The Old Realms - Chapter 151

Grimdux

I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck

 Touch O' Luck

II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.

It will be a superior reading experience

to start this story from the beginning

Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)

Chapter specific maps of the realms 

Maps of the Realms

Grimdux The following chapters showcase the ripple effect of events in the Realm. News get distorted, and reach people at different times, depending on distance. The quality of information is also 'colored' with each retelling, as people will insert their own bias to them. Not everyone receiving 'news' can absorb it critically and with a level head. Finally, clues are scattered through out the series on purpose to mimic real life events. You might know something, but remembering it, is a different thing.

Lear ‘Razor’ Hik

Incident at Merchant’s Triage

Aftermath I

-Where do wicked folk go to blend in?-

There was ash blowing down the cobblestone road. It got into your eyes, stuck on your skin and dirtied your garbs. Lear clicked his tongue, eyed the corner of the main street, where the granite building ended, then looked the other way, half the buildings there destroyed and grimaced. Old Bolt nodded, his back on the wall of the bank, straw hat low over his eyes. Edge was nowhere to be seen.

With a grunt Lear pushed the door open and entered the quiet interior. The six cashier spots empty, the inside of the grey sturdy three-story building well-lit. A man with drooping cheeks and chin, an egg-like balding head and thin as a rail stood up from his desk at the other side of the big hall.

Ah, Lear thought and cracked his neck right and left. Let us see, where this path will lead us.

“We’re closed,” the manager of the local bank branch said nervously and perhaps a little annoyed. Lear kept walking towards him, crossed the large hall, a blond woman moving to intercept him standing up from behind her information’s cubicle, but missing him. Lear pushed the left side of his coat aside and showed the mid-aged man his gold badge.

He frowned, eyes blinking and that weak chin clenching. The manager went from mildly annoyed to being worried in a split second.

“Is this an official inspection? I asked for another month at least, the city has been ruined…” Lear stopped in front of him, reached for a cloth he kept in a side pocket and used it to wipe his face from all the dirt and soot he’d gathered coming from the harbor. The manager paused unsure, while Lear put the cloth in his pocket, got a scroll out and read from it.

“Director Apus Similis?” He asked him dispassionately. Apus licked his lips trying to calm his nerves.

“Yes. Are you from Cediorum?”

Lear eyed the blond woman that had approached them and was now listening in curiously, standing behind his right shoulder.

“This is Floronia Puviana, first assistant here. Flora was leaving for the day—”

Lear looked at the clean, nicely made up face. He smiled awkwardly, but his voice held no warmth. “Sit down Miss Puviana,” he ordered her. “Use the director’s chair, he’ll get another.”

The blond woman blinked, stared at the Director and then moved to comply.

“You’re not here for a review,” Apus realized and gulped down. “Good grief, you’re coming from Central. Why would a man from Atetalerso—”

Lear turned his eyes on him. Any delays were not helping anyone, not him and certainly not the manager. Needless queries were the same and prolonged the inevitable. “Get another chair, mister Similis,” he told him and this time Lear’s tone skipped the warning and went straight to threatening.

Lear took his time reading the instructions in the missive that had stopped him from taking an unnecessary trip to Altarin. The city was going to be assaulted was the rumor and you didn’t want getting stuck in a siege. Ah, the job always comes with unforeseen complications, he thought glancing at the pretty woman, her legs kept in front of her on the chair. There was some pleasure to be had here, if there was time. You wake up the beast to do you the job, ye have to feed it.

He sighed and put the scroll on the table in front of him, the woman sitting on the side of it. Apus returned with another chair and placed it where hers had been. The silence inside the high ceiling empty hall deafening.

“You reported in a side note… filed over a month ago,” Lear started, staring at the fidgeting Apus. “Of an unusual transaction. The Bank took an interest in that side note. Do you want me to read it?”

Apus cleared his throat. “Ahm, just give me the name. This must have been before the city burned. Not much business after that,” Lear’s stare turned into a glare. It was intentional.

“Lord Reeves.”

“Ah, yes. I remember, of course—”

Lear stopped him. “Was here? In Rida?”

“He was. Stationed at the harbor I believe, during the siege.”

“The old Lord of Altarin had been assassinated months before that,” Lear pointed and reached inside his coat, Apus’ eyes ogling. The bounty hunter got that cloth out and wiped the sweat off his face. His clothing not agreeing with the local weather.

“This was the new one, obviously,” Apus replied with a nervous smile.

“The old Lord had no living heir,” Lear countered casually.

“Ah, he did. A knight of Raoz. I believe… and I checked on it,” Apus said quickly. “Despite the chaotic situation that was thrusted upon me, I checked. I believe it was his grandson, if I recall correctly.”

