AUGUST 22ND, 220 SOMEWHERE IN THE CENTRAL BLOCK OF SIDE BRUNSBÜTTEL

Simon has been restless. These last few days have been the most taxing on his health since, well, forever. Ever since Li’s first departure from the Brunsbüttel on the fifteenth, Simon has been on continuous edge about both the Mafia fleet survival and Li ’s wellbeing. Simon would even so much as say he has tormented himself obsessively worrying about her. And not just Li, but Jung and Zhui as well. All of them matter in some way to the aging man, and if anything were to happen to any of them—he would be devastated. If anything happened to Li, most importantly, Simon would be utterly devastated if even so much as a scratch was inflicted on her.

Jung once reminded Simon of how he reacted to Li’s near-death after getting her face split-open by Zhui. The resurfacing thoughts pain Simon. Those long weeks and months by Li’s bedside, blazing through obscene amounts of cigarette packages like they were nothing more than water. The nurses used to scold him for smoking in Li’s presence, and often tried to force him out when he habitually lit up more cigarettes. But Simon didn’t care.

Jung was right on the mark about him: smoking really is the only way Simon copes with stress. At the time, the old badger was far too gone drowning in his thoughts, wondering if the maiden’s wound will ever heal and if it will permanently incapacitate his beloved Li in some way. Thinking back on it now, Simon would even go as far as to say that he has smoked more in that time frame than he ever has before or since. Even when Li woke up from her coma, the first thing she muttered to Simon was, “are you trying to suffocate me to death with this dreadful toxin, Simon?”

Old and stoic as he is, Simon still fondly remembers how emotionally stricken he was at her awakening. “This happened because I was worried sick about you, you fool,” Simon remembers saying. He still fondly recalls that petite smirk of hers and the pained eyes she made in an attempt to scoff at Simon’s tasteless humor. For some reason or another, that particular moment feels like the first time Simon has seen Li ever actually smile. And what Simon would do to be able to see her face again—if only because he desires to know she is okay. If only to give him some reassurance—to let him be at ease and not, out of habit, enjoy these fleeting moments of reassurance from the poisonous toxins that he inhales.

It’s been half a week since he received confirmation that the threat in the Valspon star-zone was eliminated. But it was passed onto him from a Castelforte subordinate and not from Li, and that pains him. Even when Li’s fleet emerged over Brunsbüttel’s Clusters, she still didn't talk to him, and that pains Simon even more. But he knows this is for the best. Simon does not doubt the possibility of Kamon listening in on any transmissions sent to or from the Brunsb üttel. Li likely is aware of this, too, and has probably refrained from contacting Simon correctly. Subconsciously, Simon shifts his gaze around the plaza he loiters in while waiting for his car ride.

Though he warned Li that their meeting will eventually reach Kamon’s ears, it was more of a warning to himself of how the older madame will see him. Not even partly a day after Simon met Li, Simon retreated to his home retreat and found himself under light surveillance. But since the nineteenth, Simon noticed that most of what he likened as Kamon’s goons must’ve been called off. Or perhaps he is imagining things due to paranoia? In any case, and against his better wishes, Simon decided on staying at Zhui’s palace residence instead, together with his eccentric stooges if only to stave off the loneliness. The decision to reside at the huge palace is also out of convenience of shortening the distance to the communications station, and thus saving on fuel.

Today, in particular, Simon is returning from his second checkup to the communications array. But rather than wait around for his chauffeur, Simon instead arduously ventures to the district center by foot to stake out a hotel to stay at. But the search comes up fruitless—and learning from his mistake last time he doesn't want to invoke his authority to stay. Similarly, and because of his smoking habit, he wishes to avoid another comedic episode of his stooges barging into his room and activating sprinklers, again. After dwelling on the matter, Simon does take the chance at going back to the original hotel he stayed at before the uneventful news of Che’s situation at Valspon. But upon realizing there were at least two agents—likely Kamon’s—loitering in the lobby, Simon immediately figures that his welcome is long overstayed regardless. Before the hotel service or even the men Simon views as Kamon’s men take notice, Simon reels around and head-tails out of there.

