Eden

After a quick trek across the city, the group arrived at the section of town known only as The Stockyards, despite the district encompassing much more than just the stockyards themselves. On any given corner there were stands selling feed of all kinds for every domesticated animal you could think of; on any given street there were leatherworking shops, general stores, and pet supply businesses; in many places, there were arenas for auctioning cattle, horses, and, allegedly, ostriches. Eden’s head was spinning with all the sheer commotion that this section of the city housed. Between the passing conversations, the varying animal noises, and the sheer smell, she felt a little overwhelmed. Surprisingly–and a little refreshingly–enough was the absence of carriages; it seemed that either there was some sort of law prohibiting such traffic, or perhaps the carriages had hit a few too many cows. Either way, Eden was enjoying being able to walk down an open street again instead of being confined to the sidewalk.

Sariel led the way and the group wove in and out of the crowd, making a beeline for a stone complex that he had described to them. With a grim realization, she found that she could hear the VPGA before she ever saw it and also understood why the pirates would be holding someone there: there seemed to be a sizable population of screaming goats at this location–perfect for not only covering up noise but also for masking any screams that people might hear, causing them to dismiss sounds that they might otherwise be alarmed by. But what of the personnel?

When the compound, a series of interconnected stone buildings surrounding a large enclosure of goats, was in view, Eden signaled for the group to huddle on the sidewalk.

“What’s up?” Bran asked as soon as they huddled.

“Is the place run entirely by pirates, or are they keeping the staff hostage, or are they hiding in there?” Eden asked. Bran considered it for a moment and replied,

“If I had to guess, I’d say the pirates have rented out one of the buildings and have full run of it.”

“You can rent out buildings?”

“Sure. House Leland rents out facilities they don’t use all the time. At the least it covers the yearly taxes and doesn’t let an empty building go to waste. Another guess on my part is that the building the pirates are renting out is likely just a storage building and all the storage was just moved to another building. But that’s the most likely option. It’s also possible that, yes, they are holding people hostage in there, but the likelihood of that is fairly slim. If they’re trying to keep things quiet, long-term hostage situations aren’t feasible, so barring that, they might have someone powerful in their pocket and are holding the employee’s livelihoods hostage.”

“Their livelihoods?”

“Yeah, the whole ‘speak about the things that go on here and you’re fired’ sort of thing. People have a rough time in this city as it is, without trying to find a new trade. Also, tick the wrong employer off and they might use their connections to make sure other employers don’t hire you.” he replied, scratching his chin.

“Wow. I can’t imagine.”

“It gets worse.” Sariel added.

“How does it get worse?” Eden asked, appalled.

“I’ve had countless people come into the temple with stories similar to what Bran just said, but after trying to find employment unsuccessfully, with bills racking up or a pantry that’s quickly running out of food, the desperate end up borrowing money.”

“Let me guess, from the thieves’ guild?”

“Yep. If the borrower doesn’t have a useful trade or are of good health, they threaten them with harm and often follow through with the threats. Old people without close kin to take care of them are especially vulnerable. But if you are useful in some way, then you can do them favors to have relief from the debt. Not wiping away the debt, mind you, no, that’s not good business.”

“So now,” Vorol chimed in, they’re not only in debt with the thieves’ guild, which is illegal in and of itself, but now they are actively committing crimes. Small stuff like leaving a safe unlocked or delivering a package that they don’t want to be caught with. It’s especially common in the colosseum, where I fight. Sometimes the favor is throwing a fight so bets can be made accordingly.”

“This city is really sick, isn’t it?” Eden asked, sporting an icy shade of winter. Vorol chuckled.

“You’re just now realizing this?”

“Hey, easy.” Bran chided. “It’s not her fault she doesn’t have the whole picture. If we were to describe every way the guild has royally messed up people’s lives, we’d be talking for a fortnight. As it stands, we have work to do.”

“I just want to know one thing.” Eden said, changing to autumn.

“What’s that?”

“What’s going to happen to the children?”