“He was visiting Rida?”

“This I don’t know. But he was here, defended the city per the Duke’s orders that would be the previous Duke by the way and his whereabouts got lost in the aftermath.”

“He died in the harbor?” Lear helped him.

“There’s rumor, he led an exodus out of the East Gates, mister?”

“Hik…,” Lear replied. “Was he successful?”

“That is the word of mouth.”

“Do you have a map of Eplas?” Lear asked him.

“Yes, but only the East Coast.”

“It will suffice. Find it and do hurry up,” Lear glanced at Flora watching their conversation and grimaced. The woman returned his stare unsure, perhaps a little annoyed. Lear could have forgiven her that, but he was on a mission and couldn’t afford sentimentality.

“You were present in the transaction?” He asked her, while they were waiting for Apus to unearth that map of his.

“I remember Lord Reeves,” Flora replied, a little defensively.

So Lear tried again, steel in his voice.

“You were present in the transaction?” He asked her again and this time Lear added with an unhappy sigh. “Every time I do not get a yes or no answer, to a yes or no query, I will remove a small bit of flesh Flora. Please do not force my hand.”

Flora blinked unsure, whether he was jesting and then realizing Lear was serious, she started shaking uncontrollably. It was rather stimulating unfortunately. He reached under his coat again, found the harness and got his long razor out. The blade on it –now folded- almost two handbreadth long, the grip sturdy polished oak, with silver details.

“I was there,” Flora replied, her voice shaking. “Yes.”

“What was the transaction?” Lear asked, opening the gleaming blade.

“Diamonds. He wanted gold Eagles for them.”

“How many?”

“Eh, it was a lot. Five hundred pieces at least.”

Lear stared at the returning Apus. The director carried a large map with him, which he unrolled on the desk. The bounty hunter returned his razor to its sheath.

“What did he want for the coin?” He asked him and Apus frowned.

“Nothing. Information. Got the sense he didn’t know its worth.”

Nobody did, it appears. A fluke? Or Copeland tried to one up them?

Gotten himself killed in the attempt?

“What didn’t he use his ship? It left Altarin, I presume in order to pick him up,” he asked Apus instead.

“The city was burning, Khan’s soldiers were inside the walls. Maybe he couldn’t, or the ship never moored inside the harbor.”

This guy is clever, Lear thought. He had a back up plan, in case everything went tits up.

“He stayed in an expensive inn. The ‘King’s Fortune’. It’s still standing. He had quite the entourage was the word,” Apus elaborated.

“What was strange about it?” Lear asked, his mind elsewhere.

“He kept slaves.”

“I heard he was married,” Flora added defending Reeves. “Noble women have helpers.”

Right then. Lear smacked his lips and picked the map from the desk, rolled it up again. This well is dry it seems.

“Did you check the diamonds?” He asked the Director, as an afterthought.

Apus nodded. “Had my guy on it. Died in the siege unfortunately. A marble plinth squashed his head, a couple of streets from here,” Lear glared at him, his patience running thin. “Ehem, they were of superb quality. The diamonds. In fact, they even had the fish tail cut on them,” he stared at him knowingly. Lear scratched the side of his unshaven face with two fingers, but said nothing.

“The ‘Sopat’ cut,” Apus said using air quotes. “It’s a mark of quality in the gem trade.”

“The diamonds were good,” Lear summed it up for him not as interested in the detail.

“They were.”

He needed more information.

Lear sighed and stood back. “Apprise the Bank, I’ve talked to you,” he told them both and turning on his heels, walked out of the building.

Ronald Edge, tackled him the moment he stepped out of the double doors. The grey haired Lorian, his beard neatly trimmed and pale-blue eyes unhappy, shoved him once on the shoulder.

“Fuck’s is this city?” He rustled in his Lesian accent.

“Famous Rida,” Lear retorted, rubbing at his shoulder. “Ye always wanted to visit.”

“Don’t know what I was thinkin’ in me youth,” the man replied and frowned. “Should have stayed retired.”

“I asked you if you were and ye denied it,” Lear countered.

“Not much else to do, since Rita died,” Edge replied that sadness creeping back. They both sighed thinking back on happier times, a folly of course, since Lear knew they had tons of stuff to complain about back then as well.

“Is Bolt coming?”

“Aye, he’s slow-moving.”

“It’ll be a small walk, it might have a beer at the end of it,” Lear said and signed for him to follow.

“Where to?” His old partner asked and Lear glancing back to make certain Bolt was on their trail, replied with a grunt.

“Some expensive inn, or other.”

After you visited enough of them, all places looked familiar.

