As dusk begins to fade the sky, Shaddar senses a more interesting visitor approach the meadhall. This man is not seeking a tankard of frothy ale. No, he has come to report to the Boss!
It only takes a few seconds before the man enters. Shaddar listens to the conversation going on the floor below him by tapping into the thoughts of both the men now in the room.
His captain of grand larceny calls a greeting out to Hawke, who is at the bar, “Hawke.”
Hawke nods a greeting in return, “Helmnald. Have an ale?”
The man shakes his head. He quickly smiles and speaks his answer aloud for the benefit of the blind barkeep, “No. I’m here to see someone.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to… the Boss.”
A slight pause follows this that indicates reflection on Hawke’s part. “Have a seat. I’ll call for him.”
As Helmnald walks over to sit at a table, Shaddar scans Hawke’s thoughts. The human is a bit surprised that one of Jorin and Bort’s friends has returned so soon. “I know that several of them visited last night, but come to think of it, I never heard ‘em leave,” Hawke ponders, “Hmm… They must have used the backdoor when they left.”
Hawke knows he heard one of Shaddar’s subordinates walking around upstairs, so he calls out, “Cutt! Got a fella’ down here for the Boss!”
A clatter of sound comes from the hallway as Cutt hastily and somewhat groggily replies, “Huh? I’m awake! I’m awake!” The body of the message that awakened him from his light doze sinks in quickly, “Uh, right! Right! I’ll tell him!”
Shaddar opens the door, glares meaningfully at the sheepish-looking gnome who has his hand raised to knock, and then sweeps past the thrall to go downstairs and greet his newly arrived underling properly.
Helmnald stands when he sees Shaddar. He is dressed in a fine outfit that resembles Jorin and Bort’s handiwork only in style. The haberdasher that Helmnald said he would use to create a nice outfit has done a fine job. His false mustache looks like a genuine one, made of real hair.
Shaddar comments on the outfit at once, “Your uniform is of excellent quality. I approve.”
Helmnald nods in thanks of the compliment, “My tailor has expressed delight in making as many of them as you may require – based on nothing more than your measurements. I’ve taken pains to make it clear to him that he will be rewarded for his discretion, as well, so you may trust he will say nothing of the matter.”
Shaddar’s tentacles move in a gesture of satisfaction as he says, “Excellent. When you get a moment, talk with Bort and collect the measurements he gives you. May I assume that this is not the sole reason for your visit?”
Helmnald nods once. “I bring you news, Boss,” he glances over at Hawke, “Should we go to your office to discuss it?”
“Not necessary, Helmnald. This is an open house now. We can discuss anything you wish to quite freely.” He sits delicately and is pleased to see that Hawke has taken note of this reply and takes pride in it.
“I’m glad to report that my first act of grand larceny is complete. A total success! I have to tell you that it was marvelous! It took longer than I thought it would, but there is a blacksmith who used to throw things at me who is now weeping with his family in the middle of his empty shop,” Helmnald smirks as he speaks, thinking of the hullabaloo he observed and heard on his way to the meadhall. He shakes off these thoughts and continues, “What I’d really like to know is what you want me to do with all the items? I moved them all to a deserted warehouse, but we can’t keep it there for too long.”
“Describe the items to me a more detail,” Shaddar says thoughtfully.
“Enough weapons and armor to equip a small army! Breastplates and shortswords for the most part. A few pieces of barding, scores of horseshoes, and two barrels of nails.”
Shaddar points a lazy finger at his excited minion as he commands, “Start bringing the items here.”
“Alright. I’ll need a wagon… Oh! I can steal one! That would be grand larceny again, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed! Everything you need already exists in the city! Go wild in exercising your new craft. If you need anything, you may simply – requisition it from those who will soon pass ownership of everything they have to our guild anyway.”
Helmnald rubs his hands together and they enjoy a conspiratorial chuckle together.
“Fine. It will likely take several days before I can cart it all over here – don’t want to move too much all at once in case it raises suspicions. What next, Boss? What do you want me to go after next?”
Shaddar motions to the stairs. “There is a small, gray fellow in the hall upstairs. Talk to him and he will give you a list of items that he requires,” Shaddar says in a tone that indicates that he feels the meeting’s business is concluded.
Helmnald raises on finger and asks, “One more thing, Boss. In the Guild of Villains, we reported everything we did so a proper accounting could be made. I located the blacksmith’s life savings in a strongbox and spirited that away as well. My question is: what percentage of the gold do I get keep as a gratuity?”
“Fifty percent will be given to the guild. Fifty percent will be your own to use as funds for further acts of grand larceny and for your own personal profit.”
“Thank you, Boss!” the man exclaims. His thoughts reveal that the Guild of Villains took three-quarters and left their members with only 25%. He stands, bows his head respectfully and takes the stairs to go talk to Cutt. Shaddar hears enough of that conversation to know that Helmnald will be quite busy with the gnome requests for days, if not weeks.
“Oh, boy!” he hears Cutt exclaim, “Well, let me tell ya – wait a minute. How fast can you write, tall one? What’s that you have there? One scrap of paper? Oh, no! That will never do! Here! I have a book that is mostly empty – you can write in that. There you go! Now! Let’s begin with the items I need that start with the letter ‘A’, shall we?”
