As Cyril cleaned himself up and Baldwyn found a room to let Hera rest, Anson walked around the Stagecoach headquarters, picking drivers who were about to leave and making them follow him. Every time they refused, but Anson always replied the same: “You work for me for the time being. Also, you stand to gain a lot by pausing for five minutes.” In a reasonable time, he found eight men and lined them up against a wall. Some continued asking what this was about, and so Anson finally gave a straight answer. “I need to know if you have any affiliations with my buddies at the Triads or the government. Anyone?”
“What’s this for?” one of the men asked.
“I need you to answer the question first,” snapped back Anson. “Also, don’t lie to fit in or hide away. Your potential reward depends on it.”
“Is the reward what’s in your hand?” Another man asked, pointing at the duffel bag. Anson looked down, nearing getting used to holding it to the point he forgot it wasn’t attached to his body. But to answer the question, Anson shook his head. “Now, Answer the question I asked you.”
There was a pause where the eight men looked at each other, wondering if they should move first, but after a moment and a couple of shrugs, the first men stepped forward, then the second, and then in an ever-increasing rate of men, all but two stepped away from the wall. One was a taller Kadon man, while the other was a shorter, slouched Sovan man. “Thank you,” said Anson. “Go about your day. I’ll talk to you if I am interested.”
He then walked away, leaving eight men confused, but more so bothered by their daily interruption. As Anson stepped away, Baldwyn had come back from the corner room that he left Hera in. “I only hope Vasos follows through on his promise.” Baldwyn said to Anson.
“The man seems too greedy not to at least entertain our idea. And as we get more shares, I think he’ll be more inclined to keep his mouth shut.” Anson replied. Baldwyn quietly nodded along, seemingly coming to the realization there was no other possibility. “Also,” Anson continued. “You see that short Sovan Driver over there?”
“Yeah, what about him?” Baldwyn replied.
“I need you to find something to write on, tell him to bring his stagecoach outside, ride it around the corner, and wait for us. Make sure you include the fact that we has been selected by the ‘new boss’ and to slip it into his pocket without anyone seeing.”
“New boss?”
“Correct, I didn’t give him my name.” Patting his shoulders, Anson told Baldwyn to get to it as he checked up on Cyril in the bathroom. Baldwyn immediately got to it as he went back to Vasos’ office, while Anson walked to the back of the building to the only private bathroom. The door was rotting away and smelled terribly, and even though Anson didn’t want to touch the thing, he knocked.
“Cyril?” Anson asked. “You done?” There was no response. Anson then tried to open the door, expecting it to find it locked, but shockingly it swung open, and he found Cyril hunched over the sink with the tarred up and now discarded shirt by the shithole. The young man breathed heavy and once he noticed the door was open, faced Anson to show his red eyes blistering out of their sockets. “I’m sorry,” softly winced Cyril.
“It’s alright,” Anson tried to reassure him.
“I screwed up.” Cyril explained. “I overreacted and almost killed myself over nothing. I didn’t even—”
Walking up to Cyril and holding his shoulder, Anson interrupted him. “It’s okay, Cyril. It worked out in the end, and you don’t have to talk to your dad again until this is over, or hell, even at all. Besides, we have many successes ahead of us.”
“Thank you, but that is not what I was worried about. I already worried about my dad enough, and talking to him alone wouldn’t make waste so much time in this bathroom.”
“What then?” Anson asked.
“What are we going to do once we take the country? Be in charge? Mercenary Commander Eros was supposed to take the helm while we sat back and became rich, but instead? He’s gone, and seemingly we are the kingmakers once we take the country over. If not us, who? My dad?” Cyril took a big sight afterwards trying to imagine that possibility. “Besides, we got a member missing, and have no plan in finding him, right?”
“It’s not exactly a plan,” Anson replied. “But he might be back at mercenary headquarters.”
“So, we just hope Zeki runs into him?”
“No. We are going to run into him.”
