Chapter 17: Gentle, Meet Gentleman

“One last dance?”

-Ellian Garrow, Concordian monster hunter, 167 U.E.

Slowly, Yin’s body regained proper function. Lax helped her stand, then walk. He advised her against running. She, of course, ignored him. She jogged around the block a couple of times, wincing with each step, while the children ran alongside her, laughing. Gin, Sprocket, and Lillibel. They were tremendously annoying.

As soon as she was able, she headed back to the bar. Under cover of night, she snuck through a window into her room and fetched a focus. With a focus, she could withdraw as much eastern currency as she would need, converting it to standards if necessary.

After that, she traipsed around the building. There were no signs of her father. She was hit by a twinge of guilt.

He’s not out looking for me, is he?

She kept moving before she had to think about it further, but left a note telling Stephan not to worry, and that he didn’t have to look for her. Forced to stick to the streets due to her debilitated state, it took her a good while to make it back to Lax’s. On the way, she withdrew a couple thousand glints from a roadside machine.

By the time she made it back to the run-down home, it was already dawn. Yin tried to sneak in, but the wife, whose name was Aella, was already in the kitchen, kneading bread dough. She spared Yin a glare when she came in.

Yin approached her and withdrew a handful of colored cubes from the focus. 2000 glints, more or less. She handed it to the woman.

“Thank you,” Yin said. “If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have helped me either.”

Aella’s expression softened a little at the sight of the money. She wiped her hands on her apron, took the money, and promptly stowed it away. To Yin, it was hardly a dent in her savings, but to a family like Lax’s it would keep them afloat for a month or two.

“I’m all better now, so I’m going to go,” Yin continued. “Tell Lax I said thanks, alright? He’s a decent man, your husband.”

Aella shook her head. “Liar. Stay until you’re better. Another few days. We will need to pay back what we owe you with hospitality. We have little else.”

“I didn’t ask—”

Aella launched into a string of expletives in High Elandran, then switched back to Low. “Stupid child. There must always be repayment. Stay. Breakfast will be ready in an hour.”

It seemed that there was no use in arguing. It wasn’t like Yin had anywhere else to stay until she could go back to the bar. With a shrug, she walked off to what had become her room.

*****

The rumbler stopped in front of a large, run-down mansion. Stephan had struggled to keep track of his surroundings during the ride, but it seemed to be in the Sunken District. The two thugs brought him out, and one held him at gunpoint while the other pushed open the rusted fence gates.

Stephan was taken up a winding dirt path that led past an untended lawn of yellowed grass and shrubby bushes, up to the front doors of the mansion. More of their ilk patrolled the premises. They wore no uniforms, but they were all armed, and their dour expressions indicated that they took their jobs seriously.

He was brought inside, through an unswept hall and up a set of stairs.

“Who are you people?” Stephan asked.

“You don’t know?” the lubbard asked, sounding genuinely confused. “I figured you thought you were some kinda badass, crossing us like that, but maybe you’re genuinely that dumb.”

“I’m starting to think the same thing.”

“We’re the Revelers,” the wildkin said. “We own a third of Tumba. Our boss doesn’t tolerate people who stand in the way of our revolution.”

“Revolution?” Stephan asked.

“Don’t bother explaining anything to him,” the lubbard grumbled. “Poor bastard’s about to die, anyway.”

At the end of a set of narrow hallways, Stephan faced a set of sturdy double doors. Clean, as opposed to the rest of the place. The wildkin knocked, and a few moments later a man called for them to enter. The wildkin opened the doors, and the lubbard pushed Stephan inside, the revolver still trained on his back.

The room was large. It appeared to be an office, lined with bookshelves crammed full of reading material. Stephan identified the script as True Speech. Globular magelights hung from a heavy chandelier in the ceiling. They sparkled like gems and cast fractalized light upon the walls. A thick rug, parts of it matted with blood, lay across the floor.

A crooked man with yellow-toned skin and dark hair that suggested Aqithi origin stood before a desk at the far end of the room. He was neither tall nor imposing, in truth rather frail-looking. He leaned on a cane, neck periodically spasming, and he had a pipe between his teeth.

“This is the one I asked you to collect?” the man asked.

“Yeah, boss,” the lubbard said.

“Excellent.” He focused his attention on Stephan. “Mr. Lordling, is it?”

“Yeah,” Stephan said. He shuffled awkwardly, uncomfortable in being dressed down to his underwear.

“My name is Arqen, sometimes called Arqen the Gentle. Our monikers are quite similar.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not familiar? You’ve gained a considerable reputation in the city. ‘The Gentleman’, they call you. So you see, I couldn’t simply ignore this situation, lest it undermine my authority. Would you like to sit?” The man motioned to a chair next to him.

Stephan glanced behind him. The two thugs were unfolding a large plastic tarp over the floor. He swallowed. “I think I’ll stand.”

“Very well. I hope you don’t mind if I do. Standing is hell on my back.” Arqen hobbled around his desk and sat down in a worn, padded chair. He dragged sharply on his pipe and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“You’re planning to kill me, right?” Stephan asked.

“Well, yes, of course,” Arqen said matter-of-factly. “But I do despise this responsibility of mine. I wanted to look you in the eye before you die. Let you speak your piece.”

“I won’t beg.”

“Good. I despise that, too.”

Stephan felt no fear. He knew what was at stake. The mild-looking, frail man before him was going to be his death if he didn’t do something about it. He didn’t want to activate his glasses, worried that it might set off the gang leader. However, his instinct was that this was no bloodthirsty criminal. Perhaps Arqen the Gentle was called that for a reason. Perhaps he could be reasoned with.

“I won’t apologize, either. Pontus was a fiend, and his men aided him. He put a woman who worked for him through absolute terror, beat her within an inch of her life. So I put him down like the rabid dog he was. That’s all.”

Arqen’s face remained neutral. “Explain.”

“Pontus worked for you, didn’t he? You must know what kind of man he was.”

“Many work for me,” Arqen said. “The Revelers are numerous. I couldn’t shake hands with all of them even if it was my sole duty.”

“Then allow me to elaborate. I run a bar in the Pleasure District. I had no interest in your man whatsoever. He came to my establishment pursuing a former employee of his. He threatened me with a gun, so I shot him in self-defense. I explained to him that this former employee was now under my protection, and no longer any concern of his.

“I employed this woman myself. After a number of days, she was ambushed by Pontus and his men. They beat her blue and black. She survived, but it was a near thing. Just as you couldn’t ignore the death of your subordinate, I also couldn’t ignore what happened to my employee. It was clear he would not listen to reason. I hired some help, tracked Pontus down, and killed him and his cohorts. That’s the end of it.”

Arqen was silent for a long while. At uneven intervals, his face screwed up in spasms, the lingering effect of some past injury.

The lubbard cleared his throat. “Uh, boss? Should we take care of him?”

Arqen held up a hand. “Wait.” He refocused his attention on Stephan. “You realize I can’t just take your word for it, don’t you?”

Stephan shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Maybe. Aerog, please look into this for me. Ask around. Find some of our brethren who knew Pontus personally. Have them give their opinions of him. Truthfully. Tell them nothing about this situation. Only that I wish to know.”

Stephan glanced back. The wildkin, Aerog, shuffled uncomfortably. “But…”

“Now. This is important.”

Aerog nodded. “Yes, boss.” He left the room in a hurry.

Arqen set aside his pipe, blew out a plume of smoke, and folded his hands on the desk. “Well, then. I have to ask you to stay put until this mess has been straightened out. In the meantime, would you like a drink?”

Stephan accepted the offer.

He could really use one.