Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  Chapter 41:

  Samuel raised his glass and tapped a knife against it. They were in an underground base, beneath the Ivory District. The Thieves Guild had been so gracious to donate this property after their extermination. Now, Samuel, Cimir, Groth, Elias and Captain Markov were sitting around a table, eating and drinking. There was much cause to celebrate. Their enemies were dead, their crew was safe and best of all, Glimmer was alight with discussion of their organization’s power.

  “Gentlemen!” Samuel said, raising his glass high. “I would propose a toast!”

  “Indeed!” Markov said, raising his glass as well. “With the elimination of the Thieves Guild, and word rapidly spreading about who was behind it, I would say that we are poised to become the single strongest organization within Glimmer.”

  They all raised their glasses at that. “To the Cimirite Empire!” Samuel said, as he knocked the glass of whiskey back. They all drank to that.

  “Cimirite Empire?” Cimir asked.

  “I heard Markov use the phrase a few days ago,” Samuel said. “I like the sound of it.”

  “I’m honored you’d name it after me,” Cimir said.

  “Well, it’s better than just calling ourselves a small business organization,” Elias said. “People need to know who we are.”

  “With Prax under our control, an expanding city watch roster and a new potion operation, we’ve got a lot of money coming in,” Markov said. “Things couldn’t be looking better for our enterprise.”

  “But there is much to be done,” Elias added. “The first and foremost is the addition to another voice at the table.”

  “Oh?” Markov asked.

  Elias glanced at Samuel and Cimir, who both nodded in unison. “Captain Markov, you have been a vital part of this organization. We have voted that you would do better as an equal voice at this table.”

  Markov did not look surprised. “I accept this position. Your sentiments echo mine. We may have been successful in disarming the Thieves Guild, but we were lucky.”

  Cimir coughed a little and shared a glance with the Captain. “Indeed,” Cimir said. “But we are making some changes to avoid that. Elias has agreed to step down from his position as the executive authority.”

  “Instead,” Samuel added, “each of us will be controlling a different part of the operation.”

  Elias scowled a little at the words but said nothing. Samuel could see the look of frustration upon his face. But Samuel continued. “I will be in charge of handling the face of the operation, meeting with customers and making business arrangements. Elias will work on the back-end, managing the money, the supplies and the shipments. Cimir will keep working on the magic end of things.”

  “And I assume that I will be operating the combat end,” Markov said.

  “Exactly,” Elias replied. “You’ll handle anything that requires a fight. With your expertise, we’ll be able to avoid problems with other organizations.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement among the men

  “And what of me?” Groth asked. Everyone turned to face him. Samuel had not been expecting the bodyguard to actually speak. “In light of my service, I would ask that I be given a voice at this table as well.”

  Elias went to speak, but was promptly interrupted by Markov, who raised his glass to the brute. “Of course, my friend. You will not be forgotten in all of this. I hereby move to allow Groth to become a voting member as well.”

  “And what would Groth be able to handle?” Elias asked.

  “Groth is a philosopher and a scholar,” Cimir said. “We would do well to listen to his words. I second the nomination.”

  “You honor me,” Groth said, bowing a little to Cimir. He glanced at Samuel. “I know that Elias will vote no. You will be the deciding voice here.”

  Samuel shrugged. “Why not? I vote yes as well.” While Samuel was unsure what Cimir and Markov saw in the beast, he also knew to trust their judgement. Besides, adding a fifth member to the operation would prevent ties in voting. And it didn’t hurt that Groth’s loyalties were to both Markov and Cimir.”

  “Then it is decided,” Markov said. “Groth, you will have a vote as well. I would propose that you handle the non-human affairs. There is a significant population in this city that would do well to work for us.”

  “An ambassadorship? I am most honored,” Groth said. “I thank you all for your kindness.”

  Markov glanced at the rest of the men and smiled widely. “Well, gentlemen? I would say that the sun is just about rising on the Cimirite Empire. Within the year, we’ll have control of this entire city.”

  “Here, here!” Samuel said, raising his glass high again. They all raised their glasses to toast to that sentiment. Even Groth feigned drinking in celebration. Even though they were miles below the city, they all felt as if they were finally on top of the world. Nothing could stop them now.

