Chapter 15: Robbed

With his new companion, Tybalt walked toward the storage locker. He learned that the guard’s name, Stanimir, and that he had long experience with fighting off the city’s hired arms. The men, he said, were poorly trained and hardly more of a force than what could be conjured from the outskirts. For the most part, their strength lay in their armour and weaponry, which, for this region, had been the best that money could buy. That being said, great equipment in the hands of the poorly trained tend to produce disastrous results. Plus, as a merchant republic, these hired arms lacked the patriotism that would make a man die for his station. Only of a few of the multigenerational soldiers would be a problem.

“So what’s the plan,” Stanimir asked.

Tybalt looked at the storage facility from their vantage point. The building across the street towered three-stories and they had access to one of the upper rooms due to Stanimir’s connection to the owner of the building. He said the man had been a ‘war buddy’, but he refused to elaborate.

“Honestly, I didn’t have one,” Tybalt said. He watched a guard leave his post from the front of the storage building and walk around the building, performing a routine check.

“I expected better from you,” Stanimir said. Bored, he pulled out a stick of rolled tobacco. “Death?” he said, offering a cheroot. Tybalt declined the offer. Stanimir jammed the crude cheroot between his teeth and lit it with a flip lighter.

“All I know is that in one of those lockers is the stuff that I need and it’s currently guarded. We can either kill them all and take what we need, or go in with stealth and take things in short trips multiple times.” Tybalt said. He kept looking at the guard who remained at his post. The man tapped his foot impatiently.

“You lack creativity. How did you make it this long in the mercenary business,” Stanimir said. He dropped himself to a squat, looked at his cheroot with affection, and took another drag. He held his breathe until he managed to blow a perfect ring of smoke. He admired the shape as it drifted further from his crouched position.

Tybalt grunted. In earnest, it had been his brother who had the creativity for the job. Bassian thought of great plans when they had jobs to perform. All Tybalt did was provide a steady shot and a heavy hand when dealing with others.

“Look, okay,” Stanimir blew a plume of smoke as he stood up. “Right now, we have two guards who take turns doing a patrol every hour, sometimes less than a hour. You know that there are more city guards on their way to help bring the items of the storage locker out. Why worry about loading and hauling the items, when the guards are going to do it for you. Let them load the cart. Let them do all the heavy lifting. Once they’ve done, that’s when you strike. You need a good distraction to pry them from their post, from their duties. Then, you carry away the loot.”

Stanimir approached the window. He leaned onto the edge, his arms crossed over the window sill. He let a trail of smoke emanate from the side of his mouth.

“All you need,” he continued, “is a good distraction.” His eyes scanned the world below him, looking for anything that could be of assistance. “I could start a fire not too far away, but that could get messy. It’s not controlled enough.”

Tybalt paced a circle in the room thinking. How would he be able to get the guards away from the cart, when they had loaded everything up. Surely, anything they tried, there would be a few guards standing near the cart.

Tybalt returned to the window and looked at the road. In the alley between the storage facility and the shop front, he saw two figures moving about, trying to snatch something from the shop front.

“Them!” Tybalt shouted a little too loud. “Those kids will help us.”

Stanimir tilted his head from the window. “Street urchins? Are you kidding me? Give me something useful.”

“I have an idea. You want a good distraction; I’ll get it for you.”

* * *

Within an hour, Tybalt had convinced the kids of helping him in his mission. He promised their little hearts with everything they could want, the very things that his own street-raised heart would have wanted. The deal was neither too sweet nor too sour. It was a pittance to his mind, but the offer seemed like a fortune to the kids.

“Stanimir, meet Gerwin and Ludolf.”

The two street kids grinned. Their smiles, lacking a few of their baby teeth, showed an overwhelming sense of optimism. In Stanimir’s mind, they had not yet experienced enough of the rough realities of this world to become truly jaded.

“As promised,” Tybalt said, flipping a coin between his knuckles. He knocked one coin into the air, where the elder brother, Gerwin, snatched it and shoved it into his pocket. Ludolf waited for the second coin, waiting for the rotating coin to fall into his outstretched palms.