After Anson and Cyril left the bathroom, they met up with Baldwyn who passed on the note, and the three of them watched as their new driver left the building. Waiting five minutes, they made their way outside of a side exit and met the man exactly where he was supposed to be. “Hello!” the high-pitched Sovan man spoke. “Gald to meet you! My name is—”
“No!” Anson blurted out. “We can’t know your name, and preferably you wouldn’t know ours, but as you will soon discover, our names are plastered all over town. We shall refer to you as Driver and nothing else, understood?”
Driver’s face immediately dropped as he stumbled over his words for a good couple of seconds before making out a sentence. “W-What kind of job have I been selected for?”
“A simple one.” Anson continued. “You will be our private escort for the rest of the day and nothing else. If anyone asks, “You’re on break…Or any other excuse, I don’t care.”
It seemed that the man understood the basic idea so before he could raise any objections, Anson told him to go to mercenary headquarters.
#
It took ages to get back to mercenary headquarters. The sun was nearly at the highpoint in the sky, and it seemed impossible that Anson had been awake for eight hours already. Almost wanting to rest his head on either of his partners and sleep, Anson figured that they must also been tired, especially since Baldwyn was beaten hours before, so he told them to get some sleep to which Baldwyn complied, groaning as the adrenaline rush from escaping the Sovans seemed to disappear, and the pain of his wounds came back. Cyril, on the other hand, refused to sleep and asked what the plan was.
Anson informed him, and by the time they got to headquarters, the two’s conversation drifted from the plan to tangents about the random parts of life. It turned out that Cyril’s dad financially supported the young man to the point where, even though they resented each other at the point, Vasos ensured that Cyril didn’t get a low-ranking position on a ship, but rather get what he ended up getting in handling the finances of the ship. In return, Anson told Cyril about how inconsistent work was when he was a kid, and how sometimes sleeping on a bed seemed unnatural compared to a single blanket.
Slowly, the titan that was Mercenary Headquarters appeared in front of them. A five-story tall, 100 meter wide, and 200-meter-long rectangular giant that surrounded the immediate area of empty square bought up by the Mercenary Triad to keep a safe perimeter and line of sight in case anyone tried to break in. Waking up Baldwyn, they left the shares with the Driver, telling him to circle the block. As they walked to the front entrance, Baldwyn asked what the plan was. “Take the shares if they are still there, maybe find Deo, talk to Zeki, and hopefully leave the building with some semblance with how to take the rest of the shares.” Anson answered.
“Great,” Baldwyn quietly responded as he still tried to wake himself up as they reached the front. The door was open, so the three men walked into an ever-stretching open room that spanned nearly the entire length of the building. Basically, one big cafeteria, kitchen, boarding house, bank, armory, and lounge all rolled into one. Mercenaries crawled around the room as they went about their day, completely oblivious to what their boss had been up to.
Looking around to see if Zeki was still there, the three men split up, with Cyril heading to Mercenary Commander Eros’ office to report back if the man was still there or was ransacked. Anson went to the southern end of the building as Baldwyn went north. No matter what direction he went however, the whole building smelt and sounded how it always did: sweaty and loud.
Before he knew it, he had already spent five minutes looking for the Knees Player and almost tried to make his way back up to Baldwyn when he spotted Zeki in the middle of a small crowd of mercenaries pestering him. Pushing aside the crowd, Anson announced himself to Zeki. “You’re still here. Good. Did you hire some mercenaries?!” He could barely hear himself.
“Some!” Zeki yelled while shrugging. “I can’t go ten meters without someone recognizing me.”
Anson sighed as he needed as many men as possible he could find. “How many shares did you give away?!”
“Five! It took a lot of convincing too! Even with the generous compensation!”
