Soldiers of Avarice

by Stephen L. Nowland

  Now that he had a better look at her, Aiden could see that she was very fit, and clearly not a secretary or desk sergeant, as he had briefly thought earlier. This woman was trained to fight, which wasn’t exactly common these days.

  Much like the rest of the country, the town was obviously hard-pressed to find enough people to fill important posts during this time of war. He also noticed a wedding band on one of her fingers.

  “I wonder who this R.B. is,” she mused.

  “We’ve been thinking the same thing ourselves,” Pacian remarked, surreptitiously examining the sergeant with an expert eye. “What’s your take on it, sarge?”

  “Well, someone wants a tunnel large enough for forces to move through, and that suggests an army. The only force in the region with anywhere near the numbers required to take a town of this size are the Steel Tigers, a mercenary company.”

  “There’s a company of mercs near Culdeny?” Colt asked ominously. “What idiot hired ’em ?”

  “Probably one of the local merchants,” Ariel suggested, noticing Sayana taking a close look at some swords hanging on a rack next to the desk. “They’ve been concerned about bandit raids on their caravans along the mountains between here and Fairloch. I guess they didn’t care about the road south, though. I wonder if R.B. could be Ronald Bartlett.”

  “Who’s that?” Aiden inquired.

  “A nobleman who operates the North Shore Trading Company out of Culdeny, along with a few other wealthy individuals,” she explained. “They have a lot of financial backing, and could probably afford a mercenary company.”

  “Sounds like you should pay him a visit and ask him a few pointed questions,” Pacian suggested.

  Ariel shook her head and shifted in her chair. “He doesn’t mingle with the commoners a lot, as you’d expect. He’s either behind the gates of his business, or at his private gentleman’s club upstairs, a very exclusive gathering of movers and shakers.”

  “Ok, so you do know where to find him,” Colt said impatiently. “Go do your job.”

  “I would very much like to do that, but they don’t tolerate women in their gentlemen’s club,” she replied evenly. “In fact, only ten people in town are wealthy and powerful enough to qualify for entry.

  “Frankly, bothering such an influential man based on this evidence is fraught with bad outcomes. I’d want something more definitive before I’d even consider it. They’ve enough power to remove me from office, if it came to it.

  “I’m sorry to say this, but there’s not much I can do with the evidence you’ve given me. This is only a hunch we’re going on here, and it’s going to take more than a scrawled note to figure out who’s behind the attack.”

  “I understand,” Aiden remarked, keeping an eye on Sayana as she tried on a helmet without Ariel noticing. “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, so we’ll leave you to it.”

  “Yes, I need to personally inspect the scene of this tunnel and go from there,” Ariel agreed, leaving her desk and reaching for her helmet, which Sayana quickly handed to her with a smile. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  Aiden gestured for the others to follow him outside, and once they were standing in the cold winter sun away from the barracks, he turned to them for a quiet discussion.

  “Ariel’s right; she can’t make waves without risking her position. But we don’t have that problem.”

  “You want to check out this Bartlett bloke for ourselves?” Colt said.

  “Why bother?” Pacian asked. “How is this our problem, exactly?”

  “Because we can act where she can’t,” Aiden explained. “All we need to do is get into this club and speak with Bartlett for a few minutes. If we find out something definitive, we bring it to the sarge. If not, no harm done.”

  “How are you planning to get into this place?” Pacian asked. “It sounds like they’ll have security measures to make sure people like us can’t get in there. Otherwise, it’s not much of an exclusive club, is it?”

  “Ariel said only the wealthy and powerful have access. I’d bet every coin I have that the mayor is allowed in. We’ll go and pay him another visit and tell him we’re on an investigation, and Bartlett could help with that.”

  “Interesting,” Colt rumbled thoughtfully. “It’s worth a shot. This isn’t some simple crime we’ve witnessed; someone with considerable clout was trying to create a secret entrance into the city.”

  “All right, I’m in,” Pacian agreed.

