Finances

Income

Mission #22

£7

Expenses

Wages

£2 3s 3p

Profit

£4 16s 9p

Total

£31 9s 8p

Before the meeting began, the great and the good of Avolo mingled in the forum of their city hall. There were drinks and nibbles. Lothar barely knew anyone there. When he spotted a tall man with a shock of white hair and an eye patch, he was relieved to see a familiar face.

‘You going up in the world, Boris?’ he asked the merchant.

‘Ah, Stiff. Here,’ he said, grabbing a cup of wine from a table and passing it to Lothar. ‘This is the best stuff. Better have it now before it’s gone.’

‘Thanks,’ Lothar said. For a moment, he allowed himself a sentimental moment, nostalgic for The Rose that he’d been forced to sell. There had been something immensely satisfying about having a drink in your own establishment. He tasted the wine. ‘Nice. So?’

‘Oh. Yes. I’m on the council now. Business is going well, and Rosalind helped me to get elected.’

‘Good for you. Don’t suppose she’s told you what this is all about? She wouldn’t reveal much to me.’

‘I’m the new boy, Stiff. I keep my mouth shut and get told how to vote. But free drinks ain’t bad.’

‘I suppose so,’ Lothar said, disappointed. He didn’t like being kept in the dark, worrying that he was about to be ambushed in some way. He nodded across the room to The Baron. At least he had one supporter here. But was The Baron his ally, or Rosalind’s?

They were called into the council chamber, and shown to specific seats at a round table. The Baron sat next to him, and it was good to have some moral support. Urkal Foberoy was deep in conversation with a couple of his colleagues on the council. One of them, a large man with a bald pate, had a gold chain of office around his neck, which identified him as the mayor of the city. Otherwise, Lothar didn’t recognise anyone else.

Until Rosalind entered from another door. With her was Sal Blair.

Lothar’s hand went into a fist, and his knuckles turned white. So. It is an ambush.

She directed Sal to a chair and the two of them sat together. The chatter around the table died down.

‘Let’s bring the meeting to order,’ said the mayor who had been talking with Foberoy. ‘Some may have heard rumours; most not. Either way, I thought it best to postpone discussion until Mr Blair could come and give us an accurate update on the situation to the north, rather than relying on speculation.’ He nodded over to Sal.

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‘Thank you, Mayor Chorley. The Golden Blades have been tracking a goblin warband heading in our direction from the east. They have been dislodged by the Kuthenian advances. Defeated by the Kuthenian army, their lands seized, it would seem they intend to take ours instead.’

‘Bloody Kuthenians,’ said Foberoy. ‘How many?’

‘Five thousand.’

Everyone’s eyes lifted to the mercenary captain’s, as a collective sense of disbelief settled on the council.

‘Did you say five thousand?’ Foberoy asked.

‘Five thousand. My chief scout estimates two thousand are trained warriors. Another two thousand on top of that can and will fight if needed. Clearly, their numbers represent an apocalyptic threat to the civilization we have built in Gal’azu. We can expect little from them except death and slavery. I suggest the council begins preparing for all eventualities, including evacuation by sea.’

A dozen voices began talking all at once, until the mayor banged on the table hard enough and long enough for everyone to quieten. ‘We have made our lives here,’ Chorley said. ‘Of course, evacuation is the last resort. We will stay and fight if we can.’

‘There’s more,’ said Sal. ‘Two of my best scouts who tracked the warband were lost. My chief scout reported the reason. The goblins also have a mage amongst their number. It elevates the threat they pose to another level. The horde is heading for Dorwich City, and is only about four days out. My merc numbers have fallen recently, to forty in total. We do have about the same number of guards in our employ.’ He looked across the table at Lothar. ‘Clearly, though, I don’t have the resources to stop them. Some arrangement needs to be made with Mr Sauer’s Rotten Apples, urgently, if we are to make any impact.’

All eyes turned to Lothar.

‘Mr Sauer?’ asked the mayor.

‘I only have sixteen on my books. Not all of those are warriors, either. The Apples can’t make any difference.’

‘Mr Sauer. After The Golden Blades, your company is the best we have. It’s all we have. We need your help. Now, of course, this threat needs a full response from all the settlers in Gal’azu. Everyone must be mobilised and do their part if we are to survive this. But conscripting an army capable of fighting; building defences; gathering resources; all the many tasks ahead of us—it takes time. We are reliant on you to help Mr Blair and his company hold off the goblins, for as long as possible.’

‘Maybe it could have worked,’ Lothar said. ‘But my squad will never agree to it.’ He pointed a finger across the table. ‘Just a week ago, Mr Blair’s brother murdered one of my mercs in cold blood. There’s no way we can work together after that.’

Desperate glances were thrown around the table. Lothar sat resolute, while Sal refused to react to the accusation. More than one pleading look was directed at Rosalind.

‘I understand what you say, Mr Sauer,’ she said at last. ‘But we must find a way for you to work together. Our very existence is at stake. Feuds must now be put aside, or we all lose.’

‘I’ve said my piece.’ Lothar got to his feet, his chair scraping along the floor. ‘There will be no accord between The Rotten Apples and The Golden Blades. If we have to, we will take our chances out west. Sorry to disappoint the council. Good evening.’

Lothar left. Maybe it was childish, but he enjoyed the sight of Sal’s and Rosalind’s disbelieving faces as he left the good people of Avolo to their imminent demise.

‘What was that?’ Rosalind demanded, back at her house.

‘I’d ask you the same question. For my part, it was an honest answer to the question posed.’

‘You would ask me? Alright, what’s your problem, Stiff? Out with it.’

‘I thought we were a team. Yet you don’t discuss the meeting with me beforehand and spring Sal’s appearance as a surprise.’

‘That was the agreement between the mayor and Sal. Blair wanted his news delivered himself, not leaked to people before the meeting. I didn’t know what he had to say. And by the way, how could you accuse me of not being a team player, after the help I provided in Eisenberg?’

‘If we’re a team, we share information. You don’t hide things, and then ambush me in a council meeting.’

‘I ambushed you? Nonsense. Being a team means we should be equals, Stiff. It doesn’t mean I have to check with you first. It doesn’t mean I have to do everything the way you want it done, and get accusations thrown at me when I don’t.’

‘You use words like weapons. I know what happened. It’s time I stopped taking advantage of your hospitality. I want to buy The Rose back. At least now Sal’s no longer in a position to extort money from me.’

‘It’s called The Smashed Marbles now.’

‘Whatever it’s damn well called.’

‘Fine. I’ll have The Reckoner draw up the paperwork.’

‘Fine. Thank you.’

Lothar left Rosalind’s house. He stormed off into the streets of Avolo. He was full of anger, and he didn’t even know if he had won their argument. Didn’t know if he was being a jackass, or not.

But he did know one thing. The Golden Blades were in trouble. Avolo, and the whole of Gal’azu, was in trouble.

This was his chance to take his company to the next level. Even if it meant falling out with Rosalind, he couldn’t afford to blow it.