If there was one thing Saul had learned during his career as a businessman was this: flexibility was key. Being threatening, amicable, doleful, servile, irreverent, all was game and necessary. Because, in the end, it all came down to convincing the other party that your deal was the best or the only choice he had. Why, more often than not, the two things were one and the same

Despite not being one for bragging, he had to admit to having become quite adept at the skill down the years. If he had to put in percentage, it was sixty percent of the reason he was where he was today, having passed, in what was widely considered a lightning speed career from being a humble street vendor to one of the wealthiest and most influential merchants of the city.

Another twenty percent was pure instinct: to know when and where to invest, when to be bold and when to retire. The rest was a skill that had developed in tandem with the first: being able to see through the masks others wore.

And at that moment, as he sat at one of the tables of the Red Pine Club with the man of the hour opposite of him, he felt that same well-refined instinct making its presence felt.

For all intents and purposes, Lucius Cartus was a brick wall. Still, he could feel it at an animal level: the old man hid something. Something big.

“Pass,” Mason said, putting down his cards. The merchant threw a longing glance at the fat plate before shrugging and settling himself into his chair.

He was the second player to join the small crowd of merchants and nobles intently watching the game, and Saul couldn’t exactly blame him: the plate had become big enough that even he had to take notice.

One after the other, all the players followed suit, breaking under the strain. When a sweat-covered Malcolm gave in, Saul remained alone to face the newcomer.

Cartus held his card face-down on the green surface of the table, untouched by the uncertainty that brought many players to look back at their hand for reassurance. Instead, he looked straight at him, expression impassive.

Saul grinned.

The feeling was there, an insistent buzzing at the back of his mind. The old man hid something big. It was something he had felt from their first meeting.

For some time, he had entertained the possibility of using that vague knowledge to put pressure on him. Dropping some hints there and then that he might know something, bluffing outrageously in the hope that Cartus would slip and give him something of actual value.

Now, he was kinda grateful he had decided not to follow that course of action.

“I raise twenty gold pieces.”

The scraping of the small mound of coins was met with a chorus of murmurs from the crowds. Collars were loosened, kerchiefs were passed over sweat-covered foreheads, and not for the heat of the room. The sum on the plate had reached uncomfortable heights now.

Saul met Cartus’ impassive expression with a grin and a challenging look.

With an almost solemn gesture, the old man met his raise with his own. Then, he gave him a quietly quizzical look.

Saul looked back, thinking.

He was grateful for not having gone through with the bluff because if his instinct told him that there was a secret, it told him as well that there was a big danger in trying to uncover it, maybe enough that not even an army of well-paid mercenaries would be enough to stave it. Being a gambling man, Saul had teetered over that assessment, wondering if maybe he was just overthinking.

The evening at the theater had blown all those doubts out of the window. He could still see the bulging eyes of his personal jeweler as he examined that magnificent little stone that had been just casually gifted to him like it was a pigeon egg.

If power was money, Cartus had buckets of it, and if Saul had learned something was that you didn’t pry in the secrets of those with so much power, not without being ready to pay very heavy prices with very little chance of returns.

Well, Saul considered himself nothing but flexible. If you couldn’t beat them, just join them.

Saul looked at him, eyes flashing with mischief.

“It really seems you got me beat,” he said, throwing his cards on the table.

Everybody’s eyes went to them and widened. Courtnay had nothing! It had all been a shameless bluff!

Cartus’s eyes crinkled at the corners, impossible to say for irritation or amusement. The old man put down his cards, revealing a perfect Royal Flush.

Many glances were exchanged between the spectators. Nobody had ever managed to get close to that. It seemed that there has never been any contest.

Soon after, the crowd dispersed, merchants and nobles going their ways to keep playing.

Cartus and Saul took place before the empty fireplace instead, each nursing a glass of wine as they sat on comfortable leather chairs.

The merchant was the first to speak.

“A Royal Flush, mh?” He mused. “I’ll admit it, i am quite surprised. I expected something big, but not quite so big. It seems that Sir Cartus isn’t a man that likes to take risks.”

The old man took out a cigar from a pocket inside of his jacket. He lit it at a candle and took a couple of mouthfuls before replying, his words coming out together with smoke.

“There is no point in taking risks when you have no need to,” he sentenced.

“Is that so? I am not sure i completely agree with that.” Saul drummed his fingers on the chair’s armrest, a grin on his face. “After all, risks carry their own excitement. My work would be so dreadfully boring without it.”

Cartus scoffed. “Personal excitement means nothing. Efficiency does. The best course of action would be always to minimize risks if possible.”