The ‘King’s Fortune’ stood like a sore thumb dominating its street, only a small walk from the Mclean & Merck building, what was a bakery half-leveled on one side, an untouched barber shop on the other. Lear cracked his neck left and right before entering, flanked by Gnu Bolt and Roland Edge his long-time partners. They were missing a couple of members of what one Lord in Lesia had dubbed the ‘Fab Five’ once upon a time. Rita and Ethan were long dead now and the others along with Lear had all but retired from the trade for years.

Still it felt familiar, a scene Lear had lived before.

“You don’t look like tourists,” the owner said, a pale faced Lorian of thirty years. “But I can pretend you are, so worry not.”

“We’re not, I’m Lear Hik; this is Edge and Bolt.”

“My father used to tell me a story about a ‘Razor’ Hik, when I was little. Name’s Pat King by the way,” Pat said, wiping the clean counter with a cloth. “Brought King Davenport the heads of James Redmond of Sovya and his son back in seventy two. Davenport used them to placate the mad High King and broker a peace, its terms more favorable to Lesia that most say it deserved.”

Lear crooked his mouth and eyed the shorter innkeeper. “Not all rumors are true.”

“Was the boy of age?” Pat asked indifferently. “Didn’t it upset the Aldens?”

“The Aldens’ were compensated,” Edge rustled.

“Aye they did. Didn’t end well for the Redmonds just the same.”

“Not our fault,” Bolt chipped in, his aged half-Cofol half-Lorian face damn near an evil mask at the memory.

“Of course not,” Pat replied with a smile. “Just stories, and I know a few fresher ones from Rida as well. None pleasant to the ear.”

“We work for Mclean & Merck,” Lear said and swallowed slowly. “We are looking for a man that stayed here, mister King.”

“During the siege?”

“Left right at the end.”

“I see,” Pat replied and wiped the sweat off his brow.

Do you? Lear ‘Razor’ Hik wondered.

“The new Lord of Altarin,” he elucidated and Pat nodded, looking at them up and down, probably remembering the story his father had told him.

“Aye, the young lad,” he replied simply. “Rented the whole place for his people.”

“That many? I heard there were slaves in the mix.”

“Don’t know about slaves, unless you mean the Cofol girls,” Pat countered. “But there were a couple of dwarfs, two Gish and some characters in them, more interesting.”

“Dwarfs?” Bolt wondered aloud.

“Haven’t seen a Gish since Aegium,” Edge added thoughtfully.

Lear thought of the diamonds. “What about the Cofols?”

Pat turned his eyes on him. “His wife. A right beauty aye, the rest a quiet bunch like her, but for a couple of occasions, when he visited her quarters. Can’t fault the man for that. But she turned right loud then.”

“His grandfather left an inheritance,” Lear explained. “We need to find him.”

“Word is he broke out the East Gate, saved a lot of good people in the process.”

All hail, the crooked hero!

“I’m sure he did,” Lear grimaced and looked at his leather boots. “Did he take his entourage with him?”

“They left here the previous day. I assume he did,” Pat replied looking at them. “Why not look for him in Altarin? The new Duke is heading there.”

Hmm, Lear thought. Because this guy is not a fool. “Do you have a list of the people staying here?”

“I keep a detailed record,” Pat replied. “Doesn’t the bank inherit what people don’t claim?”

“An effort must be made, just the same,” Lear countered, returning his stare. “If records are provided, we can all go home. The Bank will compensate you for the damages.”

“You have me convinced to cooperate. Must be a big inheritance,” Pat commented and reached for a hefty ledger-type book.

“It’s not the amount, Mister King,” Lear replied. “But the principle.”

You don’t steal from the Bank.

“This is a good beer,” Edge commented, while Lear was reading the torn page the owner had provided. Along with the beer. Last barrel, Pat had said. Not easy to bring in supplies, but we’ll manage.

People always do in the end, he thought. Find a way.

“Two dwarfs,” he said counting. “Two Gish. A kid. Two Northmen, one of them huge as a giant. A one-eyed scoundrel. A hale ex-soldier and an Issir woman.”

“Plus three slaves, presumably,” Edge added, looking at him. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Not your usual nobleman’s entourage,” Bolt commented, slurping at his beer.

“Did he get them out of the East Gates?” Lear asked.

“Difficult to move civilians through a scrap,” Edge said.

“Unless you use a crowd to hide them in,” Bolt replied.

“Let’s assume the ship failed to moor, or the captain got spooked seeing the city burning, Cofols on the loose,” Lear started, then paused.

“What is it old bones?” Edge asked him, alarm in his voice. “It might not be him. Doesn’t look like it.”