Anson reminded himself that he couldn’t do anything about it and moved on from the topic, but what he couldn’t move on from was the noise. Having enough of it, he motioned Zeki to get out of the sound end of the middle and toward the north. Along the way, he asked if anyone harmed him to which Zeki denied. “Good! Now we just need to find—” Anson stopped himself as he looked toward the front door as watched the Bandit that tormented Deo walk through the door with twenty city guards. The mercenaries hadn’t noticed him yet so without hesitation Anson dragged Zeki back into the crowd of mercenaries away from the edge of the building. “Zeki!” He yelled at him. “Head to the north end of the building to Mercenary Commander Eros’ office! Tell him to go into the office without hesitation and ravage the place for shares! Got it?!”
Zeki nodded as he asked if there was anything else. “If you run into Baldwyn, tell him that ‘the Bandit’ is here. Also tell that to Cyril as well.” Anson responded.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Before Zeki could ask if it was the same Bandit that Anson mentioned to Zeki earlier in the alleyway, Anson had already said yes and pushed him north. In the meantime, Anson stalked the Bandit as he and his team looked at the thousands of faces that engulfed the building. He could still see Zeki get approached by random mercenaries recognizing him, but as a reasonably smart and determined man would, Zeki pushed them. Eventually he disappeared into the crowd and all Anson could focus on was the Bandit grab people by the neck and move them aside as he presumably looked for Deo.
It would only be a matter of time before they checked Mercenary Commander Eros’ office, and since the office was in the northwest corner of the building with no exits nearby, Anson needed a distraction. He also needed more men to find shares, but that was another problem, or was it? Looking around for any solutions, Anson found rows of tables to eat at with mostly attached benches, but some had chairs. If he could make a speech, he could kill two birds with one stone.
Trying to blend into the crowd for as long as he could, he tried to think of a speech to rally the mercenaries against the Bandit. There were so many options he could take, but he didn’t have much time to think, so he quickly organized them the same way he would if he was writing it all out. Outlining each option, Anson came to a strong definitive answer within a couple of moments. But he needed something more. There were thousands of people in this building, and it was deafeningly loud. How could he get their attention?
Once again looking around, he couldn’t find any solutions to make something loud enough to override every other noise, so he needed to silence everyone. How? How? How? How? Pacing back and forth, he couldn’t think of something, that was until he looked back at the Bandit and saw him interrogating some people while describing Deo’s appearance.
Threating people could work. Facing straight east, he found the armory with a hot piece of metal sitting still while the blacksmith worked on another piece. It wasn’t ideal—like everything today—but it was once again the only solution he could think of. Shoving people out of the way, Anson made some people riled up enough where they demanded an apology, soon in a short walk, he had four people following him, but he did not relent. Grabbing a spare clamp, Anson picked up the hot piece of metal and swung around. Everyone in the immediate area backed up in fear of being burned.
With more eyes on him, Anson grabbed a chair, approached a table, and smashed all the food off it with the metal. Afterward, with dozens of people now looking, he slammed the chair on the table, stood on it and looked north. However, he didn’t look north at a random person or object, he stared directly at the Bandit. 30 seconds passed of him just staring at the Bandit until enough people noticed that the man looked toward Anson.
There was a split second where the two seemed to stare at each other in a way that could only appear after years of hatred. The southern half of the building was quieting down as they wondered why a man holding a piece of hot metal was on a chair that was itself on a table was staring city guard halfway across the room.
Not wanting to disappoint his new audience, Anson upped the ante by throwing the hot metal 20 meters toward the Bandit. The corrupted city guard got out of the way well in time, but that was not the point. The objective was to get to the northern half of the building to stare at the glowing piece of metal flying 20 meters while suspended 30 meters from the ground.
Crashing onto the ground with sparks flying through the air, the entire building (say for three friendly comrades) looked straight at Anson, and so, he began his speech. “Sorry to interrupt whatever you are doing, but this is something that concerns all of you.” Taking a moment to look around he saw nearly the entire crowd either confused or annoyed. “I will say this in Sovan, so if you are next to someone who somehow doesn’t understand Sovan while living in this city, I suggest you translate after I am done talking.”