“Indeed.” Saul shrugged. “If you appreciate that calm and quiet, that is. Personally, i like a fun daily life.”

Cartus didn’t reply, eyes closed as he smoked.

Saul grinned, making the wine swirl slowly in his glass.

“Ah, this reminds me of the times when i worked as a secretary,” he said after a while. “Did i ever tell you? My career was on the rise and i had managed to get a good post under an old merchant of the Western End.”

If anybody else would have been there, they would have listened even while exchanging amused looks and grins. The stories of Saul about his past seemed to shift and change every time he told them, with new ones cropping up regularly.

“The master was stingy,” He said, “and i had to save every coin on my clothes. Had to appear respectable, even if i was forced to eat pickled herrings every two days.” He laughed. “At one point, it got stuck on me. I counted every bit i spent and watched with horror every coin that slid out of my purse. And at the same time, i watched with envy my master dining over the finest meals.” He shrugged, glancing amusedly to his listener. “Thankfully, those days are over. I can finally enjoy life’s finest gifts without having to put up with miserly masters or my own stinginess.” He raised his glass, admiring how the light made the wine inside dance. “After all, if not for being enjoyed, what’s the point of wealth?”

He turned, finding Cartus peering at him from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

“Maybe you should have carried some of that stinginess with you. Saving is nothing but a virtue.”

Saul laughed and drank.

“Now that’s something my old self would have said,” he said.

Cartus rolled his eyes, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Your lack of respect is astounding, Saul Courtnay.”

Saul took an innocent expression. “Whatever could you ever mean with that, my good friend?”

Cartus snorted. Taking off the cigar from his mouth, he let the ashes fall into an ashtray on the table.

“Don’t play dumb, young man, or if you must, at least work on your stories better. At least they need not be an obvious critique.”

Saul smiled innocently. “Would you prefer i spoke earnestly?”

“Might as well.” Cartus gave him a pointed glance.

Saul laughed, slapping his thigh. “A businessman asking another businessman to speak truthfully. Now we just have to wait for Winter to bring a fistful of flowers to the Lord-Mayor and ask her out.”

Cartus frowned hard at him.

Saul grinned. “I don’t think i like you,” he said. “You sound like an asshole elitist with a broom up his ass, the humor of a rock and with a fetish for ordering everyone around.”

Cartus sat up, eyes flashing.

“But,” Saul held up a finger. “I also think that you probably are the man whose actions will decide where this city will go. With your wealth, your manpower and, i regret having to say it, your acumen, you might well be the proverbial last drop that will tip the scales.”

He had closely followed the business of the old man and had been quite surprised by how quickly the failing enterprises he had bought had been bouncing back. It wasn’t just a matter of the money the new owner had brought. The old man knew his stuff.

“Since we’re being honest, i’ll tell what i think as well.” Cartus’ eyes seemed about to shoot lightning. “I think that you are an irreverent little shit that thinks himself far more clever than he really is, a liar and a fool.”

It stung a little bit, but Saul expected nothing less. He grinned.

“It was you that ruined the meeting back then,” Cartus said, tone even but plainly accusative. “You provoked the Duke on purpose, you fool.”

Saul shrugged. “He let himself be provoked. If he was half the man he shows himself to be, he wouldn’t have taken the bait.”

He was the first to admit that he was openly partial toward the Duke, but he didn’t think that his dislike for the man was unfounded. If anything, he deserved it.

“And now you provoke me?” Cartus asked. “If you hope to convince me to join your faction, that’s a strange attitude.”

Saul was kinda impressed with the man’s self-control. Apart from the anger in his eyes, his body language hadn’t shifted much. If anything, he looked almost curious.

“What should i do? Flattering you?” Saul’s tone dripped irony. “You’d see right through it, and i’d lose my credibility.”

“I could get offended and turn away.”

“And so what? If you go to the Knights, you’d be back in two days top, the time to see what disasters they do. If you decide to remain neutral, it would be the same. And if you decide to pass to the Crow, well,” he shrugged. “It only means i managed to avoid having a snitch between my allies.”

Cartus’ eyes narrowed. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren‘t you?”

“Not completely.” Saul grinned. “But enough to take the risk.”

“And why should insulting me make join your faction more appealing?”

“Because from what i saw of you, you’re an intelligent man,” Saul replied smoothly. ”You’d see easily how i am ready to discard my personal feelings for the good of this city. And experience taught me that having a relationship based on honesty is more valuable than anything else. In your shoes, I’d notice it immediately and see the great value of it.”

Cartus watched him, expression unreadable.