That coin on the road. A Northman thug I’d missed at Shroudcoast the first time. Another in Castalor, both here. The Lord’s ship taking them all to Altarin. There are no coincidences.

Lear sighed, stared out of their window, the street looking normal from inside the inn. It wasn’t though… normal.

“There was something off with this case, since the start,” he said, looking at the list. “Copeland opens the vault, with help surely. Gets on a ship, leaves Cediorum and disembarks in Shroudcoast of all fucking places. He gets arrested there, for ‘murder’ and loses his head. The gold, which we assume he’d taken with him goes missing from his room. But for a coin found in the street.”

“His partner sold him out. This lad, the Reeves guy?” Edge sat back on his chair. “Why? Why go to Castalor, leave a trail there? Hop on his ship, return to Altarin. Leave again just as his grandfather gets murdered and come to Rida?”

“There was no young Reeves before that summer,” Lear replied, thinking out loud. “Not a mention of him anywhere. In fact the Old Lord had his lands and titles bequeathed to his brother, the new Duke.”

“Then he changed his mind, gave them to our lad,” Edge said. “You’re thinking the Thieves Guild might be working a scheme here? Too bold even for them, I reckon. Nah, they did the job and pulled out well-compensated. That’s more their style. A thief won’t risk his neck.”

“A lone thief might,” Lear replied. “A shrewd thief, ruthless and bold enough to plan and execute it. We might have never seen his likes afore.”

“Helped Copeland steal the gold, sailed wit him to the Free Isles to avoid detection. Sold Copeland off to the locals and gotten the gold for himself. Why Castalor?” Edge didn’t seem convinced.

“Perhaps it’s not the same scheme,” Lear decided. “Used the gold to buy a crew, worm himself into the Old Lord’s court. The old man was murdered, the paper naming him his grandson and heir surfaced later. A paper signed with a knife on your neck.”

Bolt breathed in and tried another angle. “Murdered the old Lord, so he can’t speak. Then traveled to Rida to gain legitimacy from the Duke. How did he pulled that off? How did he fool the brother? What about the Lord’s daughter?”

Yeah. That’s a lot of people.

“Maybe he didn’t fool them,” Lear replied. “The city burned. Or perhaps he’s that good.”

“Khan’s army ruined his plans,” Edge pointed out the obvious.

“Aye, it did,” Lear agreed. “An evil bastard like that would have had a backup plan though.”

“The ship, to get him out from the harbor, he conveniently ‘defended’,” Bolt agreed.

“What if that failed as well?”

They both stared at him. Lear grimaced and made room on the table they were sitting around for Apus’ map. “If the ship couldn’t make it to Rida and it left without him, then he ordered it to go elsewhere.”

“Not the coast of Jelin,” Edge agreed.

“Not without him,” Bolt added.

“And not to Altarin, where people might remember things differently. Nah, he’s too clever for that. Our lad cut his losses and run. He’ll never go to Altarin that scheme is dead.”

“On to the next,” Edge murmured looking at the map.

“What will he go after?” Bolt asked.

“Clever crooks are rare and usually have bouts of bad luck that ruin them, this one doesn’t. He seems to thrive, when all seems lost,” Lear replied, tracing a line down the Merchant Path, one eye at the Krakentrap Straits. “Where would a ship pick him up?”

“Such a big group would never make it past Hi Yil,” Bolt said, well versed on Eplas geography.

“The Issirs burned it to the ground,” Edge pointed out.

“He didn’t know that,” Lear said and smacked his lips frustrated. “In his mind, the safest route was through the desert. No exposure, no armies at the near.”

“It’s not easy to cross that part of the desert Lear. Some would say, it’s bloody suicide,” Edge countered.

“Ah, not really. Not if you know where you’re going. Horselords live there after all and while there’s truth to it, people had crossed it afore.”

“If Reeves attempted to cut south parallel to the Path, he didn’t make it,” Bolt argued. “That’s no man’s land Lear. Nothing good lives there. The sands have swallowed caravans’ whole.”

“Gish are legendary scouts by nature, with a ‘nose’ for water,” Lear said. “He had two of them.”

“Well, they are great in bed as well and this guy likes his women exotic, so it might be that,” Edge countered, not seeing his logic.

“Fine, let’s assume he dies in the Desert. What was the plan?” Lear yielded.

They all looked at the map.

“Not meet up with the Issirs, this happened after he’d left Rida already,” Edge murmured, a frown on his face.

“Ships can’t moor on the coast,” Bolt added. “Not unless you swing around the Straits and sail to Eikenport.”

“Eh, that’s a ruin for the most part,” Edge started saying and then looked into Lear’s face and stopped. “Fit for cutthroats, pirates and Cofols not in Khan’s favor,” he added, nodding with his head.

