The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four

by Daniel Lawlis

  “I’m pregnant, Rich,” she said. “We need you.”

  Righty gulped.

  Chapter 28

  For several days, Righty somehow managed to pretend this news didn’t matter. He had some really profitable nights in Sivingdel and didn’t find himself ambushed in any alleyways or elsewhere.

  But today when Righty went outside for his morning practice, he had a lot on his mind. He was thinking about Eddie and the little one on the way. He felt an immense sense of relief Eddie had gone away to be tutored by that professor because Righty felt that with his new line of work the farther his family was away from him the safer they were. He would fight to keep their locations and identities hidden, but part of him knew that might not last forever.

  But with enough time, perhaps things could reach a relative calm. He wasn’t quite sure how, and he wasn’t quite sure when, that might happen, but he knew one thing. It wouldn’t be soon.

  Suddenly, what had merely been a vague notion all morning now transformed itself into a firm resolve.

  “Harold.”

  Harold looked at him intently.

  “There’s going to be a major change effective immediately. I don’t think you’re gonna like it. And I’m gonna like it even less.”

  Harold looked worried.

  “From now on, watching my wife is your primary job. You can take me to Sivingdel and back, but except for when you’re transporting me, you’ve got to watch Janie.”

  Harold would have appeared calm to anyone unacquainted with him, but as Righty had grown to know him rather well, he saw Harold was irate.

  “She’s pregnant, Harold.”

  Righty saw the look of fury turn into understanding mixed with disappointment. Then, deep thought.

  Harold was considering the irony of the moment. He had lectured Righty on trust when Righty showed deep concern about ever revealing Harold’s existence to Tats, yet Harold was not without his own secrets. And he was holding them from a man he was becoming more convinced by the day was trustworthy. Righty had not yet been given the opportunity to show whether he would put his life or interests on the line in order to protect Harold, as he had done multiple times with Tats, but in Harold’s analysis these acts revealed that it was within Righty’s character to be loyal to those who were loyal to him. The time had come for Harold to follow his own advice.

  “Suppose I had the means to provide protection for Janie while still remaining by your side.”

  “Do you have a twin?” Righty asked, joking.

  “Not quite, but I do have access to other aerial companions. They could keep watch on Janie and let out a distress call if she were to be in any danger. They could be strategically placed at intervals between your location and Janie’s so that I could be alerted almost instantly to any trouble. And better than that, with a bit of training, I think you could train them to be alert to any suspicious individuals approaching Ringsetter. That way, I could be alerted even before such individuals reached Ringsetter. I would then investigate the situation personally and take care of any danger.”

  “I get the impression these aerial companions wouldn’t be capable of taking out a human without your help.”

  “They’re significantly smaller, yes,” Harold replied, hoping he would not be forced to reveal they were no bigger than the common robin.

  “Well, it sounds almost too good to be true,” Righty said, “but we’ll try it. How long will it take you to bring them?”

  “It could be as long as several days. Two would probably be the shortest. I’m not sure how well they handle long-distance flights.”

  There was an awkward silence. Righty then patted the side of Harold’s massive neck.

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You take care of yourself.”

  Harold didn’t know what to say. He had never had a friend before, nor did he realize Righty saw him as such. He saw this as an unequaled chance to make a demand of his own.

  “There will be a condition,” Harold said.

  “Sounds fair enough,” said Righty, not sounding apprehensive in the slightest.

  “These birds will be under my control. General strategy is still yours. But I know how to handle these creatures. It will be up to me to decide how they fit into carrying out your strategies, although I will welcome your input.”

  Realizing he had absolutely no chip to bargain with, Righty said, “You’ve got it.”

  “Time’s a-wastin’,” Harold suddenly said and went flapping off into the sky, becoming a mere speck heading west seconds later.

  Righty groaned inwardly as he thought of the several hours of horseback riding he would have each way today. But that was a small concern compared to the lack of backup he would have. He felt as helpless as a mouse in a hole full of rattlesnakes. And he felt a sense of terror at the thought that Harold might never return, leaving him to face alone the nightmarish world in which he had enmeshed himself and perhaps even his family.

  Chapter 29

  Sam was seething after the chief left. He sniffed three thick lines of Smokeless Green one after another with barely a breath in between and then went downstairs to his large private gym. He took off all his clothes except for his undergarments, revealing a grotesque musculature that far exceeded the vainest desires of even the most avid weightlifter.

  He had been taking potent muscle-building herbs over the last couple years that he acquired from a local botanist. He multiplied times three what she had said was the safest daily maximum intake because, in his experience, people often underestimated what he could handle. He had noticed amazing gains in strength ever since, but things had really kicked off once he had discovered Smokeless Green.

