by David Bokman
Samson, too, was in uncharted territory, but not for the same reason. Sam had seen nonhumans before, travelling through Grensby. No, for the young Aeni, it was the sheer size of the city that proved unfamiliar. He had never in his life seen even close to this many people in one place, nor buildings this tall. Houses stacked on houses, stones stacked on stones far up into the skies. How did they build these structures? And how did they fit this many people into a single city? It did not make any sense to Samson. He had taken pride in being able to navigate around people in the tavern with ease, but out here, it was a different matter entirely. Of course, it did not help that he was a good couple of feet shorter than everyone else, meaning most people did not even notice him passing by. Perhaps staying unnoticed is for the better, though, he thought to himself, as he followed his friends further into the City of Opportunity.
⧫ CHAPTER VII ⧫
Cadwell’s patience was running thin. “Ten suns, bare minimum. This sword has gotten me out of trouble more than once.” And I’d keep it, if it didn’t attract so much damn attention.
The blacksmith shook his head once more. “I done told you, nobody in the city would buy a weapon that size, not in a million years. Best I can do with it is reuse the metal. Five suns.”
“The Townsguard could use it. Nine.”
“Townsguard? This piece of junk? Don’t make me laugh. Six, and not a copper more.”
“Portsguard, then. They need all the metal they can find, I hear. Eight suns.”
“They do, but I’m not stupid enough to go to West Kardh’Ao and sell it.”
Cadwell cursed. “Seven suns, and let’s never talk again.”
“Deal.”
A sword lighter and a few coins heavier, the old man continued his journey through the busy streets of the city, each one more populous than the entirety of Grensby. It had been many years since Cadwell had last visited Kardh’Ao, and by the looks of things, it had only continued to grow in his absence. Numerous buildings now stretched as far up into the sky as the eye could see, and the Townmaster's Tower stretched even further. Wherever he looked, people were walking, talking, shopping, or conducting a myriad of other activities. Another clear change from when last he visited was the number of guards. Today, it was hard to walk more than twenty paces before spotting another pair of guards patrolling the streets in their polished grey armor. Whoever’s in charge seems more concerned with keeping the people safe than fed. Perhaps the most welcome change, though, was the streets themselves. Last he visited, even the streets here in East Kardh’Ao were in desperate need of maintenance, and going for a walk without dirtying your boots was an impossible task. When the old man walked the streets today, however, it was a finely paved stone road that met his boots and guided him towards his next stop: the antiquarian.
Pawning off the baubles Cadwell had acquired from the manor proved an even bigger hassle than selling his claymore. He had made it clear to the Laentarian that he only wanted to lay his hands on trinkets that Jaio and his gang had stolen. Stealing their trinkets isn’t great, but at least it’s better than stealing things that belong to the manor. And I need the money. Jaio had given him a few statuettes and figurines, depicting what Cad presumed to be Gods and Goddesses. The antiquarian, an old man with the largest, most unkempt beard Cadwell had ever laid eyes upon, disagreed.
“Gods and Goddesses? No, no, no, this is junk, nothing more,” he said, his voice old and coarse. “They’re worth maybe a few moons each, if I find the right buyer.”
“If they were junk, they’d fit right in,” commented Cad, looking around the store. The walls were all littered with trinkets and baubles and heirlooms, each in worse shape than the last. “But they aren’t. They’re all made from pure metal. That alone has a decent value. Don’t play me for a fool.”
The antiquarian pretended to take a closer look at Cad’s items, looking at the statuettes through his golden monocle. “You’re right, it is pure metal, but not of the valuable sort. Five golden suns each, from one purveyor of goods to another.”
It would take Cadwell another few minutes of haggling, but eventually, he made the antiquarian appreciate the true value of the statuettes. You can be rather persuasive when you’re two feet taller and eight stone heavier than the person you’re persuading. This coin is probably just enough to last me a day in this place, though, he thought to himself.
