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Chapter 20

Elli left and I went to bed with my head filled with high dreams and very unpeasant-like hopes. Everything was finally going right, I’d have a surname again, just like my parents before they died. I’d tons of creds and even open a guild of my own.

All of us, together, were going to start a new era for the city. Just after the next night’s trip to the old mech battlefield, and the collection of the treasures buried within.

They were happy thoughts to dream about.

In the morning, I got out of bed, throwing my sheets to the floor and pulling on a pair of shorts. Humming, I rolled out of my small sleeping chamber and into my pantry, grabbing some bread, cheese, and a piece of cured lamb. I sliced the bread and cheese, arranging them onto a wooden plate alongside the meat. Adding an apple from the basket on the counter, I grabbed my water pitcher, emptying its last drops into a clay cup.

Taking a seat at one of my work benches, I set it all up in front of me and scanned the room for any sign of anything illegal or troublesome.

Everything was looking good.

Smiling, I unhooked and opened a nearby shutter, letting the light of the morning spill over my small spot by the window. And by doing that, I laid my eyes on an ogre-like goon that started banging on my door. Behind him stood two others, thinner and lankier fellows but standing in a martial manner. Short swords were sheathed at their sides. They turned to face me as the clatter of my actions alerted them to my presence.

All of them were wearing guild badges, and I sighed. Narrowing my eyes, I noted the crossed pickaxe and sword of scavenger enforcers and I sighed again.

Guild enforcers.

The three men stepped onto my sparse dirt lawn and made their way to my window to confront me face to face. The hulking figure, the man who'd been pounding on my door, led the way. He stared hard into my eyes without blinking as he stopped just a step away from my face.

I stared back, doing my best to show no fear despite the hard beat of my heart. Guys like him would eat me alive if I ever acted like a chicken.

We stared at each other for a good minute before one of the lankier ones put a hand on his shoulder. He turned and I snickered, prompting him to look back at me with a rising scarlet blush over his face.

“I win,” I whispered, giving him a little wave, while simultaneously feeling my fear drain away. The worst of it was over. Now that they knew I wouldn’t wilt like a daisy on hot concrete, the actual discussion could begin.

The lankier and presumably more intelligent one took his place, a friendly face despite the faded crescent of a stab wound gracing his right cheek. He glanced at me, then at the food on my workbench.

“Sorry to have to bother you during your mornin’ sup, but I bin sent to talk to one Alaric, a serf scavenger who I hear is lucky enough to run his own shop?”

His eyes were sharp and assessing, despite the lazy drawl and happy nice-to-meet-you smile. I nodded, taking a slow-motion bite out of my apple.

He glanced back at his companions.

“We have been sent here to talk about the matter of unsanctioned manufacturing. Seems someone saw a transaction in these parts, a few days back at most, dealing with a mech hand that was unquestionably tinkered and altered.”

I set my apple down.

“I’m well within my credited rights to do repair work. I already paid my work dues to the manufacturing guild and signed the independent labor tithe to Scavenger Master Boyerman. There’s no devilry here, Enforcer--”

“Enforcer Radulf,” he answered. “Now, see here, the problem isn’t anything to do with your authorized work. It has to do with your unauthorized work. Word has been told that your work was quite obviously of the latter. Too good to be a straight fix. In fact, the word that was said was amazing, along with other words like newly wrought and master tier. Now, all that, that’s a different beast altogether.”

I frowned, my mind whirring in thought. The mech hands had been too good, obviously. Too changed, and now their eyes were on me. I’d have to think of something fast, or guys like this would be looking over my shoulder for the next decade and all of our plans with CD would be effectively over.

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“Enforcer Radulf, I understand your concerns,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Honestly, I had some help, is all. A friend of mine is an engineer and a good one at that. In fact, she’s even done some one-on-one mech work for some of the knights. I fixed the hands then she added improvements.”

I paused, watching their reactions carefully.

“If you’re still not convinced, perhaps there’s something I can do to make this right. I’d hate for there to be any misunderstanding or trouble.”

Radulf narrowed his eyes, but it was obvious that he was considering my words.

“Is she licensed to innovate?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. They’d be asking me for a name soon enough, and I didn’t want to get Elli roped into whatever this all was.

“Listen, it seems clear to me that Master Boyerman sent you. We all know that side work usually gets overlooked. Including improvements. I’m guessing we did too good a job and now he wants something from me.”

