Chapter Thirty-Seven

Trials and Tribulations of a Mayor Who Cares

Keong interrogated Thug Number One. He hated that the idiot called himself that, it was like calling yourself Conspirator Number Two or Prime Suspect, and the mayor had distanced himself from those two morons. It amazed him how many people in Goulcrest didn’t have simple common sense. It was as if they were the butt of some cosmic joke, playing out their stupidity for some twisted god whose sense of humor was low-brow puns and eye pokes.

“Can I just call you Fred? It would make my life so much easier,” the mayor begged.

“Right,” Thug Number One said with a wink, “So’s if’n you has to discuss this conversation with certain authorities you kin protect my identity. Mighty considerate of you, yer honor, sir.”

“Yes, Fred, that’s exactly why,” the mayor swallowed a retort and his face grew red with exasperation. “Now, tell me again, slowly, everything that happened with the constable.”

“Right. Like I’s told ya, me and Thug numb. . .” the newly dubbed Fred began.

“Let’s just refer to him as Bill,” Keong pressed.

“Erm, ok then, me and BILL,” Fred emphasized, “Had just killed the good and just constable Guro, and I was comin’ back ta tell ya the good news when the constable hisself, cuts me off and I was forced to flee back to Thu, um, Bill. I finds Bill all butchered and mutilated like. Poor bastich was a sure goner. Blood was everywhere, as was little bits’o Bill. It looked like a charnel house vomited on the street.”

“And then,” Keong prodded.

“Then, there was the constable, right behind me and not even breathing hard. He chats me up a sec, and asks why I’m muckin’ about like a chicken wif a knot on his head an’ I tells him that me partner has been right murdered like and show him the evidence!”

“Which had vanished.” The mayor concluded for Fred.

“Ezactly! Not a trace of ole Bill anywhere. Not a drop of blood or a scrap of flesh. Why you couldn’t even have put his head on a pike, onna count it was gone too.” Fred rambled a bit more, and the mayor studied his face and demeanor. The man was being as honest as he could. He and his partner had killed the constable, and then run into the man on the way back to town hall. The constable had been hale and hearty and showed no sign of having been killed minutes before. The other odd thing was not Thug Num, Bill, he mentally amended, getting killed; but the way his remains just vanished.

He had seen the constable just appear out of thin air and he had to wonder if the officer wasn’t some form of undead. Goulcrest had once been a haven for the undead. That was where the town name had come from, it was from an old language that meant Ghoul’s Rest. Local legend said that the town’s founders had sacrificed themselves to lay the fidgety dead to rest. Keong had always assumed that the last part was meant to be feral or even furunculosis for all he knew. Of course, the way the people in Goulcrest thought they probably did mean fidgety. Not that it mattered at the moment. Something strange was happening in his town, and he wasn’t a part of it.

Keong prided himself on his civic-mindedness when it came to groups conspiring against the town. He was involved in dozens of groups that planned to get a piece of Goulcrest under their control but made certain to never actually lead one. He generally came onboard as the number two man, frecking hells! He was thinking of himself as a number now! It had to be contagious; some numerical virus that warped one’s brain to a point that you became less of a person and more of a cog doing its job.

The mayor brought himself back into focus by using a mental technique that was akin to splashing water in his face. He couldn’t meditate, but he could force himself into a state of alertness that was unparalleled. Fred was still rambling, but Keong couldn’t bring himself to listen. He just knew that somewhere in there the thug was going to start whining that Guro had grown a beard or some other such nonsense and he didn’t want to hear it.

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He didn’t want to hear it ever again. That was why he had sent Chozen out to meet with the grizzled bandit leader, and told him to use the phrase, “Make it a spectacle.” Chibot knew that when he heard that phrase to kill the messenger and make sure everyone saw it. Chozen had become far too nervous to continue working with the mayor. The man was ready to snap and jumped at the slightest sounds. If he was captured, Chozen would talk before he was even threatened let alone harmed physically, and Keong did not need that weight hanging around his neck. Better to be done with the man and find a new clerk than worry about his flighty nature.