  While Righty was diligently mastering the complexity of various attacks, ripostes, and parries each morning, Sam was in his gym for an hour of weightlifting that would make even the most accomplished lifter cringe. Sam had five hundred pounds on the bench press right now and began his first set of fifteen.

  Blood rushed to his pectoral muscles, diverting it away from his brain, where it might have been more useful at the moment, for he was deep in thought. What he hated the most about what the chief had said about marching into the junkyard with all one thousand toughs was the fact that he knew the chief was absolutely right. No matter how hard he tried to imagine that scenario going well, he couldn’t.

  It was far easier to imagine the army coming into Sivingdel after such an outrage, after which they would quickly discover who was responsible and bring him to justice. Furthermore, even if a miracle among miracles happened and the army didn’t come, there was a good chance this wily Brass fellow wouldn’t even be there when his toughs arrived. After all, he had managed to elude police officers who had him trapped in a closed alley. How hard would it be for him to hightail it out of the junkyard on foot—or, Kasani forbid, with the help of his mysterious bird—without suffering so much as a nick in the process?

  It was a likely scenario that Sam would lose quite a few of his men in the attack—although their ultimate victory would be ensured—and in the end would not get his quarry. Furthermore, all those young men in the junkyard were potential members of his gang, which meant they were potential moneymakers. Killing potential moneymakers and losing a good number of his own moneymakers in the process was not exactly a good business strategy. Not to mention the fact that in the process he would probably scare off a lot of customers with such brutal tactics. And he would probably lose the chief’s goodwill.

  CLUNK!!

  He set the five hundred pound bar onto the rack. He wasn’t sure how many reps he had done, but he had been lifting for at least a couple minutes at a steady pace. He stood up and looked in the mirror, noting with satisfaction that the skin was now so tight around his bulging pecs and triceps that they verged on exploding.

  Okay, so that ain’t gonna fly! But whatchu gonna do? his inner voice insisted.

  Sit and wait was not exactly a habit Sam had cultivated in his life. From his experien
ce, he had learned that success goes to the bold and failure to the meek.

  Well, I got’s to do something, or don’t I?!

  Then, an idea occurred to him.

  He added a hundred pounds to each side of the barbell. He lay down for what he hoped would be eight reps. So far, six had been his personal best at this weight.

  Chapter 30

  As Harold flew swiftly, far faster than he had ever flown before, towards the konulans, it seemed a million different anxieties vied for center stage. He was supremely resentful at having to share his station with such unworthy companions as the konulans, but he realized that it was his only chance to avoid becoming Janie’s babysitter, a job he may have found exciting once upon a time, but it could hardly seem exciting after serving as Righty’s bodyguard.

  He was also worried that these konulans would prove to be both his and Righty’s undoing. Their garrulous nature, their scant sense of duty, and their unhealthy love of festivities all united to earn Harold's extreme distrust. But in spite of these flaws, he realized it was not they but rather the treacherous pholungs who had turned on Tristan. A shudder went through his body as he realized that even in thought it was the first time he had ever referred to Tristan by any name other than Master, which informed Harold just how much he had changed.

  He also realized he had momentarily forgotten Tristan’s claim that it was Max who had convinced the pholungs to turn against Tristan. He realized he now viewed a lot of Tristan’s previous claims with far more skepticism than before, and in fact at this moment the idea of a konulan convincing hordes of pholungs to do anything seemed rather improbable. But it was of no matter now. Max was gone, and not even Tristan had accused the other konulans of treachery.

  Just as Righty had realized that failure to take leadership of the junkyard gang would force either his retirement or death, Harold realized that if he did not take charge of the konulans he would face disastrous consequences. He knew Righty’s life and freedom depended heavily upon his protection—notwithstanding his growing prowess with the sword and increasing power of intimidation—and if Harold were busy watching Janie, he would soon find himself awaiting a man who was never to return, a man whom he would have failed to protect in his moment of utmost need.

  These thoughts served as fuel in his already vigorous frame, and he continued cutting through the wind with his massive wings.

  Chapter 31

  Righty stopped by the business that morning to do a little magic accounting. He inflated his revenue and deflated his expenses as much as he felt he could do without venturing into the realm of the absurd. It was tedious work, every minute of which he hated, and even worse he knew it was nowhere near enough to enable him to start putting significant money into the bank, which meant he was still doing a lot of hole-digging. He was beginning to wonder what the use of the effort was fudging numbers unless he was going to open up several more businesses and thereby generate enough ostensibly clean money to get out of the hole-digging business.

  But that meant a lot more headache. New employees, multiple locations. And it would have to be done in Sivingdel. Ringsetter was out of the question. He would be the gossip of the town in days, and he knew he had raised enough eyebrows by the modest purchase of his hardware store. His only option would be Sivingdel. That would mean doing business there in his real name because his only realistic inventory provider was Mr. Hoffmeyer, and he already knew Righty’s real name. Thus, establishing a store there meant giving his enemies the opportunity to discover his identity and eventually his place of residence. Then, one day he would walk home to find Janie and his baby slaughtered.