Where do wicked folk go to blend in?

“I’d say our lad would make that list,” Lear agreed. “Regroup there, work on his next dastardly scheme. Nobody knows him, I wager he already has another name.”

“If he lives,” Bolt countered.

“He made it out Shroudcoast, fooling everyone. This guy is a demon. Made it out of Rida,” Lear decided and started rolling the map again. “He’ll make it out of the desert. My gut tells me I’m in the right on this.”

“You know I hate water,” Edge complained, slow to get up from his chair and Lear smiled, put a hand on his shoulder, felt the mail underneath.

“It cuts the journey by two months, or more,” he explained and Edge nodded, glanced at Bolt, who rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his beer.

“Fuck it, let’s hop on the bloody ship again,” the old ranger said and got up himself. “Eikenport it is.”

Grimdux I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck Touch O' Luck II It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series. It will be a superior reading experience to start this story from the beginning Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience: Chapter specific maps of the realms Maps of the Realms Grimdux The following chapters showcase the ripple effect of events in the Realm. News get distorted, and reach people at different times, depending on distance. The quality of information is also 'colored' with each retelling, as people will insert their own bias to them. Not everyone receiving 'news' can absorb it critically and with a level head. Finally, clues are scattered through out the series on purpose to mimic real life events. You might know something, but remembering it, is a different thing. Lear Razor' Hik Incident at Merchant's Triage Aftermath I -Where do wicked folk go to blend in?- There was ash blowing down the cobblestone road. It got into your eyes, stuck on your skin and dirtied your garbs. Lear clicked his tongue, eyed the corner of the main street, where the granite building ended, then looked the other way, half the buildings there destroyed and grimaced. Old Bolt nodded, his back on the wall of the bank, straw hat low over his eyes. Edge was nowhere to be seen. With a grunt Lear pushed the door open and entered the quiet interior. The six cashier spots empty, the inside of the grey sturdy three-story building well-lit. A man with drooping cheeks and chin, an egg-like balding head and thin as a rail stood up from his desk at the other side of the big hall. Ah, Lear thought and cracked his neck right and left. Let us see, where this path will lead us. We're closed, the manager of the local bank branch said nervously and perhaps a little annoyed. Lear kept walking towards him, crossed the large hall, a blond woman moving to intercept him standing up from behind her information's cubicle, but missing him. Lear pushed the left side of his coat aside and showed the mid-aged man his gold badge. He frowned, eyes blinking and that weak chin clenching. The manager went from mildly annoyed to being worried in a split second. Is this an official inspection? I asked for another month at least, the city has been ruined Lear stopped in front of him, reached for a cloth he kept in a side pocket and used it to wipe his face from all the dirt and soot he'd gathered coming from the harbor. The manager paused unsure, while Lear put the cloth in his pocket, got a scroll out and read from it. Director Apus Similis? He asked him dispassionately. Apus licked his lips trying to calm his nerves. Yes. Are you from Cediorum? Lear eyed the blond woman that had approached them and was now listening in curiously, standing behind his right shoulder. This is Floronia Puviana, first assistant here. Flora was leaving for the day Lear looked at the clean, nicely made up face. He smiled awkwardly, but his voice held no warmth. Sit down Miss Puviana, he ordered her. Use the director's chair, he'll get another. The blond woman blinked, stared at the Director and then moved to comply. You're not here for a review, Apus realized and gulped down. Good grief, you're coming from Central. Why would a man from Atetalerso Lear turned his eyes on him. Any delays were not helping anyone, not him and certainly not the manager. Needless queries were the same and prolonged the inevitable. Get another chair, mister Similis, he told him and this time Lear's tone skipped the warning and went straight to threatening. Lear took his time reading the instructions in the missive that had stopped him from taking an unnecessary trip to Altarin. The city was going to be assaulted was the rumor and you didn't want getting stuck in a siege. Ah, the job always comes with unforeseen complications, he thought glancing at the pretty woman, her legs kept in front of her on the chair. There was some pleasure to be had here, if there was time. You wake up the beast to do you the job, ye have to feed it. He sighed and put the scroll on the table in front of him, the woman sitting on the side of it. Apus returned with another chair and placed it where hers had been. The silence inside the high ceiling empty hall deafening. You reported in a side note filed over a month ago, Lear started, staring at the fidgeting Apus. Of an unusual transaction. The Bank took an