A New Star Chapter 26

We walked, or rather moved at a light jog, with me leading the way back down the mountain. I routed us around the worst of the estate’s defenses, easily avoiding the rest even without walking through the dark paths, which I'm sure both the count and my grandfather made note of as we continued. Well, the count and I continued, as my grandfather begged off for several reason that sounded more like excuses, but the count walked along behind me still, continuing as if he were out on a lazy stroll.  

I approached the walls of the town, Umberton just the same as it always was, walking right up to the outer wall. I glanced back at the count who was, predictably, stroking his beard, and he gave me nothing other than a raised eyebrow. I shrugged and turned back, stepping forward and through the dark, emerging in the alley on the other side of the wall. There was a strong breeze just a second later and the count appeared standing next to me, frowning a bit at the dingy state of the street. I paid him no mind and set out, moving down between two of the buildings in front of us and onto one of the slightly more populated, if no less dirty, streets that led through the edge of town. The count followed along, still trailing behind me, looking no more than a kindly grandfather out for a stroll, even if the fabrics and cut of his clothes would betray him as someone of some great means.  

I headed to the tavern, nodding at a few people on the way, getting a handful of nods in response. I had been in and out of the poor section of Umberton enough at this point that people around here recognized me, which was always a double-edged blade. For the good, I was a known quantity and people little asked questions or tried to stop me, especially knowing what tavern I frequented. For the bad, it was well-known what I did and how I did it, though people only knew I was a hunter and trader and little suspected the criminal element. Working from behind the scenes would have had more advantages, but there was a certain amount of publicity or knowability that I had to take on, doing what I did. 

I didn't bother knocking on the tavern door, just shouldering it open as I walked through, the count trailing along behind me; I could feel his footsteps and the tapping of his cane on the ground even if I didn't glance back to check he was there. As it turned out, not glancing back might have been good, as we walked into what appeared to be a brewing situation in the tavern. The usual suspects were there, including both the members of Pietr's little gang of hoodlums as well as the handful of ne'er-do-wells that frequented the establishment at all hours. Apart from them, however, were five men in coarse dress, and certainly of coarse manner, standing not quite in the middle of the room and holding an argument with Megahn, the dwarven healer who had patched up the two goons I had cut fingers off of quite a while ago. She often worked the bar and was usually the first one responsible for making any kind of important decision before somebody bothered Pietr or Pietr's second, an older woman named Anne that was rarely at the tavern itself. 

"And the fuck is this?" the lead man of the five said as they turned to me, having been slightly startled by the front doors of the tavern banging open. "We lettin' pre-teens run around these places now?" 

I dropped my pack to the floor, getting some raised eyebrows and causing some of the standing men to flinch, them not being used to my ways. I dropped the massive bear hides I had been carrying, the third strapped with the others to my pack, and stretched a bit before popping my neck and cracking my knuckles. Just as the lead thug opened his stupid mouth to make another comment, I took a step forward, disappearing through the dark and appearing directly in front of him, my arm already swinging. I connected directly with the side of the fool's head, my open-palm slap knocking the man down to the floor with a thunderous sound. He flopped there a moment, a giant red handprint forming across the side of his face and head; I had rather large, long-fingered hands. 

As he tried to prop himself up on an elbow I stepped forward and leaned down, casually grabbing the fool by the throat and lifting him fully off the ground. His legs dangled and he thrashed a bit, but I was not squeezing his neck. Not yet.  

I said to him then, "I am not a 'this,' you mangy cur, and I would suggest you be more careful in the future if you have no knowledge of who a person is, what they are, what they are doing, who they work for, or how strong they are with the manner in which you speak to them." 

"Fuck you-" was how he chose to start his rejoinder, which is when my left palm made contact with the right side of his face, leaving him sporting an impressive pair of red handprints on the front of his thick skull.  

"Hey, put the boss down-" started one of the other four, having taken that long to shake themselves out of their shock. They started reaching for weapons at the same time, but I just snorted, interrupting the thug's demand by throwing their leader into his torso quite hard, the loud smack of their bodies impacting causing quite a few winces in the room. Before the other three fools could draw on me I swayed, first right and then left, sending out a series of punches and slaps that spun them all about and knocked two down to the floor. The third man tried to maintain his footing for a moment, but I stepped right up to him and slapped the side of his head, hard, and he went down in a tangled heap, his limbs refusing to follow his will as he collapsed. 

"Now," I said, calm and cold, looking over at Megahn, "explain to me what exactly is happening here." 

