Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  The streets were dead. At the midnight hour, few people could be seen, other than guards and thieves. Fredlin shivered a little, the case in his hand rattling with each step that he took. Making late-night deals, selling illegal potions, it was all very exciting. There had been little action for Fredlin, ever since he gave up on life. Well, ever since all the people in his life had given up on him. Now, for the first time in years, adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

  Fredlin walked through the streets of the Mermaid District, on his way to the Ward of the Dead. Millions of bodies rested within the Ward, a place for those who passed away to be either buried or burned with honor. There was little point to having a necropolis, Fredlin believed, mainly because the dead should be reanimated and put to work. Letting perfectly good corpses just rot in the ground made little sense. Then again, people, the city watch, and half a dozen lawsuits prevented Fredlin from gaining any undead servants.

  Of course, that wouldn’t have mattered after the Luminous Artifact came in. The wave destroyed every servitor, soul-bound worker and skeleton man in the city. The underground “labor” market collapsed shortly thereafter. Now people had to get their hands dirty the old fashioned way, and they hated it. Hard work was just that, hard work. It was laborious, exhausting and tiresome. The worst part of it was that after a man spent all of his day working to put bread on the table, he would have little time to himself before he would have to rise up the next morning and go through it all again.

  Fredlin had a solution to that. Well, to be more specific, the man who created the Cimirite crystals had a solution. In his arms was a case of 12 stamina potions. A single potion could refresh a man’s body and spirit instantly, as if he had the best sleep of his life. Such a potion would be useful for those who had much to do in the evening and in the daytime.

  Finally, he reached the necropolis. The large stone walls adorned with now dysfunctional holy symbols greeted him. A lone man, leaning against a staff and half-asleep, guarded the doorway. The walls weren’t meant to keep people out, but rather to keep vengeful beings in. One of the few upsides of the magic ban was that the dead could not come back to life anymore. Magical energies that collected around especially violent or cruel deaths often jump-started a freshly buried corpse. A soul that had been wronged, any soul that still remained in the world, could latch onto the body and then rise up to take their terrible revenge.

  Now, the only thing that would haunt the graveyard were even shadier individuals who had business away from the prying eyes of the city. Fredlin was one of those men. He approached the guardian, who merely nodded at him and pointed to the door. The large, wooden gates had a smaller, human sized door that was easy to go through.

  “It’s unlocked,” the guardian said with a raspy wheeze. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. Not like anything’s gonna get you.”

  Fred said nothing back. He was too focused on the meeting ahead. He fumbled to get the door open, putting the case underneath one arm briefly so he could work the handle. Eventually, after some balancing, the door gave way, revealing the immense amount of graves and tombstones of the Ward of the Dead.

  There was a directory nearby, with instructions as to each of the 50 levels of the crypt. The Ward stretched deep into the earth. Those who were poorer were buried deeper. The wealthy, the elite and the heroic were buried on the top, given statues and accolades. But Fred wasn’t here to pay respects, nor dance on the graves of any of his peers.

  “By the statue of Jarick,” he mumbled to himself as he walked across the cobblestone path. The statue of the beloved Saint Jarick wasn’t hard to miss. It was in the center of the cemetery and stood at nearly 40 feet in height. Jarick’s hands were reaching up to the heavens and his face was stern and reverent. At his feet was the personification of death, a woman with a veil upon her face. She was dejected and broken, as if she had been defeated by Jarick. It was lovely. But not as lovely as the sight of the man sitting on the edge of statue.

  “Bout time,” the thief muttered. He was eating an apple, slowly slicing it to pieces with a knife, making sure to peel the skin off before eating.

  “Sorry, I’m not used to walking long distances and avoiding the city watch,” Fredlin answered.

  “You’ll get better at it, in time,” Ossic replied. “Provided we want more of what you got.”

  “I guarantee that you will,” Fredlin said. He walked up to the thief and held the case up to be inspected. “Twelve potions of stamina.”

  Ossic nodded and hopped off the statue. He pulled the top of the crate off and grabbed one of the blue bottles. “How’s it work then?” he asked.

  “You drink the whole thing, instantly awake. It’s like you’ve been sleeping for the last 12 hours of your life.”

  Ossic uncorked the potion and gave it a swig. “Damn, that tastes wretched,” he said as he gagged a little. There was a little left at the bottom.

  “You’ve got to finish it,” Fredlin insisted. “Or else it won’t have an effect.”

  “Drinking potions again, what a novelty,” Ossic said as he downed the rest. “Hmmm, not bad. Feels good. Like I haven’t been climbing into people’s houses all night. My shoulder ain’t so worn out either.”

  “So, what do you think? Is it worth the price?”

  Ossic rubbed his nose a little. He wasn’t a particularly pleasant man to look at. He sneered quite a bit and his eyes had the habit of darting up and down, as if scanning constantly for some kind of weakness. “That ain’t up to me, you know. But I’ll take the case to my associates and if we like it, we’ll put in for some more.”