An hour or so would pass as Simon makes his way a few blocks away, hoping that his possible pursuers are lost. Eventually, he reached the central plaza park. Here, after observing his surroundings for another hour or so. After making sure that the coast is largely clear, Simon phones his chauffeur—one of the stooges—and instructs him to pick him up at Simon ’s new location. “What a miserable day,” Simon mutters as he leans against the brick wall. The public square is unusually quiet other than a group of kids across the street enjoying their youth at an industrial playground. What constitutes a ‘playground’ is more of a water tower ’s chassis with lots of rope ladders and a few tubes coming out of it, which Simon believes act as bonafide slides. There are a few more modular installations on the ‘playground’, but that seems to be the main attraction.

Overall, Simon can't help but find the architecture depressing. But it seems like a far cry from his childhood where at most he had large squarish cubes with cobwebs of robes in their interior. Simon is at least relieved these kids can enjoy themselves… but for some reason or another, it reminds him of Li as a child, and his old heartaches badly at the constant reminder of the proper life he has denied her. Sometimes, he reflects on his younger self, and the conversation he had with Jung a few days ago. Perhaps if Simon had a tougher resolve in his earlier years, he could’ve done what was best for the two of them and put their piracy life—his piracy life—behind him for the young Li’s sake. Or perhaps it’s because of his iron resolve that he stubbornly resisted the idea of breaking his blood-oath with Zhui that Simon found himself unwilling to turn his back on everything, for the little Li’s sake…?

As Simon dwells in his thoughts, he finds himself increasingly exhausted from the trekking he undertook earlier. His long, old feeble legs cry out with a burning sensation. Simon subconsciously bends his knees slightly, provoking mild grunts from the old badger. All the while, Simon scans the plaza for any place to relax and discovers a dirt-brown wooden bench just outside the perimeter of the industrial playground, next to a Toscani sign that he can't quite read. He looks both ways across the street both dragging his feet with continuous grunts and practically crashes down on it, slumping back in a mix of a moment of fleeting bliss.

It puts me out in the open, Simon ponders as he lifts his head to glance behind at kids enjoying youth for what it ’s worth, but at least my legs won't be as sore. Simon cuts loose a frustrated sigh, and just as he reaches into his breast pocket to pull out a cigarette carton, he takes notice of a dark-blue car cruising down the road before coming to a stop in front of Simon. At first, Simon straightens up and looks around frantically, but relaxes thereafter when he remembers that the car is unmistakably his. Maybe I am acting too paranoid for my own good? Simon ponders as the engine’s whining winds down and is cut off.

Through the passenger window, Simon observes intently as the silhouette reaches over onto the passenger-side and rolls down the dark-tinted windows. The driver peaks his dark bowl-cut head out and gives a toothy grin. The man is Rocco, one of Simon ’s three stooges. Rocco in particular is more or less the wise-guy leader of the three. “Little late, aren’t I?” Rocco remarks nonchalantly. But before Simon can reply Rocco already sticks his head back in—but peaks out with a more serious frown. “Boss? What the hell do you think you were about to do?”

Simon, being old, groggy, and baffled at the way Rocco is addressing him, nearly stands up tensely. “You have some guts to be talking to me that way, Rocco,” Simon retorts. Quite uncharacteristic for the man, too! Simon adds. Rocco, undeterred, points sternly at the sign residing next to the sign.

“I thought better of you, boss! You simply couldn’t wait until you got in your car, couldn’t you?” Rocco scoffs. Simon, confused, glances at the sign and tries to rack his brain for his brush-up on Toscani. Frankly, he never took the liberty of learning the language, He always had locality-hired subordinates who were fluent in both languages do all the busywork for him, though, if he was compelled to do any in the first place. “Boss, really? It says no smoking. I think you must be getting too senile for your own good,” Rocco says pointing sharply at the kids on the playground.

Simon slaps himself on the face. Some of the parents—namely the mothers—at the far end of the park gave him evil, death-piercing glares, and Simon finds it uncomfortably unsettling. With a forceful sigh, he shoves the pack of cigarettes back into his breast pocket and attempts to open one of the rear passenger doors, but Rocco stops him. “What is it now, Rocco?” Simon impatiently asks.