  No, that would all have to be put on hold. Even the slightest thought about it made hole-digging seem like a jovial task by comparison.

  Then, around 3 p.m., he got on his horse, loaded with his usual twenty pounds, and started heading towards Sivingdel. He knew he was going to be absolutely miserable and exhausted tomorrow.

  He got there at around 9 p.m. and found quite a few of the junkyard gang gathered. More poured in soon after, he divided them into roughly equal groups, and he set off with the group led by Crabs so that he could learn some new parts of the gang’s turf.

  All was rather routine until about 1 a.m. Righty noticed a group of about twelve toughs coming his way, and they certainly didn’t belong to the junkyard gang. Righty had about ten people with him and had zero confidence in their fighting abilities. He calculated they would serve little use other than as distractions to his assailants. Nonetheless, it was a far-superior scenario to the one he had faced in the alley.

  He calmed a bit as he noticed that once they got to about five paces away they all stopped except for one. Righty watched this lone individual like a hawk, ready to free his sword the second he saw a suspicious hand movement.

  “Mr. Brass?” the man asked, once he was around four feet away.

  “Who wants to know and why?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. My boss could send his men into the junkyard neighborhoods and kill every last person there in a single night, but he’s looking for a less-violent solution. He’s decided to give you three choices. One, you bow out now and never show your face again in this city. Two, you keep working, but under him as his employee. You could keep a leadership position with your junkyard crew, but you would answer directly to Sam and pay whatever tax he asks for working in his city. Three, you can meet him one on one tomorrow night at the place of your choosing so that he can show both you and your crew why he’s in charge. If you don’t agree to any of these options right now, then Sam will invade the junkyard neighborhoods shortly, and you’ll have every last drop of their blood on your hands.”

  Righty was taken aback and was as nervous as he was confused. He would have perhaps felt more relieved if the man had drawn his sword so that Righty could transfer his adrenaline into physical output, but this involved a battle of wits, and he realized that choosing wrongly would at best result in him losing face amongst his crew and at worst would result in a lot of innocent lives lost.

  Realizing that careful reflection was not a luxury he would receive, he went with his instinct.

  “Tell Sam to meet me in the junkyard tomorrow at 6 p.m.”

  “He’ll be there,” the messenger replied with a pseudo-sympathetic smirk, which seemed to suggest he viewed Brass as an uppity squirrel who had just agreed to a fight with a lion.

  Righty’s face remained impassive, but his heart was racing.

  “I’m going to have to be well-rested for this,” he told Crabs. Crabs himself had a look of horror on his face that he appeared to be trying desperately to hide. It seemed to say, You should have picked option one or two.

  “Pass the word to the men to tell all their family that tomorrow from around four to eight p.m. they would be wise to not be in their homes. They should go into the city and try to blend in somewhere and take with them whatever valuables they have. Sam may decide wholesale slaughter is the safest route after all. But as for the men, I want them all assembled in the junkyard by 5:30 p.m. Win or lose, I want all to bear witness to how it happens.”

  Crabs nodded, still looking fearful. Righty then turned and started walking briskly back towards the junkyard. He got on his horse and began riding it hard. He felt more afraid than ever in his life. Sam had chosen a wise strategy. He had forced Righty to make the decision in front of his men, which made either indecision or acquiescence out of the question, and nonetheless, it was Righty who had chosen to fight. Should Righty lose, Sam would not only have a victory of intimidation but could also win over the leaderless men through entreaties of having been denied a peaceful outcome by the late Mr. Brass.

  He found this far more terrifying than the many ambushes he had endured, for he would have to endure the terror of this premeditated engagement. He knew in his heart that this might be the last night he ever saw Janie and that he might leave his unborn child an orphan before ever entering this world.

  Lastly, he bemoaned the m
isfortune of this having occurred at a time when Harold was far away. Even though he could not ask him to intervene in an honorable duel, it would work miracles upon Righty’s anxiety to at least know Harold could assist in the event Sam tried any dirty tricks, something he considered a robust possibility.

  When he arrived home at around 7 a.m., he was greatly relieved to learn that Janie was not working that day. He convinced her to retire to bed with him, and he held her tight as he fell asleep, feeling like a drowning man hanging onto a floating log.

  Chapter 32

  By the next day Harold was nearing the locations where the konulans had been left. He was so exhausted he considered taking a brief nap, but he dared not, as he feared for Righty’s safety in his absence as much as did Righty himself. He hated that he had not had adequate time to contemplate various ruses by which to convince the konulans to come with him and then after careful consideration select the most convincing.