Chapter 23: Chapter 22: Hands of the Artisan III

Chapter 22: Hands of the Artisan III

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[THE SILVER SEAT - The Grand Bay Trading Company]

Where was he?

Lesalia Romera bit her fingernail as she paced about the place, her striking raven locks fluttering behind her. Absurd. It had been absurd that those stupid guards of her had let him go to the Night Market. If he was hungry they should’ve just bought something from there and brought it back! But then again, she hadn’t hired them for their intelligence. That was her fault.

Of course, she had dealt with them appropriately, but that didn’t help her now. That brat was still missing. They needed more of the swords, as many as they could get their hands on. They had bitten the hornet's nest now, and it was only a matter of time they came calling.

All that effort to attack two of the largest gangs in the Seat for marketing’s sake, and now she couldn’t provide the goods.

What now?

None of her contacts in the city could find him. He had completely disappeared into the aether. A brat with such distinctive features couldn’t possibly hide from her, not in a city like this one. At the very least, if he attempted to leave the city through the gates she would’ve heard something.

A headache was coming on, one that she fought back desperately. Her Laughing Kings were new to the Silver Seat, but they had already found a niche that they worked well in and none other.

The House of Many Pelts had racketeering and loan sharking on lockdown, as well as most of the turf in the south side. The largest gang in the city, they ruled their districts with an iron fist, allowing no other criminal element to even enter.

The Gentlemen Boxers ran the Flower District, the dark entertainment hub of the city. Prostitution and gambling meant their coffers were always filled, and they attracted the least attention from the authorities. They were halfway legitimate already.

The Laughing Kings that she was a part of were a more recent addition to the city, yes, but by the time they had gotten here there were few avenues for criminal money-making left. However, they had managed to take over at least one.

Sentient property.

Slavery was really such an off-putting term.

Elves were the most popular. They truly commanded the highest prices, and the best thing was that they were good at all ages. Second were beastmen, especially those that had canine or feline features. Some of her customers enjoyed owning pets, she supposed. The djinn and zektors for their exotic features. The rest were rather equivalent, with regular, boring old humans in dead last.

Which was fortunate, because it allowed her to discover him. The one with the black eyes. She had assumed that striking feature would allow him to attract someone’s attention, but it seemed most had assumed it was some kind of disease or medical condition and passed him by.

The stars aligned for Lesalia Romera! She did not sell him off before his time, and had in so doing discovered a golden goose among golden geese. Not just in terms of money, no, the kid was the key to her ascension in power.

But now he had escaped. If only she had been able to get her hands on one of those trackers that some of the orders used! But alas, getting a top-grade military artifact like that was far beyond her, and now she had to pay the price.

“Ma’am, he’s here!”

A panicky voice from outside the room. Lesalia growled. Mason, her idiotic servant.

“Send him in, fool!”

A knock on the door before the servant entered with a dark-clad figure in tow. Strange, she had only heard one pair of footsteps.

The servant bowed deeply before backing out, and the dark-clad figure walked closer. It was covered head-to-toe in black material, and a white mask with three diagonal slashes covered the face. She could not tell whether the person in front of her was a man or a woman.

Lesalia gulped.

There were few people who did not know of the Manslayer in the Seat’s underground. One of the city’s ‘fixers’, mercenaries that held no loyalty to anyone and were willing to do anything for a price. She had gotten wind of him through the grapevine, but at the time she had no idea she would be paying for his services soon enough.

There were some unsavoury rumours about his... inclinations, but his efficiency and skill were also praised. At the very least, this was the best chance she had. She needed the best right now - everything else could come later.

“The Manslayer?”

“I am,” replied a deeply filtered voice. She had heard of enchantments like this one, able to take the natural voice and garble it up so that distinguishing features were lost. “You were the one to have contacted me in my usual manner.”

The Manslayer did not take on requests lightly or cheaply, and it took a very specific combination of steps to get their attention. But she had been desperate, and all that she lost would be easily made up for if she managed to bring the brat back.

“I want you to look for someone,” she said. “A human child, around... thirteen or fourteen years old. Skinny, with tanned skin and black hair.”

“Skinny human child with tanned skin and black hair,” said the Manslayer dryly. “Not an uncommon sight. I shall need more information.”

“Of course, that’s not all,” replied Lesalia tersely. “His eyes are black, that is, the sclera. His irises are violet, so bright that they seem to glow in the dark. I imagine that is much more unique.”

“Indeed. That is far more helpful to me.”

The Manslayer nodded.

“I shall take on your request.”

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[THE SILVER SEAT - White Hand Precinct No. 7]

It had been days, and they simply couldn’t find anything.

Cain and Muse had accompanied Alonzo in his investigation. They had scoured the scenes of the attacks, followed up on any possible leads regarding the attackers they had, and even questioned the eyewitness further. Nothing led anywhere.

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The scenes of the attacks were clear of any evidence that they could find or make use of, all the attackers had been wearing gear that prevented them from being identified, and the eyewitness had just been a poor streetsweeper who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now they were in his office, going through piles and piles of documentation of the facts, looking for anything they may have missed. Cain wondered what they were even looking for at this point. The idea of any of these piles containing a lead seemed beyond them at this point.

