by Eric Ugland
He shrugged.
“Good job?” I asked.
“Good enough,” he replied.
I wanted to ask him about the Explorer’s Club, but just as I opened my mouth, the door opened, and the footman appeared.
“You may enter,” the doorman said. “But just you.”
Nathalie bristled. She was definitely about to say something untoward, but I held a hand up to her.
“I’ll be fine inside. Just wait here a few minutes.”
Her lips thinned. She glared daggers, first at me and then the footman. But she did as I asked, and walked over to Lee and the lutra. It felt like Nathalie was taking her job a little too seriously. Though I hadn’t exactly remembered León telling me she was a bodyguard. More that she was in my service.
“Onward,” I said with a smile to the footman.
He just turned and started walking in response.
Our path through the building was more circuitous this time, which meant I got to see a little more of the Club’s opulence. Given the time of day, the large leisure-type rooms were empty, but the dining room was almost overflowing with diners. The footman escorted me through the depths of the clubhouse until we were in a hallway lined with doors. He knocked on one, waited a moment, then opened it. Inside sat a small table with seating for one. Theun Bottes was on the other side of the table, his bulk overwhelming the chair. Empty plates were about the table, as well as a half-full bottle of wine. Or juice. Or whatever — it was essentially brunch time, so it could well have been Bellinis for all I knew. An exquisitely engraved small bell made of some shiny metal sat in one corner.
Bottes looked up, a tiny crystal glass in his meaty paw.
“Oh,” Bottes said with surprise. “I was not expecting you.”
“I apologize for the interruption,” I started.
Bottes waved his hand at me. “Not a bother. I was just having a post-meal drink. Now, where is your master?”
“My master?”
“The man to whom I owe this favor.” Bottes held up the favor coin.
“Apologies, that man was my father.”
“Was?”
“He was murdered.”
“So the rumors are true,” he said, a small smile spreading across his face. “I did not realize I was in league with nobility. You are a duke now.”
“I am.”
“Well now,” he said, eyebrows high. “This is quite intriguing. I would offer you a seat, but the private rooms really are limited to a single diner.”
“That’s okay. I fear my business for the day would preclude me from accepting such an offer.”
“Ah, I can imagine a newly-made duke has much debauching to do.”
“Perhaps later,” I said, really trying to keep my temper. This guy just exuded slime.
He raised his glass to his mouth and took a sip of the syrupy liquor inside, then raised his eyebrows knowingly.
“Do you mind,” he started, “but we are not blessed with the heraldry one finds in the Empire. Would you be willing to show your indicium to me?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling a little weird about the situation, but really just wanting things to get on the way. I peeled off my shirt, once again reminded of my need to find a tailor, and flexed that weird internal metaphysical muscle to make the indicium emerge. This time, however, I focused just on the Coggeshall Achievement.
I looked down at my chest, to see what was there, how it had changed. There was now a small crown on the top, but the same bandersnatch filled out the middle. Despite conquering the Dungeon of the Ancients, I hadn’t unlocked more of the achievement.
“Oh so impressive,” Bottes said, his beady little eyes looking me up and down like I was a slab of meat.
“About that favor,” I said.
He blinked a few times, pulling himself out of whatever lurid fantasy he’d popped over to. “Yes. A favor for a duke. What might I do for you, my lord?”
“I have some land—”
“Congratulations. One would imagine it is quite a bit of land.”
“It is enough.”
“How much land are we talking?”
“I don’t exactly know.”
“Is it nearby?”
“Nearish.”
“Curious. Go on.”
“I am in need of some assistance in, well, building up my holding.”
“A grand castle for a grand duke?”
“I suppose saying an imperial castle for an imperial duke would be more along the lines of what I’m doing.”
He leaned back into his chair, the poor thing creaking like it was about to give up the game.
“Imperial duke. Curiouser.”
“What can I say?”
“I assume you have come up against some of the, shall we call them vagaries—”
“Quirks, perhaps.”
“Ah yes, quirks. The quirks of doing business in Osterstadt.”
“I have, yes.”
“And you are here to claim a favor to get help navigating those needlessly arcane rules and traditions?”
“Either that or helping me avoid them altogether.”
“What is it you need? What is your formal ask of me?”
“I need workers. Able bodies. Craftsmen and women.”
“Is that all?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised. “Here I thought you would be requesting lumber, stone, gold—”
“Just bodies.”
He filled his tiny glass to the brim and slurped little sips of it for a moment. I dutifully held my tongue and pretended as if it wasn’t the most annoying sound known to man or beast.
“What you and your father did for me was nothing short of a miracle, and I am beyond grateful. Plus, it cannot hurt to have an imperial duke as a friend in these trying times.”
I closed my eyes and nodded my head so slightly.
“Here is what I can offer you to fulfill your favor,” he said, pulling out a piece of parchment and a feathered quill. He began writing. “You may choose four, no five, five individuals from my top tier. You may choose five from tier two. And then twenty from the bottom tier. In addition, I shall provide you a writ for two mages for one whole year.”