interest in that side note. Do you want me to read it? Apus cleared his throat. Ahm, just give me the name. This must have been before the city burned. Not much business after that, Lear's stare turned into a glare. It was intentional. Lord Reeves. Ah, yes. I remember, of course Lear stopped him. Was here? In Rida? He was. Stationed at the harbor I believe, during the siege. The old Lord of Altarin had been assassinated months before that, Lear pointed and reached inside his coat, Apus' eyes ogling. The bounty hunter got that cloth out and wiped the sweat off his face. His clothing not agreeing with the local weather. This was the new one, obviously, Apus replied with a nervous smile. The old Lord had no living heir, Lear countered casually. Ah, he did. A knight of Raoz. I believe and I checked on it, Apus said quickly. Despite the chaotic situation that was thrusted upon me, I checked. I believe it was his grandson, if I recall correctly. He was visiting Rida? This I don't know. But he was here, defended the city per the Duke's orders that would be the previous Duke by the way and his whereabouts got lost in the aftermath. He died in the harbor? Lear helped him. There's rumor, he led an exodus out of the East Gates, mister? Hik, Lear replied. Was he successful? That is the word of mouth. Do you have a map of Eplas? Lear asked him. Yes, but only the East Coast. It will suffice. Find it and do hurry up, Lear glanced at Flora watching their conversation and grimaced. The woman returned his stare unsure, perhaps a little annoyed. Lear could have forgiven her that, but he was on a mission and couldn't afford sentimentality. You were present in the transaction? He asked her, while they were waiting for Apus to unearth that map of his. I remember Lord Reeves, Flora replied, a little defensively. So Lear tried again, steel in his voice. You were present in the transaction? He asked her again and this time Lear added with an unhappy sigh. Every time I do not get a yes or no answer, to a yes or no query, I will remove a small bit of flesh Flora. Please do not force my hand. Flora blinked unsure, whether he was jesting and then realizing Lear was serious, she started shaking uncontrollably. It was rather stimulating unfortunately. He reached under his coat again, found the harness and got his long razor out. The blade on it now folded- almost two handbreadth long, the grip sturdy polished oak, with silver details. I was there, Flora replied, her voice shaking. Yes. What was the transaction? Lear asked, opening the gleaming blade. Diamonds. He wanted gold Eagles for them. How many? Eh, it was a lot. Five hundred pieces at least. Lear stared at the returning Apus. The director carried a large map with him, which he unrolled on the desk. The bounty hunter returned his razor to its sheath. What did he want for the coin? He asked him and Apus frowned. Nothing. Information. Got the sense he didn't know its worth. Nobody did, it appears. A fluke? Or Copeland tried to one up them? Gotten himself killed in the attempt? What didn't he use his ship? It left Altarin, I presume in order to pick him up, he asked Apus instead. The city was burning, Khan's soldiers were inside the walls. Maybe he couldn't, or the ship never moored inside the harbor. This guy is clever, Lear thought. He had a back up plan, in case everything went tits up. He stayed in an expensive inn. The King's Fortune'. It's still standing. He had quite the entourage was the word, Apus elaborated. What was strange about it? Lear asked, his mind elsewhere. He kept slaves. I heard he was married, Flora added defending Reeves. Noble women have helpers. Right then. Lear smacked his lips and picked the map from the desk, rolled it up again. This well is dry it seems. Did you check the diamonds? He asked the Director, as an afterthought. Apus nodded. Had my guy on it. Died in the siege unfortunately. A marble plinth squashed his head, a couple of streets from here, Lear glared at him, his patience running thin. Ehem, they were of superb quality. The diamonds. In fact, they even had the fish tail cut on them, he stared at him knowingly. Lear scratched the side of his unshaven face with two fingers, but said nothing. The Sopat' cut, Apus said using air quotes. It's a mark of quality in the gem trade. The diamonds were good, Lear summed it up for him not as interested in the detail. They were. He needed more information. Lear sighed and stood back. Apprise the Bank, I've talked to you, he told them both and turning on his heels, walked out of the building. Ronald Edge, tackled him the moment he stepped out of the double doors. The grey haired Lorian, his beard neatly trimmed and pale-blue eyes unhappy, shoved him once on the shoulder. Fuck's is this city? He rustled in his Lesian accent. Famous Rida, Lear retorted, rubbing at his shoulder. Ye always wanted to visit. Don't know what I was thinkin' in me youth, the man replied and frowned. Should have stayed retired. I asked you if you were and ye denied it, Lear countered. Not much else to do, since Rita died, Edge replied that sadness creeping back. They both sighed thinking back on happier times, a folly of course, since Lear knew they had tons of stuff to complain about back then as well. Is Bolt coming? Aye, he's