“And the apples?” Gerwin asked in a high-pitched voice. His voice had not yet deepened.

“Right here,” Tybalt said. He pulled two apples from his rucksack and give it to them. They began to munch upon them immediately.

“I still don’t know what you plan for these kids,” Stanimir complained. He took out another stick of cheroot, but decided against smoking tobacco in front of these prepubescent boys.

“Just follow my lead and we’ll get through it.” Tybalt looked out of the window and saw a large group of city guards arrive with a pull-cart. A workhorse had been strapped to the pull-cart. It whinnied as it was brought to a halt.

“Time for action,” Tybalt said quietly. He turned to his partners in crime, grinned, and lead them down the stairs.

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* * *

Tybalt approached one of the city guards. He pretended to hobble as he went to them.

“Excuse me,” he said in a weak voice. “Have you seen two children about?”

“No. Why? Have you lost your children?” said one of the guards with a snarl.

“No, no. Not my children. Thery are hooligans. Thieves. They stole from me.” Tybalt eyed the guards in the background as they loaded the pull-cart with more wares.

“What’d they steal from you? Your sweet roll?” the guard laughed at Tybalt.

“No, a double-silver coin.”

“Double-silver!” the first guard exclaimed “What are you doing with so much money?”

“It’s all the money I have. It’s all I’ve saved. If you could help me find these boys, I would be glad to share half of it. I would still be left with more than I have now.”

The guards looked at each other. Their greed flashed across their eyes.

Then, with perfect timing, Gerwin and Ludolf darted across the main road. They leapt from one alley into another.

“Hey!” one of the city guards shouted. Without thinking, the two men ran from their post chasing the children down the road.

Tybalt shimmied closer to the pull-cart. He changed his tactic. He straightened his back, no longer bent over, and called to the men who were loading the pull-cart.

“You guys don’t run a tight ship, eh? Those guys left you to do all the hardwork.”

One of the city-guards, a burly man with suspenders, grunted as he heaved a cart onto the pull-cart. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“No one helps do anything,” he said, panting from his effort. He cleared his throat and spat on the ground.

“That’s not fair. You should just take off yourself. If they’re not working, why should you?”

The man with suspenders narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Because I got a job to do. Just because those clowns don’t take their job seriously, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t either.”

“You’re a good man. They probably pay you well, eh?” Tybalt patted the man on his shoulder. “Anyone else seek you for your effort?”

The burly man removed Tybalt’s hand, plucking it by the wrist.

“What’s your game?”

“My game is that I’m looking for good men and they’re hard to come by. I’ll tell you what. Meet me at the bar in 30 minutes and I’ll make sure that whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”

The burly man looked at his partner and back to Tybalt.

“And my buddy?”

“Loyalty? That’s even harder to come by. I’m going to say this, if both you men head to the bar now, I’ll make sure you get a bonus too. Here, a small advance.” Tybalt took out his coin-purse and knocked out a bunch of coins. He gave each of them a large denomination.

“Woah, you aren’t joking!” the burly man exclaimed.

“What should we do, Casimir?”

“We take the offer. The rest of the guards can handle this shipment.” Casimir took the final box from the floor and put it in the cart. “No respect for men like us. None.”

Casimir walked away with the tall men, the both of them complaining about the city’s wages and internal discipline.

Tybalt walked to the workhorse. He introduced himself gently and patted the horse. “There’s a good boy. Beautiful, aren’t ya?”

“Hey!” Three more city guards exited the storage building. “What are you doing to our horse?”

“I’m just admiring your beast.” Tybalt looked up into the third-storey window that he had only moments ago looked out of. Stanimir took the signal. He would only need to buy a little more time.

“Well, move along. We don’t need your admiration.”

“Oh, but it would be such a shame not to take the time to appreciate such an animal. What’s his name?”

“He has no name,” said one of the men in the posse. He pushed forward and closed the gap between him and Tybalt. While slightly shorter than Tybalt, the man had a pugilist’s air about him. He was one of those men ready to fight even for the most foolish of reasons.

