Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  “No,” Markov agreed. “And they never will.”

  “So, while your money is slowly drying up, ours is starting to flood in. I can give you whatever price you name,” Elias said. “Because I know you’re going to use it to keep this city safe and orderly. In exchange, my operation is looked after by your people. Your men see a crystal roll out from a cart, they put it back in and walk off without mentioning it to anyone. And when certain problems come up, I know I can ask for help solving them.”

  Markov shook his head. This was simply too much. “You’re out of your mind, Elias.”

  “Am I? Because I spent the better part of my entire life working in the government, desperate to see some kind of change, only to watch my life’s legacy fade in a single vote. All of the good things I wanted to do? The programs, the reform? Gone. They voted me out because they didn’t care for my opposition to gutting this city and letting those hordes in,” Elias replied. He was shaking a little, not from fear but from anger. Markov could see a determined look across his face. “But I learned something. Nothing in this world is ever going to be handed to you just because you work hard. These metal workers spend their days working harder than anyone else in this city, but their pay is just the same as a day laborer who takes his time digging a trench. No, my friend, you have to do something more if you want to really save Glimmer. The Magistrate is against us, so who will be for us?”

  Markov sighed at that. “Truer words have never been spoken,” he said. “But still…you ask me to commit a litany of crimes. You ask me to allow you to commit even more.”

  “Crime? We’re not committing any crimes, my friend. Just public services.”

  “Don’t pretend we’re doing anything other than illegal activities,” Markov said. “I will engage in a great many things, but denial isn’t one of them.”

  “We?” Elias asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you in?”

  “You wouldn’t have asked this of me if you didn’t already know the answer,” Markov replied. He stretched out his gloveless hand. “You give me what I need to protect this damned city, and I’ll make sure your little enterprise is ignored by my men. But be warned, I don’t want things getting out of hand. Whatever you are up to, keep innocents out of it. The first time I see an apartment block on fire because of one of your trinkets, I will kill you myself.”

  “Of course,” Elias replied, shaking his hand eagerly. “No weapons, no dangerous spells. Just pure utility, for the common good of all.”

  “And the common good of your treasure stores,” Markov said.

  “Oh yes,” Elias chuckled. “If we play our cards right, we very well could be the wealthiest men in this city.”

  “You might be, but I won’t take a copper for myself,” Markov replied as he shook his head. “Not a copper.”

  Elias smiled cordially, but the skepticism was written across his face. Markov didn’t care. He wasn’t one to take bribes to enrich his own life. This was purely so he could get the city watch operational again. It might not have been legal to strike this deal, but if it allowed him to ensure that the people of Glimmer could sleep safely through the night, then he was right in going down this road. Although, the prospect of being able to get his boots repaired were certainly a plus.

  “Alright, men, no quarter, no mercy,” Markov addressed to the sixteen soldiers standing in front of him. They were all veterans of long campaigns, many had served during the riotous years when the Magistrate fell under siege by a pretender king who claimed to have rightful claim to the throne. They were hardened, brutal and above all, loyal to Markov and only him. Hand selected for a single task, a single purpose: enact violence against anyone who defied the will of the state. And today, they were standing outside of a building full of men and women who have committed the highest crime of treason. The fact that Elias had sent Markov to this address had nothing to do with the judgement they were about to execute.

  “Sir,” Lt. Grecin said. “I have a question.”

  “Yes?” Markov replied. Grecin was a good man, he was somewhat disfigured for having taken a lightning bolt to the face from a war-wizard back in the day, but he was always in good cheer. He preferred not to have the crooked nose, the burnt scar and the gaping eye wound repaired because he believed his enemies would fear him more with such disfiguration. The captain was unsure of such reasoning, but at least it scared the hell out of new recruits. Markov trusted and feared this man the most.

  “What’s up with the big guy?” he asked, pointing to the Stonemar beside them. Groth, as his name was, had been sent by Elias to lead them to the secret warehouse. Markov had been instructed to deputize and allow the beast to partake in the fighting. There was no way that the Captain was going to refuse the opportunity to use a Stonemar in battle. The results would be awe inspiring.

  “He’s a contractor. There are reports that some of these bastards inside might have some magical abilities left. So, we might need him.”

  Groth said nothing. He merely stared intently at the side of the wall. They had gathered, under the cover of night, to the hidden location of the warehouse. It was somewhat of a hostage situation, but Markov wasn’t terribly worried. The sight of a rampaging Stonemar would scare most of them out through the front entrance, where a clean-up crew was waiting for them. Their orders were to kill on sight, give no quarter to any. Operating a guild without legal paperwork was essentially suicide.

  “Any other questions?” Markov asked. He drew his morningstar out and raised it high. The rest of the men pulled their swords and halberds out and crouched down, prepared to rush. No one said a word. There was no need for false bravado, no shouts or whooping and hollering. These were consummate professionals who knew to strike quickly, and that shouting should be left for the taverns after the battle had been won.