“I’m so mad you didn’t say ‘kids’ now that we’re about to enter a building full of goats.” Vorol chuckled.

“I’m serious. Children are easy to take advantage of. If we manage to hobble the guild, then that leaves a power vacuum, and all the lowlifes that are suddenly not getting paid will be trying to take the children that don’t have anywhere to go and will still be having them do the work of adults. You said it yourself, these youths run away from orphanages all the time. How do we actually fix the problem?” The group was silent for a minute.

“I don’t know.” Bran said at last. “But I can take it up with Senator Mystern when I meet with her next, which, hopefully, will be when we’ve successfully cleared out the guild vault.”

“The vault that we haven’t even made plans to get to yet?” Sariel asked with a smirk.

Bran grinned back. “Yeah, that one. Anyway, the problem of children might not be a problem we can solve in one day, one week, one month, or even a year. These kids, they’re not adults.” Vorol snorted at that. “Okay, that wasn’t the most profound way of phrasing that. I mean, these pirates we’re about to see–they’re set in their ways; they have their set of problem-solving skills, which are ones that harm other people. They have to be stopped, even if it means their death. Children… children are still impressionable. We want to shape them to be better than that.”

“Better than their mentors…” Eden said, echoing Mystern.

“Yeah, exactly. Showing them a different way just isn’t the same as rescuing a drunk noble from pirates. Gods, it sounds silly when I say that out loud.” The group all chuckled a bit at this. "Still, though. It's not the same. The problem about the children is not a problem for today. Let's focus on the task at hand."

“Alright,” Eden said, returning to spring, “we need to come up with a plan for getting in the compound.”

“I already have that covered.” Bran replied, lifting one corner of his mouth into a smile. “I go in as myself, escorted by my faithful bodyguards.” he gestured to the rest of the group. “I’ll make it seem like I’m stopping in to see about renting a building for my House to use. That should get us in the door, so once we’re in, stick close and follow my lead.” Sariel, Vorol, and Eden all nodded as one.

***

The group entered the double doors and strode into the lobby, led by Bran. The lobby itself was a wide, but not terribly tall place with nondescript walls and a cobblestone floor. A few people walked or carried newly-bought goats out, while a few more were standing in line in front of a reception desk. The group had their instructions and stuck to them: they all waited in line, Bran standing tall and imperious, sporting his family crest proudly with a sneer that would cause anyone to look away; the rest of the group, however, all wore scowls and attempted to look as mean as possible, Vorol holding onto his spear at an angle with both hands as if daring anyone to come close, Sariel lit up a magical flame in his hands and tossed it back and forth between his hands like a ball, and Eden had her dagger out and was cleaning her nails with the tip.

They waited in line, which formed behind them as they moved forward, all looking impatient; Bran tapped his foot for added effect. After about ten minutes or so of waiting, the group reached the head of the line, where the receptionist, a very tired-looking young human woman with bright pink fingernails.

“Hi, welcome to the Valekenport Authority of Goats! Are you purchasing livestock in small amounts, in bulk, or are you looking to rent a stud?”

“What do you mean making me wait like that! Do you know who I am?” Bran sniffed indignantly. The woman’s eyes narrowed at him, and then widened as she saw the partially-concealed crest on his chest come into full view.

“I’m sorry, sir! We are very busy around this time, and–”

“What was your name, madam?”

“Kit, sir.”

“Listen, Kit, I wish to look into renting at least one of the floors you have on the premises.” Bran stated, firmly. The woman paused for a moment, then said,

“This is most irregular, milord. Rental is usually negotiated by appointment.”

“I’m not looking to negotiate just yet–I simply want to tour the facilities to see if they are to my liking.”

“We don’t have the personnel for tours, today…”

Bran waved his hand dismissively. “A tour guide won’t be necessary! Just provide a map of the premises, mark what options are available, and I’ll be on my merry way.” The woman started to splutter, so, to reinforce his intentions, he added, “Do it quickly, and I won’t have to tell your superiors that you lost them business with one of the Great Houses.” The woman quickly produced a map, produced a bit of charcoal, and made several marks on it before handing it, trembling, to Bran. He snatched it up and moved past her with a “harumph” for good measure.