“It’s… uh, it’s a mess back there,” Rocco replies apologetically, “I haven’t been able to clean out the car just yet. It kinda stinks, too, so, uh…” Rocco trails off with a forced grin. Simon again slaps himself on the face with a tiring sigh.

“Don’t tell me…,” Simon begins “you forgot to clean out the cigarette mess, still?!” The look on Rocco’s face is all the answer Simon needs. To this day, Simon still does not understand how or why he employed these three to be his direct subordinates. Simon only happened to cross paths with the lot, and they took up their jobs with great enthusiasm.

“I was getting round to it, eventually…” Rocco says, unconvincingly, but still beaming that idiotic smile.

“You didn’t get either Mark or Rami to do it?!” Simon says, trying not to sputter his words. Mark and Rami were the other two members of the proclaimed three stooges. Both are equally as stupid, and it’s usually Rocco who puts them in their place. Sometimes Simon is terrified of not having Rocco shepherding the other two at any given time, since who knows what kind of trouble they will get into.

“I, uh…” Rocco, scratches his bowl-cut hair, “I couldn’t get in contact with them… or rather, neither were willing to answer back. I think they were in the first block pub-hopping,” Rocco states quickly. Simon can only afford to roll his eyes.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Simon exhaustively sighs. Rocco shifts into his driver’s seat so that Simon can open the door and get inside. Immediately Simon is greeted by the collective putridness of the two comically sized mountains of cigarette butts that nearly spill over into the car’s middle compartment. Simon finds it absolutely disgusting, but at the end of the day, it is his excessive warning about Li over the last few days that has led to this. A snowball effect, if there ever was one.

“Are we heading to the palace, boss?” Rocco asks, starting up the engine, “or we heading back to your retreat in the rear block?” Simon deliberates on the question for a while. Frankly, with the seemingly increase in surveillance again, I want somewhere nice and quiet where Kamon’s men are less likely to look, Simon ponders as Rocco slowly cruises through the plaza. The retreat is probably swarming with her men by now. And the palace, likewise is bound to already have men staking it out, but who knows? I could always search for another hotel, but Kamon will eventually find me somehow. Simon blows a sigh and lowers the window to air out the suffocating car.

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“We’ll just head to the palace. You’re already en route to it anyway. No use in wasting anymore fuel,” Simon says pinching his nose ridge. “By the way, Rocco… this might seem out of nowhere, but you weren’t followed, were you?” Rocco, along with the other three stooges has more or less been left in the dark about Li’s encounter.

When Li came to the Brunsb üttel, he had the three of them sent away so that they could play their part of being dumb, so to speak. The less they know of Li’s abortive attempt at a coup, the better. Although Simon is always harsh on them, he still cares for them in the end. They don’t deserve to be punished just because they are in Simon’s camp. Similarly, none of Simon’s subordinates deserve any needless punishment.

“Hmmm… don’t think so. What brings this about?” Rocco asks. Simon almost feels too sorry for his innocence, but refrains from confessing too much that might endanger the men. So far, Kamon has shown she has been benevolent towards members of the Mafia. But now that Li has thrown the die, there’s no telling what sort of contingency plan she has in store for any of them. “Boss?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon answers, “if nobody has approached you or confronted you about anything, then forget I asked… while you’re at it, contact Mark and Rami instead,” Rocco glances at Simon curiously as he continues “only when you get the chance I mean.”

“You’ve been acting weird ever since the little one left the harbor, boss,” Rocco remarks, putting the car on autopilot briefly to use the car’s radio communication. For a moment, Simon has a cast of doubt: would it be too unreasonable to assume Kamon could intercept a call like this, too? Simon shakes his head, no, that would be borderline paranoia: I’m better than that. Simon suppresses his urge to stop Rocco, and eventually, Mark and Rami do pick up the call and oblige to Simon's order. In the background, there is a lot of overlapping talking and roars of laughter, at least confirming that the two are safe and sound in some pub somewhere.

