Chapter 66 - An Offer of a Second Job

"Let's kill them all." Some had gone beyond dropping their weapons and wet themselves. With Rem standing before them, bloodstained axe in hand, those words prompted a plea. "P-p-please spare us." They had every reason to be terrified. They had already lost all will to fight. Rem thought they should die. He came from the western settlers, disparagingly called barbarians. He had spent his childhood in the West. On the frontier, leaving loose ends meant inviting trouble. "Looks like they sent the assassin. What do we gain by standing around arguing over who's responsible? Let's slit their throats and be done with it. Nice and clean, eh?" The terrified men could not utter a word. Standing between Encrid and the kneeling criminals, Rem looked ready to swing his axe at any moment. They kept their mouths shut. "Where did you dump your blankets?" Rem had been about to offer to do the deed himself if Encrid was reluctant. Instead, he got a question out of nowhere. "What?"

"Your blankets." Rem had certainly been wrapped head to toe in blankets when they left their quarters. At some point, though, he had discarded them all. "Around the entrance to the alley?" Before they saw the beggars. His peculiar instincts, the nose of a wild beast, had told him to prepare for a fight. "Then what are you going to sleep under tonight?" Rem had no idea why Encrid kept asking these questions, but he had had a plan from the moment he threw the blankets away. "I'll use the blankets of that fellow who's out every night. Don't worry, Squad Leader. I won't steal yours." "Touch my things and you die. No, I'll kill you myself. Without fail." Jaxon recognized the reference and responded. He was the one always staying out. He had plenty of women to see, and whenever they were in the city, he frequently spent his nights away from their quarters. "Stingy bastard. You won't even be using them."

"Don't touch them, barbarian."

"Sneaky little alley cat. Petty, too." As the two began bickering, Encrid clapped his hands. "There's no need for that, Rem." Encrid had had a plan from the moment he set his sights on the thieves' guild. Something a little more promising than Rem's half-baked scheme to steal blankets. His suspicion that they had let the assassin in was half the reason he had started this. The other half was a different plan. 'This was unexpected.' He had thought it more likely than not that they were not behind the assassination. After all, he knew Aspen had sent the assassin. Had someone asked him to wager Krona on it, he would have bet against the guild being responsible. Though he would only have staked a few copper coins he could afford to lose. Whether they were behind it or not, he had a plan that mattered more. "It's pretty cold out. Wouldn't you like to keep warm?" Rem tilted his head. Everyone looked puzzled. "Huh?" Only Krais, exceptionally perceptive and quick-witted, understood. Blinking his large eyes, he looked at his squad leader as if to say, 'Surely not.' Encrid gave a slight nod. How many years had he spent knocking around the mercenary world to hone his swordsmanship? He had learned of the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique there, but what he had learned beyond the sword amounted to several times as much. For instance: 'It's only fair to pick the pockets of a thief trying to rob me.' Things like that. Encrid had made up his mind. He did not think this would affect his dream, either. They were a criminal gang, after all. Their accumulated wealth could hardly have come from respectable means. Reprisals and any number of other concerns might have given him pause, but... 'It doesn't matter.' As his skills improved, his confidence in other matters naturally grew as well. He thought he could find a way to handle it. His breath misting in the air, he continued. "Let's rob them. Maybe we can't get a magic stove for our quarters, but we can at least lay down a few warming demonic beast hides." Silence fell again. No one had expected this. Then Rem burst out laughing. "That's right. Anything on land I've claimed belongs to me." A very Rem way of putting it. "Keep warm?" Ragna reacted, too. No one liked being cold. "Ho ho. For God has said, steal from thieves and put their wealth to good use far and wide." Did scripture actually say that? Or did the temples teach such a thing? Probably neither. But Audin conveyed the righteousness of their cause through his firm belief in his own words. "Not a bad idea." Jaxon nodded as well. "Are we just going to rob them?" Krais took the idea a step further. "Let's talk inside. It's cold." The air was cold enough to swiftly steal even the heat rising from the dead men's blood and entrails. They went straight into the mansion. Krais urged the hesitant survivors to follow, and they came inside as well. Those with both legs broken were still outside. "Help them all inside." At Krais's words, the men glanced at one another. Wouldn't it be better to run? The thought was plain on their faces. "You'll be chased. By that man with the axes. Or the one who breaks legs for a hobby." Ragna and Jaxon had fought well, but to the gang, the most frightening were Rem with his axes and Audin smashing legs with his clubs. They were terror itself. "Do you think you can hide from the standing army inside Border Guard? Or do you fancy exploring outside tonight, in the year's last season, with demonic beasts roaming about? You'll freeze to death or become their next meal. We won't kill you. Come inside." Krais was a master of persuasion. Listening as he entered, Encrid offered a compliment. "You'd have made a fine swindler."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't sound like one." Inside, a fire burned in the hearth. The warmth of habitation lingered everywhere; the dead man seemed to have lived here. Above the fireplace hung two blunt decorative swords crossed over a shield, with several paintings on the walls to either side. "Are those expensive?" Encrid glanced at the paintings. Krais answered as though a closer look would be unnecessary. "No. Cheap junk. Who would buy something like that?" Even Encrid, who knew nothing about art, could see it. "I could paint better with my feet." Rem seemed to agree. They all crowded around the fireplace, casting long shadows behind them. "Light the torch stands. It's dark." Encrid warmed himself among them as he spoke. He had not addressed anyone in particular. No one moved, so he added: "Gilfin's dead, so whoever's next in charge, step up and do it."