For a moment, Saul wondered if he had been wrong in his assessment of the old man. He had thought him a cold pragmatist, but what if he was mistaken?

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and he loved the sensation. To a gambler like him, that was life.

“I see your point,” Cartus said eventually. “And regretfully, yes, you are right. Differently from someone, i am not childish enough to lose sight of the big picture over a couple of insults.”

Saul took the barb with relief.

“You made your position clear. Now tell me, why your faction would be a better pick than the Knights’?”

Saul took a sip from his glass. He was relieved. His gambling over Cartus’ character had been the hardest part of their discussion. Now it was smooth sailing, only the well-rehearsed speech he had given to all the prospective members of his faction. More pleasantly, it was about his favorite theme: talking smack about the stuffy idiots of the great and mighty Duke’s faction.

He began.

“These old knights will tell certain things,” he said. “They’ll fill their mouths with words like honor, and virtues, and protection, and bravery. Ah, and my favorite: order! They just loved it, almost as much as i do to listen to it. They will swamp you with it, saying how brave and honorable they and their ancestors have been, and how good is that people keep their head down and obey.” He laid back on his chair with a sardonic expression. “But what is this order they talk about if not their own rule? Brave knights, holding all the power while the rest of us peasants have to scrape a living into the fields. And be thankful for it.” He snorted, amusement and contempt intermingling. “They will cite history, saying how much good their ancestors did for the cities when their class held all the power. They will cite battles and dates, describe flying banners and glorious charges. They will very conveniently forget to mention how in their times everyone was required to work for life the same job, and it was forbidden to try and change it. They will forget to mention the times they slaughtered farmers that only wanted the chance to keep a little more of their own harvest to themselves, or when their glorious charges trampled men guilty only of defending their own city, or when all their power went to crash a man which only desire was to have a better life.”

Cartus, that had been listening quietly, cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying that you’re on the side of the poor?”

Saul gave him a lopsided grin. “I am on the side of being free of doing whatever the fuck you want with your life,” he replied. He shrugged. “Life is never fair, but why should someone be relegated to his station only because of his birth? Or why should a man be obeyed unquestionably only because he’s born a certain way? What about all the wasted talent? The unfairness of limiting people’s freedom? These armored idiots never thought about it. I’d say that it’s high time that we start making them.”

He watched him, intensity and conviction mingling with the irony of his gaze.

“What else do i believe in? In peace mostly. In a world where you don’t get celebrated because you’re a good killer and where summer isn‘t the damn raiding season; where honest men are free to do honest work without having to fear having an armored idiot coming to take his earnings.” He grinned. “That happened regularly when the Knights held all the power, and happen still where they still do.”

“Surely you don’t think that eliminating the old guard would eliminate violence?”

“Of course not.” Saul looked offended he even had the doubt. “But it would do wonders to free us from that idiotic war-like mentality that brought us the Civil Wars. And i better not start talking how those idiots manage their estates…” The mention of the topic was enough to darken Saul’s expression.

Gorren stood thinking for a moment.

“And you? What do you bring of different?”

Saul shook himself from his thoughts and grinned at him, pleased by the question.

“We’re merchants and entrepreneurs,” he said. “We value mobility and flexibility. We care not about your birth, only about your talent and your work, no matter what it is, as long as it is profitable.” He rubbed his fingers together to emphasize. “We value all work, not just how good at killing you are, as we think that everybody should get their chance at improving their fortune. And it’s just obvious that those with the most in will and ability have the bigger saying when it comes to government.”

“You’re talking about yourself.”

Saul shrugged. “Why not? I reached my position by my effort and talent alone. I think that it makes me more qualified that an inbred idiot whose only merit is to have been born in the right place at the right time.”

Cartus rolled his eyes, but there was a bit of amusement in his expression.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” he said. “But what about the virtue part? The Knights provide their dependants with protection and services, from what i understood. The system you propose feels like it will have them lose those advantages.”

“Ah!” Saul sniffed indignantly. “A scam masked as a charity. They throw money around to keep people compliant. And the only result is to push into complacency people that would try instead to improve their lot. Ah, don’t misinterpret me.” He held up a hand, stopping Cartus’ objection. “I know that life is hardly fair. Even if we gave everybody the same chance, there would always be a multitude of circumstances to dictate differences. But i think that this way is far better than what those stuffy knights prospect us, an immobile society where your birth decides your place.” He sighed in exasperation. “Of course, i guess i should mention those amongst them that truly believe in all that drivel about virtue and whatnot.”

He set himself.

