The Petty Baron held court in a large home that had once belonged to a merchant family that disappeared as a result of the wars to the south. Ethan said that no one really knew what had happened to the previous owners—the most popular rumors ranged from the Petty Baron personally burying their bodies in the house's cellar to them fleeing the country when the crown discovered they were spies from the south—but whatever the case they had left behind them a large house in a semi-disreputable neighborhood with grounds slightly larger than those around the orphanage. The whole place was enclosed in a stone wall that was about seven feet high; not enough to make it impossible to scale, but high enough that peeking into the grounds wasn't easy.

A pair of street toughs were slumped in the only break in the wall on this street, and although they cast him curious glances they didn't scramble to their feet until he was clearly about to walk onto the property.

One of the toughs, jumped in front of him, hand out like he was about to shove Jonathan in the chest though he didn't make physical contact. "That's far enough, your kind isn't welcome." He was a little shorter than Jonathan, but almost twice as broad with a nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. The other tough lurking behind his shoulder looked like he was late teens, with the perpetual scowl to go with it, but was otherwise similar in build to Jonathan himself.

Jonathan stared down his nose and tried not to hyperventilate. "I'm here to see the Petty Baron."

The tough just scowled. "Like I said, he doesn't put much stock by your kind. Piss off."

Well, that was no good. Jonathan looked past the tough in his face at the teenager. "You, boy, go tell the Petty Baron I'm here. I own the orphanage outside of town, and I say he will want to see me."

The stocky tough looked a little doubtful. "You the one sheltering Ethan and his gang, then?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I am familiar with Ethan, yes."

"Claude, go tell the Baron about our visitor and see what he wants done with him." The tough grabbed Jonathan's shoulder and maneuvered him through the gate while the teenager slouched off toward the house. "You stay here with me."

Jonathan shrugged his hand off, but didn't attempt to leave, and the two fell into awkward silence.

After several minutes of this, the teenager returned. "He wants to see him."

"In you go, then." The tough shoved Jonathan's shoulder. After shooting him a glare, Jonathan headed toward the house with the teenager ahead of him and the tough behind.

The Petty Baron's property had clearly seen better days. Aside from a scattering of unhealthy looking trees, there wasn't much growing on the grounds. Beds that presumably once held flowers had been trampled down and were now little more than dying weeds. The path from the gate to the house had once had stones laid, but most of them were missing. Trash collected in the corners and abutted the inside edge of the stone wall.

The house was in a similar state; the upper windows were all boarded over, the paint was faded and in some places peeling, and the roof was missing several tiles. Given the complete lack of anyone out in the yard aside from Jonathan and his two escorts, the whole place just looked abandoned.

That changed as they entered the front door. A group of more street toughs looked their way from where they were sitting and chatting in a side room whose wall had been partially knocked out to enlarge the doorway, their conversation dropping off as they eyed Jonathan.

"You and you," grunted the street tough behind Jonathan. "Go watch the front. We're taking this posh bastard to the Baron."

As they made their way into the front hall, Jonathan spotted more gang members gambling in another side room, but they tossed their cards aside and fell in with Jonathan's existing escort, swelling the number of thugs around him closer to ten. Though they pushed and shoved one another, they mostly gave him space to walk and Jonathan was wryly thankful he'd dressed to impress.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The group jostled their way into a large room at the end of the hall. Based on the size it had either been intended as a dining or possibly small ball room, but now it was devoid of furniture except for a single large chair sitting midway down the room. It would have been a lot more impressive if it hadn't been the spitting image of one of the chairs in the orphanage's dining room.

Sitting on the chair was a man who could only be the Petty Baron himself. He honestly didn't look all that threatening. He was a middle-aged man somewhere on the border between well-muscled and overweight wearing a faded suit similar to Jonathan's own except with lace spilling out near his neck. The look was somewhat ruined by the fact that he'd torn the sleeves off near his biceps. Perhaps back in the day that had been an effective intimidation tactic, but now it just looked like a sad, old, partially ruined suit.