The rest of the car ride is in silence. Simon tries to keep a pleasant state of mind by observing the passing flower beds and iron-casted walls that encompass the enormous grounds of the Don’s palace. And yet for all its beauty, Simon still can’t help but find the palace itself too big for its own good. It just evokes a sense of loneliness—a feeling he cannot escape when he’s here. Maybe turning back to the retreat wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

Back when Simon first settled in Brunsb üttel, he was elated to have a residence that was the size of a castle. And for all intents and purposes, it is a palace of incredible grandeur. Back in the times of Terra’s ancient history, democratic heads of states fancied themselves elaborate mansions such as this. Simon likens that such architecture and lavishness invokes a vibe of said ministers being not-so-democratic dictators living in their so-called presidential palaces.

And continuing on the tradition, most of the democratically-elected governors of Toscana have called this their home. Most—according to what Kamon offhandedly told him—with their families and some cabinet members. The wing buildings were vast enough, built and expanded upon at taxpayers ’ expense to house half a battalion’s worth of soldiers and still have enough privacy.

Historically, this palace also served as the headquarters for the governorship’s so-called republican guard. When Kamon handed over control to Zhui, Kamon once warned them of a possible insurrection by die-hard Federalists who intended to use the stronghold as a redoubt against the pirates. Ultimately, however, the Brunsbüttel people wished to avoid needless conflict, resulting in the bloodless acceptance of pirate rule and the declaration of the pirate republic. Most of the republican guard's radical members either disappeared, were granted amnesty, or were simply executed. The rest of the republican core rank-and-file were absorbed without issue into Zhui and Li’s elite guard.

Interestingly, though, Kamon offhandedly remarked she never liked the place too much and stated she did not reside there during her de-facto incumbency as Toscana governor. Even since she surrendered Toscana to Zhui, she has always lived in a much smaller residence not far from her agency’s compound.

Originally, Kamon offered the palace to Simon out of a sign of goodwill. But Simon refused at the time and opted to live in a more hermit place at the far-end of Brunsbüttel leaving the palace in Zhui ’s hands instead. But after a rather unfortunate mountainside accident occurred, Simon decided to move into one of the vacant palace wings. Simon also expected Li to reside with him and the rest of the Dong family, but she and Olga decidedly jumped at the opportunity to seize a palace retreat nestled in the mountainous block. There many of the Castelforte crew members called the surrounding area their home as well. Simon similarly took up a residence of his own in the area, but he seldom used it except to visit Li every now and then.

As Simon dwells in his thoughts some more, Rocca passes the open gateway and rolls up into the vast circular driveway, before coming to a stop. “You want something to eat, boss?” Rocca asks, making his way towards the entrance of the mansion, “personally, I’m starving. I was thinking of some hot soups.”

“Well, it’s not like you or the others know how to cook anything else,” Simon remarks dryly “but be my guess. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday or so,” truth is, Simon has had little appetite for anything lately. He has eaten very little, like fruits or energy bars, to keep himself content. Maybe Li and Jung were right and he should cut back on the cigarettes after all. But if it were not for smoking, then how else can he keep his stress levels low?

“That kinda hurts, boss,” Rocca says, with a chuckle, “but I’ll whip you up a bowl as well. Won’t be long, since I’ll just be microwaving some cans,” and off Rocca go. Simon cuts loose a sigh, and proceeds to fumble into his pocket for the cigarettes—but then pauses. Just a few meters away at the palace’s entrance, a muscular man emerges from the outside. He is dressed in a black-brown uniform, with a tilted hat that obscures his vision. But even from where Simon stands, he can make out disfiguring scars on his otherwise clean-shaved face. The uninvited guest glances around Simon before briefly exchanging eye contact with Simon. Simon takes a deep breath, figuring the suited man would approach him. Instead, the man takes a few sidesteps and another person slips into view. And at that moment, Simon exhales timidly.

A rather slim woman with a cloak over her shoulders. Pearly skin, piercing golden eyes, and heavy purplish eye-bags indicating a lack of sleep. That short unkempt graying hair. A single gold earring on her right ear, and a long thin pipe hangs from her bemused lips. She is escorted by two similarly muscular men, who are similarly scarred and have shaved heads. All of them with black umbrellas, one of them holds it for the woman in question.

A shiver down Simon’s spine. Simon has never once feared civilians before. Why would he? Civilians were always terrified of him—once they became aware of who he is and who he is affiliated with. But there is one person who dares to defy all expectations. In a way, this woman is the female equivalent of Dong Zhui: the one person that Simon would never dare to double-cross—the one person that Li did dare to defy if it meant saving face in the face of Federation invasion. She remains as imposing in name as she is in presence.

