Finances

Income

Mission #4

6s

Expenses

Wages

14p

Profit

4s 10p

Total

9s 3p

The money from that mission was much needed. Lothar’s finances had been on a downward spiral, and he’d begun to worry. Things still weren’t healthy.

I need to sort out a team for missions out in the wild, he acknowledged to himself. It was easy to blame Wilson for the failure of mission 3. But Lothar had been hesitant to take on these missions, then too willing to trust in the gnome’s overconfidence.

The high priest of the Alinko church was delighted at the return of the reliquary, and agreed to spread the word about Lothar’s services. He needed all the customers he could get.

It was only when Lothar left the building that he realised he’d made a rookie mistake. Someone was watching him from an alleyway, the hood of their cloak hiding their features. Lothar couldn’t know for sure. But if that was one of Boris’s employees, he was in trouble.

Why wouldn’t Boris suspect Lothar’s involvement? Or at least have the church watched? And he had blundered in, virtually confirming his involvement.

Maybe that wasn’t Boris’s man, he considered, as he returned to the familiar surroundings of The Rose. But Lothar recognised the sinister comforts of delusion. Boris knows. And for all Lothar could point to the stress of recent events to explain it, he had blundered badly. Own it, he told himself. Maybe I’m getting too old for this? That was an unwelcome thought. I don’t know anything except this life.

Wilson was perched on a bar stool and Lothar joined him. ‘What are you drinking?’ Lothar asked.

Wilson peered at the murky contents of his leather cup. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Two more of those,’ Lothar asked Suzie.

‘I’m sorry, Stiff,’ Wilson said, eyes fixed on his drink.

He sounded it, and Lothar felt it best to go easy on him. ‘I need to do some recruiting out in the wilds. Then you can lead a team back to that farm.’

‘Of course. And thanks for paying me.’

‘My mercs always get paid. I suggest you use it to get yourself a new weapon.’

‘Of course.’

‘There’s something else I might need you for. Things might be getting a bit hairy between me and One-Eyed Boris. I could use some muscle. A bodyguard. Just in case.’

Wilson nodded. ‘I’ll go and get me an axe.’

‘I got some news, Stiff.’

‘Don’t suppose it’s the good kind?’

‘Nah,’ said Mila, taking a seat next to him. ‘You were right about Boris. Knows you were seen going back to that church.’

‘So he’s going to kill me, I suppose?’

‘No doubt. He’s playing it cautious, though. Wilky says he’s worried you’ve got a considerable gang of thugs at your disposal.’ She glanced over at Wilson, stood to attention by the table. ‘If only he knew the truth, right?’

‘Just get on with it,’ Lothar said sourly.

‘Apparently, he’s gonna leave a trap for you. Hire your mercs for a job, then ambush them. Leaving you alone and easy to finish off.’

Lothar looked up his available missions.

SELECT MISSION

RESCUE LIVESTOCK, £1

PROTECT FROM BRIGANDS, £2

STEAL WEAPONS, 8 shillings

‘Steal weapons?’

‘That’s it. A friend of his is going to offer you the job. They’ll send you to a warehouse near the docks, where Boris’s thugs will be waiting.’

‘Cunning bastard. Thanks for the heads up, Mila. I appreciate it.’

She held out a hand until Lothar gave her thruppence. Then she smiled. ‘What are you gonna do, Stiff?’

‘Think things through.’

She shrugged. ‘Alright. Good luck.’ She left The Rose.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

‘You don’t trust her,’ Wilson commented.

Lothar turned to him. ‘I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. But yeah. I only trust her to a certain point. It’s past time I started thinking more shrewdly, and before I act.’

‘What you need is a right hand man,’ the gnome said. ‘To talk through your strategy with.’

I had that and more, once, Lothar thought. It would be nice to have it again. But he was worried the gnome was about to nominate himself for the role, and so moved the conversation on.

‘One thing’s for sure. It makes sense for me to leave Avolo for a while, until this mess dies down. Maybe you can look after things?’

‘What “things”?’

It was a fair question. What, exactly, do I have here that needs protecting?

‘My team. Look out for them, will you?’

‘Alright. Anything you need right now?’

Lothar opened his books. He had eight mercs. He’d used five. The others he had hoped he’d never need to use. But the beginning of a plan was forming in his mind.

‘I need you to fetch someone for me.’

Lothar was no expert on the shadowy world of the common thief. But he imagined having a hand missing was a distinct disadvantage.

Despite that, and what Lothar assumed to have been a generally hard life, Magnus ‘Mags’ Nold was a generally cheerful fellow. He perused the man’s stats. ‘It says here you’re ambidextrous.’

‘Aye, that’s true.’ Mags grinned amiably, showing off his few teeth. The sight complemented his tatty clothes and unwashed body odour. The real colour of his hair was impossible to guess at, beneath the layers of dirt and grime. The lice looked so big Lothar wondered if he was deliberately growing them as a food source.

‘But you’ve only got one hand,’ Lothar said. ‘Why am I paying extra for a skill you can no longer use?’

The grin faded. ‘That’s a little unfair, Stiff. Surely it would be punishing me twice over to dock my pay for losing a hand?’

Lothar sighed. He gestured across to Mags’ friend. Murder was a terrifyingly large Alinko man of few words. ‘I don’t have any skills recorded for him.’

‘Mada,’ said Murder.

‘That’s correct. No skills.’