Radulf chuckled.

“Something like that. You and your friend, you can keep on innovating, but you sell through him from now on.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and ice formed inside my chest.

“How much are we talking?”

“Ten percent.”

Closing my eyes, I nodded. There wasn’t any use in asking who’d be getting the ten percent cut. Just like there was no use in trying to bargain, or in flat-out saying no.

This wasn’t an offer. It was an order.

I opened my eyes and took another bite of my apple.

“The improvements required outside scavenge. Anyway, I can get a vault license to find some good parts, and maybe edge up the quality of the merch. I’d love to make enough to keep affording quality breakfasts.”

Radulf looked over my face and smirked.

“You’re a big fit guy. Maybe you should get into enforcement, cuz that right there ain’t no feast. Look, I’ll pass it on to Master Boyerman. I’m guessing he’ll give you some leeway. It’s more cred in his coffer, right?” He leaned closer, over my window ledge, his nose right up to my own. “Just don’t fuck around,” he said in a menacing whisper. “Got it? Boyerman ain’t happy that you tried to pull a fast one on him. And he’s always watching. I know we just met, but I like you. I’ll see if I can’t get you that vault license fast, and get you moving back into his graces. ‘Cuz I’d hate to have to trash your workshop and break your legs.”

He leaned back. The big enforcer smashed a hand into his fist, staring at me again but this time with a huge, gotcha grin on his face, while the other one just looked bored. I nodded, my mind still spinning chaotically as I tried to process it all.

“Yes, Enforcer Radulf. Understood. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Alaric. Thank Master Boyerman. He’s the one giving you this grand opportunity.”

I started to laugh but caught the suddenly stern and expectant look on Radulf’s face. This was obviously another order.

“Thank Master Boyerman for this opportunity. I look forward to our partnership.”

“I’ll let him know you said that. Except for the partnership part. You’re a serf; he won’t take kindly to that. Just do your dues, Alaric. I’ll see you around.”

With that, he raised his hand, his pointer finger extended, and twirled it in a circle. The three of them turned and left, leaving me to stare at my food, my face suddenly burning in a rash of anxiety and frustration.

That was the thing about Alnda. Once you were down, you were never allowed to rise again. I balled up my right hand and smashed at my work bench, one, two, then three times, feeling the sting of it swarm through the meaty part of my hand.

Standing up, I grabbed my shutters and yanked them shut, their closure booming through the confines of my shop.

“Fuuuck!” I yelled at the ceiling.

I noticed that my half-eaten apple had fallen to the floor, and I booted it across the workspace, just in time to see it pass through the flickering image of CD, now a bearded man wearing a tunic that sported the exact same badge of the scavenger enforcers.

“CD, you heard all that?” I asked, my voice shaky with anger.

“Indeed. It would seem that the master ape wishes for more fruit and beetles for his dining pleasure. Would it not have been beneficial to have killed these three, in order to prepare for war with this Boyerman warlord?”

I stared at him, watching him cock his head quizzically to the side that was just a bit too alien, and barked an angry laugh.

“Not a warlord, but he might as well be. He’s got legal backing. He, well, he owns me. As much as someone can be owned anyways. I was hoping to buy my freedom from him, but this deal, it’ll keep me under his thumb forever. How are we supposed to move and sell anything good if he gets to keep all the profit?”

CD nodded.

“There are usually workarounds. Tell me more about this vault license.”

“It gives me salvage rights to any vaults that I might find and removes the serf bracer requirement for any vault expeditions I file for from the Scavenger’s Guild. It also puts me on a list so that I can pick and choose missions when they become available. It’s a good deal for most scavengers, but for me, it’ll all have to get put into new fancy bullshit that the guild will now sell for a ton of money and leave me with peanuts.”

“Ah, yes, peanuts. Truly the currency of apes. I understand, and I think I have a solution for our current dilemma.”

I stared at him, expectant. After a minute of silence, I let out an exasperated sigh.

“And that is?”

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? We will scrap the battlefield for later, and instead take a vault mission. We will find tech, wield it into something irresistible, send it to this master scavenger, and then boom, problem solved.”

I sat down, the whole thing playing through my head, and began to laugh. Yeah, that could work. I laughed harder, imagining pieces of him launching in every direction. Yeah, that’d definitely do.