“Oh no, there are layers upon layers in this government,” Elias said. “The magistrate only handles the really important decisions.
“So, all I gotta do is just grease that Patrick Yirn’s palms a bit and he’ll okay the construction, right?” Samuel asked. This was new territory for him and it would be good to get Elias’ opinion on the matter.
Elias laughed at that. “If you were the sole man in charge of allowing construction of new business, you’d be quite powerful, right? After all, a new tavern or shop couldn’t open up without his permission.”
“Right, of course.”
“And with a population of 20,000 very wealthy individuals living in the MD, you’d have to think that any businessman would be dying to put a building up,” Elias continued. “Desperate enough to pay anything.”
“Oh shit. So, this guy has to be rich, huh?” Samuel said. He sighed and slumped back into his chair.
“Certainly. He comes from a wealthy lineage and what’s more, he is well reputed for only taking bribes ranging in the millions.”
Millions? Samuel didn’t have nearly that much gold. He had put aside 5,000 of his own wealth to help the orphanage grow. How in the hell was he supposed to swing this?
“I can see by your expression you can’t afford to pay him,” Elias said. “Hardly a surprise, only the wealthiest have that privilege.”
“So, what do I do? In your opinion.”
“Law abiding men do nothing,” Elias said, returning to his work. “But…you aren’t law abiding now, are you?”
“What are you suggesting?”
Elias merely shrugged. “Have a chat with him. I’m sure he’ll sympathize about the orphans.”
Samuel slowly stood to his feet. The implication was rather gruesome. Still, Samuel had already intimidated one man into rolling over, this would be no different. Except… a man of Patrick’s wealth and resources wouldn’t be terribly afraid of Samuel without action.
“Thanks for the advice,” Samuel said. “I appreciate it.”
“For certain,” Elias said. “Let me know how well this goes. I’m sensing we’ll have to start getting involved with politics rather soon. A man of your persuasive abilities might be useful in that field.”
“You want me to run for office?”
“Oh no,” Elias said with a laugh. “I want you to run the people who are in office. One is far more effective than the other.”
To say the manor was opulent would be an understatement. As Samuel stood in front of the large gates to the four story mansion, all he could think about was how much space Patrick Yirn and his family had. They didn’t even live in the Mermaid District, rather they lived on an unmarked border between the Mermaid and Unicorn Districts. Technically, the space wasn’t considered to be a district and thus fell under no jurisdiction. No doubt they avoided taxation this way.
The manservant, Grimsly, approached the gate. “Sir?” Grimsley asked, his voice trembling a little. The man was pushing 90 and looked as if he belonged more in a coffin than in a suit. “I have spoken to Patrick Yirn. He is unfamiliar with you and as such, will not be seeing you today. You may put in a request, if you wish, at his office in the Mermaid District, during the normal hours of 8 am to 11 am.”
“Thanks, sir,” Samuel said, stepping away from the gate. The old man bowed to him and began the long, arduous journey back up the steps into the manor. Well, so much for the honest approach. Samuel had been willing to try and meet with Patrick but had been put on a waiting list that would take at least a year before he got an audience. Trying the man at home was a long shot, but still worth it.
Samuel dug into his pockets and sifted through his crystals, looking for the climbing enhancement. With a simple command, he was able to cling to walls as if he were a spider. He was no stranger to breaking and entering, but usually so he could escape from the bitter cold of the harsh winters. Breaking into a house to have a casual chat with the owner would be a new one for him.
Security was rather lax around the manor. He saw a few guards, but they didn’t particularly seem alert. They were posted at the doors leading into the mansion and the doors by the garden. Samuel was able to stealthily reach one of the walls to the house and began climbing with ease. The crystals in his pockets jangled as he made his way to the second floor. He had quite a variety of tools with him, just in case things went horribly, horribly wrong.
He managed to find an open window, sparing him from the trouble of shattering glass with a rock. Property damage would not make for good first impressions. As he slipped into the window, a young woman who was sitting on a bed and brushing her hair gasped.
“Hey, take it easy!” Samuel said, putting both hands up. “I’m just here to talk to Patrick Yirn.”
“Please, don’t tell the Mistress I was using her hairbrush!” the woman said. Samuel noticed that she was wearing the traditional red and white garb of house servants.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” he said, digging into his pocket and taking out a gold coin. “Where’s Yirn’s office?”
“Up the stairs and to the left,” she said. She was eager to take the coin. As she held it up to the light, she glanced at him. “Are you an assassin?”
Samuel couldn’t tell whether her tone was hopeful or not. “Nah, just here to talk.”
“Oh, very well,” the maid said. She went back to brushing her hair. “You best move quickly, there aren’t many guards inside, but they can be here in a moment’s notice.”
“Thanks,” Samuel said, moving through the exit and into the hallway. The walls were adorned with many paintings and portraits of the Yirn family. Some were dated to go back as far as 500 years ago. Samuel couldn’t imagine having a legacy extend that far. He wondered if the house was just as old as the paintings.
