Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – The Art of Fencing

Exarch’s Bend was a miserable place. Hidden deep in the woods, between two mountain ranges and by the side of a large river. It was a large, otherwise sleepy town that had found itself thrust in the centre of global politics by sheer chance. It was the central point between The Kingdom of Sull and the Confederation of the Heartlands, two sides that had been butting heads over territory and natural resources for as long as anyone could remember. The town itself had switched hands dozens of times.

Currently it was the Confederation’s turn in the driver’s seat. They were my preferred overlords thanks to their spurning of the inquisition and their zealous manner of tracking down corrupted items. As long as the confederation had control, I wouldn’t have to worry about my friends in red stopping me in the street and cutting my head off.

Rickety wooden walkways formed man-made pathways over the boggy ground underneath. Much like the trees that surrounded the town, every building was twisted out of shape. Nothing was a perfect square. They looked like they were leaning to one side, or were about to tip over and kill everyone. Lanterns burned at all times of day to illuminate the streets, struggling versus the giant trees that loomed above and sucked up the sunlight.

Despite the war the residents were trying to go about business as usual. They haggled, drank and huddled together for gossip. I had slept on the outskirts of the town under some natural cover, while I would have preferred to find a room here there weren’t any available. Most of them were occupied by the Federation’s officers.

 The Bend had an unfavourable reputation as a home to all kinds of rouges, bandits and thieves. That reputation was well earned. I took a hard left down a nearby alleyway between two tall buildings and descended a set of stairs. At the bottom was a heavy wooden door. I knocked four times. The slit opened and a pair of weathered eyes inspected me.

“Morning.”

“Morning, didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

The door unlocked and I was allowed inside. This was the town’s main fence. If you wanted to sell some illegal goods, this was the place to do it. “I’ve had a busy few days,” the owner – Fitch, explained. “That big battle out in the sticks? Lots of people coming with stuff from there. I take it you’re the same.”

I followed him through to the main floor of his shop and planted my leather looting bag on the counter, “Yeah. You have no idea Fitch. Bloodiest damn battle I’ve seen in… forever. Thousands of bodies.” Fitch opened my bag and tipped the contents out in front of me. He began rifling through my picks while I leant back and took a moment to catch a breath.

“Looking pretty light, considering…”

“Inquisitors.”

Fitch stopped, “Inquisitors? Here?”

“Came out of nowhere.” I had to stop myself before I revealed too much, “Had to hide under a pile of bodies just to avoid getting caught.”

Fitch shook his head, “I thought the Feddies would keep them away.”

“Must have heard about the fighting and decided to swing by.”

“Did they take anything?”

“Not that I saw.”

Fitch started to separate out the more valuable rings, leaving them in a small clay bowl. Married men kept you in warm clothes, can’t help but feel a little bad for the widows though. Still, if not you, someone else would have taken them. Nobody was going to go through the effort of recording all the losses and checking them for valuables. They’d be left there to rot for months, if they were lucky someone might count them, before tossing them into a mass grave to forget about.

“Do you know anyone who can teach me to hunt?” I asked, hedging my chances on Fitch knowing someone.

“Why do you want to hunt?”

“It’d save me paying for food.”

Fitch smirked, “Thinking of going legit?”

“Rouges ‘till death,” I reminded him. A common refrain among people from my background and a legitimate piece of advice. No matter how far you run or how much forgiveness you ask for – people will never forget what you’ve done.

“Those hunters are nearly as militant as the inquisitors. You’d think that I could just bribe a guy. No amount of my money can make ‘em change their minds. I tried hustling a few under the table lessons for some of the boys a while ago, no dice.”

“Isn’t it crazy how a basic [skill] like that is at a premium now?”

Fitch shrugged, “People don’t want to do the hard graft. Why would you when someone else can do it for you? Easier to pay the premium and buy it off the market. Nobles can’t live without their fur coats, and keeping cattle around here? No chance.”

“It’s a monopoly. If I had the chance, I’d break those guilds up.”

Fitch didn’t seem to agree, “You’re not going to get those guys to work against their own interests.” He finished tallying up my take and pulled out a set of bronze coins. Currency in this world was more traditional. The value was derived from the material they were made from and the density of the coin itself. One benefit was that they were legal tender pretty much everywhere.

“I can give you twelve. Don’t have an iron, sorry.” He counted out twelve of them and handed them to me. It wasn’t a huge haul, but when you lived in the wild like I did, every coin counted. At least I wasn’t renting a room. I wasn’t going to get a better price from anyone else, so I accepted what he offered and was glad to be rid of the stuff. I put them into my coin pouch and considered my next move.

“What’s with the pensive look?”

“Lot of stuff got messed up. I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

“If you’re looking for some money while those Inquisitors are poking around, I heard that Bell was looking for some capable hands.”