  “I think I’ll sit this one out,” Sayana said quietly.

  “No, I want you with us,” Aiden disagreed. “I have an idea that you’re perfect for.”

  “You want me along, too?” Colt asked. “You probably know I’m not going to be any good talkin’ with nobles.”

  Aiden considered this for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have you looming in the background,” he finally decided. “Just don’t say anything.”

  “I can loom with the best of them,” Colt grunted with a slight grin.

  * * *

  “You again,” Mayor Buchanan sighed, as Aiden and the others pushed their way through to the office once more. The queue outside had returned in their absence. “What on earth could you possibly want from me now?”

  Aiden put on his best diplomatic face. “I understand you are a member of the Culdeny Gentlemen’s Club?” he bluffed, not actually knowing this at all.

  “Indeed I am. It is a place I go to unwind from the hassles of my office — such as yourselves. What business is it of yours?”

  “I have need to speak with Ronald Bartlett, co-owner of the North Shore Trading Company,” Aiden explained, keeping a lid on his excitement. “I have been informed I will not be permitted into the club.”

  “Quite so,” Buchanan answered. “Try not to take offense, as the club exists primarily to let men such as myself take a break from the rigors of our station.”

  “We’ve come from the barracks, where I spoke with Sergeant Ariel. An incident occurred this morning concerning the security of the town, and she thought it might be prudent to consult Ronald Bartlett about it, but he’s a difficult man to reach,” Aiden said, technically not lying about any of it.

  “Quite so; he’s a busy man, and if he’s not working with his company, he’s typically relaxing within the confines of the club. Are you … suggesting I should give you access?”

  “If that’s where we can find him, sure,” Aiden agreed, sounding like he thought it was a great idea he hadn’t considered.

  “I’m sorry, but my reputation would be ruined if I allow common folk into a private club. Perhaps I’ll mention this to him tonight, when I stop by for brandy and cigars.”

  Aiden was about to continue, but Pacian stepped forward. “It’s in your best interest to help us out here,” he said, keeping his voice low and casting his gaze around, as if to check for who might be listening.

  “Some information we recently received implicates you and the mayor of Bracksford in some, shall we say, highly illegal activities with the North Shore Trading Company. Does the name Merin ring a bell?”

  Buchanan turned bright red and broke out in a sweat. “Mm-hmm,” Pacian said. "Help us out here, and that information will almost certainly be tragically lost somehow. Otherwise, well, these things have a way of getting out, if you know what I mean.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Buchanan said under his breath, looking suitably panicked. Aiden was surprised by the sudden change in direction for their little gambit, but it seemed to be working.

  “What goes around, comes around,” Colt growled, playing along. “You should be thankful we haven’t turned you in to the authorities already.”

  Buchanan glanced over at his assistant, whose had buried his head in a pile of papers on the desk, working feverishly so he didn’t have to face his boss. “As it happens, I would be more than willing to aid the efforts of our local watchmen,” Buchanan relented, in a slightly raised voice.

  “Go to the offices of
the North Shore Trading Company and say the word Calument to the doorman, and he will know you have my consent. Take this key,” he added, fishing a small silver chain out of his waistcoat and handing it to Aiden. “That will allow you access to the club and serve as further proof. I expect it returned promptly, sir.”

  “Your dedication to the safety of this town has been noted, mayor,” Aiden replied dryly, taking the key and placing it in his pocket. “Good day to you, sir.”

  Buchanan nodded and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief as Aiden led the others back out through the hallway again, ignoring the black looks from the waiting people.

  “I don’t recall seeing Buchanan’s name on that document we took from Merin,” Aiden said when they were safely outside of the echoing hallway. “How did you know the mayor was in on it?”

  “I didn’t,” Pacian said with a shrug, trying to keep his face free of a smug smile that threatened to take it over. “It was a gamble, but it paid off. The simple fact that the town guards here in Culdeny could have marched south to clear the road, but didn’t, made me think Buchanan was in on it.

