Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 30

A small crowd had gathered beneath Castelian’s impaled body. Worried murmurs coursed between the onlookers as I approached. I made a point to just ride past them but I couldn’t avoid overhearing the hushed words of ‘God Slayer’ and ‘Castelian’ killer’.

I knew the story would soon reach every corner of the city so I hurried towards the White Palace before it would complicate an already complicated situation. I had no idea what I would tell the King, to be honest. I made a promise to Nergat that I’d make it work, but that was just me wiggling out of a tight spot.

I rode back to the bridge where Sergeant Bellwater and Captain Plankwood still stood guard with a score of men from the First. I was supposed to turn north from there towards the palace but a group of people on the other side of the Darvas River caught my eye.

I pulled up to Bellwater.

“What’s going on there?” I asked, pointing behind the orcs. The old sergeant looked up at me with a confused stare.

“What?” I asked.

“What do you mean what, Frank? What happened to you? What is all this?”

“You mean the thing with Castelian and all? Long story, Bellwater,” I said as my gaze wandered back to the people across the river. “Are those the Borough’s kids?”

“Who else, Frank. Papa makes them loot the destroyed housing. They’ve been at it since the start of the siege.”

“Papa,” I muttered. Now there was a name I hadn’t thought about lately.

“Oh, right. You were one of them, weren’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Guess not all you urchins turned criminal. There must be something to his method, eh?”

“And what method would that be, Bellwater? The beatings? The thieving missions he sent us on? The tournaments where we’d beat each other black and blue?”

Bellwater threw his hands up.

“No offense meant, Frank. It’s just that you turned out—” He fumbled for the words and finally landed on “This.”

I gave the sergeant a cold stare. The idea that Papa was responsible for anything good in my life was ridiculous. They said a hard life made a hard man, but most of the Borough’s kids ended up either as petty criminals, or hanging from the scaffolds in Queen’s Street. A small portion of us did manage to become soldiers so we could die as we lived: in violence.

I spurred Wolf on, ignoring the sergeant and crossed the bridge to the orc side of town. Unlike the king’s soldiers who met me with fear, basically avoiding to acknowledge my or their own existence, the orcs showered me in cheers and applause.

“Strength! Strength! Strength!” most of them bellowed while others cried out my name, thumping their chests.

“Kiss the baby, Frank boss!” one of them yelled, holding a little orcling up to me.

Why he brought his children to the frontline was beyond me.

“Let’s make a baby!” a lady orc warrior yelled, grabbing onto my boot. “It will be ugly like human, but strong like Frank!”

“Another time,” I said pushing Wolf through the crowd.

I made my way along the Darvas bank until I reached the group of kids looting a still smoking building. Interestingly enough, most of the kids wore brand new and even expensive-looking clothes and oversized shoes. The Borough’s kids had been doing well during the siege and I was glad for them, yet none of them looked particularly well. Most had bruises or black eyes, and tired, grumpy faces. Despite the riches, Papa’s so-called methods didn’t do much to wash away that sour expression we all had under his wing.

Once the kids noticed my approach, they hurried their work, passing along the loot as quickly as they could. Several ran off immediately, especially the older kids. But many more ran towards their master.

Standing there like a living corpse leaning on a golden cane was no other than the mayor of Fincher’s Borough’s, the ruler of Hobo Town, Papa. He was dressed in a long purple-gold robe he probably snatched from some fleeing noble. Papa was tall, skinny, mostly bold with tufts of white hair on both sides. He was hunched over as people over the age of…well, I couldn’t be sure, but he had to be near a hundred or something. Yet, his crystal blue eyes were as sharp and menacing as ever.

I stopped short of the old man, and he looked up at me with mild interest and plenty of scorn. The wrinkles on his forehead were deep and rich like a turbulent sea.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

I grinned, shaking my head. The demi-god warning, the deviltail, the blood on my armor, none of it scared and much less impressed the aging bastard. A sense of unease washed over me suddenly. A feeling I hadn’t felt since the last time I talked to him. I knew I could blow the man away with a whisper, but I still felt somehow small in his presence.

“You don’t remember me?”

“Do I have to? We’re working here and you scared off my kids. That’ll cost me money.”

I got off Wolf and told him to stay, then met the geezer’s gaze.

“Frank,” I said. “I was on of your kids some while ago.”

Papa narrowed his eyes studying me carefully.

“Oh, right! Frank Gerber, the little rich orphan. Your mother died of the sniffles, didn’t she?”

“Aye,” I said, somewhat impressed by his memory and attention to detail.

His interest in me seemed fleeting and gaze wandered to the destroyed house they were looting. That pretentious old fuck. How much misery he had caused to generations of orphans was immeasurable. I had spent so many nights fantasizing about his demise that seeing him there threw all the troubles of my life into the background. The war, the club, Hell, Castelian, all of it seemed like an afterthought. I only had to curl my fist around his frail neck and end his reign over Fincher’s Boroughs forever and yet—

“You look like you’re doing well for yourself, Frank,” he said, not looking at me.