Shaddar has no interest in being anywhere near such a lengthy and sure-to-be-boring recitation. He resolves to leave the meadhall for a few hours to allow the gnome to do his best at killing Helmnald with severe writer’s cramp in peace.
He wanders around the border zone, avoiding people easily, as there are not many travelers and his ability to detect their minds gives him a simple way of knowing where they are. He comes close enough to the group of hobgoblins that is lead by Toothsnatcher to ‘listen in’ on their activities.
“50 gold,” the minotaur grunts.
“For what?”
“To enter border zone.” The sound of a mumbled noise of frightened agreement and the clinking of coins echoes down the alleyway.
“And you!”
“Yeah?” another voice replies from the other end of the alley.
“50 gold.”
“But I’m going the other way!”
“50 gold to leave border zone…”
“I don’t have that much gold on me!”
“No problem. Lads? Take everything this one has and send him back to slums.” The sounds of a bit of a scuffle.
“What? You can’t do this! I’m a businessman!” Snorting laughter.
“Oh, a businessman is it?” Toothsnatcher asks in a voice filled with mockery, “Here is our good deal, businessman: we take your stuff and give you bruises in return. Fair trade, see?”
Hobgoblins laugh: “Ho-ho!” “Me get it!” “Try a free sample, human?” POW!
Everything seems to be in order here. Shaddar wanders away from his minions to return to the meadhall.
When he arrives, it is near dusk and Jorin and Bort are sipping ales at the bar.
Shaddar glides up to the bar beside them and asks, “Did you get the information I require?”
Jorin chokes on his drink, having not heard him enter. Bort answers while hitting his friend on the back, “Sorry, Boss. All the libraries were closed. They’re only open two days a ten-day. They’ll open in three more days.”
“Nonsense!” Shaddar huffs, “How could it be so?”
“Well, there’s no demand, Boss,” Bort explains.
“Yeah,” Jorin wheezes, “Nobody reads! Only odd ducks like Bort here.” Jorin is oblivious to the fact that he has just insulted Shaddar further, but Bort’s face tightens. Shaddar ignores the unthinking prattle of the human.
“We did contact more of our friends,” Bort offers quickly.
Jorin continues, “Yeah, but most of them refused to come by. You wouldn’t believe some of the rumors those lads have heard, Boss!”
“I might,” Shaddar thinks with a slight creasing at the corners of his eyes.
Jorin continues in a fearful tone, “They say that Mist Demons walk the border zones! That evil undead are killing all who they find alone! It’s frightful!”
Bort hushes his friend, “Jorin! That’s madness. Even if it were true, we belong to the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues now. We have the protection of the Boss.”
Shaddar nods graciously, “It is so. You have nothing to fear from any threat while I am your ally.”
Jorin still looks worried, but says, “Thank you, Boss.”
Shaddar eyes the man and wonders, “Is it better to be loved or feared, I wonder? Why not both? Oh, who cares? What should it matter if my hamburger loves or fears me?” These thoughts amuse Shaddar and improve his mood.
Bort concludes, “Some of them got it right and told us they heard that the Guild has gone mad. We confirmed those rumors and tried to calm them down. They weren’t convinced. The bottom line is nobody is going to come here at night until things have settled down in the border zone.”
Shaddar nods, “It is of little consequence. We need men of activity who are not afraid of the dark. In time, we may accept them to our organization, but their very reluctance is proof of their unreadiness to join our esteemed ranks.”
Jorin laughs into his tankard of ale at this. But Shaddar’s statement of dismissal brings thoughts to Bort’s mind – questions he would like to ask, but the human fears what the answers might be.
Shaddar exterminates this growing problem at the root as he asks, “Bort? Is there something on your mind?”
Bort is unwilling at first to voice his question, but he finds his courage and asks, “The constables, Boss? They mentioned Murder-Most-Foul. They said that there were lots of Murders-Most-Foul. Is the Guild of Villains becoming more active? Or, um, what?”
“We have quite the operation growing here, Bort, my man.”
“Yes?”
“So, of course they have to be more active. To stay competitive. Worry not! I will protect you from their vain struggles. It is for this very reason that we must move with haste – to reduce their power and capability to act out in such vile ways as soon as we can.”
Bort nods with relief.
“And this is just one of the reasons we have lumpys here. To serve as bodyguards for their betters in our guild!”
Jorin and Bort’s troubled thoughts concerning this matter are much settled by his words. It is far too easy to convince them, but they are hungry for an answer (any answer!) that will sooth their fears. Hawke knows that he is lying to the men, and what’s more: he approves of it. Hawke thinks, and rightfully so, that these two are scarcely the sort to be let in on the true operations of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues.
Toothsnatcher, Kug and the hobgoblins enter the hall, laughing and carrying on. They bring a vast haul of coins and other goods. They also have several more constable uniforms and weapons. The whole group gets together to sort and categorize the loot while Hawke serves up stew.
Shaddar is pleased to see that they have managed to pick up six more hobgoblin recruits.
“They saw what we was doin’ and asked if they could join up, master” Kug explains.
“I trust your judgement, General Kug. Well done.”
This brings the total force of hobgoblins under Shaddar control up to 22, including Kug and his two bruised but willing lieutenants that he conscripted the night before. The three weak hobgoblins from the brothel will not be of much use in a fight, but every being has its place in the grand new order that he is building to suit his every whim.
Chapter 1 < Chapter 32 Chapter 34 >
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