  Fredlin crossed his arms. “I’m not leaving without payment.”

  Ossic chuckled and brandished the knife he had been cutting the apple with. “You really gonna pick a fight with a man who just had the best rest of his life?”

  Fredlin took a step back and pulled out a knife of his own. “I took a nap before I came down here. I’d just about say I’m ready to go.” He was, of course, lying his ass off. The truth was that if the man started stabbing Fredlin would just run like a complete coward.

  “Picking a fight with a client isn’t the best way to get things started,” Ossic said. He narrowed his eyes and dropped down into a combat stance.

  Fredlin also dropped into a stance, but first carefully placing the bottles on the floor. They would only slow him in down in the chase.

  Ossic stared for a moment and then laughed. “I can appreciate a man who’s willing to die over money.” He pulled a small coin purse from his side and threw it to Fredlin. “That should be more than enough to show that this deal is being made in good faith.”

  Fredlin let out a sigh of relief. He glanced into the bag to see silver coins staring back up at him. Silver was worth enough beer to let the rest of his loyal crew drink until the new year.

  “How will I know if you want more?” Fredlin asked.

  “We’ll send a messenger to you. Then, just leave our shipment next to the statue, same time as today,” Ossic replied. “Your gold will find you, don’t worry about that.” He extended his hand to Fredlin. “This should be the start of a fruitful relationship.”

  “Agreed,” Fredlin said, silently thanking Viola, the goddess of risk taking as he shook the man’s hand. It wasn’t every day that he got to meet with the leader of the local thieves guild. He had no idea how Sanderalli knew how to set up the meeting, but she really pulled through. And she would certainly get her share of the profits. Fredlin’s Potion Emporium officially had its first customer.

  Chapter 23:

  The smell of flowers was too much for Samuel’s allergies. He sneezed yet again, dabbing his wet, burning eyes with his handkerchief. Normally, flowers didn’t bother him, but being inside of Koli’s Corner Flowers brought out the worst of his allergies. He sneezed again.

  “Anything I can help you find?” Mr. Koli asked from behind the counter. Roses, lilacs and sunflowers were just about everywhere, making it hard to move without bump
ing into some type of plant.

  “Actually, I was hoping we could speak,” Samuel replied, stifling another sneeze. He brushed past a few overgrown ferns and leaned on the shop counter. Mr. Koli was middle aged, with a big thick, black mustache and even thicker eyebrows. The man had quite the reputation within the Ivory district. His flowers were popular, and he sold across all price ranges. It didn’t matter if a man had a copper or a gold piece in his pocket, he could leave Koli’s with a flower for any occasion.

  “Ah, of course. Who did you offend? Wife? Girlfriend? An entire district with those garish clothes?” Koli asked.

  “Hah hah,” Samuel grumbled. His clothes weren’t garish. They were lavish, that was an entirely different concept. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase. I want to buy your business.”

  Koli’s eyebrows arched up at that. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” Samuel said, he placed two rubies on the table. “These should be worth 30,000 or so. More than enough for your store.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not for sale,” Koli replied. “This is more than my business, it’s my life.”

  Samuel nodded that. “Oh, I’m still going to keep you on staff. There’s just going to be a few policy changes.”

  “Policy changes?” Koli repeated with a laugh. “I don’t know who you are, but you sure have some nerve to come in here, try to buy a business my father built with his own two hands and then boss me around.”

  “Sorry, maybe we got off on the wrong foot here,” Samuel said. He leaned forward. “You’ve got a business that everyone goes to. It’s in a high traffic area and no one, regardless of their disposition or status, looks suspicious for coming in.”

  “So?” Koli asked. He reached his arm down to the right of the counter, as if he were grabbing for something. No doubt a club to beat Samuel with.

  “So, I want to sell some products other than flowers here. And you’d get a cut of whatever I sold. But I want to own the business for some legal reasons,” Samuel explained. He didn’t quite understand the legal part of it, but those had been his instructions. Find a high traffic area where clients could secretly place orders and pick up small orders without arousing suspicion. This hit all the marks.

  “I’ve got a good legal reason for you right here,” Koli said as he produced a thick, spike covered club from behind the counter. “You got three seconds to get out of my shop.”

  “Hey, hey, take it easy,” Samuel said as he grabbed the gems off the counter and backed up. “I can clearly see you have no interest in my offer, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I know your type,” Koli said. “You’re the kind of person who thinks everyone else out there is just as dishonest as you are. You think I don’t deal with thieves and guilds coming around here looking for protection money? I’d rather burn this place to the ground than deal with anyone like you.”

  “Fine, sorry,” Samuel replied. He turned and left the shop, wiping his nose a little as he hurried out. This was an unfortunate twist that he didn’t see coming. Koli’s had been the best pick in the Ivory district. The other shops were either too niche or too expensive. This was the one piece of real estate in the area that would do well for the operation. There must be some way he could convince Koli to sell it to him.