  Epilogue:

  Lord Prax wasn’t sure why he was walking along the city roads. There were so many things he needed to do. But no one would listen to him. Sometimes people would appear in front of him and talk, but after a moment, they would simply fade away. He couldn’t make sense of their words most of the time. Sometimes he would hear a name or a word he would recognize. He would try to speak back, but the words would be garbled and warped. No matter what he said, they would not respond.

  “There you are!” said a voice from above. Prax gazed up to see a figure floating in the sky. It was a man, wearing a toga and carrying a harp at his side.

  “You see me?” Prax asked. “But how?”

  “Oh, my, you are in a bit of shock,” the floating man said. He gently drifted down to the earth and put a hand on Prax. “Sir, you are dead.”

  “Dead?” Prax repeated. The ground around him shifted rapidly. He was no longer in the street, but was in a forest, where a broken and burnt cart rested on the ground. Memories, intense memories of pain came shooting back. Death had come for him, but not a death of honor. A death administered by cowards and wielders of magic. His nostrils flared at the realization. “They killed me!”

  “Afraid so,” the spirit said. “Took me a while to find you.”

  “And who are you? A demon?” Prax asked. He took a slight step back and fumbled for his axe, but it was gone. He was naked, of course. Although, he hadn’t realized it until just now.

  “Not a demon, a psychopomp. You may call me Ginfea,” the man replied. “I am here to guide you into your respective afterlife.”

  “Why was I not spirited away immediately? Shouldn’t I have been taken into the afterlife the moment of my death?”

  “Normally yes, but the nature of your demise gives you means to return,” Ginfea replied. “Your soul has been tainted by a great crime and as such, you have a right to come back.”

  Prax glanced upwards, at where the crystal radiated. “I was assured the Luminous Artifact would prevent such a thing from occurring.”

  “Normally, yes,” Ginfea repeated, “but you were killed with magic. A powerful type of sorcery which contains life essence in the very spell itself. So…you can return. Your soul has collected enough power to return to life. But I would ask you to think carefully before you did. You will not be who you are now. Your soul will be marred and tainted, twisted and broken. Fractured, even.”

  “Why tell me this then?” Prax said. “Why not just ferry me to my home in the Eternal Plains?”

  Ginfea smiled and plucked a string of his harp. A single note rang out, opening a portal in the middle of the air. Prax could see fields of wheat and a cool breeze rush from the portal. “I am your spiritual guide in the afterlife, you must know all options if I am to do my duty.”

  Prax took a half step towards the portal but froze. Images of a man who wore his face came flashing back. Another man was walking around, speaking on Prax’s behalf. Ordering Prax’s men. Listening to the pain and suffering of his second in command, a woman who Prax greatly cared for.

  “Tell me more about
returning,” Prax asked. “Will it affect my afterlife?”

  Ginfea shrugged. “Only if you violate your morals and duties as you have sworn to obey them. But I see you worship a bevy of deities who believe in revenge as a moral duty. So, a quick trip to finish off those who wronged you won’t affect your afterlife per-say. But…most mortals don’t do well with the transition. They become feral quickly. Each minute that passes, your sanity weakens, and you become more of a monster. And if that happens, well, you might end up becoming a spirit for good. Then you’re in the same boat as me, pal. And trust me, if I had a chance to go to the afterlife, I sure as hell would. Well, I had the opportunity once, but now look at me.”

  Prax sighed. “I fear that I took an oath to Kalimar and I cannot break it, not even in death. Tell me how to return to my body.”

  “Just remember the moment of your death,” Ginfea said. “Remember the rage and the anger. The pain, the agony. The feelings of helplessness.” The entire world around Prax began to fade. “And remember to let go of that hatred the moment you’ve gotten your revenge, or you will be lost.”

  Earth. Prax realized he was laying in the dirt. His body ached, it burned from the immolation that had been visited upon him. He coughed and wheezed, realizing that all of his senses were back. But they were…sharper. He thrashed about, fighting to get out of the dirt until finally, he emerged from a shallow grave by a tree.

  Prax looked up at the sky. The moon was shining brightly. How long had he been dead? That didn’t matter. He was back, for as long as he could keep his wits about him. Prax let out a snarling howl, unable to control his burning rage. Stooping over, walking with somewhat of a limp, he scampered toward the city of Glimmer. The false Prax needed to die.