Webby was making little origami planes out of some blank paper, Cain noted matter-of-factly. He seemed as bored as the rest of them were.

Muse coughed slightly, before opening the window. She had a sensitive nose and couldn’t stand the stench of nicotine, especially not in a closed space like this. They had been here for hours already.

“Nothin,” said Alonzo, growling. “Can’t believe this. Days of investigation and the trail’s gettin’ cold. Shit!”

Cain leafed through the reports. Muse had been of more help than he so far in this endeavor - he simply didn’t have the background knowledge required for stuff of this scope. At the very least he had the most stamina of the three, capable of working for an entire day nonstop if Muse didn’t force him to take breaks.

But still, all that effort and nothing to show for it.

“We’re out of leads,” said Muse. “At least in regards to the situation itself. Can we ask the victims, or those who know the victims? Anything?”

“We did! Even before youse showed up!” growled Alonzo again. “The south side gangs have a code of silence. It’s a bad look if you goes around babblin’ to the authorities. Nobody’ll trust ya after. And these punks need their gangs, they need their communities to live around here. Y’don’t wanna get on their bad sides.”

Cain nodded. Omerta. He had seen it in mafia shows back in the old world. Chalk another similarity to the old world, but then again people were people everywhere.

“Even those uninvolved? Not a single mother or father wants to get to the bottom of what happened to their children?” asked Muse in disbelief.

“Summa them do,” Alonzo capitulated. “But those that do know nuthin’. Not like their kids ever described the hell they were doin’ to their families.”

Cain thought about it.

“The victims belonged to the House of Many Pelts and the Gentlemen Boxers,” said Cain, rubbing his chin. “Do they have any mutual enemies?”

Alonzo snorted.

“Take a barkin’ number. The House are a buncha racketeers, blackmailers, and loan sharks, they got enemies out the wazoo in both the civilian and criminal worlds,” said the wolf beastman. “...That said, the Boxers run the Flower District pretty clean. They’ve got a good rep in the world of the civvies, and don’t stir up trouble if they can.”

“It has to be another criminal gang, then?” asked Muse. “They’re the two largest criminal organizations in the south side, right? What if somebody’s trying to move in on their territory?”

“Nah, the small-timers know not to mess wit’ the top three,” said Alonzo. “The House will break ya, the Boxers will screw ya, and the Beggars will ruin ya. Rule of the jungle over here. Can’t be the Beggars either - ain’t no change in leadership or anythin’ so they’ve got no reason to stir up the pot.”

“The small-timers know not to mess with the bigwigs ,and the bigwigs themselves have no reason to start a fight,” mused Cain.

Wait a second.

“There’s a status quo in the criminal underworld?”

“Yep, been like this for years,” said Alonzo. “None of them step on each other’s toes. They all took avenues of business for themselves. Know that stirrin’ up trouble don’t get them nowhere, and the last thing they want is our order or Divinities forbid even the other orders to get involved.”

Alonzo smirked, as if he were remembering something.

“They tried to start some shit fifteen years ago when the Violet Death hit, thought it was their chance to move out a bit more, maybe get out of the south side, since the order knights were gettin’ sick and they weren’t. Then His Majesty declared martial law and the gangs were almost wiped out. Been tryin’ to stay on the down low since, don't give the orders no reason to crush 'em. We'd rather not, since all of us know if a gang gets crushed two more pop up in its place to fill the power vacuum.”

So, the gangs of the south side were afraid of the authorities and drawing attention, and had formed a stabilizing balance in which they agreed to stay out of each other’s way. Alonzo seemed very convinced that the system was stable. In that case, the most likely disruptive factor was...

“Have there been... any new factions that have popped up recently?” asked Cain.

Muse’s eyes widened. So that’s where he was going with this!

Alonzo stopped and stared.

“...New gangs?” he said, thinking about it. His eyes went to the ceiling as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “But why would they? New gangs formed in the city already know the way the wind blows. New gangs from outside the Seat learn pretty quick, the ones that dare come - 's a bad idea, since all the order headquarters are here. They don’t stand a chance, not on this turf. The big three know the city too well and are too deeply entrenched. Both in community and business.”

“So, in that case you could say the only way they can make a difference, is through violence,” said Cain. “What if they had a secret? Something to even the scales?”

All three of them stared at each other, their thoughts going to the same place. The wooden sword.

A new gang from out of town wouldn’t be scared of attracting too much attention if they had no experience with the orders’ crackdown. With mass-produced versions of that wooden sword, it didn’t matter if their opponents knew the city. An attack in the dark, a smaller force had managed to win out against a larger one equipped with these things.

“Alrriiiiggght!” howled Alonzo, a grin on his face for the first time in a while. “I’m gettin’ the boys. Send ‘em out on the streets. Time to get a look into what the current state of the south side is like! Looks like youse two aren’t such bozos after all!”

“It’s just a possibil--”

“A lead’s a lead and the trail was gettin’ cold! Lemme take the two of youse out for some steak today! My treat!”

The large beastman clapped his arms over Muse and Cain’s shoulders. They looked at each other. Cain was a little frazzled and Muse was smiling faintly. So this was what Alonzo Sierra was like in a good mood.

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