***

When they were in the next room and safely away from prying ears, Eden exclaimed,

“Wow, Bran, I didn’t know you knew how to be an asshole!” He laughed and said,

“Well, when you’re raised around assholes, you pick up on how to emulate them pretty easily. Now,” he unfolded the map, “let’s narrow down our options. We are right… here.” he pointed to the southwest building on the map. “There are four buildings available, four buildings marked ‘VPGA use’ and three that are marked as off-limits.” Eden looked at the map. It seemed to show several buildings on the edge of the property, separated by short walkways, perhaps sidewalk, surrounding a large area for the general goat population.

“So, off-limits it is, then.” Sariel said, cheerfully.

“But ‘which one?’ is the question.” Bran said with a frown. Vorol peered over Bran’s shoulder and then pointed to the northeast building.

“That one.”

“That one?”

“Yeah, it has basement access.” Bran turned and looked at Vorol.

“That’s a really good idea, Vorol!”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” the forest elf grumbled.

“Let’s not cross the center grounds, here, between all the buildings. We don’t want to risk being spotted coming specifically for one building.”

“But if we go through the what, three or four buildings between us and the northeast one, we risk having someone see us and hold us up.” Eden pointed out. “Besides, I want to see the goats. All the corrals are out there.”

“Not today.” Bran replied, firmly. “We’ll have to risk running into someone with actual authority. In the event that happens, I need you guys to keep moving. I’ll pass my jacket onto one of you. Make your way to the northeast building and I will meet you there one way or another.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Eden chimed in, giddily. It struck her that this was an infiltration mission. They could get in trouble for being here. And that excited her. She had compatriots that depended on her, at least in some fashion, and that seemed to appreciate her presence. She had frien– Eden turned to winter, as if an icy bucket of water had been poured over her. She missed Azrael and Sael.

“Hey!” Vorol poked her shoulder, breaking her train of thought. “You good, Eden? Anything we can help with?” Eden shook herself and forced herself into autumn.

“I’m good. Ready to get moving.” Vorol didn’t press the issue.

The group set off out of that building and into the next. While the previous building was purely an administrative one, bland and solid on the inside, this one was completely bare, with the exception of some scattered straw. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating dust flowing through the air. As she walked, Eden thought she heard footsteps–scuttling, even. She stopped for a moment and peered to the far side of the ground floor, then to the stairs. Empty. No furniture, no stalls, no rugs, nothing. Maybe it was someone upstairs? Hm. She continued on out the door and over to the next building.

In this one was apparently some sort of nursery, as there were pregnant goats and skipping kids everywhere–in pens, wandering around, in stalls, and even some trying to scale the far wall. Eden screamed in delight, garnering the ire of all the caretakers that were minding their own business. The baby goats were quite possibly the cutest things she had ever seen, and she had to go pick one up to pet it. Instead, however, the group left the building, Bran leading with Sariel and Vorol dragging a thrashing Eden the entire way. While the caretakers showed some relief at the group’s departure, fortunately they didn’t seem to mind that the group was there to begin with.

The third building seemed to be some sort of spellcaster’s laboratory, replete with bubbling and multicolored flasks, phials, and tubes. There were several goats sitting docilely on tables, their fur sporting wild patterns of spots, stripes, spirals, and checkers. Several robed figures stood by the tables, pouring over tomes and scrolls. These must be the wizards Ichabod mentioned, Eden thought to herself. Unfortunately, they seemed to have caught the eye of what looked like a security guard standing in the far corner. The dekapri security guard, dressed in all black and sporting a baton holstered on his hip swished his arrow-pointed tail and strode for the group, who all kept walking as if nothing was wrong. They breached the door halfway down the side, as this building was the northwest corner of the property, and Bran took off his jacket, passing it to Eden.