‘Then why is he a mercenary? What use is he?’

‘That’s a fair question. We come as a package, I suppose. He’s not very good at anything, to be honest. He’s a kind hearted soul, though. And at first sight, quite menacing.’

‘Alright. The other fellow I’m looking for is Harry Lypt.’

Mags shrugged.

Lothar checked his file. ‘Known as Kacker.’

‘Oh, Kacker. Yes, I know him.’

‘Well I can’t find him anywhere.’

‘Kacker will be in a drug house somewhere. I can find him for you.’

‘Alright, Mags. When it’s time, bring Kacker with you.’

‘Thanks, Stiff,’ Mags said, getting to his feet. ‘You won’t regret this.’

‘Mada.’

Lothar watched them go, feeling like the worst kind of lowlife. But what choice did he have? The world was a harsh place, and he wasn’t running a charity. He glanced at Wilson, standing to attention. ‘What are you looking at?’

The gnome shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Come on. Let’s meet our client.’

They left The Rose and made their way across the city to the south side. Here the tang of the sea did a reasonable job at hiding the unpleasant smells of a rough part of town. They passed The Anchor, where Lothar had his run-in with the Golden Blades. Around the corner, they met The Baron.

‘Well?’ Lothar asked him.

‘She entered with a couple of heavies. They’re a few tables away. But there’s no signs of an ambush. Looks legit.’

Lothar gave his thanks and they carried on. The Sailor’s Knot was neutral ground, frequented by the many crews on shore leave.

‘Wait at the bar,’ Lothar said to Wilson as they entered. He trusted the gnome to come to his aid if needed. But Lothar had some lying to do, and he wasn’t sure Wilson was as practised in the art as he was.

A scan of the lounge area and Lothar found his client easily enough. Rosalind De Cheney sat alone. She was slim, middle-aged, raven haired, with a distinctive lock of white hair.

Lothar joined her at the table—though table was a generous word for a slab of warped wood balanced precariously on two stools. She already had a bottle of wine and two cups, and poured him a drink.

‘To business,’ she said, offering her cup.

Lothar clinked it. ‘To business.’ It didn’t taste half bad. Then again, my palate has probably been ruined from drinking at The Rose. ‘I’m stealing weapons?’

‘Yes. You have a crew ready?’

‘Aye.’

‘How many?’

‘Four.’

‘Is that all?’

‘It’s all I have and all I need.’

It wasn’t all Lothar had. And it was the most miserable group of reprobates he’d ever laid eyes on.

Rosalind studied him, looking for the lie.

‘There’s my bodyguard,’ Lothar added. ‘The gnome I came in with. But he doesn’t do this kind of job.’

‘I see. Well, if you think four is enough, that’s your call. There’s an arms dealer known as Frantic Jack. He gets his weapons brought in by ship and stores them in a warehouse not far from here. There’s security, but it’s minimal.’

‘And who does he sell these weapons on to?’

‘Anyone who wants them.’

‘Like the Golden Blades?’

‘Sure. But you’re not stealing from the Golden Blades. You’re stealing from Frantic Jack.’

‘Huh.’

‘And you’re getting eight shillings. That’s the minimum for a half decent haul. There’s a good chance that four of your mercs can grab more valuable items, and carry out a nice quantity of gear. The more the take, the more your cut is. Here.’

She opened a piece of parchment on the table. Lothar held down one end and leaned over, close enough to inhale her perfume.

‘This is the warehouse,’ Rosalind said, using a long, lacquered nail to identify the target. ‘It has entrances front and back. This is where your people drop off their haul. It couldn’t be any easier.’

Maybe not, Lothar mused. Unless you and Boris are planning an ambush. He gazed into her dark eyes for a moment, but she was unreadable. ‘Alright, we can do it. When’s a good time?’

‘There’s fewer ships coming into port this time of year. But as soon as I hear of Jack getting a new shipment, I’ll let you know.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

She smiled. ‘Here’s to a profitable relationship, Stiff.’

‘Well?’ Wilson asked as they left the Knot and made their way back to The Rose.

Lothar looked around, but no one was following them. ‘Well, there was no ambush. Rosalind could be on the level, or she could be setting us up for Boris. Boris could be planning to murder us all, or he might not.’

‘Mila could be lying to you,’ Wilson offered.

‘She could.’

‘You must be feeling pretty paranoid?’

‘I sure am. And I’m getting the hell out of this city tonight. But I need to know what the situation is. So I’ve got four mercs who are going to do this job. None of them will be a loss if things turn sour. Then I’ll know for sure how things stand.’ Lothar glared at the gnome who was making one of his faces. ‘What?’

‘I was just wondering when I’ll be sacrificed for your greater good.’

‘Well, since you’re so concerned, I’ve got good news. When I’m gone, you’re in charge. And when this job happens, you can look out for the crew.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t warn them, or they’ll bail. Don’t tell them you’re going to be there. Find somewhere to hide. That shouldn’t be a problem for you.’

‘Hide?’ Wilson repeated, as if offended by the notion.

‘Aye. Hide. Observe. Only intervene if you have to.’

The gnome made another face.

‘I think you owe me.’

‘Alright, Stiff. Fair enough. But what if you can’t trust me?’

Lothar smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got someone trailing you.’ He watched, amused, as that idea sank into the gnome’s head. ‘Now who’s feeling paranoid?’