Terror Eight - Kingpin

Fancy’s place isn’t very fancy. It’s a warehouse, tall and built of brownish bricks, the same as most of the buildings in the South Quarter of Santafaria. It would probably be a lot more imposing if it wasn’t stuck in between a dozen nearly identical buildings. The only thing that really sets it apart are the guards by the front, and the constant flow of people moving in and out in ones and twos.

The people leaving the place often look angry, or on the wrong side of drunk if they’re being escorted out, and not a single one of them looks well-off.

Then again, the South Quarter makes the North Quarter look positively lavish. The homes here are nearly all tenement buildings, and there are more warehouses and what look like factories than anything else.

There’s also a constant and persistent stink of fish in the air.

“So, that’s the place?” I ask.

Felix nods. “It is. Did you want me to wait out here?”

“No? Why would I want that?” I ask.

My new... friend shrugs. “I’m a nobody, I won’t help Miss look good in there.”

“I’m a nobody too, you know. At least when it comes to a place like this.”

Felix laughs a bit and shakes her head. “No, I don’t think you’re a nobody, Miss. Nobodies don’t have gold to spare for blind girls on the street, and they don’t walk the way you do.”

The way I walk? I don’t really know what she means. Mom is always going on about how poor my posture is. She always says that if I don’t stand up straighter, I’ll never grow as tall as her, which is very much not how anatomy or biology works.

“Well, nothing for it,” I say. “Come on. If anyone asks we can just pretend that you’re my... I don’t know. Handmaiden?” Nobles have those, I’m pretty sure.

“I don’t know if I’m fit for that kind of thing,” she says.

“Nonsense, you’re a mage; at our age, that’s super uncommon. Especially one as skilled as you are.”

We come up to the front doors of the warehouse, and I can make out a sort of antechamber just inside. Just a small room with a low ceiling and a curtain for a door off to the side. A decent way to keep people from snooping, I figure. That, or they don’t want the noise from inside escaping.

The guards don’t even look at us. I’m not even sure if they are guards. They have slim swords by their hips, but are wearing plain worker’s clothes and one has a thumb jammed up his nose.

We move past them and into the antechamber. I don’t want to touch the curtains—they look filthy—but needs must, so I use that bit of disgust I’m feeling as I touch them to prepare my core a little. If things go pear-shaped, I might need that little boost of magic.

I realize that it won’t be a problem as I step into the main room of the warehouse.

The warehouse is a den of vice and depravity. Felix had told me as much, but I guess it didn’t really register completely. I was expecting a bar, maybe a few tables with people playing blackjack or poker or whatever card game is popular in Santafaria.

What I am not expecting is what I see before me. There is a bar, but it’s a grimy mess near the back, with men standing near it that look like they’re guarding the racks of alcohol behind them while a fat man sets tankards in front of people who already seem drunk.

There are gambling tables. About a dozen of them off to one side. It’s in the quietest, least lit section of the room, and none of the people at the tables look happy to be there. There’s also a man hanging from the ceiling by his neck, a plaque over his chest with the word ‘cheater’ on it in big letters.

The far end of the room has couches and little booths with what look like beds in them. There are some ladies there that aren’t wearing very much, and there’s a nasty stench in the air coming from that way, as well as noises that I’m pretty sure someone my age isn’t supposed to be hearing.

At least they’re partially masked by the band, if two guys sharing a lute and some hand-drums count as a band.

“This place is disgusting,” I declare.

“It’s Fancy’s place,” Felix says.

“It doesn’t deserve the name,” I reply.

A man comes out from one of the booths in the back, while buttoning up his pants. He looks like some sort of noble, and the two men in partial armour that join up with him prove as much as far as I’m concerned. He stops by another man, a sleazy looking guy, and I see silver trading hands.

So, is that how Fancy keeps this place running? I knew places like this existed. I’d read books, of course. But seeing one... this is disturbing.

“Where’s Fancy?” I ask Felix.

“I think he’s upstairs,” Felix says. “I can’t sense all the way up the stairs, sorry.”

“Stairs?” I ask. Then I notice the staircase off to one side. It’s guarded by two toughs. “Ah, right.”

I grab onto Felix’s hand and pull her along after me as I head over to the stairs. The guards there are both nearly twice as tall as I am. I figure they were chosen for their size because neither of them has a class past Initiate.

I start to head towards the staircase proper, but one of the guards steps before me. “Hey hey, where are you going, girls?” he asks.

“To see the proprietor, the man I’m assuming is your boss,” I say.

They look at each other. “Do you have a meeting?” the other asks.

“No. This is a time sensitive matter, but I might have time later in the evening or in the morning. Does Mister Fancy have a secretary I could arrange things with?”

“Uh,” the first replies smartly.

“Look, if you don’t know, then maybe go ask someone who does?”

The smaller of the two guards steps up and bends down to look at me right in the face. “You look young,” he says.

I blink at him a few times. “I am. I don’t see how that’s pertinent.”

“Right,” he replies. “Follow me. And no funny business.”

That’s more like it. I follow the guard up the stairs, aware of how rickety and creaky they are, and up onto a second antechamber. This one has an actual door before it, though there’s still a thick cloth curtain.

The guard opens it up into a room that’s entirely unlike the first floor of Fancy’s den.

There are couches here and there, some love-seats, others made to accommodate more. The people sitting and lounging around are at least wearing clothes that look clean. Others are dressed in finery of one sort or another.

Young women with very little clothes on walk around carrying silver platters. Cups of what looks like chilled wine and bowls full of fruit wobble as they try to avoid getting pinched by idle hands.

The gambling table here, and there is only the one, is being supervised by a man in a tight-fitting suit with a pair of spectacles on, and the players are laughing and talking in low whispers.

This is... better than below, at least. Not much better, but better.

“Oh-hoh, who’s this?”

I find who I presume must be Fancy.

He’s not what I expected, though I’m not sure what I was expecting, really.

Fancy is a shorter man, in a peacock blue vest and bright green pants with white stripes running their length. His collar, one of those big ruffled things some nobles wear, is so clean it almost shines.

He grins, and the expression makes his long but slim beard twitch. “Guests that I’ve never seen! Are you looking for your daddy, little miss?” he asks.

I glance around him, at the guards in half plate by his cushion-covered throne, and at the beautiful women lounging nearby. This is a man who puts a lot of stock in his appearance.

Smiling, I walk across the width of the room, then bow a little while tugging at the sides of my skirt. A shallow bow, given between unfamiliar people who are uncertain of each other’s status.

Mom drilled a few etiquette things into my head, even though none of them apply to her. She doesn’t bow.

“Greetings, Mister Fancy,” I say. “I’m Valeria, and I’m here on business.”

One of the ladies on a lounge chair nearby coos at me. She’s wearing too much clothing, and of too fine a make, to be any sort of serving lady or arm candy. A few others chuckle along with her.

“Is that right?” Fancy asks. “Well, I’m sure I can at least listen to your offer of business.”

I bow my head again. “Thank you.”

[Fancy - The Peacock - King of the Slums]

Novice Kingpin

Initiate Black Marketeer.

Time to see if I can learn anything while I’m here.

***