“Here, you look cold.” He joked. Eden looked at her hands, expecting to be in winter, but found only autumn. She slid the jacket on. “Get going, you three. I’ve got this” He turned to face the door of the previous building and the group entered the next building, except for Bran, who stayed behind to stall the guard.

The next building was another empty one (or at least the ground floor was), so they continued to the exit door as they had the previous two buildings. Their anticipation was built up fairly well, as the next building over was their destination. Sparing no time to gawk, however, they practically sprinted through the building, slowing down only to ensure they didn’t burst the door open and draw attention to themselves. Eden took a look around and saw that no one was paying attention, and hurried to the northeast building. The door was blocked–from the outside. Eden could hardly believe it, but there was a wooden plank wedged underneath the door handle.

“This looks like the place.” Sariel said, quietly. “With that board in the way, that means there’s someone on the other side of the door waiting to make sure whoever enters is permitted. Vorol?”

“Yeah, I got this. Come in right after me.”

“Hey,” Eden tugged on the shoulder of Vorol’s robe. “Use the blunt end of the spear to start off with. We don’t want to kill someone if this happens to be the wrong building.”

Vorol nodded. “Agreed.” Eden stood with her back to the wall beside the door and Sariel stood on the opposite side of the door, holding the handle with one hand and gripping the board with the other. Vorol readied his spear blunt-side first. Eden held up her hand and dictated a countdown from three and signaled to the other two after she finished. Sariel yanked the door open and Vorol practically disappeared. The only reason Eden knew that he didn’t just teleport was the fact that she saw him blur as he moved forward. If Eden would have had the time to whistle appreciatively she would have. Eden knew he was their main physical combatant, but she had no idea just how fast he evidently was. Instead of pausing, though, she dashed in, dagger raised, followed by Sariel, but by the time she got in, Vorol was finished. They were in a hallway with a janitor’s closet halfway down, and an unconscious pirate with a circular bruise on his forehead crumpled on the floor; the poor man hadn’t even had time to draw his weapon. She squinted at the pirate and confirmed for herself that, yes, this was indeed one of the pirates that departed the Headman’s Joy. Sariel set the board down on the counter.

“Man, this’ll take some getting used to.” Vorol said quietly, hefting and eying his spear.

“Using the blunt side?” Eden asked, curious.

“No, using such a short weapon. I usually use a halberd.”

“...a longer spear?” Eden asked, not really knowing what a halberd is.

Vorol smiled. “A longer spear with a small axehead on the end.”

“Why’d you change?”

“I figured that if we did end up venturing into the sewers, I’d probably want a weapon no taller than myself. It seems our benefactor was aware of this change in my choice of weapon.” He seemed like he was about to continue, but he paused and whispered, “Someone’s coming!” He picked up the pirate, and they all clamored into the janitor’s closet.

The closet was just large enough for the four bodies to fit. Eden listened closely to the steps. Someone had rounded the corner. Step, step, step.

“Janberlin?” She heard a gruff voice call out. “Jan?” Vorol tapped Eden’s shoulder, passed the unconscious pirate to Sariel, and swapped places with Eden. The steps sounded again. It seemed the pirate outside the closet heard the motion. Vorol prepared himself again, raising a fist. “Jan?” The pirate called again, this time directly at the closet. “Who are you in there with? You know the shitstorm that would happen if Tabitha found out you were cheating on her?” The footsteps ceased right in front of the closet. Janberlin let out a small groan–it seemed he was returning to consciousness. “Godsdammit, Jam, you’re a fuckin’ disgr–” There was a sound like fabric being torn and the words ceased. Eden could hear an unidentifiable drip, drip, and then a thud, as if the pirate had fallen to the floor. Eden wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but before she could give it much thought, the door swung open and Vorol’s fist blurred out. Bran, who was standing in the doorway with a bloody shortsword, jerked his head at the last second, narrowly avoiding getting his face rearranged.

“Dammit, Vorol!” Bran hissed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Vorol replied abashedly. Bran took a moment to breathe, then asked,

“You guys having fun in there?”

