It was now noon. Nine hours since the operation began, and things couldn’t have been more different yet still the same. Anson, Baldwyn, and Cyril were still involved, but they had picked up Zeki along the way with nearly the entire mercenary force behind him. Of course, it would take some time to organize the unit and make sure that many of them were still on board, so Anson made his way to Mercenary Commander Eros’ former office to start trying an attempt in organizing the masses.
When he got to the front of the office with dozens of mercenaries behind him, he approached a shocked Baldwyn, Cyril, and Zeki. “What in the world did you just do?” Cyril asked. “What happened to doing it quietly?”
“Don’t worry,” Anson assured. “If we move fast enough, the general population would have no idea before we take over, now come into the office with the shares. Except, Baldwyn, you go get Driver and bring the shares he has inside for safekeeping.”
Baldwyn hesitated for a moment. “Are we still not going to kill anyone? After you, know, the bandit?”
“We’ll talk Deo out of it,” assured Anson. “Even if Deo dies, we stick to the rule as best we can.” Baldwyn then nodded and left.
Entering the office, Anson closed the door behind him, and it was almost painful how fast the volume decreased. Naturally, the office was a wreck with Anson’s comrades just finishing a complete search of the office. Supplies, furniture, and papers were scattered all over the floor. Anson took a seat at the large wooden desk at the back corner of the office and tried to account for everything. In the meantime, Cyril and Zeki stood, silently, waiting for Anson to stop staring at the desk.
When he did, he told Zeki to go to his game. “We have to keep a semblance of normalcy for the general population.” Looking at Zeki squarely in the eyes, he smirked and said: “Zeki, you have been a great partner thus far. Now, win the game you need to win, and we’ll all be rewarded handsomely.”
“And if the triads get in the way of my victory?” Zeki asked, still concerned.
“I’ll send Osman an update of our situation. If you are touched, my informal agreement with Osman will be null and void.” Anson assured. However, Cyril interjected by asking who Osman was, and then saying that wouldn’t be the most practical thing to do in the situation and would lead to more problems. “Osman is a Kadon Triad man I made a deal with about staying out of our way in exchange for help at the end of the operation, but that not the point. The point is if I gave the Kadons or Sovans free reign to murder some like you, I’m sure that you would be speaking so freely of practicality.” Anson responded.
Cyril fell silent as Anson said goodbye to Zeki and the Knees player left the room. Afterward, Anson stood up and went to the front of the office, looking at the mob standing around the office. “We need a census,” Anson said, shaking his head. “How many shares do we have?”
“With our 35,000 from the Sovans, somehow including the one’s from the dead drop, which I can’t believe they brought here, and the Kadon shares that was promised to us, that’s 75,000. So around 20%. Are you sure the Kadons will follow through?”
“I don’t have a choice, but even then, I think they will, they would welcome the thought of not being attacked by an army of—”
“That too,” Cyril interrupted, walking up to Anson. “The reason we couldn’t leave earlier was because we couldn’t leave safely. Now we can! We should go, or at least let Baldwyn leave. He’s got an injured daughter, and they are in no shape to continue the operation for the rest of the day, let alone the aftermath.”
Sighing, Anson shook his head once more. “Why did you accept the operation?”
“For the money, why?”
“What does money get you?” Anson asked.
“I don’t know?” Cyril paused. “Money?”
“No! Security, money gets you security! If Baldwyn wants security for his daughter or you from your dad, this is the best way. Even then, I am not stopping you. Hell, Deo is missing and now I got to find him. He left on his own accord, so don’t talk to me about if Baldwyn should leave. That’s his decision to make, ok?”
Cyril winced but eventually nodded. “Why did you say Mercenary Commander Eros is dead?”
“If you told the mercenaries that their leader was a traitor to them, how you expect them to side with you?” Anson asked. Cyril remained silent. “Besides, he is probably dead anyway, and if he isn’t it would take more than a day for him to sail back and show his body to his troops.”
As he said this, Anson walked around the office looking for pieces of paper, ledger, or anything that could be used to organize the mass. Eventually, he found a binder of spreadsheet paper along with various pens. There was too much to be done, but no matter what he did, he needed to quantify who was with the operation and those who bailed and then organize everything else from there. Opening the door, mercenaries gathered around Anson.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He ripped 13 pieces of paper from the binder and handed it, along with a pen, to mercenaries in the front row. “We account for every man here. A roll call shall take place in near this office with each man representing two letters of the alphabet. After that, we can start avenging Mercenary Commander Eros, understand?” Everyone nodded and Anson went back to his office.
#
The mass of men slowly organized themselves into single file lines. Meanwhile, Baldwyn and Driver had come back to the office, delivering the shares and putting them with the rest in the corner, behind the desk. Anson thanked the Driver for his service and told him to go back to Vasos with a message, but not before waiting outside the office for a moment. When he left, Anson filled Baldwyn in on what he told Cyril, but even after that, Baldwyn still had an important question. “Is Hera still safe with Vasos?”
