The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four

by Daniel Lawlis

  Sincerely,

  Chris Wilkins

  Righty felt a sense of elation and aggravation. He had hoped this would be a place where he could get away from it all. Be utterly free from the scrutinizing gaze of anything in the world except that of nature itself. But now he was either going to have to turn these men away and take away not only their source of income but a job they apparently loved and that was a way of life for them or take them on as employees.

  “What do you think, Harold?”

  The konulans looked awed as they realized Righty had not only taught Harold how to read but was asking his opinion. They hoped they too might ascend to such lofty status one day.

  “Well,” Harold began. “I know you were hoping to have this place all by yourself, but there could be some benefit here. Let’s face it—your friends at the junkyard couldn’t hold a candle to these guys in a fight, if this Mr. Wilkins here knows what he’s talking about, and I think he does. The day might come where you need to develop a serious bodyguard unit, and it sounds like this might be one of the best recruitment pools you’ll ever come across. The next time you walk into an ambush like the one in that alley, it might not be just two or three guys with swords, but rather ten to twenty, all of whom know how to use them. It’s time to recognize the fact that in your line of work you need men who can form a small army when necessary.”

  Righty could offer no rebuttal. He was beginning to learn that every time he took one step forward in this business, it meant a lot more than just extra money. It meant extra responsibilities, particularly of the managerial species, and since he had already decided he was going forward in this business no matter what, the issue with regards to these men seemed to be resolved, at least if they were as Mr. Wilkins portrayed them.

  “Let’s go meet them,” Righty said. “Harold, watch my back close. Any funny business—and I mean any—you lay into these guys.” Almost as an afterthought, he turned to the konulans and said, “That goes for you too, but you wait for Harold’s signal.”

  “What would that be?” Laura asked.

  “If you see Harold dragging a man about fifty feet up into the air and letting him drop,” Righty said with a straight face.

  “Do you know where their quarters are?” Righty asked Harold.

  Harold nodded.

  “Konulans, spread out. If you see anything suspicious, let Harold know right away.”

  They all nodded assent.

  Righty got on Harold’s back and went to go meet the men. He almost asked Harold drop him off right in front of the ranch hands. After all, these sounded like the kind of guys who judged their sense of self-worth based on how long they could hold on to a bucking bronco, so if Righty swooped down on a bird that could gore one of their nastiest cattle, that might set the tone Righty was aiming for.

  But there was no way he was going to reveal a secret weapon that easily.

  He had Harold come in really low and set him down about a quarter mile away, and from there he began walking towards the encampment. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw a creature walking along the ground towards him that appeared so fierce it made Righty think he was letting his nervousness get the better of him. Then, he guessed it was a scorpion, something he had seen in drawings but never in real life. He meandered slightly, giving the creature some space, and the scorpion reciprocated by slinking away.

  He saw a fence and acre upon acre of lush green grass, as well as lots of cattle inside it. He saw men riding around with horses and lassos and carrying on with all kinds of activity he knew nothing about.

  He then let out a loud whistle. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was getting behind schedule, and if he was going to be these men’s boss, they’d have to have some thickness of skin.

  “Yo!” he heard a voice yell from afar, and then lots of whistles. It seemed the men were calling each other.

  A mere two minutes later, a small dust cloud arose as the men came thundering towards him. Before Righty had even stopped marveling at the sight of all those cattle and all the magnificent stallions the ranchers were riding on, he realized he was standing face to face with thirty men.

  “Good afternoon, men. My name is Richard Simmers. Mr. Wilkins left a note telling me a lot of good things about you.” More than one gulped, but most were stoic. They had a tough, yet unthreatening, look about them.

  “Dismount,” he told them. He watched their faces carefully to see how they reacted to this reasonable request. He didn’t see a sullen look amongst them. Quicker than a jiffy, their horses were tied, and they were standing at his level.

  Righty went down the line and shook hands firmly with each. Every last one gave a nice, firm handshake, looked him square in the eye, gave his full name, and added “Nice to meet you, Mr. Simmers” or some derivation thereof.

  Righty didn’t see a haughty eye amongst them. But they radiated strength. He was beginning to have a good feeling about this after all.

  “Mr. Wilkins has told me you want to stay here.” Righty scanned their faces more carefully than ever now. He saw some slight tension, but their stoicism remained.

  “I think we can probably make that work. Let’s do a trial month.” He saw some of the tension ease in their faces. “Based upon Mr. Wilkins’ description of you, I think we should get along great. He says you like to keep to yourselves, raise cattle, sell them every six months, and then turn over the proceeds in exchange for a salary plus living quarters.”

  Heads nodded.

  “That all sounds good to me. I know nothing about cattle, and most of these creatures would throw me from here to Sivingdel!” That brought some polite laughter, but it was clear they were eagerly waiting to see what else Mr. Simmers had to say.

