Chapter 8

Dumas was the kind of man one would go out of their way to avoid saying they knew. He was portly and his skin was as greasy as his morals. He ran the largest underground information network in all of Vealand. Dumas would just as soon sell his own child for a good piece of intel.

Dumas bathed in secrets.

The right piece of information at the right time could bring down a kingdom or build an empire. The right piece of information in the right hands could cut deeper than any knife, or stitch up a wound that had festered for years.

Information was his life-blood.

Dumas held Fiell’s secrets in his hands. He kept his competitors at bay through manipulation and backstabbing, or, when they crossed him one too many times, literal backstabbing.

Dumas held a tight grip on the city, and he would do anything to make sure it stayed that way. Knowledge was power, and Dumas did whatever was necessary to stay in power.

Aris hated the fact that someone as vile as Dumas was a necessity, but to his chagrin, he knew that the bloated pig and his kind were essential to the continued safety of the empire. They were able to do the things he and his police force simply couldn't. There would always be a fine line between legality and justice, and though it pained Aris to admit, people like Dumas and his network were essential to their society if there were to be any justice at all. They needed him to keep check on the underground.

Without his knowledge many would’ve gone without justice. Dumas and his kind were a necessary evil and Aris would turn his nose, but he’d pay for the information that the fat man provided.

Aris cared about the law and believed in it wholeheartedly, but neither was he under the illusion that always following it would produce the results that kept his city safe. So Aris reluctantly allowed Dumas and his kind to stay, though he never hesitated to bring down the hammer if they were to cross too far over the line.

Dumas, however, trampled over the line often, but Aris could never find enough proof to convict him and so as long as the fat man was useful, he kept him around. Now, with the whispers of the rebellion reaching a fever pitch, Aris desperately needed whatever information the greasy man could provide him.

*****

“Aris! It’s so nice to see you again,” Dumas purred.

“He reminds me of a snake mid meal, his body swollen from swallowing his prey,” Aris thought as he exchanged cold pleasantries with the portly prince of secrets.

Aris skin crawled when he was around the fat man. What information might Dumas have on him? He was sure there was something, what with his connection to Van.

“I hate that I need to rely on him and his kind.” Aris thought as he followed Dumas through the noisy common room of the inn to a cushion covered bench in the corner of the large building.

“Now that our lovely pleasantries are out of the way, why don’t you order something for me?” the large man said with a sly smile creeping from the corner of his lips. The fact that Aris had been as cold as a dead fish didn’t seem to bother Dumas at all.

Every meeting was also a meal for the rotund information broker, it was always part of the fee and they would always meet at restaurants to exchange information without fail. Either people were too busy eating and keeping to themselves or chatting with their acquaintances. Nobody ever payed attention to others. Aris had thought it foolish at first, but soon had adopted the same strategy for a majority of his meetings.

As he had come to learn over his meetings with the fat man, a full belly often loosened not only the belt, but tongues as well.

“So let’s get down to business.” Aris said after ordering a large meal for Dumas. “I’ve been hearing whispers of rebel activity lately.”

“And you need my services why? Your precious police force can’t handle a small rumor? There have been whispers of rebellion since the day the Lord Emperor came into power. This hardly sounds like something you need me for,” Dumas chirped in a haughty tone. His high pitched voice stood in stark contrast to his large body.

“These aren’t coming from some back-corner of a dirty brothel, they were spoken on the street!” Aris whispered harshly, continuing, “I’m surprised that someone of your expertise wouldn’t know this immediately.”

Aris knew full well the information would have found its way to the corpulent man mere minutes after it was spoke, but the more of a fool he acted around the man, the more of an advantage he might have. False information was the best defense when confronting one such as Dumas.

Aris embraced the hard, unyielding, and ignorant persona he’d gained over the years. Few knew just how wily the general was. He preferred to keep it that way.

“Of course I know of them, remember who you’re talking to,” Dumas’s jowls bounced with each bite he took of the smoked salmon that was the first course of what was bound to become and obscene amount of food. "So what exactly do you want to know about the rumors? How much is true? Or who’s involved? If it’s the latter it’ll cost you more than just one meal.”

“Haven’t you made your repulsive empire on knowing what information your client wants? I overestimated you. I thought you were a smarter man,” Aris snarkily replied, trying to injure the large man’s pride to loosen his tongue.

“Of course I know what you want, I didn’t get my position through ignorance,” Dumas huffed. “You want to know about Dren’s plans for the rebellion. You want to know the names of those in the rebellion.”

Aris mentally grinned but made sure it didn’t show on his face. He hadn’t known the leader’s name was Dren.

He continue to play it dumb and poked at the fatter man’s pride. Acting as if he were too conceited to catch all the nuggets of information that the fat man kept dropping. The fool really thought Aris was too dense to pick up on his hints.

By the time their meeting had ended, Aris Ravenscroft had gathered everything he needed to know to kill the rebellion once and for all.