“Uh-huh.”

“Jimmy, Lumpface, leave that wardrobe, we have too many of those!” he suddenly yelled, startling me. His voice shook me to the bone and I hated it.

“So, what do you want, Frank? Came to help me out here? Sponsor the Borough’s kids? Would be a nice way to pay off your debt.”

“My debt?”

He shot me a deadly stare.

“Yes, your debt, you ingrate. You’ve been living here for years, eating my food, wearing my clothes, sleeping in my tents. You think that was for free?”

“You made us work for every scrap we got.”

“Of course I have.”

“We stole our own food.”

“And who taught you how? Those lessons ain’t free, Frank.” He fell into a nasty cough then cleared his throat. “Twenty gold you owe me for that time.”

I looked at the frail old man with translucent skin and shook my head in disbelief.

“You know, I always wanted to kill you.”

“Go ahead,” he said with a frown. “Kill the old man who helped you survive. Who made you into…whatever this is. Demi-god, slayer of gods, or whatever fancy title you want people to call you nowadays. If you think I deserve to die by your hand, don’t think twice. End this old man.”

I breathed out and lit a cigar, then puffed out a waft of smoke watching his urchins plunder the building. I grinned, thinking of the many ways I played this very moment out in my head. I thought about Snowdog for a moment. Wondering what he’d do in this situation.

“Business is good, eh Papa?” I finally said.

“Wars are always good to some people,” he said. “Now if you’re not here to kill me, why are you here?”

“Got anything to drink?”

He snapped his fingers and a soot-covered girl ran up to him with a bottle of high-quality whiskey. He took a long gulp, then handed it over to me and I did the same. We shared a moment of silence before I spoke again,

“I’m supposed to make peace between the King and Nergat,” I blurted out.

“Ah,” he muttered as if he was the world’s greatest authority on that topic. He was always like that. As a kid it seemed that Papa had the answers to just about anything.

“Come, let’s take a seat at the bank,” he said, tapping me on the shoulder.

I followed him without a second thought. An old instinct must have awakened in me. When Papa told us to do something, we did it without question. We sat down with the bottle of whiskey between us, looking out at the Glade on the other side of the Darvas.

“You always wanted to be on that side, Frank.”

“We all did.”

“Bah, most kids don’t really know what they want. But you? You really wanted it.”

“I wanted to have a family again. One where I wasn’t beaten and forced to steal every day so I could eat.”

“You always had a hard time letting go of things. I remember you crying about your parents for months after you’ve came to me. At one point I thought you’d be a lost cause, but you picked yourself up.” He took a small sip of the whiskey and smacked his thin dry lips. “Let bygones be bygones, Frank. Now what about this peace business, eh? Why do you have to do it? Are all the diplomats in the city dead?”

“I made a promise to Nergat that I’ll find a peaceful solution. A way to let what is left of the First merge with the orc army so we can defend the city.”

“What’s your persuasion skill like?”

“Average,” I said, purposefully letting out the part about the bracelet Snowdog gave me.

“Hah,” Papa chuckled. “Then you can forget about talking to the King. He’ll convince you to go to war with Nergat before you can hammer out any kind of deal. But that aside, my boy, you didn’t answer my question. Why you?”

“I told you, because—”

“You made a promise to an orc warlord, yes. But that’s not the reason, is it? I can make a promise to him, too, but nobody would expect me to actually fulfill it.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“I just…I have the power to do so, I guess. There’s nobody else.”

“Nobody else,” Papa said. “There’s always someone else, boy.”

“Not this time.”

“What is it that you want, Frank? You look like you have all the money and power one can want in this world, but you still look like the grumpy old kid you were when I first took you in.”

“Does it really matter?”

Papa groaned and rubbed his wrinkly forehead.

“Of course it matters, you idiot child.”

“Well…I want—I don’t know. Peace? To sit in my backyard and hammer together another chair knowing that my family is safe and near me. Knowing that nothing bad can happen to them. Going to bed for once—”

Whatever else I imagined, whether it was castles, riches, travel, women, it all sounded like a drag rather than true happiness to me. I realized I had uttered words I never did before. Opening my heart and all and to Papa of all people.

“Gods, boy. You’re as dull as this river rock,” he said, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the Darvas. “Have you no ambitions?”

“I killed gods, old man.”

“Did you want to kill them?”

“No, I had to.”

“So your ambitions are to be a carpenter and on that path you went and killed gods? And you’re still not a carpenter, I assume?”

“No, not really. I’ve been a fighter since the very day I came to you. All I did for thirty years was fight, kill, sleep, and fight again. I’m tired, Papa. I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy.”