  “I like to keep to myself too. I bought this place mostly as a kind of idyllic getaway, but I do have a green thumb—or at least, am working on developing one—and I would both expect and demand absolute privacy with regards to all gardening activities.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the uniform response, and it sounded sincere.

  “Mr. Wilkins said you guys can handle yourselves. That’s of particular interest to me. I’m a businessman, and as such I occasionally have to deal with muggers, murderers, and other riffraff. It’s forced me to learn a thing or two about combat. Could I see a crossbow demonstration?”

  Righty expected to see them hightailing it back to their quarters for their crossbows, but instead he found himself looking at thirty drawn crossbows with a bolt in each, ready to go.

  Without warning, Righty removed an apple from his pocket and threw it up into the air. They got the hint. Righty couldn’t be sure that all thirty bolts hit the apple, but the first ten or so that did left very little of a target.

  Impressed, Righty said, “Let’s see the swords.”

  Thinking surely this would send them galloping back to their quarters, he was surprised when each of them reached into a compartment hidden underneath long flaps hanging from their saddles and pulled out their swords.

  “You look like cavalry!” Righty exclaimed impressed, and they smiled modestly.

  “And your bows?”

  The tallest of the bunch said, “Most of us prefer the crossbow, but we do have bows back at our houses, and we can go get them if you like.”

  “No need,” Righty said, being adequately impressed. “In the past, how have you all determined whether someone on the ranch was welcome or not?”

  The tall one spoke up again. “If Mr. Wilkins said he was a guest, then we stayed away. If Mr. Wilkins said the person was not a guest, we showed him our crossbows. That usually settled things.”

  “How long have most of you worked here?”

  “I’ve been here since I was twelve, which means I’ve been here eighteen years. Most of us have been here for at least ten to fifteen years.”

  “Would you say you recognize most of the people who come by here for innocent purposes?”

  “Very rarely does anyone come here. We take the cattl
e to the market.”

  “So, if someone unexpected arrives, they’re given very careful attention?”

  “Very close,” the tall man answered.

  “Well, that’s good. That’s very good,” Righty said. “If anyone arrives here at my behest, he’ll either be announced adequately in advance or will be seen arriving in my company. Under any other circumstances, I want you to treat any intruder with extreme hostility. If they don’t give a good reason for their presence and don’t know how to turn around and do a convincing sprint or gallop away from here, then you shoot.”

  The men nodded.

  “Well, I’ve probably taken up too much of your time, men. You might see me doing some moving today, but I’ll be out of your hair. Most of my activity will be near the house.” Righty was glad this was a good two miles away.

  “Yes, sir,” the men said, and they tipped their hats adieu.

  Righty, not having a hat, simply nodded.

  He felt particularly relieved when he saw them ride off immediately and begin making themselves busy, and not a single one of them looked over his shoulder to start spying on his new boss.

  Righty walked back towards the house, and he gave a soft whistle to Harold once he was pretty sure the coast was clear. Harold swooped in low—a mere four three from the ground—and then landed. Righty got on top, and Harold stayed low until they got a couple miles away and then took Righty up to the hill.

  Righty figured that if there was one place where it just might be impossible to keep Harold a secret very long it was ironically in the very place he had thought it would be easiest, but as he looked at the country separating the house from the cattle-grazing area, he concluded the trees and tall grass would most likely obfuscate the view. But the flip side to this coin, Righty quickly realized, was that these men were probably the least likely people to be overly surprised by the freakish Harold and Righty might even gain some additional respect if the men saw he could ride this massive bird.

  But one thing was certain. Righty wasn’t going to tiptoe around on his own property. If any of these men discovered Harold or his Smokeless Green and told anyone else about it without his express permission, they would be dealt with. And an additional wave of assurance fell upon him as he thought of the konulans, whose unalarming presence would give him an unprecedented ability to conduct surveillance and discover traitors.

  Righty rode Harold from the hill down to the house and set the barrels there. When Harold brought him back to hillside, he told the konulans, “Here’s your first important mission. Watch this area closely. Look after these ranch hands. See what you can learn about them. I’ll be expecting a full report when I get back.”

  Harold then took Righty back to Ringsetter, where Righty then searched his barn until he found a large sack. He managed to get three barrels in there, and Harold took them to the ranch with Righty.

  By the time 8 p.m. was nearing, there were still several barrels of seeds that had to be moved, and none of the plants had been moved, but Righty had an appointment at the junkyard.

  Nothing of consequence happened that night, except that they beat the previous night’s record and moved forty pounds in a mere forty minutes. Righty recouped all money that same night from the consignment and felt extremely relieved that he was soon going to be able to begin a real farm, where these beautiful plants could receive the full warmth and energy of the sun.