He nodded, still writing, then signed his name with a flourish. He folded the parchment up, pulled a small stick of wax from the drawer under the table, lit the wax, dripped it on to the fold, and stamped his ring into the wax.
Then, he rang his little bell.
Close to instantly, the door opened, and a footman stuck his head inside. Bottes handed the parchment to the footman.
“Please have that delivered immediately,” Bottes said, “and call for my carriage.”
“At once, sir,” the footman said, bowing from the room.
“My carriage will take you and whomever is your advisor to my housing,” Bottes said. “My overseer will meet you there, and he will know the boundaries of our deal.”
The favor coin spun up from the table, into the air, and popped with a blink of light.
“Ah, the gods have accepted our interchange,” Bottes said with a smile.
I just smiled and nodded.
“Good day, Lord Coggeshall,” Bottes said. “I look forward to seeing this castle once it has been built.”
Chapter Eight
I stepped out of the room and was met by a different footman who wordlessly escorted me from the building. Out front and a bit off to the side, there was a carriage waiting. It wasn’t a big or ornate thing, but it looked nice. The sleek black horses out front matched the glossy black carriage behind. The driver sat in the front, looking like an extra from one of those posh BBC Dickens films: jaunty sort of hat, curly hair, a hooked nose, that sort of thing. But he had a crossbow next to him, and beneath the lace coming out of his sleeve, I spied a fine weave chain mail. A heavy chain hung about his neck, with a large carved animal of sorts. Though I tried, I had no idea what animal it was supposed to represent.
A quick pull from the bag, and I slipped a gold coin to t
he footman. He looked down at it in his hand, and sighed as if it was beneath him to even bother accepting such a tip. Then, he disappeared back into the building.
My party was watching me. As was the driver.
“Just a moment,” I said to the driver.
“As you wish,” he said, relaxing ever so much and pulling a small flask out of his jacket pocket.
I crossed the street to where my party stood, leaning around an unlit lamppost.
“What’s that about?” Ragnar asked.
“It’s a carriage,” I replied. “Takes you places.”
No one even cracked a smile.
“We’ve got a ton to do and little time to do it. So if you don’t mind, we’re going to split up. Ragnar and Skeld, you guys go with Lee and talk to the, well—”
“Furry people?” Ragnar finished.
“Sure. Whatever. Go get a read on the situation and if anyone has expressed a desire to leave the city. Nathalie and I are going to visit some place and pick out some workers.”
“Wage—” Lee began.
I held up a hand. “Let’s not go down that path yet. I don’t know the full extent of what’s what, but I will make sure that these people are treated right.”
Lee nodded.
“You want us to offer, what, citizenship?”
“No, just suss things out. I’d like to be the one who makes the offers and whatnot, just because, you know—”
“It is your name on the door?” Lee asked.
“Yeah, exactly. Good luck. Let’s meet at the Imperial House at noon.”
“What door is he talking about?” I heard Ragnar ask as the three guys headed down the street.
Nathalie and I climbed up into the carriage. I leaned out the window.
“You know where we’re going?” I asked.
The driver nodded.
“Onward!”
The driver shook his head, clearly annoyed with me.
Nathalie looked out the window as we lurched forward. While this carriage had shocks, at least some form of them, they were definitely on the softer side. Every little bump in the road sent us into an unending wave of undulation. It made me a little queasy.
“So,” I said to my compatriot, “you were a tournament fighter?”
She nodded at me.
“What was that like?” I asked.
“Exciting?”
“You don’t seem very thrilled.”
“Tournaments were never my first choice for my life.”
“Then why—”
“My parents. There are certainly some complications that come with my heritage.”
“Being royalty?”
She smiled. “I am of the Imperial line. At least, I am at present. But my family was unlanded after my great-great-grandfather tried to steal the throne. Thus, we have no real power. My parents groomed Léon for politics, and he has been quite successful, but their plans for me required me to be alive. And unblemished. So while I desired a life of combat, I was precluded from joining the Legion. I tried monster hunting, but while I was in training, there was the Von Klamschtien intrusion, so there was no chance for me—”
“What is that?”
“The Klamschtien intrusion? It was an infestation of slagspawn that broke out in south Messeg Vale. Took down quite a few monster hunters, as well a a goodly portion of three Legions before it was finally quelled.”
“Ah,” I said, as if I had any idea what slagspawn were.
“That is when the arena was ruled out for me as well. Too dangerous. Too great a chance I would be scarred, and—”
“But not in the tournament?”
“There is a chance in tournament fighting as well,” she said, “but the rules are very rigid. The chances are very small. It is more of an emphasis on skill and perfection in form than victory at all costs. Hits to the face are generally considered demerits.”
“What was your event?”
“I did the joust, the mounted sword, the sword and shield, and the shield freestyle.”
“Shield freestyle?”
“Shield plus any weapon.”
“I mean, that’s pretty cool. How’d you get stuck with me?”