slow-moving. It'll be a small walk, it might have a beer at the end of it, Lear said and signed for him to follow. Where to? His old partner asked and Lear glancing back to make certain Bolt was on their trail, replied with a grunt. Some expensive inn, or other. After you visited enough of them, all places looked familiar. The King's Fortune' stood like a sore thumb dominating its street, only a small walk from the Mclean & Merck building, what was a bakery half-leveled on one side, an untouched barber shop on the other. Lear cracked his neck left and right before entering, flanked by Gnu Bolt and Roland Edge his long-time partners. They were missing a couple of members of what one Lord in Lesia had dubbed the Fab Five' once upon a time. Rita and Ethan were long dead now and the others along with Lear had all but retired from the trade for years. Still it felt familiar, a scene Lear had lived before. You don't look like tourists, the owner said, a pale faced Lorian of thirty years. But I can pretend you are, so worry not. We're not, I'm Lear Hik; this is Edge and Bolt. My father used to tell me a story about a Razor' Hik, when I was little. Name's Pat King by the way, Pat said, wiping the clean counter with a cloth. Brought King Davenport the heads of James Redmond of Sovya and his son back in seventy two. Davenport used them to placate the mad High King and broker a peace, its terms more favorable to Lesia that most say it deserved. Lear crooked his mouth and eyed the shorter innkeeper. Not all rumors are true. Was the boy of age? Pat asked indifferently. Didn't it upset the Aldens? The Aldens' were compensated, Edge rustled. Aye they did. Didn't end well for the Redmonds just the same. Not our fault, Bolt chipped in, his aged half-Cofol half-Lorian face damn near an evil mask at the memory. Of course not, Pat replied with a smile. Just stories, and I know a few fresher ones from Rida as well. None pleasant to the ear. We work for Mclean & Merck, Lear said and swallowed slowly. We are looking for a man that stayed here, mister King. During the siege? Left right at the end. I see, Pat replied and wiped the sweat off his brow. Do you? Lear Razor' Hik wondered. The new Lord of Altarin, he elucidated and Pat nodded, looking at them up and down, probably remembering the story his father had told him. Aye, the young lad, he replied simply. Rented the whole place for his people. That many? I heard there were slaves in the mix. Don't know about slaves, unless you mean the Cofol girls, Pat countered. But there were a couple of dwarfs, two Gish and some characters in them, more interesting. Dwarfs? Bolt wondered aloud. Haven't seen a Gish since Aegium, Edge added thoughtfully. Lear thought of the diamonds. What about the Cofols? Pat turned his eyes on him. His wife. A right beauty aye, the rest a quiet bunch like her, but for a couple of occasions, when he visited her quarters. Can't fault the man for that. But she turned right loud then. His grandfather left an inheritance, Lear explained. We need to find him. Word is he broke out the East Gate, saved a lot of good people in the process. All hail, the crooked hero! I'm sure he did, Lear grimaced and looked at his leather boots. Did he take his entourage with him? They left here the previous day. I assume he did, Pat replied looking at them. Why not look for him in Altarin? The new Duke is heading there. Hmm, Lear thought. Because this guy is not a fool. Do you have a list of the people staying here? I keep a detailed record, Pat replied. Doesn't the bank inherit what people don't claim? An effort must be made, just the same, Lear countered, returning his stare. If records are provided, we can all go home. The Bank will compensate you for the damages. You have me convinced to cooperate. Must be a big inheritance, Pat commented and reached for a hefty ledger-type book. It's not the amount, Mister King, Lear replied. But the principle. You don't steal from the Bank. This is a good beer, Edge commented, while Lear was reading the torn page the owner had provided. Along with the beer. Last barrel, Pat had said. Not easy to bring in supplies, but we'll manage. People always do in the end, he thought. Find a way. Two dwarfs, he said counting. Two Gish. A kid. Two Northmen, one of them huge as a giant. A one-eyed scoundrel. A hale ex-soldier and an Issir woman. Plus three slaves, presumably, Edge added, looking at him. That's a lot of people. Not your usual nobleman's entourage, Bolt commented, slurping at his beer. Did he get them out of the East Gates? Lear asked. Difficult to move civilians through a scrap, Edge said. Unless you use a crowd to hide them in, Bolt replied. Let's assume the ship failed to moor, or the captain got spooked seeing the city burning, Cofols on the loose, Lear started, then paused. What is it old bones? Edge asked him, alarm in his voice. It might not be him. Doesn't look like it. That coin on the road. A Northman thug I'd missed at Shroudcoast the first time. Another in Castalor, both here. The Lord's ship taking them all to Altarin. There are no coincidences. Lear sighed, stared out of their window, the street looking normal from inside the inn. It wasn't though normal. There was something off with this case, since the start, he