Anson tried to speak coherently while making sure everyone heard his voice, but a strain already developed in his throat, so Anson figured he needed to get straight to the point. “That Bandit to which I have thrown a scolding piece of metal at has committed an atrocity! And all the city guard along with him is complicit!” Anson paused for a moment as he tried to think of another way to proceed before fully committing, but there wasn’t, so all he did was make sure no one was trying to pull him down from his chair before continuing. “That Bandit has killed Mercenary Commander Eros!”
Immediately the whole building erupted in shouting. People were trying to pull Anson down, but Anson tried to calm him them down again before continuing. Looking toward the back of the building, he saw Cyril, Baldwyn, and Zeki step out of Mercenary Commander Eros’ office in disbelief. Anson simply waved them on to continue as they didn’t have the time. “People! People! People!” Anson yelled. The chaos around him decreased, but as he tried to calm everyone down, other mercenaries around the Bandit and other city guard sprang into action and grabbed them and yelled questions at the Bandit. It was now that Anson realized that there was no turning back. The entire building was staring at him. Surely, some of them may have met him before during the war, but this was most mercenaries’ first impression of Anson. A man standing on an unstable surface while telling the world that their boss had been killed.
Every couple of seconds one person after the other would come out of their state of mania and want more answers from Anson, not believing what he said. In about a minute the place was nearly quiet again with the Bandit being held from all sides, though his expression didn’t change, and the people around Anson’s chair held onto the legs, waiting to pull it if they didn’t like what they said. “People!” Anson called once last time. “This is not good news I have brought you, but it is the truth. That Bandit over there can prove my story, but not in the way I want. He’ll claim he is on a ‘nice vacation’ out of the city. Go on! Ask him!”
The faces of a thousand men turned to face the Bandit. “Yeah, that’s what happened,” said the man. “But he went voluntarily!” The crowd erupted once again but quieted down just as fast waiting for more information. “That man,” pointing at Anson. “Is a traitor to the country. He is trying to overthrow the Chairman and put you out of work.”
Everyone’s head turned to Anson again. “I can affirm part of that statement. You shall not find Commander Eros in his office, his home, or anywhere in the country. The only place you shall find the man is either in the ground or among a pile of ashes!” The men at legs pulled slightly, not liking Anson’s story. “The only reason why I bring you this information is because I, like you, are his employees, and he hired me for a job. That job is what the Bandit says. I am overthrowing Chairman Hektor Daniel—” The group grew agitated before Anson could finish and the building’s volume steadily grew but before it became defeating Anson spoke a couple of more words. “At the direction of Mercenary Commander Eros!”
Anson waited for everyone to absorb that information before continuing. The faces of mercenaries that filled the building constantly switched from siding with the Bandit, to Anson, and lastly contemplating if the commander was actually dead. “I was directed to overthrow the Chairman because otherwise all of us would be dead or out of work. The Chairman does not like uncertainty in the marketplace, and if this professional group of mercenaries is anything it is that we have no loyalty to nations! We have no loyalty to a Chairman! No loyalty to anything but ourselves!” Men began nodding along. “So, what does a man do in that position! He decides to get rid of us! To rid of this margin of error that plagues his spreadsheets! He aimed to eliminate Mercenary Commander Eros and replace the mercenaries with a conscription-based army!”
The group yelled in frustration to the plan and began pushing around the Bandit, demanding answers. Anson calmed them down again and urged them to keep the Bandit exactly where he was, but while he was doing this, he saw the rest of his group leave Mercenary Commander Eros’ office with about five small bags sagging to the ground. Somehow, the shares were still in the office and his group had gotten it.