Beleaguered, Simon slips the cigarette box away. “Madame Hwang!” Simon calls out, and rather than the traditional Mafia salute, bows as low as he can. “It is quite the surprise to see you go out of your way to pay a visit to little ol’ me! Had I been notified of your arrival earlier, I would’ve prepared a better welcoming…”

No response. Unsure if he should peek or not, Simon keeps his head low despite the screaming protests from his back and neck. He hears Kamon murmur something, and then what follows are numerous shuffles indicating the troupe is moving away, at least. Despite Simon ’s pained back, he maintains his awkward bow even as he hears a pair of heels approaching. Even as the madame’s shadow creeps by—Simon maintains his bow. Soon enough Kamon stands adjacent to Simon, but the old badger maintains his bow.

Not so much of an exchange of words. Simon clears his throat and tries his best not to look at Kamon. But regardless, Simon takes a few peeks at Kamon. She only faces Simon partway, and pays no actual attention to Simon, much less meet his gaze. Rather, Kamon takes an extensive puff from her pipe and slowly breezes a hazy cloud of toxin from her lips.

“Simon…” Kamon finally utters. Another long pause as she tucks the pipe between her bluish lips, “you may rescind that uncultured bow, now,” she says in a rather monotonous tone. Instinctively, Simon straightens up without a word. He promptly massages his pained neck and keeps his eyes trained straight at the entrance gates, where one man calmly patrols between the gates.

Unable to handle this tense silence any longer, Simon breaks the ice first, “one of my men is preparing some quick, er, food for us. If you have a moment to spare, I'll gladly have him whip up some more—“

“’Ey boss,” Rocca calls out from the doorway, “where on earth is the—,” Simon looks back at the shocked Rocca wearing mittens and carrying a large pot. Rocca’s bulging eyes shift from the men at the driveway, to Simon and Kamon, but Rocca doesn’t say another word. It’s a good thing he didn’t drop it at least, Simon thinks, else it’d make for a far uglier scene. “Er… right, yeah,” Rocca says recovering “I’ll just, uh, I’ll sit this out and keep the food warmed for later.” Rocca doesn’t wait around for any response and leaves as fast as the hot pot can permit.

“An enticing invitation,” Kamon says in that monotonous tone of hers, “but unfortunately for you, my Simon, I have matters to attend to. And that means I will not be present when the fleet arrives shortly,” Kamon takes a moment for an extended puff from her pipe, “so I ask you to relay this message once your beloved Chou arrives. ‘From one madame to another: congratulations on your victories,’” Kamon states dryly. She huffs a larger hazy-purple cloud than before, all the while making no attempts at meeting Simon’s gaze. Without giving Simon so much of a reaction, she does an about-face and heads back toward her men without another word.

The realization of Kamon’s words settles in. “Li… Li is alive?” Simon asks, nearly speechless. But he receives no answer, and Kamon and her entourage are gone from the scene before he even knows it. It’s almost like in the blink of an eye, this bizarre meeting never happened: but it certainly did. How is she so certain of this? Simon panicky wonders.

Have Li and I underestimated Kamon? Could there have Kamon-aligned agents planted in the fleet? Terrifying thoughts continue to race through Simon’s head. Frankly, it does not occur to Simon that Kamon could have enormous influence over the Mafia fleet until, a fact that sends another shiver down his spine. There could be no other possible explanation if Kamon has active intelligence on Li’s whereabouts at any given time. But even so… what was the purpose of Kamon’s meeting him here? Is Simon suppose to take this as a threat, or is there some other motive Kamon has in mind?

Simon reels around and heads inside the palace. “Rocca! Rocca, forget about the dinner for now. We’ll do it later—get us to the harbor, as soon as you can!”

Never before has Simon been so scared of the future than now. For the first time, Simon is terrified of what the unpredictable Kamon can do. Not only for himself, but for Li as well.

[author]

Original Royalroad disclaimer

I get a little uncomfortable when writing actions like smoking or drinking. The stuff that happens in this fiction does not reflect my views, and I don't condone the use of such substances to deal with stress and etc.[/author]