"They're Robert's boys," she said to me. When no other information followed that at any reasonable speed, I gave her a look, the same sort I would give to a general who had just relayed a bad attack plan as the most brilliant strategy in the galaxy. Fortunately, Megahn was a bit of a brighter spark than the other louts that Pietr employed, and she took my meaning rather quickly. 

"They're from the other gang in town," she explained. "They've been fightin' with us for years, but now Robert's got something in his craw and he's makin' demands of us. I told 'em to fuck right off, but they were bein' a pain about it; too bold, honestly, if ya ask me…" 

"I see," I replied plainly. "And is Pietr here right now?" 

"Yeah, he's up in his room," Megahn said, gesturing at his room in the second room of the second-floor balcony with a thumb over her shoulder. There were three front-facing rooms up there and then a hallway on the right, opposite the stairs up from the main floor, which led back to a couple more rooms and the stairs to the third floor. 

"I'll go speak to him," I said, making to grab my stuff. 

"The boys'll take that," Megahn said, nodding her head at two of the toughs at the nearest table that had been part of a group ready to jump Robert's men. The two grabbed the stuff, grunting in surprise at the weight of the massive pelts, each having to focus their full attention on just one pelt to lift and move it. I gave Megahn a nod and made to move past her and the group of men on the ground when one of them made a lunge for me. I had seen it coming from a mile away, the unskilled thug telegraphing everything about what he was thinking and going to do for several seconds before doing it. Sloppy. 

As he rose, drawing a knife and lunging at me at the same time, I stopped moving forward and swayed back, rolling my eyes as he missed the stab by a country mile. I continued my leaning back motion, rooting my left foot on the ground, firing my right foot nearly straight up and charging it with electricity. I caught the buffoon directly in the jaw, hitting him hard enough that the whole room could hear teeth crack, knocking him out cold and sending his insensate body tumbling into one of the sturdy, cheap table at the side of the room. That would be an expensive healer’s bill; teeth weren't cheap. 

I walked across the rest of the room, the count following along behind me. Strangely, or not, considering this lot, nobody had asked me about the genteel and refined grandfather tapping along behind me, and I had neglected to mention anything about him myself. I walked up the stairs, hearing the count follow along behind me, and walked up to Pietr's door, hammering on it for a moment before pushing it open, the latch not engaged. The man had clearly been expecting trouble, or likely just to have to go out himself and give Robert's thugs a piece of his mind, and was sitting against the front edge of his desk, glaring at the door when I walked in. 

"Well, if that doesn't fuckin' bugger all," he said crossly. "And who the hell is this, your pappy?" 

"He is, in fact, my tutor," I said, rolling my eyes as I walked over to the bar in the room and selected a cider that was technically alcoholic, but one of those ones that didn't even hit one percent by volume, something they would have called half beers or short beers or even children's beers, ironically enough, on my world before technology, and standards, advanced. It wasn't enough to get drunk on or do anything unpleasant, even to a child, but the slight bit of alcohol helped preserve it for longer than a few days, especially at a time when refrigeration, while possible with magic, was still very expensive. A poor tavern run by a bunch of gangsters would have a cellar that was cooler than the rest of the building, but very unlikely they could afford either the installation or maintenance of complex chilling enchantments. 

"Great. Just bring 'em all, we're runnin' a damn circus around here, anyway," he snorted, moving back behind his desk. 

"I assume you're referring to more than that squabble downstairs?" I said as I sat in front of his desk, sipping the cider and raising an eyebrow at him.  

"Robert's boys are harrasin' mine outta nowhere, Robin brought me two damn elves I apparently have to look after for some fuckin' reason, and there's a merchant group with minotaur and leviat guards that rented my whole fourth floor," he rambled, jerking a desk drawer open and lifting out a bottle he didn't leave in his little bar for others to sip from. He poured a measure of a rich amber liquid into a thick glass, not crystal but not a bad piece of work, likely from the town's glassworks, and knocked half of it back before refilling the glass and then putting the bottle away. 

"More than that," he continued, setting his thick forearms on his desk and glowering at me from under lowered brows, "the damn mayor is talking about regulations about buying and selling medicines. As if he doesn't fucking know both Robert and I deal in drugs and as if this isn't particularly targeting me over him. I don't know exactly what's goin' on right now, but something fucking stinks, you mark my words." 