“I’ll be honest: i don’t think that virtue rules the world. A small city, surrounded by enemies on all sides could be held together by something like that, by patriotism or whatever. But that world is passed. Now we are open at the outside, a world in expansion which lifeblood is commerce and travel. A world like this one doesn’t go through virtues and ideals, it goes by profit.” He smirked sardonically. “Ask a peasant what he thinks about patriotism and he will tell you that first, he will need to fill his stomach. A Knight would call that cowardice and lack of ideals. I say that it’s just obvious. Ideals don’t fill your stomach or feed your family. If we want the people to follow the law, we have to entice her to it, make them understand that it’s in their own interest to do it. Any other way is nothing but a dream.”

He drank half of his glass.

“And yes,” he said, putting it down. “I do truly believe in the value of law and honest work. Sounds incredible, i know, but it’s the truth. Without them, we wouldn’t live in a society but in a nightmare. If i could, i would be just happy to hang that Crow myself. And the Gods curse me if i am going to surrender to him. I worked far too hard to give up everything i have built.” He glanced at Cartus, eyes shimmering with amusement. “And i guess that the people in charge should defend the law and punish criminals. Another big shock, i know.”

“Indeed it is.”

Saul chuckled, then shrugged.

“Winning by following the rules is half of the fun. Anybody could reach the top by cheating, but what the satisfaction would be then?”

Cartus grumbled something against childish young men. Sal laughed and took another sip.

“This is all very interesting,” the old man said, frowning. “But you still haven’t told me how you plan on taking on the Crow without the Knights’ military power.”

Saul finished his glass before replying.

“You’ll need some contest first,” he said and gave him a lopsided grin. “I am gonna assume you know much already but for the sake of clarity i will summarize: right now we’re evenly matched with the Crow, with our side’s prospects looking bad. We of the merchant faction would have liked to shift to a defensive stance, pool up our resources to defend the craftsmen, and other merchants being targeted by the Crow’s thugs. I know, i know, it sounds selfish.” Saul lifted both hands in mock surrender. “But it’s about that profit, you see. Our reasoning was that by showing ourselves as good protectors, we could have convinced the working classes to side with us, stop the bleeding from our ranks. At the same time, we would have given a big push for laws to expand the jurisdiction of the Society of the Crossbowmen and limit the Guard’s.”

“You speak about the town militia.”

“Indeed. The Society is formed by good people, well, as good as you can find in this place, but it’s not half as rotten as the Guard is. That one is unsalvageable. So let’s just do away with it, i say. Also, did i mention that merchants and craftsmen control the Society? If we protect them, we’ll have enough influence over it to direct it to destroy the Crow’s goons. Let’s see if a hail of crossbow bolts is enough to discourage them from playing the bully. Once people see that they have nothing to fear, they’ll rise with us and push them back in the slum where they have come from. Together, we’ll throttle him and his allies with a market war. Let them bleed all over as nobody buys their wares. They’ll turn more and more desperate with the smuggling until someone makes a slip, and then we’ll pounce and round them all up.”

“But what about the Aethyr? You’d be missing them up without the Knights.”

“The world is full of good warriors. You don’t need the Aethyr when you can pay for ten men against one of them.”

“And where do exactly do you count on getting so many warriors?”

“That’s the second point. We are ready to open up to the outside. We have friends in the other cities and favors to cash in. Just a quick nod and we’ll bring in enough soldiers to crush whatever surprise the Crow may have.” His grin turned sardonic. “Poor Ed almost choked to death when i proposed it. We have to show ourselves to be self-sufficient after all. No biggie if we lose our city to a thief in the process.”

“I see.” Cartus looked thoughtful. “You bring many interesting points.”

“So glad to hear it.” Saul refilled his glass, a grin on his face. He toasted to him, then drank. “At least, that was supposed to be the plan,” he said, putting the glass down. “But of course, the Knights had to bungle it out. They kept going on and on about how we should not defend but attack, try to squash every damn pickpocket of this city like it was that even possible. Instead of pooling our resources together and defend merchants and craftsmen, they squandered it by trying to clean the lower city of crime. Like trying to get the salt out of the sea! Also, they went on and on in trying to clean the Guard, with the only result of losing time and resources. We were left alone.” Even the smiling mask of Saul seemed to crack as he recounted that period, a shadow darkening his features. “If we were from the beginning, we would have pulled from the outside for help. Instead, they kept promising their help one day and demanding we help them the other. The worst came three months ago.” Saul’s frown deepened. “The Crow’s goons had assaulted a caravan bringing supplies to the city. The harvest was late and people needed those. Ed flew into a rage. Understandable but it wasn’t the moment for rash actions. Arsham was close to infiltrating the upper echelons of the Crow’s organization, risking his disguise for it. You should have seen him when i told him as much. He punched me and called me a coward, then ran away as a man possessed. The day later, the Knights stormed the Western End, killing as they went. I’ll admit that they eliminated a lot of scum but in the long run it was a disaster. The Crow launched a flurry of retaliatory strikes that killed many of our faction and left us crippled. And we found Arsham hanging from a beam in the town square.”