I shivered, “Bell? I don’t feel like dying today Fitch.”

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“He’s not that bad.”

“He is! Last time I went down there and scoped it out, he was trying to organize a party to raid a Feddie armoury.”

Belladone “Bell” Park. He was a rogue like me, but without any of the restraint or common sense. It wouldn’t be so bad if his self-destructive instincts were reserved for himself, but he had to rope other people into it too. Taking a Bell job was essentially suicide even if it was something supposedly simple.

Fitch laughed it off, “Live a little!”

“I’ve lived enough for two lifetimes already.”

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After fencing my goods and learning of the incoming Bell related catastrophe, I felt a strong pull towards getting out of town and going somewhere cooler. The fighting was too intense for my liking and the Inquisitors were still sniffing around the place somehow. I had to be extra careful now that I had Stigma attached to my hip. Going deeper into Federation territory seemed like the safe bet.

I needed to find a way to feed Stigma. I got lucky with the bandits. I couldn’t rely on other people’s charity to leave a bunch of fresh corpses around for me to eat. I found myself wondering where the Ashmorn mage had headed when she arrived in town. For the time being I wanted to wind down and take my mind off work. I headed to the local alehouse. There was always good company to be found there.

I walked through the doors and scanned the tables. The bar was busy, filled with soldiers and rogues in equal measure. A blonde woman waved to me from the back-left corner, a friend of mine called Cassandra. I walked over and slid into the booth with her and her unidentified companion, slipping Stigma onto the floor below.

“You look like absolute shit,” Cassandra laughed, “Have you slept in a week?”

“I feel like shit,” I concurred, “Those inquisitors took five years off my life.”

“Bessie told me. Nowhere is safe anymore. This is Darrin, he’s new in town.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Is he in the business?” ‘The Business’ being shorthand for scoundrel.

Cassie nodded, “Yep. Born and bred.”

With the safety of my secrets secured, I leaned in and asked the question on my mind. “Hear any news about an Ashmorn? Mage, halberd, blasted three bandits to hell on the way here.”

Cassie’s eyes lit up, “I think I saw her with Bell.”

“Fucks sake,” Darrin sighed. I had to agree. Did she even know what she was getting in to?

“Half a mind to follow her and snatch that Catalyst when she kicks the bucket,” I murmured, “It’d sell for a good lot.”

“I’ll come with, we can split it.”

“It’s rude to talk about people like that,” Cassie chided us.

I rolled my eyes, “I never said I was the one killing her.”

Being frank about this kind of thing had become second nature to me. One of the first things I learned from the older boys at the orphanage was that you had to take every chance that came your way. Lying, cheating and stealing were just ways to even the playing field between us and the more privileged. ‘Never shed tears over a rich man’s victimhood,’ was something I heard so many times it became second nature. I’d pickpocketed enough of them to know that they wouldn’t suffer for it.

What would the old me have thought of the me that was sat in that tavern? Discussing looting someone’s body before they’d even died. I’d have been disgusted with myself. Living the way I did changed things, it put my comfortable upbringing on Earth into perspective in a way that nothing else could. The world was built on the backs of people like me. For every winner there had to be a loser.

The gap between the rich and poor was extreme, even more extreme here than it was there. Basic comforts were a luxury, running water, a working toilet, a variety of food to eat – those cost cash, cash that most people didn’t have. Nobles lived in huge palaces gilded with gold and marble, had armies of servants tending to their every need. I’d seen them with my own eyes.

Good company made it bearable. The rogues were like one big, messed up family. The ones who weren’t assholes worked together to survive. Cassie was one of the older members of the informal guild we were a part of, crows feet touched the edge of her eyes. She’d been through a lot and didn’t spend time in dangerous places anymore. She was trying to enjoy her retirement in a sense.

“I hope she doesn’t die, she seemed interesting. Might be able to finally shake things up around here.”

“And the war isn’t?” Cassie jabbed, taking a swig of her drink.

“When aren’t they fighting over this town?”

“There was a week a few years ago. Things being quiet was more unnerving than hearing about the battles.” We shot the shit together for another hour, with me downing three full pitchers of ale and getting a pleasant buzz out of it. “I’ll put it on my tab,” she said, “Young man like you shouldn’t be wasting your money on ale.”

I wasn’t going to turn down from booze.

And then the door slammed open, and the Ashmorn we’d discussed earlier walked through the door looking like a woman possessed. Her appearance and halberd attracted a lot of attention, but she ignored the jeers and the questions from the alcohol afflicted patrons, locking onto me. She stormed over to our table and pointed at me, “You… that stench.”

Sensing that this idiot was about to get me in some serious trouble, I grabbed Stigma and stood from my seat. “Let me deal with this Cassie, I’ll catch you both later.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the back door.