Cadwell had not intended to stop at another blacksmith. I feel naked without a weapon, but unarmed men draw fewer eyes to themselves. No, what caught his attention when he walked past the smithy on Preacher’s Pass was not a piece of equipment, but rather a badge hanging from a piece of string near the smithy’s anvil. Not really a smithy at all - it’s more akin to a merchant's stall with an anvil and a forge. The smithy, with its tent-like structure protecting it from the rain, was situated next to the street, and next to other merchants and artisans. But why does the blacksmith have an infantry badge? And why in the world is it from the east? He could be hanged for flying such colors, surely. “Somebody sell you that infantry badge, or did you serve?” He looked at the blacksmith - a tall, broad-shouldered man not much smaller than Cadwell.
“Was a field medic for ten years. I hail from Watcher’s Rest. It’s— ”
“I know where it is. Brave of you to hang that badge up where others can see.”
“How’s that? We easterners lost the war, yes. So what? Just ‘cause I keep the badge of my hometown army, that doesn’t mean I’m planning some sort of rebellion.”
He’s brave, I’ll give him that. “Fair enough. I doubt the Townsguard will see it that way, though.”
“I wouldn’t worry about them. I was a member of the Townsguard myself for a few years, know a lot of guys there.”
“They let an easterner into the Townsguard?”
“They let most anyone who was willing into the Townsguard under Isa Sharktooth’s reign. I lost the war, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. Couldn’t stand it more than a few years, though. I’ve seen enough fighting for one life. Always wanted to run a smithy, anyway.”
“I see.”
“So, you? You served too?”
“Twenty-two years, lieutenant. Mainly operated north of here.”
“Well, for a fellow veteran, I might be able to offer a discount on my wares, regardless of which side you fought on. What do you do nowadays?”
“You have no problem with me having fought on the other side of the war?”
The blacksmith gave a shrug, but no verbal answer.
Cadwell took a closer look at the man standing in front of him. In many ways, the blacksmith reminded him of a younger self; they shared a similar build, mannerism and background. “Were you a good medic?”
“Good at staying alive.”
“And you’re sure you’ve had enough fighting for one life?”
“What are you asking me?”
Cadwell looked around, making sure that no unwanted ears or eyes were partaking in their conversation. “You want to grab an ale? On me, of course.”
“It would be a poor blacksmith who left his stall before completing his first sale of the day.”
He’s as money-hungry as the rest of them. “Fine. How much for that mace over there?”
They had stepped into the first tavern they came across. The blacksmith, who Cadwell had learned was called Dolf, took another sip of his ale and gave an unimpressed chuckle. “From lieutenant to some sort of sellsword, huh? Quite the fall from grace, no offense.”
It wasn’t a fall. It was a shove. “There’s good money to be made. And working solely for yourself isn’t too bad.”
“Give me the military any day of the week. They point and tell you who the bad guys are. Always worked well for me.”
I almost mistook this man for a soldier. Seems he’s just another dimwit. “You took care of many bad guys?”
“No, my job was to take care of the good guys. And the Gods know they needed it. During the Karga Offensive, I must’ve had
to patch up fifty men a day. Had to patch myself up a few times, too.”
“Karga was rough for all of us.”
“Oh, was it now? Real tough for you guys, who practically slaughtered our forces.” Dolf looked up at the roof and cursed under his breath. “What I wouldn’t give to be allowed to take a hammer to whoever was in charge of our strategy.”
“You certainly had… aggressive tactics.”
“Aggressive? They had us charge straight into Haara’s Hand and his company, time and time again! You’d need a hundred swords to deal with him, let alone his company!”
“Haara’s Hand?”
“A nickname we gave him. Biggest man I ever saw, even bigger than you. Killed more men with his bare hands than most soldiers do with their swords. Don’t know what sort of ancient rage fueled him, but I hope to never see it again. I remember Mok managed to slice the man’s arm once, left a nasty scar. Only seemed to strengthen him, make him kill more of us. If I wouldn’t have been there, I don’t know if any of us would have survived, truth be told.”