“Yeah,” Sariel replied, sarcastically, “seven minutes in heaven has never been so interesting.” Vorol playfully puckered up his lips at the acolyte. Eden looked down at the fallen pirate at Bran’s feet, then back up at Bran’s sword. Bran followed her gaze and then simply said,

“I find it’s difficult for an opponent to call for help if they don’t have use of their vocal chords. Cutting his air supply off did the trick.” He then looked over at the unconscious pirate, known as Janberlin. “Finish him off and let’s go. I paid off the security guard to let us be, but I had him go ahead and alert the city watch, so they have to investigate this building. So, yeah, the watch is on their way. We need to be free of this place well before they get here.”

“Wait!” Eden stopped Vorol from breaking Janberlin’s neck. Bran raised an eyebrow at her.

“What’s up?”

“We don’t have to kill him. He’s not a threat right now.” She replied, remembering the bandit she had killed on the way to Valekenport. It didn’t feel right at the time and it didn’t feel right now. The difference was, then, she was virtually alone–Ichabod wasn’t going to come to her rescue and without him, she couldn’t drive the wagon away; now, she had friends who could help her. If she could avoid killing defenseless people, she would.

“Yeah, he’s not a threat now, sure–we just want to keep him from becoming a threat.” Bran stated calmly.

“We could tie him up.”

“No time. We should be moving now instead of having this conversation.”

“Shove him in the closet and use that board to keep him in there. We shouldn’t kill someone while they’re unconscious.”

“Do that, then.” Bran sighed, “But there won’t always be a closet to shove someone into.”

“Thank you, Brandy!” Eden sang in the most charming voice she could muster. Vorol punched Janberlin in the face once more for good measure before tossing him in the closet and closing the door. Bran took a small knife and dug a rut into the floorboards; Sariel wedged the board between the door handle and the rut.

“Now that’s out of the way, we should get moving. There are seven pirates left in this building–three upstairs, and presumably four down in the basement.”

“Seven?” Eden asked. “We only took down two, which would make nine, total. Weren't there ten?”

“I killed another one upstairs and hid the body, which means if they find the body, they’ll come running down here. Now, allow me to reiterate: we need to hurry. The basement should be around the right corner and at the end of that hallway. Now, let’s be quiet about it, lest we attract unwanted attention.” And with that, he strode around the corner with the rest of the group right behind him. They came to a large hatch, about five feet in length and breadth; Vorol opened it and Bran dashed down the stairs, followed by Vorol–cries of surprise sounded from inside. Eden leapt in with Sariel hot on her heels.

Entering the room, four pirates had been interrupted from a poker game and were in the process of drawing their weapons. It was a broad stone basement with what looked like a stone door on the far end. Part of the cellar seemed to be above ground with a small window barely a foot wide towards the ceiling.

Eden slung her lute from her back into her arms and plucked a few notes from a song she had performed before: Rites in Mist, an illusion spell–this one, she’d be using to set up a loop, and when it was ready, she switched to Duelist’s Folly, a spell she had performed once before while fighting a bandit on the road to the city. Unfortunately it would take a few seconds to get the song to play on its own; in the meantime, the pirates wasted no time, leaping forward with their curved swords–were they called sabers?–drawn. One swung wildly at Bran, who deflected the saber with his shortsword, and in the same motion drew another shortsword and jabbed at the pirate who swayed out of the way. Vorol shot his spear out at the pirate that was coming towards him; the pirate batted the spear to the side, not breaking stride, so Vorol changed tactics and pulled his front hand back while pushing his back hand forward, striking the pirate across the face with the blunt end of the polearm, causing the pirate’s swing to miss. The third pirate, instead of moving closer, lowered his sword and pulled out what looked like a tube of some sort and pointed it at Sariel, who was praying some sort of prayer, Eden thought, perhaps he said for fire? She couldn’t quite make it out, but no sooner had the pirate pointed the tube at Sariel, then Eden saw a spark and heard a loud crack that echoed all around the cellar. She looked over at Sariel and saw there was a hole in his robes, just below his elbow through the sleeve. Eden could hardly comprehend it. This motherfucker had a miniaturized cannon. What the hells? She barely had any time to think about it because the fourth pirate pointed his tube at her and sparked it. The small cannonball hit her lute and knocked her into a barrel beside the staircase. She heard Bran yell,

“They have firearms!”

