War of the Posers

by Eric Ugland

  “And?”

  “How much has she told you?”

  “Probably most of what she’s told you.”

  “Her, uh, potential future?”

  “All hail the empress.”

  “Are you behind that idea?”

  “Ninety percent.”

  “What’s the holdup?”

  “She’s young.”

  “But smart.”

  “Sure, but youth is something that can be pointed at by anyone as a negative, because we all remember how stupid we were when younger. Regardless, I think she is probably the best of all possible options so far. That said, I don’t think Valamir will be happy if she steals the throne out from under him.”

  “Valamir swears he will not take the crown, even if it is offered to him.”

  “That is exactly what I would expect him to say.”

  “I don’t know, he seemed pretty sure about it.”

  “You are in his thrall.”

  “Dude, I don’t know what you want me to say. I believe him.”

  “And I don’t.”

  “I thought you were going to be of an open mind about him.”

  “As I thought you were.”

  “I talked to him last night. I saw what he’s worried about. I offered to help him in any way. Oddly enough, he asked nothing about other people running, about getting the crown, or anything along those lines. All he did was ask if I could help with the two wars happening.”

  “Two? So the conflict with Carchedon is escalating?”

  “He said there’s a siege coming, and that there were multiple invasion points on the southern coast.”

  “That is less than ideal.”

  “Why?”

  “Because no one is in charge of the Legions right now. No one can give them orders.”

  “And the Thingmen are dead.”

  “It is not likely they would have been involved anyway.”

  “Got it. Well, Valamir said that he doesn’t want to rule. He just wants to go away, to his own lands. Which is apparently what he told his family—“

  “Nadya spoke to me about that as well.”

  “You don’t think that’s true?”

  “I don’t rightly know if it is, but I doubt it. A man who has been in the middle of everything the Empire has done for the past thirty-plus years, and you think he’d be content to just go out to the country? And do what?”

  “If he’s been in the midst of shit for the past three decades, and forced to be the villain that whole time, maybe he’d like to lead a less stressful life. Retire.”

  Matthew blinked a few times. He shook his head twice, as if he’d never considered that before. And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe retirement wasn’t a thing in Glaton. People just worked until they died. Or, more likely, something killed them.

  “Maybe,” Matthew finally said. “We have other things we need to deal with.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Get cleaned up. Put some clothes on and meet me downstairs as soon as possible. We have a meeting, and I would prefer not being late. It is going to be unpleasant enough as it is.”

  He quickly left.

  I pulled the blanket-towels off, and padded into the shower.

  “Could have told me I didn’t have any pants on,” I said to Hellion the mimic.

  The grimeling stuck his tongue out at me.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The meeting was with Viggo the slumlord, at his office. It was a nice enough building, with a view over the western wall, looking down at the river and the forest beyond. It would have been nice, if not for the incredibly unpleasant man sitting behind the desk.

  Viggo von Homburg. He looked like someone had combined a slug and a man. I don’t mean to imply he wasn’t human, because he was. He just had an unfortunate appearance, and it seemed like he leaned into that unfortunate appearance because he imagined it gave him some sort of power over others. He had no real neck — his broad shoulders just sort of morphed into an oddly skinny head. He sat in a wide armchair, and it seemed like he had grown around it some. His face was mean-looking, with a big mouth that seemed settled in a perpetual frown.

  Viggo’s ‘assistant,’ who only gave his name as Nelson, stood next to him. Nelson was impossibly thin, and looked like the diametric opposite of his boss. Thin face, thinning hair, small eyes, thin nose. It was a little eerie being in the office with the two of them.

  “You asked for a meeting,” Nelson said, his voice unnervingly deep. “Here is your meeting. Now how about you tell us why we are meeting?”

  “We are interested in purchasing some of your properties,” Matthew said.

  Viggo looked over at Nelson and raised one sluggy eyebrow.

  “I was not aware any of our properties were up for sale,” Nelson said. “Would you care to explain?”

  “The properties weren’t for sale,” Matthew clarified. “We were more hoping to make a deal with you.”

  “Would it surprise you to learn we do not normally work that way?” Nelson asked. “Typically, you wait for us to offer something for sale before you request to buy it.”

  “It is a bit unorthodox,” Matthew said. “And yet—“

  Viggo held up his hand.

  “Perhaps you would join me outside,” Nelson said to Matthew. “Mister von Homburg would prefer to speak with your leader alone.”

  Matthew sighed, but nodded, giving me a pat on the leg for good measure. Then he left the room with Nelson.

  As soon as the door shut, Viggo shook his head.

  “There is something annoying about underlings,” Viggo said, his voice a bit surprising being scratchy and high. “But they do have some purpose, eh?”

  “They do.”

  “Why is it you wish to purchase my buildings?” Viggo asked.