Cadwell’s gaze was distant, as if he could see his memories of the war in front of him. “I might need another ale.”
“Everything alright, Lieutenant?”
“Yes. I remember. We did find it odd that none of you seemed to die. That was thanks to you, then. Some of your men must’ve been brought back from the brink ten times, given how they looked. No small feat from you, that.” Cad chuckled, but it was a sad laugh. “I remember wishing my own medic would be replaced with yours a few times. And I remember Mok, too.” Cad pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, revealing a deep, barely healed scar running from just above his wrist to well above his elbow.
The two men sat in silence for a while, pretending to pay attention to their ales. Maybe not a complete dimwit, this one, Cad thought, downing the last few drops still left in his tankard.
“Why’d you leave the military, then?” asked Dolf. “Surely you could’ve become a fancy captain or something, with your… skillset?”
“I didn’t leave, I was cast out.”
“Too violent even for the military, huh. Can’t say I’m surprised. I don’t need to be worried for my own safety, right?”
Cadwell paid no heed to the provocation. “Not too violent. Well I was, but that’s not why. I could’ve had a fine career, if I’d just kept my mouth shut.”
“About?”
You can’t trust him. “Nothing.” But you can’t trust anyone in this place. A soldier, a good one, might be who you can trust the most.
“Right. Well, thanks for—”
“Who runs the military?”
“Old people.” If the question had taken Dolf by surprise, he did not show it; his answer came quickly.
“No. Rich people. One man in particular contributed a lot of gold to our company. Castor. Never much liked him - stuck up, arrogant, selfish… You know the type.”
“That I do. Throw one of those men onto the battlefield, and you see what they’re worth.”
As I thought - he understands. “But we needed his money, so I went along with it. Made my dislike of him clear a few times, but nothing ever came of it. We argued a lot, but nothing beyond that. At the end of the day, I was just a lieutenant, and he was some fancy lord.”
“So?”
“So one day I spotted some strange looking letters during a meeting with him. Letters that he was supposed to have hidden. I made my way back when he was out, and grabbed them. Corruption, bribery, you name it. This man did it all. All to increase his wealth at the expense of others.”
“Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to take it to your Commander.”
“I was.”
“And now here you are.”
“And now here I am, looking for revenge.”
Dolf leaned back, almost in disbelief. “Twenty years in the military has turned your brain upside down. Revenge on the noblemen? Things don’t work that way, buddy.”
“Revenge on Castor will do.”
“That turns things from very impossible to moderately impossible, I suppose.” Dolf took another sip. Cadwell was beginning to realize that paying for his new friend’s ale might have been a mistake.
“I’d need someone familiar with the city to help me. Someone I can trust.”
“Are you asking me to help you commit treason, Lieutenant?”
“I’d pay—”
“I’m in.”
Even at night, Kardh’Ao shone brighter than most places did during the day. The orchestra of lights on the streets and buildings meant sunlight was all but obsolete. The lights in the dark were naturally a welcome addition for those trying to find their way home at night, but if one were to, for instance, try to murder a nobleman in the dead of night, this proved an obstacle. We’ll make it work, Cad thought as he made his way down to the rendezvous. Dolf had helped him construct a plan of attack which did not seem too implausible to work. They were to meet in Axeman’s Alley. The alley was in the eastern part of East Kardh’Ao, but not quite as far east as the Colgroves’ manor. The mace Cad had bought from Dolf felt strange in the hand, but he was sure he would get used to it eventually. There’s a first time for everything, I guess. In any case, if everything went according to plan, he would not need the mace at all. “My plan is to jump in via a window, take care of Castor, and be away before anyone has time to notice,” Cad had told the blacksmith. “What I need you to do is simple. Show me the best way there, and make sure nobody interrupts me while I’m working.”
“That’s the plan? We’re not scouring the library for blueprints of the manor, tipping off guards, anything like that?”
“No need to complicate it,” Cad had told him.