He made his way up the stairs, careful to avoid the servants, but those who did notice him barely batted an eye. They were either too polite to bother house guests or too numb to care that a potential assassin might be wandering around. Samuel was starting to get the picture that Patrick might not be a caring and loving employer.
Finally, he reached the office and tried the handle. It opened, revealing a brightly lit room with a beautiful red couch, two desks and a burning fire. Standing in front of the flames was a middle-aged man.
“Patrick?” Samuel asked as he entered and slowly closed the door behind him. He made sure to turn the lock, to keep people out.
“Who are you?” the man asked, turning around to face Samuel. Patrick was a little over six feet tall and had a thick beard. He looked rather annoyed at the interruption. “And why are you bothering me?’
“I’m Samuel, the man who wanted an audience earlier,” he said as he walked over to the desk and leaned against it.
“So, you break into my manor, slip past my guards and catch me by surprise?” Patrick said with a laugh. “Either you are quite the fool or here on extremely urgent business. Please, have a seat.”
Patrick walked around the desk and sat down, taking out a bottle of brandy from the liquor cabinet behind him. He poured two glasses and slid one over to Samuel. “Drink up, lad. You’re going to need it.”
Samuel took a sip. He hated brandy, but it would impolite to decline the man’s hospitality. “So, I’m here to talk to you about a pressing matter.”
“Aren’t all matters pressing?” Patrick grumbled. “You have one minute to make your pitch. Go.”
“So, there’s this group that wants to build an orphanage – “ his words were interrupted by fierce laughter. Patrick began to quake as he chortled, slapping his hand against the desk.
“You’re here for that? Boy, are you out of your mind?”
Samuel frowned at the words. He didn’t like being called boy. He was a man, a man who had probably seen more hardships than this jackass. “It’s a serious matter.”
“Son, I once had a man from the hills of Rimlid get on his knees and beg me for the legal right to build a brewery in this district. And
that man was perhaps the biggest brewer in his country!” Patrick said, laughing even harder. “So please, do not tell me that this is a serious matter. The Mermaid District is no place for orphans.”
“I disagree,” Samuel said. “It’s the perfect place for those who are down on their luck. The MD is safer, its cleaner and there are two schools that offer free education to all. It’s everything some poor kids need in order to get ahead in life.”
Patrick shrugged. “I’ve made up my mind already. I’ve had more eloquent people than you sitting in this very office, asking me to look deep into my heart and help those poor kids out. But my answer to them is the same answer to you, it’s nothing personal but I cannot afford to lose that plot of land to something that will bring no value to the district.”
“Value? Like those rich bastards need any more value in that place. I mean, I saw a shop charging two gold pieces for a sandwich! And it was packed to the brim! What more value could you need?”
“The Mermaid District is a tourist spot,” Patrick said. “Men and women of all races come to Glimmer not simply to see the big city but to enjoy the luxuries provided by my district. I can’t have a bunch of poor children running about, begging for coins.”
Samuel felt a spark of anger rush up. This was beyond absurd. In front of him sat a man with more money than just about anyone else in the city and all he could think about was making even more.
“Have you no kindness? No compassion?”
Patrick sighed. “Listen, you clearly seem to care a lot, enough to break a few laws. I can respect that. A man doesn’t get what he wants in this world just by following the rules.” He reached into his jacket and produced a small pocketbook. He began writing in it. “I will write a bank note out to your little orphanage. I’ll pay to have the whole thing put up in the Golden District. No zoning laws are present there. Find the best plot of land and I’ll ensure it will be built with the finest furniture possible.”
“And for what?” Samuel asked, slamming his fist on the table. “For the drunks and the crooks to break in overnight and steal everything that isn’t nailed down? These kids need somewhere safe and the Golden District is far from it.”
“I fail to see how this is my problem,” Patrick said, tearing the cheque off. It was written to the order of 100,000 gold pieces. He handed it over to Samuel. “See? I am a man of compassion. Hell, you could build two orphanages with this.”
Samuel stared at the money and back at the man. How smug Patrick looked, contented with his own act of charity. Throwing money at Samuel in the hopes of showing how good and kind he was. The money could have done a lot of good. It would be enough to get a building up in the Golden District for certain, and it could be enough to ensure the children would have plenty of food to eat. This was a solution where everyone wins. He should have just reached out and taken the check.
But the smugness, the expression of self-satisfaction on Patrick’s face caused Samuel’s blood to boil. Why should a man like that get to have all the power? Why should he be able to prevent children from living in a city district where the most dangerous crime was wearing mismatching socks? A hundred thousand gold? Samuel would make that before the year was over. Patrick’s money meant nothing to him, because he wasn’t here to ask for money. No, he was here to ensure that the orphanage was erected in the Mermaid District. And he wasn’t leaving until he got his way.