"Curious," the count said, having acquired a glass of…something, from somewhere, before sitting in the chair next to me. I didn't recall Pietr having anything red in his liquor cabinet. "You say the mayor is targeting you right at the same time the rival gang leader is harassing you? I wonder if we have a little classic case of blackmail." 

"Could just be simple bribery," Pietr growled, his glower having switch to the count for a moment. "Mayor ain't clean, not at all, and Robert coulda shoved enough in his pockets to get him to turn about." 

"Hmm, possible, but considering the proximity to the duke's estate, and that both your little enterprises continue by His Grace's tolerance alone, I doubt even a hefty sack of coin would be enough to get the mayor to play second fiddle to a gangster," the count said, sipping his drink slowly. "No, I rather suspect that your old foe has dug up something about the town's fearless leader that he is very nervous about seeing the light of day." 

"Can't say I would know what it is," Pieter grunted. 

"Because you would have used it," the count replied. 

"If only just to get that fat shit off my back for a while so I could deal with Robert's harassment," Pieter replied acidly. "The mayor keeps the duke and them happy, sorry to badmouth your parents, kid, but he does. In exchange, they don't pry too much into his business, and let's also just say the man ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you take my meanin'." 

"I understand perfectly," I said, re-centering Pietr's gaze on me. "I, however, care little for these disputes. I care that our business remains uninterrupted. If you can't handle it without my intervention on the matter, it will not come cheaply. No, not cheaply at all, Pietr." 

"I know that," he spat back hotly. "I've got it under control, don't you worry." 

"Very often what people who don't have 'it' under control say right before one really should worry," I retorted sharply. 

"Fuck off," he said, but not overly aggressively. It was just how Pietr was. "Was there somethin' you actually came here for, or did you just want to break my balls for fun?" 

"I brought materials," I replied coolly. "With my tutor, who I fear is a cruel task master-" 

"Excuse me!" the count interjected indignantly, but I kept on rolling right over his protest. 

"I believe I will be bringing in far more raw materials in the near future," I continued. "You should be prepared; I don't how much time I will have to craft pills and elixirs going forward. Their supply will drop, while I will have more hides, bones, blood, organs, claws, fangs, plants, ores, and so on. You know the details by now." 

"You gotta carve out some time to do alchemy still," he said to me, almost desperately. "That's big business and it's only getting bigger. It's an edge we have over Robert that he can't compete with. What, is he gonna go to that old hag on Crow Street and ask her to supply him with hundreds of high-quality pills? Fuck no. This is somethin' that we have that he doesn't that we can use to pressure him." 

I exchanged a knowing glance with the count, seeing the smug smile on his face in the understanding that his explanation to Grandfather earlier had been spot-on. I said, "I understand your position, Pietr, and the pills will still pop up, but I am not your employee. Don’t expect a very steady supply, let alone an increasing one, in the coming days. My parents have some other intentions for me, and I don't know when I will be free of this terrible burden." 

"I say!" the count exclaimed, having recognized what I was insinuating, but he did little else other than sip his wine.  

"Fuckin' hell," Pietr said, slamming the rest of what was in his glass. "Fine, then. Was there anything else?" 

"Not today, Pietr, but you might be seeing more of the count in the future," I replied. 

"Fuckin' hell," he said again, picking his glass up before realizing it was empty and setting it back down with a thump. "And you're a count, sir?" 

I almost outright laughed at Pietr's attempt to be civil, hiding my hilarity behind my hand and a quick cough. Meanwhile, the count answered, "Indeed I am, young man. I am Count Emmanuel du Forchaine, Y-ranker of wind, steel, and space, knight chevalier of the Holy Order of the Rose, Sage of the sword, and former tutor to the great emperor Tremaine de Garcois, Knight of the East." 

"Fuckin' hell," Pietr said yet again, pulling his drawer back open and retrieving the bottle, from which he fully filled his glass.  

"Don't worry, such petty little enterprises hardly concern me," the count said magnanimously, waving a hand in a lackadaisical manner. "As long as you don't deal in slaves or assassination." 

"Hell's bells, you know the guild takes a very, very dim view on amateurs," Pietr said, leaving the bottle on the desk before taking a sip. "And I don't do nothin' with trading back and forth in people; you want that shit, go look at Robert. I know he's up to all kinds of horrible shit." 

"I'm quite sure," the count replied equitably, nodding at Pietr. 

"Alright, Pietr, we'll get out of your hair, before any more of your archrival's people kick in your door," I said. 

"Bloody damn circus," Pietr said before taking another heavy drink. He really seemed to be having a day. 

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