Dolf, in turn, had figured out the best way to reach the manor undetected. Their trip would take them through unused alleyways and dark streets, but Cad presumed it to be safe. No way to get paid if you’re at the end of a guardsman’s halberd, so he’s sure to have thought it through.
By the time Cadwell located Axeman’s Alley, another hour must have passed. To his surprise, a decent number of common folk were still out and about, conducting business they did not, for one reason or another, wish to do in the light. Hopefully none of them have business with the Colgroves.
“Took you long enough! Hurry up,” came a hushed voice from within the alley. These alleyways were one of the few places that had not been deemed important enough to be illuminated, and Cadwell had to squint his eyes to make out Dolf among the shadows.
“You still in?” asked Cad.
“Bit late to back out now, ain’t it?”
Cadwell looked around the narrow alley. They were surrounded on both sides by elegant houses, presumably home to some of the richer merchants and craftsmen in the city. Fortunately, none of them seemed to be awake, and commotion in the alleyway was scarce at this time of night. “Lead the way, then. Anyone asks, we’ve been out drinking, and are trying to find our way back to our inn.”
Nobody asked. The walk to Colgrove Manor was a short and uneventful one. Cadwell had been afraid they would raise the eyebrows of some commoners, perhaps even run into the law. Instead, they barely spotted any guards at all, and none of the commoners seemed interested in bothering them. Another benefit of keeping Dolf around, thought Cad. He seems to know every alley in the city.
Their destination soon became apparent. Dolf had told him that the big noble families of the city had, for lack of a better word, carved out pieces of the city to themselves. No nobleman wanted a bigger manor right next to theirs, so they had agreed to keep their distance from each other. Because of this, Colgrove Manor stood out even among the otherwise luxurious houses of this area. With a mixture of marble and white-oak, the lumbering creation the Colgroves called home must have been at least six stories high, each one as expensive as all the houses in Grensby combined. Cad had walked past the manor earlier in the day, quickly scouting the location and looking for guards. Even then, in the middle of the day, he had seen four patr
ols - two guards in each - marching around the manor. Furthermore, both entrances to the manor had two vigilant guards, eliminating the front door as a viable option. Of course Castor would live in a place like this. “I think a side window is my best bet,” he told Dolf. “I’ll have to act right after a patrol passes to have time to enter before the next one turns the corner, though.”
“So you’re just going to smash the window? And what about me? I stay outside, making sure no guards trouble you? What if you get in trouble inside?”
“I can handle some minor trouble. I just don’t want to get cornered. Smashing the window might make some noise, though.”
Dolf thought for a moment, then shone up. “Or it won’t. Look, there, the clock tower.” He pointed towards a large stone structure being illuminated by a hundred lights. “The clock tower announces every hour in a loud fashion. It’s about to announce the third hour of the morning, if I am not mistaken. If you time it right, it will drown out the sound of almost anything. Including a window being broken.”
“We have a plan, then.”
Cadwell pitied anyone trying to sleep in this city; the bell of the clock tower resonated through the city loud enough to wake a Krauk. Even here, hundreds of yards away from it, the sound was all but deafening. As the bell tolled for the first time, the two men glanced in both directions before climbing over the fence to the manor, making it up to the window. There was light coming from inside the building, but this did not bother either one of them. Place like this, lights are no doubt on all the time.
The bell tolled for the second time. Cadwell brought his elbow up towards the window and began counting to himself. After a few seconds, in unison with the third toll of the bell, he slammed his elbow into the window, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “Wish me luck.”
While the window was of the larger sort, it was still not designed for a man of Cad’s stature to climb through. He almost had to fold himself in two to get through, something his back protested against. With a grunt, Cadwell forced himself through the window and landed on the cold floor. The inside of the manor was unlike anything he had seen before. The walls were adorned with massive paintings, the floor with velvet carpets, and the roof featured not one, but two massive chandeliers. None of these things were the first that caught Cadwell’s attention, though.