“Thank you, Bill,” Keong said dismissively. He had heard enough to know that the man had been honest in his report and that no one would understand him, let alone believe him if he repeated the story. He could have the man killed later. The mayor was sure that there was a Thug Number Twelve out there that would like to move up in the rankings. He placed that order on his mental To-Do List and waved the man off.

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. My clerk will have some additional coins ready for you as you leave. Leave word of where I can find you with him if I need you again.” The mayor didn’t even look at the criminal as he sent him on his way.

“Erm, beggin’ yer pardon sir, but’cha ain’t got a clerk down at the desk.” Thug renamed Fred said earnestly. “I can’t write so’s I ain’t gonner be able to leave no note, but I would be happy to just get my extra coin from you. If’n ya don’t mind.”

Keong cursed himself. He hadn’t gotten a replacement for Chozen yet, and the man, spastic as he was, doing the bulk of the workload in the office.

“Ah, Chozen.” Keong lamented out loud.

“Yes, sir?”

Keong swore that he’d heard his clerk’s voice, but that was impossible as the man’s head was currently in a jar of pickle brine in the cellar of the Hall. He’d kept it to use as evidence when someone from the empire appeared and wanted to verify his story. They always did at some point when funding was involved, and Keong had learned that having a body on hand went a long way to backing up any claims he might have made.

“I’ll note his current residence and give him an extra fifteen percent in compensation for his partner’s death per standard operating procedures,” Chozen’s voice came again and Keong could feel a cold iciness creeping up his spine. He turned slowly, afraid to look in the direction the voice had come from.

“Chozen?” His voice quavered and carried a tremulous quality that few vibrato singers could ever attain.

“Sir?”

“I thought you were dead. Slain by that turncoat, Chibot.” He made sure not to mention that he had basically ordered the murder via a coded message.

“No sir. I’m not sure who that was, but it wasn’t me.” The mayor could see a perfectly healthy clerk standing in his doorway.

“Where have you been? I had no word from you at all, and I would swear that the head that came into was yours. The body had even been wearing your clothes.” The mayor tried to sound demanding, but his statements came off as weak probes for information.

“I have no idea who that unfortunate soul was, but I can say with certainty that he wasn’t me. As for what I’ve been doing, I’ve been helping the town to prepare for the upcoming raid. We wouldn’t want the people getting massacred. That,” Chozen said cheerfully, “Would be a tragedy.”

Keong’s whole body seemed to deflate. Somehow, he’d been beaten. Chozen didn’t seem to be the nervous wreck that he could easily manipulate. The man was upbeat and smiling. It was a state of being that, in all the years Keong had worked with the man, that he’d never seen him in. A happy and carefree Chozen was a suspect Chozen.

The clerk had also gleefully informed him that he was helping the locals prepare for the upcoming raid. He wasn’t supposed to do more than to help prepare them to die. Something had happened to Chozen, just as it had to Guro. It would not surprise him if Chozen hadn’t just appeared in a puff of grey smoke very recently. He knew one thing. The moment he was alone he was going to the cellar and looking at just whose head was in the pickle jar.

“I also have some papers bearing Imperial Decree that state that we are to have new night lamps, which have been provided by the empire, installed as soon as possible,” He waved a scroll in the air as proof of what he was saying.

“They’ll just have to wait until after the raid,” Keong said snidely. “No point in wasting time putting them up for the raiders to tear them down.”

“I’m afraid that the decree states that these are to be installed immediately posthaste. No exceptions. Any delays will result in a loss of funding from the empire, which will,” Chozen said with a grin, “Impact your requests for funds after the raid if the project isn’t completed beforehand.”

“Very well,” Keong said in resigned defeat. “See that it’s done quickly. That Fred, get his information and pay him the usual recompense.” Chozen nodded and waved an arm at the door, indicating that Fred was free to leave. Dim-witted but not stupid, Fred followed instructions and left the mayor’s office. Chozen closed the door behind them and their footsteps faded as they went down the stairs.

The mayor’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t broken, but he had to ask himself what else could go wrong. What further stressor could the gods thrust upon him?

“How goes the plans to decimate the town,” came Skull’s hollow voice.