“He wants you dead!” Anson called out. “Hektor Daniels wants you dead, not because of who you are, but because of what you represent! And are you going to let him kill you for everything you worked for simply because you are in the way?!” The group, ever increasing in how in sync they were shook their head. “Are you going to let this man get away with killing the man who paid you handsomely? Who gave you food to eat and a bed to sleep? Who gave you glory and honor beyond your comprehension and put you a class above everyone else in this rotten city?”
“No,” the group said back in sync. Anson could see the individual turn into the unit in front of his eyes. From what a common soldier saw on the ground to what generals looked at on a map.
“Are you going to let this Bandit and Chairman ruin your life? Strips your glory and run everything that Eros and you have built?”
“No!” The crowd yelled back.
And there it was. The common mercenary who had been selected for a set-up somehow now stood above every other mercenary in the building. Sure, he had killed a griffin in a past war, but dozens also had a part in that, but now, he was the only one at his elevation. The man everyone looked at and let speak instead of them. He had an army in front of him, and the Chairman didn’t. “No?!” Anson asked them to which the mercenaries responded back with roaring agreement. “No! We shall not have our lives taken from us! We shall not let our homes be burnt to the ground! And we shall not let our friends die!”
The crowd was now cheering and begged for the next words that came out of Anson’s mouth. “But you know who will let you and innocent civilians die for his aims? Chairman Hektor Daniels! So, what do you say?! Do you want control of your own government that you bled for?! If so, you shall listen to me! Because I have a plan! And we will storm every single Sovan Local Chapter in the city! It deals with how we shall strip the city shares out of the Chairman’s hands and use them to buy the country!”
Everyone was now in a frenzy. Anson could no longer get them to quiet down as they moved onto the issue of the Bandit. They wanted his head, but that time would never come, definitely not while certain people weren’t here. Anson bent down and told the men near him to head to the blacksmith and make as much noise as possible. They did, and while they clanked as much noise together as possible, Anson looked across the building and saw his comrades simply staring back.
Motioning them to stay where they were, he would have a lot of explanation to do later, but that was now a mere inconvenience. Anson now had an army at his disposal. Eventually, through the echoing sounds of metal, the group quieted down, but not before the Bandit’s face was bleeding. “Two things before we get down to specifics gentlemen. One! The Kadon’s have considered to support us if we obtain enough shares, so we shall not interact with them in the slightest, understand?” The group nodded. Anson didn’t feel great about the loyalty to that statement, but he couldn’t exactly threaten them either, which meant the next thing would be even less likely to happen. “Second! There shall be no killing of any sort!” Immediately the crowd grew angry. Complaining about the practicality of that, but Anson was able to reasonably calm down them again by explaining the legitimacy part that was discussed with Deo earlier that day.
When that was done, Anson climbed down from his chair, pushed through the crowd to the Bandit and soon enough he was face to face with the man. “I assume I’m an exception to the no-killing rule?” the Bandit asked.
Anson looked around. Every mercenary was itching to kill the man. It was already difficult to get a crowd to promise not to kill people they haven’t seen or met yet, but not to exact justice on somehow who was accused of killing their beloved boss? Anson needed to recognize some reality, so he caved, but just a little. “Is what Deo accused you of true?” calmly asked Anson.
The Bandit turned his head to such a question, but he didn’t respond. Only an instinctual smile formed across his face. The Bandit tried to switch it to a frown almost immediately, but Anson already saw the face that told no lies. He smiled back and gently nodded. “Then, yes. You are an exception.” The Bandit tried to stay firm at such a remark, but his legs slowly shook and only got faster. Anson made sure that the Bandit saw Anson stare at the legs before continuing. “But not at the moment. Deo shall have his moment with you before anything is done.” And hopefully there would be enough time to convince Deo not to kill the Bandit, but even he knew that was unlikely.
Immediately someone asked who Deo was, to which Anson responded: “My friend who let this Bandit live. And so, he is already a dead man. None of you shall touch him till Deo shows up. In the meantime, tie him and his friends up!”
The crowd cheered once more as Anson pushed north through the crowd. There was much work to be done.