  “Remember, that document we took from Merin said the stuff they were involved with was happening here, right under Buchanan’s nose. I reckon their whole shady deal has gone belly-up, and that’s what has him so worried.”

  “You got lucky,” Colt grunted.

  “I’m only sorry I forgot to ask for some more gold while I was at it. What was the worst thing that could happen?” Pacian asked the big ranger. “He’d kick us out of his office, maybe?”

  “It might have been grounds to have us locked up,” Aiden mused. “Making an accusation like that, straight to the face of a powerful man like Buchanan, rarely ends well. Colt’s right; you got lucky.”

  “Told ya,” Colt growled. Pacian merely shrugged.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Sayana muttered, sounding lost.

  “Don’t worry, sweetness,” Pacian consoled her. “The men have things under control; you just stand there and look pretty.”

  Sayana gave him a solid punch to his left arm without even turning to look, causing him to flinch in pain. Aiden grinned, seeing yet again a demonstration of how dangerous speaking before one thinks can be.

  Chapter Eight

  The Gentlemen’s Club was located in the northeast part of town, above the North Shore Trading Company’s offices in one of the larger houses. Ronald Bartlett was apparently the wealthiest man in town, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume he’d set up this club for his rich and powerful friends to compliment each other on being both rich and powerful.

  It was a brief stroll to the very elegant manor house with a well-tended garden and an imposing metal fence. The gates were open, and a sign declared this the offices of the North Shore Trading Company open for business.

  “Well, let’s head inside and see what we can learn, shall we?” Aiden said, looking up at the building before them.

  “I’m wondering how you’re going to go about this,” Pacian asked hesitantly.

  “I was going to head in and ask Mister Bartlett a few questions about any deals he’s done with mercenary companies lately, as if we’re working with the guards,” Aiden explained slowly.

  “You mean ... pretend to be honest?”

  “Mostly, yes,” Aiden replied dubiously. “I have a little diversion in mind, though.” Aiden took a minute to explain his idea, which the others thought was worth a shot.

  “If I can make a suggestion?” Pacian asked once Aiden was done. “Lie. A lot. If this bloke is involved somehow, then he’s not going to be straight with you. Confronting him directly isn’t going to get us the answers we need, so yeah. Lie.”

  “I wasn’t exactly planning to stride in there and point my finger at the man, accusing him of treason,” Aiden replied with a raised eyebrow. “Let’s be subtle and see what happens.”

  Aiden walked along the short path that ran through the front gate, and passed a water fountain with a fish carved from stone on top of a small column. They walked the short pathway to the large oaken door, where Aiden turned the handle and stepped into a magnificent entryway surpassing even the mayor’s opulent office. Paintings of stuffy-looking gentlemen hung on every wall, as well as a few smaller pictures of sailing vessels.

  An elaborate chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast subtle light around the room. A roaring fireplace kept the chill winter air at bay, warmth that was more than welcome to the travelers. At a small desk near the front of the room sat a portly man of middle age, dressed in fine black clothing with a white vest, typical of a servant to a wealthy lord.

  “Good afternoon,” he solemnly greeted them as he stood. “Can I help you?”

  “The mayor sends his regards, and the word Calument,” Aiden greeted him with an even smile, producing the small silver key as further evidence.

  “I … yes, of course,” the man stammered, taken aback by the scruffy individuals who appeared to have the mayor’s blessing. His astonishment doubled when he saw Sayana enter, apparently with the intention of going into the gentleman’s club as well. Pacian noticed this and gave the doorman a dangerous look, which seemed to stifle anything he might have been about to say, then stepped through the arch with the others.

  An ornate door loomed before them with a silver lock on it. Aiden unlocked it with the silver key, and upon opening it, saw a narrow staircase winding upwards.

  “All right,” Aiden said quietly. “Sayana, try not to look too dangerous. I’ll handle the talking; the rest of you keep an eye out for anything strange.” They nodded in reply, and then followed Aiden as he made his way up the staircase.