said, looking at the list. Copeland opens the vault, with help surely. Gets on a ship, leaves Cediorum and disembarks in Shroudcoast of all fucking places. He gets arrested there, for murder' and loses his head. The gold, which we assume he'd taken with him goes missing from his room. But for a coin found in the street. His partner sold him out. This lad, the Reeves guy? Edge sat back on his chair. Why? Why go to Castalor, leave a trail there? Hop on his ship, return to Altarin. Leave again just as his grandfather gets murdered and come to Rida? There was no young Reeves before that summer, Lear replied, thinking out loud. Not a mention of him anywhere. In fact the Old Lord had his lands and titles bequeathed to his brother, the new Duke. Then he changed his mind, gave them to our lad, Edge said. You're thinking the Thieves Guild might be working a scheme here? Too bold even for them, I reckon. Nah, they did the job and pulled out well-compensated. That's more their style. A thief won't risk his neck. A lone thief might, Lear replied. A shrewd thief, ruthless and bold enough to plan and execute it. We might have never seen his likes afore. Helped Copeland steal the gold, sailed wit him to the Free Isles to avoid detection. Sold Copeland off to the locals and gotten the gold for himself. Why Castalor? Edge didn't seem convinced. Perhaps it's not the same scheme, Lear decided. Used the gold to buy a crew, worm himself into the Old Lord's court. The old man was murdered, the paper naming him his grandson and heir surfaced later. A paper signed with a knife on your neck. Bolt breathed in and tried another angle. Murdered the old Lord, so he can't speak. Then traveled to Rida to gain legitimacy from the Duke. How did he pulled that off? How did he fool the brother? What about the Lord's daughter? Yeah. That's a lot of people. Maybe he didn't fool them, Lear replied. The city burned. Or perhaps he's that good. Khan's army ruined his plans, Edge pointed out the obvious. Aye, it did, Lear agreed. An evil bastard like that would have had a backup plan though. The ship, to get him out from the harbor, he conveniently defended', Bolt agreed. What if that failed as well? They both stared at him. Lear grimaced and made room on the table they were sitting around for Apus' map. If the ship couldn't make it to Rida and it left without him, then he ordered it to go elsewhere. Not the coast of Jelin, Edge agreed. Not without him, Bolt added. And not to Altarin, where people might remember things differently. Nah, he's too clever for that. Our lad cut his losses and run. He'll never go to Altarin that scheme is dead. On to the next, Edge murmured looking at the map. What will he go after? Bolt asked. Clever crooks are rare and usually have bouts of bad luck that ruin them, this one doesn't. He seems to thrive, when all seems lost, Lear replied, tracing a line down the Merchant Path, one eye at the Krakentrap Straits. Where would a ship pick him up? Such a big group would never make it past Hi Yil, Bolt said, well versed on Eplas geography. The Issirs burned it to the ground, Edge pointed out. He didn't know that, Lear said and smacked his lips frustrated. In his mind, the safest route was through the desert. No exposure, no armies at the near. It's not easy to cross that part of the desert Lear. Some would say, it's bloody suicide, Edge countered. Ah, not really. Not if you know where you're going. Horselords live there after all and while there's truth to it, people had crossed it afore. If Reeves attempted to cut south parallel to the Path, he didn't make it, Bolt argued. That's no man's land Lear. Nothing good lives there. The sands have swallowed caravans' whole. Gish are legendary scouts by nature, with a nose' for water, Lear said. He had two of them. Well, they are great in bed as well and this guy likes his women exotic, so it might be that, Edge countered, not seeing his logic. Fine, let's assume he dies in the Desert. What was the plan? Lear yielded. They all looked at the map. Not meet up with the Issirs, this happened after he'd left Rida already, Edge murmured, a frown on his face. Ships can't moor on the coast, Bolt added. Not unless you swing around the Straits and sail to Eikenport. Eh, that's a ruin for the most part, Edge started saying and then looked into Lear's face and stopped. Fit for cutthroats, pirates and Cofols not in Khan's favor, he added, nodding with his head. Where do wicked folk go to blend in? I'd say our lad would make that list, Lear agreed. Regroup there, work on his next dastardly scheme. Nobody knows him, I wager he already has another name. If he lives, Bolt countered. He made it out Shroudcoast, fooling everyone. This guy is a demon. Made it out of Rida, Lear decided and started rolling the map again. He'll make it out of the desert. My gut tells me I'm in the right on this. You know I hate water, Edge complained, slow to get up from his chair and Lear smiled, put a hand on his shoulder, felt the mail underneath. It cuts the journey by two months, or more, he explained and Edge nodded, glanced at Bolt, who rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his beer. Fuck it, let's hop on the bloody ship again, the old ranger said and got up himself. Eikenport it is.