  “I only want a few of your properties,” I said, “I’m looking to control one block in particular.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “I’ve made a few enemies in the city. I also have a few friends. I’d like to keep my friends safe and my enemies away.”

  “Ah, have you thought of leaving the city? If you are so worried that is?”

  “I like city life.”

  Viggo leaned back in his chair. It creaked prodigiously. “Perhaps it might be better for me to own the whole block. And you could—“

  “I don’t really play that well with others. And I wouldn’t want you to worry about collecting rent.”

  “I like collecting rent.”

  “Fair enough. I’m just bad at paying it.”

  He laughed a little. “Honesty is always refreshing,” he said. “You have gold?”

  “Some, but I might have a few things you’re more interested in?”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m in possession of quite a number of buildings outside Old Town. I don’t have much use for them, certainly not as much use as, say, the buildings on my block. So, if you were intrigued, I’d probably be able to make you quite a deal.”

  “Do you have a home in the bright?”

  “I might? I’d have to ask Matthew.”

  “Ah, he is the one I should be speaking with? And here I thought you were the leader of this guild.”

  “I am the leader. I just know how to delegate.”

  He barked out a laugh. It took a lot of restraint to ignore the spittle flying out of his mouth.

  “Delegation is often the mark a failed leader. Or a lazy one. Which are you?”

  “Lazy.”

  He smiled, his lips a gross wet purple.

  “Honesty, again,” he said. “You certainly have my attention, Master Hatchett. You are a different than I normally deal with. I can’t quite tell if you are looking at me like a mark.”

  “We aren’t.”

  “Easy to say. Harder to prove.”

  “I can only say what we’re doing, what we’re hoping to do—“

  “Which is?”

  “Make Old Town a safer home.”

 
“Why Old Town?”

  “Because we like it here.”

  “Ah. And you don’t like me being here?”

  “I don’t think I said that.”

  “Hrm. Do you like me?”

  “I mean, do you really care if I like you?”

  “No.”

  “I respect you as a businessman.”

  “That, I almost believe.”

  “Again, man, I’m being honest. At every point in this conversation, I’ve been honest. I want the buildings you own that are on my block. I’m want them because I want to own and control that block. That’s the end of it. If you want to do business elsewhere in Old Town, I’m not going to stop you, nor will I help you. But for the property on my block, I can offer gold, or I can offer a trade for better properties elsewhere in the city of Glaton.”

  Viggo rubbed one of his three chins. Then he opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. He opened it, delicately selected a chocolate, popped it into his mouth, and returned the box back to the drawer.

  “Helps me think,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Have your man speak to my man,” Viggo said. “I don’t know what properties you have, but it’s possible you own something that might interest me.”

  “The old Biscuit Union building in next to the Arena?” I asked. “Does that whet your appetite?”

  “You own that outright?”

  “I have the deed.”

  “And which buildings of mine are you interested in exactly?”

  I told him the addresses.

  He tapped his desk with one pudgy finger, leaving a smudge of chocolate on it. The desk top fluttered a little before the woodgrain moved and twisted until we were looking at a map of Old Town.

  “Neat trick,” I said.

  He ignored me, tracing various roads and looking at the buildings lighting up. Viggo made a few notes in a little book, and peered back at the map some more.

  I saw writing appear in the book. A paired journal. Viggo read over the reply, and nodded.

  “I am not sure I want that building,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Hold on,” Viggo said.

  I dropped back into the chair.

  “I did not say I was not interested,” he said.

  I sighed. I hated negotiating on the best of days. Maybe that was one reason I became a thief — I’d rather go through the trouble of stealing something as opposed to the trouble of having to negotiate for it.

  “I’m not really one for negotiation,” I said.

  “Another task you delegate out?”

  “It’s more an aspect of who I am and who we are. What are you willing to give me for that building? A building, mind you, that several people have already expressed interest in. So even if you aren’t planning on doing something with the factory itself, there’s the opportunity to earn money from it immediately.”

  “If there’s so much gold available, why are you—“

  I put my hand up. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but we’re not a money-making organization. At least not in that way.”

  “Then you will fail.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. But think of it this way: if we fail, you’ll have that building in the Arena district and you can buy back your buildings in Old Town at a fraction of what they’re worth.”

  “You will give me right of first purchase when you sell them?”

  “How about for, say, seven years?”

  “Ten years, right of first refusal.”

  “Eight years if you want more than that one building for all of your properties in that block. Ten if we trade it right now.”

  “How many other properties do you have?”

  “Some.”

  “Are there other properties of mine you want in Old Town?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  He looked at me, then down at his map.

  I really wished I’d had a talk with Matthew about the actual value of the old Biscuit’s Union building. I felt like I was a bit in the dark. Maybe there was something to be said about how I’d been happy to delegate damn near everything. I paused for a second, wondering something.