Samuel reached out and took the bank note in hand.
“See? Isn’t that a reasonable way to conclude our business?” Patrick said, raising his glass a up in a toast. Samuel scowled and tore the paper in half then slapped the drink out of the smug bastard’s hand, causing it to shatter on the floor.
“Hey!” Patrick yelled. “Are you nuts?”
Samuel stood to his feet and leaned in close. “I’m not leaving until you sign a decree, allowing for the immediate construction of the orphanage.”
Patrick laughed again. He leaned back in his chair. “Son, you are a fierce one. But you’re making perhaps one of the biggest mistakes in your life. See, I was willing to respect your tenacity, but now? Now you’re becoming a pain in my ass. But I’m sporting, you have two minutes to get off the property. If you can get past the gate in time, I won’t press any charges. If not, I’ll ensure you spend the rest of your miserable life in prison.”
The time for words was over, Samuel knew that much. It was a time for action. Patrick must have felt so secure, sitting in his own home, safe from the rest of the world. One gigantic wall separated him from the rest of the city. It was time for that feeling of safety to vanish.
Samuel reached into his pocket, prompting Patrick to draw a knife from his boot. “Oh, you want to dance?” he bellowed, leaping to his feet and dropping into a fighting stance. Samuel activated a few of the crystals and smiled.
“Give it your best shot,” Samuel said, taking a step forward. Patrick was quick to respond, thrusting his blade forward, only for Samuel to catch the man’s arm with lightning speeds.
“Gahhh!” Patrick cried as Samuel began to tighten his grip, forcing the man to drop to his knees. The knife fell from his fingers as well.
“What’s the matter?” Samuel asked as he continued to squeeze, pushing Patrick to the floor. “Come on, why not just call for your guards? Maybe they can stop me.”
“I yield! I yield!” Patrick wheezed. Samuel, now standing above Patrick, violently jerked the arm to the left, causing it to snap. Patrick let out a blood curdling scream. But no one would hear the man, after all, Samuel had used the silencing Cimirite to ensure their meeting would remain private.
Samuel let go of the man and watched as he rolled around on the ground, clutching his arm and swearing up a storm. It felt good, he realized, to see this rich prick get exactly what he deserved. But Samuel wasn’t here to hurt someone for no good reason. He had a job to do.
“Guards! Guards!” Patrick cried out in vain. He tried to crawl away from Samuel but wasn’t fast enough. Samuel reached down and picked him up with one arm, then shoved him against the window. They were three stories up and the ground was solid cobblestone.
“Now, we have a few choices,” Samuel said. “A few simple choices. The first one is that I teach you to fly. Now my success rate in the past has been rather low, so I don’t have high hopes for that option. The second is that I break your other arm, then your leg and then your other leg. That’ll be more painful than being thrown out the window, but you have a much higher chance of survival.”
“Just let me go,” Patrick wheezed. “Please, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You’ve pissed me off,” Samuel replied. “That’s plenty wrong in my book. The last option, and this is my favorite, is that you sit your ass down in that chair, draft up a decree of construction and then seal it with your official wax.”
“All of this for that damnable orphanage?” Patrick groaned. “What’s your angle?”
“That’s the funny thing, friend, I don’t have an angle,” Samuel said as he escorted the writhing man to his desk and threw him into the chair. “I genuinely want to help these kids.”
Patrick was still gasping for air but had managed to compose himself somewhat. He stared at the desk and then back up at Samuel. “You still have chance. Walk away now, walk away before – “
“Before you what?” Samuel asked, punching his fist into the desk, causing the wood to splinter everywhere. He had forgotten how strong he was for a moment. The display, while unintentional, certainly cowed Patrick. “You have no idea who I am or what I’m capable of. So, you better sign that damn paper before I just kill you. After all, this is a lineage thing, right? I’m sure one of your kids would be far more pliable than you.”
Patrick glanced up at Samuel, terror in his eyes. He said no words, but Samuel could see the fear written so clearly. The man was helpless, unable to fight back. His trembling, unbroken arm slowly reached out for an ink quill.
“It…it’ll take me a bit to write the contract,” Patrick
whispered. His hand was trembling as he picked up the pen.
“Take your time,” Samuel said as he grabbed a chair and sat next to the man. “We’ve got all day.”
And with that, Patrick, while sobbing, began to write the ruling, granting Samuel permission to build whatever the hell he wanted in the Mermaid District.
The morning came quickly for Samuel. He dreamt the scene of his brutal beating of a man over and over again. Each time, the scene was a little different, but it always ended the exact same way: Samuel accomplished the goal he set out to achieve.
He thought he’d feel guilty over what he had done to that man. After all, Patrick had at least been willing to compromise, but in the end, there was no guilt. Samuel didn’t really care about the damage done. A broken arm was nothing compared to the lives of 80 children who would now have the opportunity to live in a place free of gangs looking for street urchins to recruit.
Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 23