  It was strange, to meet someone who didn’t immediately roll over at the sight of large amounts of money. Samuel genuinely had no idea what it would take to get the guy to sell the shop. Sure, he could just give up and go for some other place, but he didn’t want to admit defeat just yet. Everyone had a price, Samuel just needed to determine the currency.

  So, he watched, and he waited. For the next three days, he tailed Koli, watched him in his habits. The man seemed to live a fairly bland life. He would get up at 5 in the morning and walk to the shop. Then around the noon, he would leave the shop to buy lunch at the same market stall. After an hour, he’d return to work until late in the evening. Then he’d go home, to an empty apartment until it all began over again.

  Nothing seemed to change in the man’s routine. For Samuel, it was pure agony. How could anyone fall into such a simple pattern of living? Where was the action, the adventure and the excitement? Stability was baffling.

  There was little room for exploitation, at least from Samuel’s observations. The man had no vices, no hidden sins or weaknesses that could be brought to light. Koli was just a quiet florist who made no waves in the world. Samuel’s first thought was simple intimidation. The location was too valuable to just leave alone. If Koli felt fear or that his life might be in danger unless he sold the business, he might act differently.

  Was this wrong? Perhaps, but it wasn’t like Koli wouldn’t be compensated for his cooperation. Besides, setting up walk-in stores to buy crystals was part of the plan to ensure common people had adequate access to healing spells. Everything still needed to be kept quiet. Just because Prax was out of the picture didn’t mean the rest of the Kalimites weren’t around. The false Prax would keep suspicion low, but the utmost causation was still required. A discreet storefront was vital.

  Samuel had toyed with the idea for a few days, considering the morality of his choice. In the end, he decided to do what was most pragmatic. As long as Koli was being compensated and wasn’t hurt in any way, a little intimidation would be fine.

  Recruiting Groth for the plan, Samuel and his Stonemar ally waited outside the store in the early morning. No guards were around, of course. They certainly couldn’t be nearby to aid Koli. The two waited until eventually Koli came around the corner, whistling without a care in the world. He paused upon seeing Samuel.

  “You?” Koli growled. “What in the hell do you want?”

  Samuel gestured to Groth. “We’re just here to talk.”

  “Oh, you want to talk?” Koli snapped. He stormed right up to face Samuel head on. “Then say what you have to say. I’ve got flowers to ready.”

  “Uh,” Samuel squeaked. He had been expecting an entirely different reception. “I want you to reconsider my offer from earlier. I can pay you double.”

  “Double? Why not quadruple?” Koli shouted. “Or sextuple! Why not offer me everything in the world, like I’m some beggar in the streets who would sell his brother for a loaf of bread.”

  “Hey!” Samuel shouted back, shoving Koli a little. “You don’t get it. My partner and me? We want this storefront.”

  “Oh yes, the big guy,” Koli said as he shifted his attention to Groth. The Stonemar was standing at a neutral position, simply staring at him. “You gonna beat me to death if I don’t do what he says?”

  “Death, no,” Groth said as he stood fully erect, towering over the man. “But I will be certain to paralyze you.”

  “You think I’m afraid?” Koli shouted, pulling out a knife. Samuel leapt back but wasn’t nearly as fast as Groth who stepped between the two. “Oh, I’m not afraid one bit! You wanna take my business? You think I’m scared?” And with that Koli began stabbing himself with the knife, screaming bloody murder as he repeatedly jabbed his own stomach with the blade.

  “Holy shit!” Samuel screamed, his eyes wider than saucers. Groth reached down to grab the weapon from the man’s hand, but not before he got a few more cuts in. Blood was soaking through his apron and he was laughing hysterically.

  “Have fun getting the property from my estate lawyers! Ahahahahaha!” Koli screamed in manic joy.

  Samuel dug into his jacket and pulled out a healing crystal. Doors were beginning to open to a few of the nearby warehouses and a few curious faces were sticking out. The screaming felt as if it echoed throughout the entire city. The green, healing power of the crystal pulsed towards Koli, quickly sealing his wounds.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Samuel shouted as he bolted back towards one of his offices. Koli’s screams had stopped but was merely replaced with laughter.

  “You didn’t even have the guts to watch me die!” Koli giggled, his voice seemingly following after Samuel and Groth as they rushed
away from the scene of the crime.

  “That was unexpected,” Groth said once they reached a nearby safehouse. It was an abandoned warehouse that had been furnished primarily with dozens of crates for some kind of exporting operation. Or something. Samuel hadn’t bothered to ask about that part of the operation. If it concerned him, it would come up eventually.

  “Tell me about it,” Samuel replied, sitting on a nearby crate. “That guy was a complete nutjob.”

  “A madman with nothing to lose,” Groth mused. “How curious to see an identity so tightly connected to his work. Without it, he is nothing.”

  “Yeah, so he’d rather die than hand it over,” Samuel said. He sighed at that. Well, with a man that determined, intimidation wasn’t going to work. Maybe it was time to call this a lost cause.

  “Some would rather be dead than lose what they love,” Groth said. “Does he have any children or a wife that we could threaten?”