Saul fell silent. He drank, this time not to wet his tongue but to forget the ghastly sight of that body fluttering in the breeze.

“I made a mistake,” he said eventually, his smile self-mocking. “I don’t do it often but damn if this time i bungled it out.” He shook his head, dispelling bad memories. “I don’t think that Ed is a dishonest man: he lacks the brains for it. But that’s the reason why he makes a horrible ally: he thinks for defense and offense like this is some kind of war. And i don’t need to tell you that it’s far more complicated than that.” He shrugged. “I gave him one last chance to prove himself during that meeting but you saw how it went. He’s out of his depths.”

He sighed.

“Well, i think that i’ve talked long enough.” He glanced at Cartus with an ironic smile. “Now it’s the time when you say that you have to think about it before committing to my faction.”

Cartus had been listening without losing a word. Now, the corners of his crinkled slightly.

“I have to think about it.”

Saul chuckled, refilling his glass. “Fair enough. You’ll be back in no time, and then maybe we’ll manage to do something meaningful.” He raised his glass. “To a future alliance?”

Cartus pushed his own glass away. “We’ll see about it.”

Saul chuckled again. He had hoped to have Cartus seen in public toasting with him so that people thought that the alliance was already done. It seemed that he would need to try harder than that.

“Smart.”

A commotion attracted the attention of both.

Turning, Cartus saw that a thin man in disheveled clothes had barged in the room, singing loudly. At first, he thought he was a drunk, but none of the guards moved to restrain him. Even the other guests seemed more amused than anything else.

Saul, that had been watching him as well, grinned amusedly.

“Ah, our very best and brightest. Sir Cartus, can i present to you our beloved Astor Tukley? Scion of one of the most prestigious names of the city, richest boy in town and partygoer and drunk extraordinaire.”

Cartus watched as the young man made a fool of himself, singing horribly out of tune as he struggled not to fall. A posse of partygoers came right behind him.

The old man sneered.

“Charming, isn’t?” Saul said with fake enthusiasm. “That’s what brings us the luminous practice of handing power and wealth to noble idiots.”

Disgusted, Cartus got up.

“Shall i wait for your enthusiastic application, then?” Saul asked with a cheeky smile.

“It will come the moment you do something for that insolent tongue of yours,” Cartus replied coldly, adjusting his jacket.

Saul laughed.

Without another word, Cartus marched away and out of the room. As he passed the door of the Club and got outside, he heard the distinct sound of a drunk hitting the floor followed by the clatter of porcelain going to pieces.

Grimacing, the old man walked faster.

He reached the park adjacent to the club, where his coach waited for him.

A short ride later, he was back to his mansion.

“The documents you asked for are ready, Master,” said a prim Trich as he went inside.

“As well as the books!” chirped Krik right after.

Gorren nodded, and stepped in his office, closing the door behind himself.

Piles of books and documents waited for him on the desk. Taking a seat on the chair, he started with the documents. Reports and financial prospects, they were all about the enterprises that he had bought as well as information about the market. For hours, they absorbed his attention, the old man scribbling notes or jotting down instructions for his factors.

Once the last paper was signed and set aside, it was the time for the books. These were about a dizzying array of topics, ranging from history to politics to economics, all centered around the city of Blackstone. Gorren spent the rest of the day perusing them, jotting down notes that could come in handy. There was no break, not for rest or to eat. His superhuman physiology easily allowed him to make the cut.

He stopped late at night, gave some instructions to his two attendants and disappeared, returning to his original body.

The following dawn found him stepping out of the mansion, having discarded formal clothing for something more adapt to an outdoor excursion.

“Where to, Master?” Prim asked, the driver already at his post behind the horses.

“To the southern door.”

As the coach rattled down Blackstone’s cobbled streets, Gorren sat thinking.

He disliked having to rely on accounts coming from sources less than trusted like Saul Courtnay was. He would have very much liked to hear from a third source, someone unburdened by the parzialità the merchant turned noble obviously had. Still, he had a rough draft of the situation between the two factions. Now, it remained to hear the other bell.

It was a good day to accept an invitation to a hunt from Duke Crofford.