  Markov nodded at Groth. The Stonemar walked up to the wall and with one fist, punched through the entire structure, creating a gigantic hole. It let out a bloodcurdling “graaaaaaah” and charged in, moving surprisingly fast. While Stonemar talked slow, they appeared to move much faster.

  Markov and the rest of his soldiers poured through the hole in the wall, rushing into the warehouse. They were in some kind of barracks, with dozens of mattresses laying across the ground. Men and women began to scramble out of their beds, rushing to grab weapons.

  “Attack! Attack!” a man screamed before Groth lifted him high into the air and smashed into the ground with all his might. Markov felt the earth beneath him shake a little, causing him to lose footing. His fighters, in tight formation, pressed forward, stabbing and spearing the guild members as they scrambled to fight back. Their lack of awareness made for a quick and painless fight.

  “In the barracks!” came a voice from outside of the room. Dozens more voices echoed, and the sounds of footsteps came rushing towards Markov’s team.

  Markov held his hand up as his men fell back into formation. They waited for the counter-attack. Sure enough, it came. Men and women, clad from head to toe in steel armor with glistening helmets, rushed in, swinging their axes and polearms. What they were not expecting, however, was a nine foot tall monstrosity waiting for them.

  “Graaaaahhhh!” Groth screamed as he swiped his massive hand into the three warriors who came in first. The blow was so hard that one of warrior’s armor cracked open as he was thrown into the wall.

  Markov rushed forward to meet his foes, his shield raised high to repel the blows. The adrenaline coursed through him as he saw one man, a snaggle toothed fighter with wild eyes, approach him. The rest of the soldiers were engaged, fighting hand to hand in a chaotic melee.

  Markov moved forward to strike but wasn’t fast enough. The fighter, moving with an almost supernatural speed, stepped to the right of him and stabbed his dagger right into the chainmail armor that Markov wore. Yet, while the fighter’s moves might have been superior, the blade was certainly no match for an expensive and well designed set of chainmail. The dagger simply shattered. Markov elbowed the assa
ilant in the face and dropped him to the ground.

  “I yield!” the man screamed.

  “I’m sure you do,” Markov said as he brained the man a few times to ensure his target was dead. He took a moment to wipe the blood off of his morning star against the man’s leather armor before continuing. “But you should have done that before your knife broke.”

  Aside from the little fight with the dagger-man, the rest of the battle was a wash. For mercenaries, they didn’t seem to put up might of a fight. Those who stood their ground were quickly killed, and those who fled were undoubtedly skewered by the spear division as they escaped through the front.

  “Sir!” Grecin said as he jogged forward to meet with his leader. “The hostage has been located, but it’s turned into a bit of a situation.”

  “As always,” Markov said. “Groth, if you would kindly follow?”

  Groth said nothing but simply nodded and bounded after him. Markov could not help but notice that when the Stonemar actually stood all the way up, instead of hunched over and walking on all fours, the monster was almost nine feet tall. Quite impressive.

  They walked over to the corner of a warehouse, where a young man stood, his back against the wall, pressing a blade against the neck of the hostage, a gnome by the name of Sali.

  “Alright, let’s hear it,” Markov said as he approached the man. A few of the guards had their spears at the ready, but they were a decent distance away. “What are your demands?”

  “Just let me leave, okay? You can have her, but just… let me leave,” the man stammered.

  “Are you Tadmin, by any chance?” Markov asked.

  The man’s face grew white at that. “Y-yes,” he said. “I’m Tadmin.”

  “Great,” Markov said. “So, Tadmin, I have some friends who have instructed me to bring you back to them. If you didn’t die in the fighting, that is.”

  “Oh, oh no,” Tadmin moaned. “They’re going to kill me.”

  “Yes, I would assume so. Now, I could have my men kill you. I could bring you to our mutual friends and they’ll kill you, or you can save everyone the trouble and kill yourself. That’s not really my problem. The end conclusion here is that you’re a dead man. Now, you can ask yourself, is it really worth it, for my last act of being on this wonderous world, to kill a woman who has done you no harm? Is that really how you want to go?”

  Tadmin growled and pressed the blade closer to Sali’s neck. She didn’t seem particularly phased by the events. Her face was a blank expression, as if she didn’t expect anything to happen. That was how Markov knew that Tadmin wouldn’t do anything rash. If she was panicking, that would be different. But he could read her well enough to know she was safe.

  “I’ll do it!” Tadmin shouted.

  “Yeah, but then you’d probably go to hell,” Markov said. “Now, you seem like a decent fellow and the gods don’t care much about things like breaking policy related laws, but moral laws? I would hate, hate, hate to see you end up somewhere absolutely terrible because of hurting an unarmed hostage.”

  Tadmin sighed. “I’m really going to die, aren’t I?”