“Oh, okay. My apologies!” Tybalt took two steps back, which only invited the fighter to take two more steps forward. “Excuse me, but you’re a little close to me.”

“And I’ll get closer if you don’t get a move on. Scram.”

“Now, now.” Tybalt stepped back once more. He needed only a little more time. He started to circle the horse and its pull-cart, merging back with the group of city guards watching this little pantomime play out. As Tybalt bumped into one of the men, a gun shot ran in the distance.

“What was that!?” the two guards started chatting amongst themselves. Another a gunshot went off.

“What do we do?”

“Uh, I guess we should investigate.”

“I’m not going toward gunfire.”

“Coward.”

“I am not!”

The two guards argued amongst themselves until the fighter had enough of their idiocy.

“Enough!” he yelled. “The both of you go look. And report what you find. We’re almost done here, so you have five minutes. As for you,” the man turned to Tybalt, “I told you to go.”

“I will, I will!” Tybalt stammered. As the two city guards left, Tybalt continued circling the horse and the pull-cart, causing the fighter to chase him a little more aggressively.

“I said ‘Go!’” the fighter unholstered his pistol from his hip and waved his gun around.

Tybalt grinned. He never liked killing an unarmed opponent. He waited, watching the movement of the pistol carefully.

“Go where?” Tybalt asked stupidly.

“I don’t care! You can go down this alley and die for all I care.”

As the fighter gestured with the gun toward the alley, Tybalt withdrew his revolver and fired two quick shots into the man’s chest. He immediately collapsed to the floor.

The horse started moving wildly.

“Shhh,” Tybalt comforted the animal. Pulling an apple from his clothing, he feed slices to the horse. Once the creature settled down, Tybalt made haste in loading up the boxes that remained on the floor. With a few concerted efforts, the pull-cart was loaded

He got the horse moving and needed to get as much distance as he could. The kids would be running through this way in any moment to assess the situation and see if they could provide any more support.

A hail of gun fire rang in the distance. Tybalt wondered if Stanimir had started or ended this fusillade. Either way, he figured someone died.

Tybalt manoeuvred the horse into one of the distant alleys. As Zoltan had planned, two of his goons waited for their shipment of loaded goods. Tybalt brought the pull-cart to them, and helped them take boxes down. The men heaved their contents into the worn-down building. Inside, Tybalt could see a small assembly of workers manufacturing all sorts of equipment. Clearly, Zoltan had greater plans than the simple reselling of these technological parts.

Once unloaded, Tybalt freed the horse and let it run loose in the city. The men disassembled the pull-cart and brought it into the warehouse, presumably for spare parts.

Tybalt bid his farewell and went into the streets in time to see one of the street kids in the hands of the first set of guards.

“Thought I couldn’t catch you! Well, I got you now!” the guard laughed. His arm had hoisted Ludolf from the ground. The boy struggled to get free, spinning in his clothing, trying to worm out of them.

“Oh, you caught him,” Tybalt said, stooping back down and resuming his false infirmity. “Let me have him. I’ll search him.”

“No way! He’s going to get away if I let him. Check his pockets.”

Tybalt obliged the suggestion, pulling from the kids pocket the coins that he had given the boy only a few hours earlier.

“Everything, but the double-silver,” Tybalt sighed. “Here, you take it all.”

He dumped the handful of coins in the guard’s free hand. In this moment of distraction, Ludolf seized the opportunity and bit the man’s hand. The guard yelped, dropping the boy. With an instinctual motion, the guard pulled out his pistol and aimed after the escaping boy. Tybalt threw himself into the guard, who fired as he was hit.

Tybalt began to viciously punch the guard, causing blood to pour from the man’s nose. Soon, it became apparent that the guard had lost consciousness. Tybalt stopped his rage and looked into the alley. He saw no one there. He sniffed and rose to his feet, leaving the city guard on the street.

Tybalt had a few loose ends to worry about: Stanimir, Gerwin, Ludolf, and the two men at the bar. Once he dealt with them, he could go to Zoltan and claim his reward.