“Léon. And my parents, uh, our parents passed away recently.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. It has been difficult. Léon and I had some long discussions about what my life should be, where it should go. For so long everything had been dictated by my, by others. Now that I had to make a choice, I knew not what to do. Prior to my uncle dying, I had been toying with the idea of joining the Legion. Or even seeing if the Thingmen might accept me. Or perhaps signing on with an adventure company heading out to the Grasslands or the Erg, or even across one of the seas. I—”
“Wait, back up. Adventure companies?”
The carriage stopped with a hard lurch, and I almost fell into Nathalie. The door opened, and small stairs fell down from the carriage automatically.
“We have arrived, my lord,” the driver called out.
Chapter Nine
I walked down the steps and took a look at our surroundings. We were in the courtyard of a dormitory-like building. Five levels of mossy grey stone in serious need of upkeep. Small stone benches were set up in a few spots where someone had tried to plant grass and trees, but the only things that grew were mud and disappointment. A few young children watched me, their games paused for the moment. I felt a distinct depression hanging over the entire place. The lack of sunshine didn’t help matters. We were near the cliffs and the soaring walls, which, while impressive geological formations, were rather hellish on pleasant lighting.
An older man wearing thick robes walked down the steps from the front door, a smile on his face like this was just the nicest of places. He met us at the cobblestone roundabout.
“Good day, my lord,” he said with a slight bow towards me.
The bow felt awkward. I wasn’t at all comfortable with people giving me such deference.
“And a good day to you too,” I replied.
“I have been told you are here to pick up some workers.”
“You're the overseer?” I asked.
“Nutresh Zuithusu, at your service,” he replied, sweeping off his soft hat to reveal a brave attempt to embellish what remained of his hairline.
“Montana Coggeshall, duke of Coggeshall.”
“Honored, my lord. Will you follow?”
He popped his hat back on and spun around, marching happily into the building, chattering away, assuming I was already following.
“Mister Bottes has one of the finest collections of workers in all of Osterstadt, currently numbering in the hundreds.”
“And you oversee them all?”
“I do. It is quite the task, if I do say.”
“He mentioned tiers to me.”
We passed into the building, where things got even more gloomy. A few weak candles were losing the fight to push back the dark. There was a small door in the wall with a plaque next to it. I took a step towards it, thinking we’d be meeting in the office I assumed was there, but Nutresh continued into the building moving down a hallway.
“The tiers were established in the Third Guild Concords 38 years ago. There are eight levels, denoting both the skill requirement of a position and the skill of the worker in the position. Now while I would love to let you know all the mathematics going on in the background, it is proprietary. Suffice to say, part of my job today is to guide you through the process of choosing workers, and to insure you need not worry about the tiers overly much.”
“To which I am eternally grateful.” Immediately, I wondered how to turn this situation more towards my advantage. This guy worked for Bottes, and though Bottes was helping me, I didn’t for a moment think Nutresh would guide me to the best workers. He’d be a fool to do so. Rather, he’d try to convince me to take all the drek they wanted to unload. I couldn’t blame them; that’s just the rules of the game.
Whatever Nutresh
had been saying, I’d lost, having spent those moments in my own mind. He seemed to be happy for the moment, so perhaps it was more sunshine blown up Bottes’ bountiful behind.
The hallway ended in a large open room, something like a cafeteria. Long tables and poorly made benches dominated the room. There was a small kitchen area to the right, where something smelling, well, smelling, simmered over coals.
Nutresh guided me through the tables until he stood in front of a door. He fumbled with some keys, unlocked the door, and ushered me into a very small office with two chairs. Notably, he frowned at Nathalie and shut the door in her face.
I grimaced and was about to say something, but needing Nutresh as much on my side as I could manage, I just plastered a stupid smile on my face and ignored it.
It was a tiny office with a small desk wedged into the space, a bit lower than comfortable, with one chair on either side. There was a cabinet to the left and stacks of paper to the right. On the desk was a plate overflowing with candles, with enough spilled wax to indicate there had been many a late night spent here. There were no windows and no vents of any kind. Next to the candles was a pot of ink and a host of quills. And, the most obviously important thing in the room right now: a thick ledger.
Nutresh settled in his chair, and pulled out a small piece of parchment. After a quick glance, I could see it was the missive from Bottes.
“This is quite the, uh, transfer,” Nutresh said.
“Before we get deeper into the, uh, whatever you want to call it,” I said, “can you just explain how things work here?”
“In what way?”
“You said something about transferring ownership—”
“Of debt,” he said quickly, interrupting me. “Just of debt and contracts. These workers will be contracted to work for you for whatever time remains on their contract, or until they pay of off their debt.”
“So they have to work for me?”
“There is no coercion taking place. But you are able to call in their debt, at which point they will either pay what they owe or be placed in the debtor’s prison where they are forced to work it off. So most will take any job as long as the debt is not called.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling pretty gross about this whole situation. “Let’s do this.”