  “Well, you have a better chance of weaseling out of it with our friends than you do with my fine team of trained killers,” Markov said. “Let her go and roll the dice. Or don’t and enjoy your fine term in a genuinely terrible afterlife.”

  Tadmin closed his eyes and dropped the blade. “Fine, fine. Take me to them,” he said, releasing the woman. The gnome immediately scrambled over to Markov.

  “Nice words,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” Markov asked. The woman didn’t seem battered or injured in any way.

  “Ah, we were playing cards a few minutes ago before you folks broke in,” Sali replied. “Anyway, I’ve got to tend to my affairs. Have a good evening gentleman.” Before she walked off, she turned to face the almost weeping Tadmin. “And you really should have taken me up on that drink offer, kid. You’d be doing a hell of a lot better than you are now.”

  Markov turned his attention to Tadmin. “On your knees, scrub.”

  “What?” Tadmin gasped.

  “Look, you should have known better than to do any of this. It’s bad enough to form a guild illegally, but hostage taking? You didn’t think you’d somehow escape execution.”

  “But what about meeting with Samuel?” he asked.

  Markov shrugged. “Afraid that was a ruse. But you did the right thing, letting her go. For what its worth at least. Any last words?”

  “This is some serious bullshit,” Tadmin said.

  “Aptly put,” Markov said as he clubbed Tadmin in the side of the head, dropping him to the ground. One more blow ensured that the man was dead.

  Markov turned to face Grecin, who had been chatting with a few of the other fighters.

  “Well? How many bodies?”

  “Fifty, sir,” Grecin replied. He eyed the lifeless body of Tadmin. “Make that fifty-one,” he corrected.

  “Not bad. I think that should be enough to disband them. Have the team collect all the weapons and loot, then burn this place to the ground. I want every town crier to be given three copper pieces and a story about the death of the so-called Endless Legion,” Markov ordered.

  “Yes, sir!” Grecin said, he turned to issue out the orders to the rest of the men. They moved quickly to collect whatever they could. Markov could not help but feel pride in his men. They were well armed and armored, with only the best gear available. And what did it cost? Just a few dead idiots and a rescued hostage. That was a deal worth making for certain. Things were only going to get better from here.

  Markov turned to face the hulking brute standing next to him. Groth had not said a word since arriving. The captain wondered if it could even speak.

  “I thank you for your assistance. This went much smoother having you here,” he said, looking up at the creature. The Stonemar was still standing erect, staring down at him.

  “You are cruel,” Groth said after a few moments. “To give that man hope and then dash it.”

  “No, I was simply following the rules,” Markov replied. He was startled by the speed and eloquence of the creature. Normally Stonemar struggled to get out basic words.

  “What rules?” Groth asked.

  “The rules of the game, my friend. He’s a criminal and will do whatever it takes to win and I’m an officer of the law, who will also do whatever it takes to win. Losing means that you die. He lost, simple enough.”

  “So, you had to kill him?”

  “You’re dead the moment you start playing the game,” Markov said. “Make no mistake. You don’t don the uniform, wield the weapon and act like you have a right to live. The moment he took up arms against his fellow man, or gnome in this case, was the moment he gave up his right to play the Civilian Game. That game is much safer and has far less stakes.”

  Groth slowly nodded. “He did not seem aware of the rules.”

  “And that’s why he lost,” Markov replied. “You seem like a smart being, so take this to heart. If you’re going to play, learn all the rules before it’s too late.”

  “Where would one find these rules? Written, no doubt, in some compendium, am I to search the library?” Groth asked.

  Markov opened his mouth to correct the creature, that they were not literal rules, but realized that the beast was joking. A Stonemar that was witty? He truly was having a strange week.

  “Keep your eyes open, Mr. Groth,” Markov replied. “And don’t ever, for a moment, think that you’re ahead. That’s how you die. Pay attention and be prepared. And then maybe, just maybe, you get to play the game for a few years, long enough to learn the ropes.” He glanced at the dead body of Tadmin. He was young. Too young to have any right to be mixed up in this kind of mess. “That is, if you make it that far.”

  “Wise words from a wise man,” Groth said. “I shall share what I have seen with Samuel. We shall celebrate the destruction of our enemies and lament the loss of our innocence.”

 
Markov chuckled at that. “I quite like you, Mr. Groth. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

  Groth glanced at the wreckage surrounding them. “I pray that I am not needed again. But, then again, my prayers will most likely be in vain.”

  Chapter 17:

  Samuel and Cimir stood side by side, staring out the window as the rain came down. After receiving news about the success of Captain Markov and his team, they both retired to Cimir’s study to have a celebratory drink. But Samuel, despite clutching the glass of bubbly in his hand, didn’t much feel as if this were a cause for celebration. Sure, they had managed to supremely overwhelm a major enemy, eliminate them almost entirely and ensure that Sali was safe…but, victory tasted bitter.