  The sounds of hushed voices grew in volume as they ascended, along with the distinct aroma of pipe smoke. By the time they reached the next floor, the air was noticeably warmer, and heavily laden with a smoky haze and the aroma of strong drink. The room they entered was dimly lit by a few small windows and some carefully-placed lamps.

  There were eight middle-aged men were in the room, most of them sitting in plush, oversized chairs, puffing pipes and reading books. An older man in expensive clothes and sporting a well-groomed gray beard noticed the newcomers, and made his way over to greet them.

  His features were lined with age, but still fair. Aiden could tell a working man by the rough texture of his skin, and this individual’s smooth hands indicated he was clearly used to having others do his work.

  “This area is restricted to members only,” he said in cultured voice. “You will have to leave at once, or I shall have you removed.”

  “Well, as it happens, I am a member,” Aiden responded. He produced the silver key and quietly enjoyed the look of confusion on the man’s face.

  “Oh, I see. Strange, I do not recall admitting any new members lately.” He gave Aiden an appraising look, and did not appear impressed by what he saw.

  “I didn’t join through you, sir,” Aiden said, making it up as he went along. “The mayor is an old family friend of mine, and thought I might like to rest my heels in a more appropriate setting on my time away from Fairloch, instead of the local ale house.”

  “Is that so? Then you are welcome, sir, to our little home away from home, such as it is. I am Ronald Bartlett, owner of the North Shore Trading Company. May I know your names?”

  “Certainly sir,” Aiden replied with a slight bow, secretly pleased they had found their man. “Aiden Wainwright, at your service. These are my local contacts, and I hope I was not out of line bringing them along.” He gestured at Pacian and the others.

  “Ah, local members of the Royal Rangers, I see,” Bartlett observed, the faintest hint of a disapproving frown evident on his brow. “Not the sort of people we usually have as guests here at the Club. And what’s this — a woman? Mister Wainwright, you should know we do not permit women in here.”

  He had raised his voice while speaking, silencing other conversation and drawing the room’s attention to them. A few murmurs of disapproval could be he
ard from the stuffy old men peering at Sayana in shock.

  “Come now, don’t be rude,” Aiden admonished them. “I had thought that a gentleman’s club would be a club of gentlemen, not a bunch of prudish louts. This lady is my cousin, newly arrived to this part of the world, and I was reluctant to leave her by herself at that rowdy inn we were forced to stay at.

  “It’s bad enough that we had to change into common garments after our clothing was misplaced by our valet! Had I known you would be so unabashedly rude in her presence, I would have taken her to the local tavern rather than subject her to this uncouth display. I had thought the men of this town to be better than the dregs who populate that degenerate hovel, though perhaps I was mistaken?”

  The effect of Aiden’s speech was immediate – the men in the club appeared to be suitably chastened, lowering their eyes and returning to their quiet conversations. Bartlett had turned a bright red color, and he cleared his throat several times before speaking.

  “My apologies, Miss,” he finally managed to say. “Although it is our custom to forbid women in this austere room, the rule was never intended to impugn upstanding members of society such as yourself. Generally, we use this place to get away from our wives and the stresses of our work for a time, and so I once more offer my sincere apologies for lumping you in with them in our exclusionary policy.”

  “I understand, and it’s quite all right,” Sayana said, surprising Aiden, who was about to speak for her. “I’ll stay out of the way to avoid disturbing you during our visit.”

  “We won’t stay long, Mister Bartlett,” Aiden assured him. “I have other matters that need attending. But before we relax and enjoy some liquid refreshment, might I enquire about something?”

  “By all means,” Bartlett replied, evidently eager to make amends for his treatment of a noble lady. Aiden fetched the note from his left coat pocket.

  “An acquaintance of mine found this note recently, and she was puzzled as to whom this was written by. Perhaps you can make something of it?” He handed the note to Bartlett, who accepted it and quickly read its message.