I thought of the few moments when I actually was content. Some fleeting moments in the club. With Fey and Ragul and all the rest. A few moments of tranquility washed away in a sea of shit. It was happiness, sure. But it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Oh, piss on that, child,” he said, flinging his hands up. “Grow up already. Who gets what they want, eh? Who’s happy nowadays?”

I snorted into a laugh. Right, that’s where I got the saying from. How could I have forgotten?

“Can you kill the King?” he asked out of the blue.

“Probably.”

“And can you kill his Three of Steel?”

“I hope I won’t have to,” I said, taking another sip of whiskey. “But yeah, I think I probably could.”

“And Nergat?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, I can.”

“Then why don’t you do just that?”

“What? Kill everyone?”

“Yes, boy. You want to be a gods be damned carpenter? If those people are in the way of your dreams, you kill them.”

“I…I can’t kill them all, it’ll just start another war.”

“Can there be more war than this crap right now?”

He had a point. There were two wars happening at once in and around the city. And if the rumors about the tanes and the duergar were true, there’d soon be even more.

“Good point.”

He tapped me on the shoulder and laughed.

“You were never the bright one, Frank. I must say, I’m surprised you made it this far.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

“Kings don’t take orders and Catan doesn’t even consider suggestions. I’ve lived through three kings and none was as stubborn and self-righteous as this one. He has none of the grace of his predecessors. And Nergat? Well, we all know what Nergat wants and it’s not what you or I or anyone in this city want. Hell, not even the orcs truly want to rule. You know that better than anyone. They can war, they can fight, they can conquer, but they grow tired and bored of peace. Orcs don’t want to rule, they only want to fuck and fight.”

“That is…surprisingly true,” I muttered and took another sip of the whiskey. It was surprisingly good.

“You know, it’s Nergat who made them into this force, it’s him who wants to rule, not the orcs. And how are you going to strike a deal between a stubborn king and an uncompromising warlord, Frank? You’re no diplomat, you don’t have the smarts and the methods of manipulation these people have. What did you say you’re good at? Killing, right? Then go and kill your way to your dreams, boy.”

I got up and dusted my ass off.

“I’ve got to go.”

“You still owe me, and I’ll add the whiskey and the wisdom on top of your previous debt. That’ll be thirty gold, Frank.”

I pulled out my Vaultcoin and he lowered his hand on it.

“What’s this?” he said, realizing I transferred a 100 king’s head to him.

“Thirty gold for you, the rest is for the kids. I’ll be back to check if they got it, and this time I might just kill you too.”

“You’re spoiling them, boy. They’ll lose the opportunity to learn the value of money this way.”

“Do it,” I said, narrowing my eye on him. “And don’t test me, old man. I will come back. If I could kill the gods and Castellian, I can sure as hell kill some shitty king.”

“Bah, go,” he said, waving me off.

I rode back to the Ashpit instead of going to the White Palace. I was too tired to come to any decisions. Dawn was almost upon us when I walked into the club. The whole team was still awake. Well, all but Pearl, who slept in one of the lounges and Korvan of course who slept against the wall next to the door.

“Frank!” Fey yelled, startling Pearl.

“Hey,” I said, realizing Tyfus and Tarnia were sitting at the bar as well.

“Did you—”

“No,” I said. “I need a break.”

“You’re wounded,” she said, hugging me.

“It’s alright,” Spif ran up to me and landed a hand on my naked torso and winked at me.

“Looking good, boss.”

I gently swiped the satyr aside and walked up to the bar, pulled out my shattered breastplate, and handed it over to Rot who gave me a tired look.

“Am I supposed to fix this?”

“Of course you are. That’s your job isn’t it?”

“Always with the work,” he scoffed, taking the armor scraps and inspecting them.

“You made any money tonight?” I asked.

“Really? That’s your question?” Fey snapped.

“Plenty, sir. The club just emptied half an hour ago. It was a most profitable evening.”

“This guy,” Pearl said through a yawn.

“Tyfus, Tarnia,” I said, nodding at the two.

“So you did come here after all. You could have given us a ride,” Tyfus said.

“Probably.”

“Nice. Real nice,” he said.

“Wolf, come over here, boy,” I said and the deviltail carefully snaked between the chairs and tables, overturning only a few.

I opened the four Vaultpacks on his side.

“I got something for you people. Gifts from Castelian.”

“Yer shittin me!” Rot said.

Everyone except Ragul and Fey got to looting the Vaultpacks and admiring their new stuff while I sat down at the bar next to the two gnomes.

“Changed your mind about visiting the King, have you?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “Need some rest first.”

“Sure, there’s only going to be like a dozen or so more deaths because you’re too tired,” Tarnia said.

I looked at her with pure bile in my gaze.

“What did I do in my previous life to deserve two Tyfuses on my back?” Tarnia opened her mouth but I raised a hand. “Don’t answer that. Just let me drink.”