  Righty did not stick around afterwards but instead went back to Ringsetter, and he and Harold spent the rest of the night moving the remaining barrels. Righty almost moved the plants themselves, but the sun was starting to come up, and it dawned on him that it would be prudent not to go ripping these plants out of the ground before the ones at his ranch had begun to grow.

  He had already planted a few rows last night, and he planned to plant about six acres’ worth very soon. That would be a mere start. Then he would start planting corn around them to camouflage his true cash crop.

  Righty would have liked to go spend the night at his ranch, but it was too late for that. It would be broad daylight long before he arrived, and furthermore he had a sword lesson in Sodorf at 3 p.m. He would have to steal a handful of hours of sleep now just to be alert enough for his sword lesson.

  It was beginning to occur to him that in the process of running this business he just might find himself rich in money but destitute of time.

  Chapter 37

  Pitkins was stunned by the progress Righty had made. He had always considered his progress to be remarkable, but the swiftness, the gracefulness, and the technicality of his movements were advancing in a way Pitkins would not have even believed had he not been seeing it now with his own eyes.

  “Are you sure you’ve never practiced before?” Pitkins asked, grinning.

  “Three hours a day, every day, since our sword lessons began” was Righty’s response.

  “Well, I admire your dedication. That reminds me of something I had been planning on mentioning to you anyway.”

  Righty looked at him attentively.

  “Last month, a huge gold mine just one hour south of the city was discovered. It was thought small at first, but over the last couple weeks of excavation it has been reported to be possibly the largest gold mine discovered in centuries. I’m no economist, and I’m certainly no stockbroker, but it takes neither to know that something major’s afoot here in Sodorf. Already, floods of people are trickling in from small towns throughout the country looking for work, and I’ve heard talk of some major investors considering the possibility of huge construction projects in anticipation of the economic boom that’s coming.

  “Anyway, I’m mentioning that because I’ve already noticed a small uptick in the value of the Sodorfian currency, and I just want you to know that what we agreed upon for sword lessons will remain the same in Seleganian currency. You don’t need to worry about the coming currency value gap. As I’ve said before, I charge to make sure the student values the services.”

  “It sounds like a pretty major development,” Righty said, acutely interested, but not in the least because of a concern about the price of sword lessons. “I’ll pay whatever you consider fair. You’re a man I hold in high esteem.”

  Pitkins might have distrusted a man making a similar comment, but he knew Mr. Simmers was no flatterer.

  “Likewise,” Pitkins said. “Your dedication is unrivalled. If you continue on this course, you’ll eclipse my own skills one day.” Like any teacher, Pitkins considered that possibility a bittersweet scenario and considered the possibility he ought to begin practicing more regularly. He had previously considered his one hour of sword practice per day rather impressive, given that he was a mere civilian living in a peaceful country.

  “If that day exists, it is not visible with the naked eye or even the telescope,” Righty said, laughing.

  “And when it comes to combat,” Righty continued, “you’d be surprised to learn that one of my biggest areas of weakness is in the sphere of unarmed combat.”

  “With your boxing skills?!”

  “In the ring, they don’t allow wrestling holds. On the street, the rules are a bit more lax,” as I discovered during a recent mugging.

  “I have some experience in that area of combat,” Pitkins said humbly, not sure whether to reveal that when it came to unarmed combat his grappling skills excelled even his striking skills.

  Then, at Pitkins’ request, Righty demonstrated the bear hug by which Sam had nearly crushed him. Righty squeezed with all his might and then said, “Go!” expecting Pitkins to simulate a bite or groin grab to prompt a release.

  Instead, the next thing Righty knew was he was taking a trip through outer space before landing on his back, on the mat, with Pitkins on top of him holding him firmly.

  “If you told me you just performed magic, I wouldn’t know the difference,” Righty said sincerely. Righty then worried he was about to be interrogated as to the details of the mugging, but to his relief Pitkins simply walked him through
the move step by step, showing him how to step backwards, squat, and then lunge upwards thrusting his arms forward around his opponent’s back and from there executing a hip throw.

  “Like I said: magic,” Righty remarked, laughing. “Could we add an hour of that on to each lesson? You name the price.”

  Pitkins charged the same as for sword lessons and gave him an hour lesson on the spot.

  When Righty got back to the woods and found Harold, Righty was beaming.

  “What are you so happy about?” Harold asked.

  “We’ve been thinking small. Way too small,” Righty said.

  “Small?! You just spent all of yesterday moving your seeds across a mountain range to begin a large-scale farm—interrupted briefly by a trip to a distant city, where you made $400,000 in a single night, with no overhead or taxes—and you’ve now just finished several hours of sword lessons with perhaps the most skilled swordsman in the known world, and you say you’re thinking small!” Harold remarked aghast, yet somehow good-naturedly at the same time, finding Righty’s insatiable appetite both concerning and exciting.