She was rattled, but alright. She looked at her lute–not so much as a dent. It was a good thing enchanted items were so sturdy. The barrel she was knocked into wobbled a bit and scattered what look like greyish-black powder all over her. It smelled positively toxic. Unfortunately being knocked into the barrel interrupted her loop and she was unable to cast the spell she wanted to cast. More immediately, there were the pirates to contend with. She stumbled up, leaning on the barrel for support and watched the pirate who shot her take what might have been a drinking horn, unscrew the bottom, and pour greyish-black powder into the base of the tube he was holding. She immediately looked at the black powder she was covered with and put two and two together. Oh shit.

Sariel produced a mote of fire at the top of his staff and launched it at the pirate. In a heartbeat, the powder ignited, horn and all, with a bang, killing the pirate in question. She looked to the other one that was refilling his… firearm, was it? She wasn’t going to give him the chance to load it again. She faced him and plucked the first few notes of Storm of Greensea, causing a deafening boom several times louder than the firearm and sending the pirate straight back into the stone wall where he crumpled and didn’t move. The stone door on the far end shook loose–still shut and locked–but loose. She kept up the song in case she would need to pull on the magic again. Turning to Vorol, she saw that he had already dispatched his pirate, who was full of spear-holes; Bran’s opponent was in similar condition.

Eden didn’t let a moment of pause happen. She strode towards the door, still strumming, and she pulled on the magic again–another boom caused the door to shake. Her magic was almost used up, but she had one more use in her, so she pulled from her pool until she was empty. The door fell off its hinges and hit the floor, revealing a room beyond lit by torchlight.

Peering in, they saw two figures, one slim figure and one muscular, both sitting, bound by ropes, both with large, round, surprised eyes. There they were: Lord Joyautombe and his orc friend, whose name she didn’t have. She smiled a smile of relief. Aside from some bruising and obvious starvation and abuse, they were very much alive, staring in awe at their four rescuers.

Eden felt a surge of pride go through her as she settled into spring. This. This is what she wanted to do. She had done something good.

Her feeling of elation was interrupted, however, as the group heard hurried footsteps on the floor above them. She cut the ropes binding the captives and instructed the group,

“Vorol, guard the hatch, spear-first–if they have firearms get out of the way and let Sariel handle them. Bran, help me move this table against the wall over by the window and lift that barrel on top of it.” Bran gave her a curious look, nodded to the others, and they went to work.

Bran and Eden lifted the table and moved it over to the wall, while the former captives took initiative–the orc lifted the barrel and carted it over, while Lord Joyautombe picked up one of the pirate sabers and joined Vorrol as the hatch opened and pirates stepped down, one getting speared almost immediately. Sariel prayed and lit another mote of fire above his staff.

Everything was ready and Eden called for them all to fall back, which they did, all darting to the back room. The two pirates who remained stopped in their tracks, confused, but their confusion turned to horror as Sariel let loose a ball of fire at the barrel, which ignited, sending a shockwave throughout the building, launching the entire group into the far wall.

The group shakily got up, each member coughing, as the air was hazy with smoke. They ventured back into the first room, and there was a nice new hole in the wall with a slope of earth and stones leading up to it. The pirates lay broken, mangled, and still, against the wall opposite the hole.

“Come on, guys, let’s get out of here before the watch arrives. We might yet leave the grounds and disappear into the crowds.” Bran said, dusting himself off.

“What about them?” Lord Joyautombe asked, pointing to the room he was formerly bound in. They all looked, and peering out from the room were five rats, all lined up.

“Fuck.” Bran swore.