Anson took a moment to think about it before answering. “It’s not about if she is safe there, it is about if she is safer in this building with us, but more likely to get attacked, or with Vasos?” Anson sat still in his chair, looking up to Baldwyn for an answer.
The man winced and contemplated it for a good moment before answering. “I want to keep an eye on my daughter.”
Nodding, Anson stood up and relayed the message to the Driver that Hera should be brought here. As he closed the door again, he addressed the other family issue. “We need to somehow travel a mass number of mercenaries around the city without arising suspicion. The plan is to use the stagecoaches, all of them, to transport men gradually to Local Triad Chapter and raid them.”
“That’s if we can even trust my dad, now,” Cyril added on. The two other men looked at him, wanting more of an explanation. “If he realizes how dangerous the situation is, he might get the idea we’ll stiff him out his shares or get worried he’ll be branded as a traitor and killed before we get a chance to complete the takeover.”
“You think it is that serious?” Anson asked.
“Defiantly.”
“Ok, we’ll put some men to watch over your dad and report back if he talks to anyone. Is that okay for you two?”
Baldwyn and Cyril nodded, and the conversation died down as Anson went looking around the office for more documents about how the entire mercenary triad operated. There wasn’t much else to do while the census was taking place, but fifteen minutes later 12:30 there was a man knocking at the door. Baldwyn went to see who it was, and the man asked where Anson was.
“What do you want?” Baldwyn asked.
Immediately offended and crossing his arms, the man responded: “I want to talk to the man who is making me commit high treason. Who are you to get in the way?”
“Let the man in,” interrupted Anson.
Baldwyn opened the door and closed it again after the man entered the room. Looking around, the man commented how he had never been in here before. “Don’t get used to it if you are going to insult my comrade,” Anson responded. “What do you want?”
“Has it occurred to you that some men may not be on board with this idea of yours to replace the Chairman, take over the republic, and all that?” The man responded.
“It seemed like the whole room was on board.”
“Some of us have reconsidered.”
There was a pause as Anson stared at the man while slightly smiling to keep the mood calm. It was strange, the man spoke perfect Sovan with no hint of an accent, but he looked like a perfect model of a Kadon. “So?” Anson asked. “You can leave.” Leaning back in his chair, the new leader of the Mercenary Triad waited for a response.
The man, now stroking his short beard, looked over the desk and saw the bags of shares in the corner of the room. “You’re not worried about us informing the Chairman?”
“Oh, he already knows,” responded Anson, nonchalantly. “You think you, and however many mercenaries—like a dozen maybe—is going to do anything?”
“No, but we can convince other mercenaries. And I’m sure the Chairman doesn’t know about you sitting in this office here. I’m sure he would appreciate the extra help and information.” Scratching his neck, the man seemed to be considered with the whole situation. Anson felt as if he was being treated like a minor inconvenience to this man’s day, whoever he was. Like a grease stain on a shirt.
“I ask again. What do you want?”
Shrugging and making eye contact with the shares, he responded. “I don’t know… two hundred shares could make me stay quiet. Maybe three will make me agree to help you.”
Look at this man. Whoever this man was, surely didn’t know what the gravity of what he was asking. Anson stood up, and asked how many men were in on this scheme. “Around fifty,” the man responded.
Nodding along, Anson asked if he these men were still in the building. “Yes, they are just on the right, lined up against a wall.”
Telling the man to stay put, Anson left the office and looked to his right. After getting used to the volume of thousands of men trying to get organized, let alone looking passed them, he saw it. Fifty men lined up against a wall, talking, kicking their feet, and bored. Walking back into the room, he closed the door behind him, found the blinds tucked into the corner and calmly covered the windows to the office. “I thought there was a no killing rule,” the man mocked.
“There isn’t,” Anson responded. “But there is also a rule that I am implementing about how not to be an idiot.” Walking up to the man, he pretended to look around before kicking the man in the groin. Collapsing to the ground, Anson jumped on top of him, grabbing the man by the collar, and dragged him over to the shares. “You want this?” he asked. “Because you are going to get it.” He then stuffed his face in one of the bags, while Cyril and Baldwyn watched, not knowing what they should do.
Pulling the man out of the shares, he stood him back up and gave his conditions. “You shall find a man for me,” Anson explained. “His name is Deo Illias Eparco, and we have lost him. He was originally with us, but that Bandit we arrested got in the way. You find him and bring him to be unharmed, you shall receive 200 shares. If he is harmed, then 100, alright?”
The man quickly nodded as he tried to get over the pain. “One more thing,” Anson continued. “If I get a hint of you flipping sides or telling anyone of our agreement, I’ll make an exception to my rule, and I’ll make sure you, your boys, and everyone in this triad understands that over a long period of time.” Finishing with a nod, Anson told the man to leave, and so the man did with that smugness wiped off his face.
After he left, Baldwyn asked if the beat up meant anything if Anson promised 200 shares anyway. “It’ll be 100. I’ll find some minor scrape on the man and rule him hurt. After that, what are they going to do? Run? Mercenaries don’t run.”