archius raised a finger, “But first, locations.”
“Huh?”
“Locations,” Archius repeated himself. “The AGENCY is guaranteed to get involved with this planet… in order to protect your people, stop as much suffering as possible, I recommend you consider my offer, how about it?” He made himself very clear in his intentions; the implications were all there.
“I…” Osmond trailed off.
“We could besiege the planet,” Archius stated, staring down Osmond.
Osmond’s eyes stabbed upwards, his skin pale as his gaze was set upon Archius’ threat. “You wouldn’t… This planet is under the protection of the Republic.”
“From foreign threats.” Archius let off a small but hearty laugh at his weak defence. “No one will protect you when government troops come knocking.”
“But… this isn’t the war,” Osmond muttered softly.
Archius maintained his smile, his eyes scanning to a few glancing heads. If he makes it look too antagonistic, they might get involved, the bar-goers. “Smile, Osmond, good thing for you and me, that won’t happen. At least it won’t if you do your job well enough…” He paused, before continuing, his face turning neutral. “We all know what happens to planets during and after sieges, this planet and Anagora are probably the best examples.”
“Blood, guts, gore and pillage, yes.” Osmond looked up, noticing a few glances from bar-goers, he tried his best to not act suspicious, turning his gaze directly at Archius. “But… please just don’t let that happen to us again… We just did what we had to do to survive.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Sure, it was Imperial Intelligence, but war is war. They’re looking at us, nod.” Archius leaned back, gesticulating with his hands as if it was some kind of joke. Osmond nodded and quietly scoffed. “Now, imagine how much carnage there’d be if those Blackops were actually Freemuzzles.”
Osmond’s face froze at the thought. Archius leaned forward, smiling and patting Osmond on the shoulder, acting close to him. Archius ordered another drink, of course: on Osmond. He had him in his trap. Osmond paused, muttering to himself for a bit.
Then, he raised his dread-filled face. “Fine… Yamki shipyards. We store merchandise there, transfer them mid-flight with ANCHORs.”
Ah, so that’s how they bypass customs. Clever, but very expensive… Archius slowly formed a smirk, rewinding back into a more friendlier facade.
“I’m glad we can come to an agreement.” Archius slowly leaned across the table, pricking on a second uplink beneath Osmond’s ear. The sigil of Clandestine was clear from the bottom, but from the front it just seemed like a low-neon light earpiece that clipped onto his earlobe.
“Ow…” Osmond rubbed his ear as Archius leaned backwards, a beep sounding off as Osmond shook. Archius grabbed the briefcase, tugging it onto the table. It was a simple briefcase, one you’d see anywhere else.
Yet it had an ANCHOR-lock. Transfer items between two locations discreetly, perfect for smugglers and criminals alike. Archius activated the briefcase. A small light popped through the cracks as he slowly lifted it up, revealing a newly ANCHOR’d pistol. It was an Imperial era one, but it looked refined, and best of all: clean. He expected it to be covered in snow and dust.
Osmond was messing around with the new uplink, trying to get it into a comfortable position. But Archius snapped at him, “Don’t remove that. It’s a mind-snare bomb, takes your ear first, then your will.”
“Shit…” Osmond shook his head, as Archius turned to the bar. A fight was brewing between two people. Punches were already being thrown, but that was standard. Most people were cheering on, uncaring that violence just exploded.
“Don’t worry, after all of this: you’re free. We’ll provide you with enough money to fuck off the grid and die somewhere else peaceful, far away from the High Table, the Board and anyone else.” Archius downed his drink, watching as the fight turned into a knife-brawl. Blood was spilt, though no one stopped cheering and jeering.
“And if you’re lying?” asked Osmond. “No one can just ‘get off the grid’... Mercenaries, Criminals, we’re all doomed to stay here.”
“You have no choice but to assume I’m not. Plus, your life is of strategic value - and I hate dead assets, just play cards with us, and you’ll live,” Archius assured him.
“And… if you remove us?”
“Which we will,” Archius interrupted Osmond.
Osmond swallowed saliva. “Someone will replace us… you’d know that if you’re here to begin with.”
“I know,” said Archius, nodding. “Someone will always replace you, that’s just the way things are, isn’t it? But you… you overplayed it. And it’s time for fresh blood.”
Osmond narrowed his eyes, gaining all the strength he had left in his mouth. “And if this fresh blood is more vicious than us?”
Archius shrugged. “You’re not in a position to contemplate that, are you?” he asked.
Osmond remained quiet - it seems he got the message, Archius picked up the pistol and slid it into a secondary holster along his belt. His green eyes looked down at Leon’s lapdog, now a pacified wreck.
He has no intention of letting his new asset die… But mind-snaring him will always be a last resort. Archius ordered two more drinks, one for each. “Smile. Do the… thing whatever you people do.”
Osmond grunted, putting on a fake smile and grabbing both drinks. He mixed them, half and half… “There.”
Archius smirked. “Good.” He downed the drink. “So your leader’s a Theonar?”
A pale face cracked through the seams. Osmond did not expect that! And neither did Archius… It was just a little prank, to see if it would happen, but it did.
“Huh?”
“Rite of Harinada, Theonar practise to solidify deals, mix drinks, never expect a Narisian to know it…” Archius glanced around the room, seeing another example of it, between two gamblers. “Interesting…”
“What now?” sneered Osmond.
Archius shrugged. “I’ve tortured you enough for now, come on, tell me: why?”
Osmond grumbled under his breath, downing his drink with Archius. “His parents taught him it… He taught it to all of us, we rarely run out of booze, keeps us unified… Together…”
Oh, and how that has changed so much, Archius musted to himself. Welp, that was fun. Archius finished the remainder of his drink.
“Pleasure doing business,” said Archius, standing up. He raised his voice, “Oh, and keep the Dullie set, it’s a Bronze Edition, act of good faith, right?”
Osmond nodded. “You tormented me… can I at least get something from you?”
Archius turned back to Osmond, slowly, with a piercing glare.
“Beyond Narisa… I rarely left the planet, let along orbit or system… Is the hammer finally coming for us?”
“Oh?” Archius raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard?”
Osmond’s face grew paler. “What?!”
Archius placed his hand out, telling Osmond to shush. “The galaxy’s on fire once again… Humanity has entered into a new dark age. The Eclipse has engulfed much of the core regions… And currently… there are two hundred thousand government troops in orbit.”
Osmond’s eyes grew in fear. Oh, just looks at that fucking face!
Archius smirked. “I’m kidding…” Osmond heaved a sigh of relief. “Partially. People are still talking about the Crusades like some lofty thing, and the Night of the Eclipse like it’s some fucking test from our beloved Goddess or whatever the shit the Erudian Priests say…”
“Two thousand years or more, huh?” Osmond grumble. “Well, at least time isn’t fucked up over here… not yet.”
“It’s only been a week or so since you drew our ire,” Archius commented. “Aliens are still gone, billions still starve and the Senator for Narisa is enjoying a lovely vacation on Kasté.”
Osmond grumbled, his face turning sour. “Nothing changed…”
“Glad I can be of assistance!” Archius made an overly enthusiastic smiley face, before turning and leaving.
Archius, happy with the outcome, shimmied his way out from the booth, and walked off, sliding behind the knife-fight, making his way out back into the frozen alleyways and wastelands outside that covered the planet. Taking out a canister, downing some water. He’d like to balance things out. The warm water felt nice, heat permeating in his throat and mouth.