This was the guy that had Ethan and the rest running scared for so long?

The gang members spread out so that they were roughly encircling Jonathan, and he recalled that it wasn't really the Petty Baron who was personally the threat. It was his larger gang and the fact that his ego apparently couldn't take a group of kids escaping his clutches without obsessing over them for no good reason.

Before Jonathan had come up with what to say, the Petty Baron spoke up. "You say you're the owner of the orphanage where Ethan and his little wannabe gang have holed up?"

"Yes," said Jonathan. He took a deep breath, trying to look unhurried rather than nervous. "It has come to my attention that you have some sort of dispute with Ethan that led you to sending a rather uncouth group to my orphanage, so I have come to ensure such behavior does not repeat."

Chris hadn't said much when they were all brainstorming, but he'd pulled Jonathan aside after they'd settled on using the suit to try and gain safe access to the Baron. Keep your conversation flowery, he'd said. Nobles love to hear themselves talk.

The Petty Baron frowned and leaned forward. "Bullshit. Now, maybe if you'd brought Ethan and the twins for me we could talk. But you come to my home and make demands of me in front of my people? Anthrax's balls, what makes you think I should listen to a damn word you say?"

"What do you even want with those kids?" Whoops, he hadn't made that particularly flowery. This asshole was really pissing him off.

"Ethan and those little shits owe me service. No one runs out on me before their contract is up." The Baron leaned back in his seat. "Now, I can see you're a man of means. I don't much care for the way you approached me today, but you bring me Ethan and the twins, and you can keep the rest of those little monsters at your orphanage and do whatever you want to them. Hell, my men will even come around every so often, make sure your little funhouse is operating smoothly."

This guy was complete trash. "I have a counter-offer," said Jonathan. He reached into his jacket's inside pocket, making a concerted effort not to jump when the thugs around him got twitchy, and pulled out a gold coin that he flicked toward the Baron. It fell to the boards of the floor with a clatter and rolled to a stop near the Baron's feet. "I pay you a finder's fee, and you leave me and the kids the hell alone afterward." Mr. Geiller had warned him against using conjured currency, since apparently banks, the Quintarchal Church, and some businesses could detect it easily, but the kids had agreed that paying the Baron might at least get him out unharmed, and if the man was willing to be paid off they could potentially find a way to do that with legitimate funds.

However, the Baron gave the coin a single disgusted glance before returning his focus to Jonathan. "You think this is a joke, little boy? I don't care if you have more money than Queen Tetra. You come waltzing in here alone and think you can make me roll over with a little bit of coin? My reputation is everything, you poncy asshole, and it's not for sale." The Baron made a harsh movement with his hand and before Jonathan had even thought to do something one of the thugs behind him had clubbed him across the shoulders and head, sending him falling sideways to his knees. As he scrambled upright, adrenaline rushing, the Baron continued as if nothing had happened. "Since you don't appear to understand proper respect and how the world works, I think I'll have my boys give you the welcome you should have received when you flounced up to our gates, and then you can go back to your little orphanage without your fancy suit and whatever coin you're carrying, then bring Ethan and the twins back here or I'll send a larger welcoming party than last time."

The Baron stood up and Jonathan tensed, but no one else made further moves toward him. "I don't know what shit you pulled, but you killed some of my boys, asshole, and you have the effrontery to think you can just pay me off and get away with it?"

The Petty Baron nodded to his gang members, and turned away. As they closed in around Jonathan, he had the sad thought that Ethan had been right: the Petty Baron really wasn't ever going to leave them alone. He really shouldn't have come here.

A gang member's foot connected with his side, hurling him to the ground, and Jonathan gasped.

He'd really, really hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but looked like Plan B was the only way he was going to be able to get the Petty Baron off his back. As another foot hurled his way, he enlivened his magic, connected to Ebola, and yanked.