  Closing my eyes, I slipped into my game menus. There was the guild page.

  GUILD

  Skull & Thrones

  Members:

  11 Full

  184 Provisional

  The eleven full were the people I expected, Matthew, Titus, Nadya, myself, et. al. The confusing bit was the provisional members. Looking in there, though, I realized it was the members of my tjene and the kobolds. Kobolds on kobolds. If we could make them full members, we’d probably become one of the largest gangs in the city. But while I could get more information on each of the members, there wasn’t any sort of properties tag. I looked over at the Guild Points page.

  Guild Points: 43

  Guild Perks: None

  Would you like to purchase additional perks?

  I selected Yes.

  Available Perks:

  -All members get ten additional points to stealth (500 points)

  Seeing that the first one cost more than ten times what we currently had, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to look through them. We couldn’t afford any, and I didn’t see any that allowed me to see the properties we owned.

  When I opened my eyes, Viggo was staring at me.

  “I own most of the buildings on that block,” he said. “And I believe you have three there at present. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want me to give you, what, ten buildings for one?”

  “If I remember correctly,” I started, thinking back to what I’d seen and what Titus had told me, “you’ve got nearly no tenants left in any of those buildings. And the ground floors are all currently vacant.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “What, you’ve got one store renting right now?”

  Just then, Viggo looked down at his notebook. A wide, gross smile creeped up. “I do love it when things come together. Disregard all our prior chatting; we need to begin again. It is important for you to know that I have just purchased the remaining buildings on that block. I own all but three. Now, would you be interested in selling those three to me?”

  I leaned back in the chair, and put my hands firmly on the arms so I didn’t do something foolish like throw a dagger his way. Or cast a fireball. Although casting Fireball was really tempting, and it might solve my problems.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t really feel like selling.”

  “I can’t say that I am too fond of selling either.”

  “You seem to be a man who appreciates the acquisition of property as much as you do earning money.”

  The corners of his mouth somehow went a little further up. “You begin to see who I am.”

  “Oh, I see you,” I said. “Ideally, you’d like to control a whole district, or even the whole city. You want people to know you’re in charge. I get that.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but nodded a little.

  “Thing is,” I continued, “I’m not so great with authority. I find that authority tends to get in the way, and I’m just not so fond of people who try to assert that authority over me. I tend to, how to put this, act out.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “I’m just doing my best to explain why we probably wouldn’t be the best neighbors.”

  “You mess with my buildings, and--“

  I held up my hands. “We would never. I’m just saying that there might be a few things about the buildings you ought to know about.”

  “Such as?”

  “Kobolds.”

  “Kobolds?” he asked, recoiling in horror.

  “Oh yeah, damn near everywhere. Every basement, full of holes.”

  “I was not told of this,” he said, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

  “True story, boss. There are also grimelings.”

  He frowned, looking up at me.

/>   “That’s patently false.”

  “You got a truth spell you want me to take?”

  He looked at me, and opened a drawer very slowly. From the drawer, he pulled a small round rock and set it on the desk between the two of us.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was trying to be polite, but you asked for it. So, how about you say what you said about the kobolds again.”

  “Let’s just test that,” I said, leaning forward. “My skin is the color green, and the sky is purple.”

  The rock glowed a vibrant yellow.

  “My name is Clyde Hatchett.”

  Nothing. It just looked like a rock.

  “Now you know it works,” Viggo von Homburg said. “How about—“

  “There are kobolds everywhere in those properties,” I said.

  The stone stayed dark, and Viggo’s eyes went wide.

  “And grimelings,” I added. “I saw a grimeling there this very morning.”

  He grabbed the stone and shook it a few times.

  “I also saw a troll.”

  The stone lit up in his hand, and he dropped it as if it had burned him. The truth-stone clattered across the floor.

  “What are you doing to those buildings?” Viggo asked, his voice quiet.

  “You know, it’s strange,” I said. “I don’t think we’re doing anything out of the ordinary, though someone did say that there have been some odd rituals happening in some of the basements.”

  “Of your buildings?”

  “Unclear,” I said, mindful of the truth stone. “But, and I really don’t want to seem rude saying this, it might have been better if you’d done a little more research before buying the rest of the buildings on the block. There might have been a reason so many people were selling them.”

  “I—“

  “Also, as long as I’m bringing all this stuff out into the open, I think there’s a mimic around as well.”

  The stone lit up.

  “Your lies are—“

  “Okay, truth is, I know there’s a mimic.”

  The stone, still on the floor, stayed dark.

  Viggo, on the other hand, went ghostly white.

  Slowly and carefully, he rang a little bell.

  Nelson stepped into the room almost immediately.