"Gilfin isn't dead." One of the uninjured men stepped forward. In place of hair, he had a stretch of white sand atop his head. In daylight, it would have been blinding. A long scar ran above his eyebrow, but even that combined with his bald head could not alter the impression he gave. With his downturned eyes and thick lips, he simply did not look menacing. But what was that? "Gilfin isn't dead?" Did he have some monster's regenerative powers? Could he survive having his throat cut? That corpse out in the clearing before the mansion? There had been no sign of anything like that. The white-sand bald man spoke. "Because I'm Gilfin." What was going on? "He wasn't the boss? Oh, I get it. Like a lizard shedding its tail?" Krais pointed outside as he asked, then answered his own question. His words reminded Encrid of a drinking conversation from his mercenary days. ["Something criminal guild bastards do sometimes. They name their gang after one of their underlings."]

["Why?"]

["So they can sell him out and run if things go wrong. A cheap little trick for when the army suddenly comes knocking to round up criminals, say."]

["How do you know so much about it?"]

["I was in that line of work for a while. Anyway, not many go that far. Takes a real son of a bitch."] Encrid had never actually met anyone who did it. Far more often, they named their gangs after themselves out of vanity, if nothing else. Putting a subordinate's name out front meant the bastard dead outside had been one thoroughly devious son of a bitch. "What a bastard." Encrid understood now. Behind him, Ragna asked what they were talking about, and the quick-witted Krais gave him a rough explanation. Encrid's plan was sound, but simple. Raid the thieves' guild, and if they cooperated, accept a suitable token of goodwill and return. If they resisted, beat them up, then accept a token of goodwill and return. Of course, picking a fight with a thieves' guild invited reprisals. But he was confident he could crush those by force as well. He and his squad members would be enough. Yet they really were connected to the assassin who had targeted him. So what? 'Why should that matter?' "You really going to keep us warm?" Rem whispered from behind him, leaning uncomfortably close. "Piss off." Encrid whispered back, then turned to Gilfin. Gilfin rubbed a hand over his white-sand scalp, gauged their mood, and spoke. "If you're going to kill someone, just kill me and spare the others. Some of these men are struggling to care for sick, elderly mothers."

"Hard times don't make it right to rob other people's pockets." Caring for an ailing old mother did not entitle anyone to profit by holding a blade to someone else's chest. "Well, we'd appreciate it if you'd spare us anyway." Encrid stood straight, arms folded, and studied Gilfin. The man had some backbone. His offer to die alone was quite impressive, too. Why hadn't he attacked earlier, then? Encrid asked. "Why would I fight for a bastard who'd sell my name out and run the moment things went wrong?" The unnamed guild leader's two bodyguards nodded behind him. Those two had barely escaped with their lives as well. The way things were going made the dead man's deeds plain. Every last one of his subordinates hated him. "Want to cough up what you've stashed away? Then we'll leave you in peace." Encrid proceeded as planned. "Of course. No need to kill them if they cough it up." Frontier philosophy was no match for the cold. Rem agreed. The others were no different. "Yes. But that dead bastard hid the key to the strongbox."

"Oh, that's fine." They had a magician here who could open locked doors with a knock. A mere strongbox would be child's play. Gilfin was wise. Once they promised not to kill anyone, he coughed up all the wealth they had accumulated. "Oh, warming hides!"

"If you take them all, the lads guarding the approaches will die." He meant the beggars guarding the alleys. The same ones they had killed on their way in. Hearing that their tattered clothes had been lined with demonic beast hides, Krais spoke. "They're no good once they get blood on them." So they could not take the dead beggars' hides. Meanwhile, Encrid found himself reassessing Gilfin yet again. 'He even looked after the rank and file.' For someone who had supposedly only lent his name, he seemed better liked than the actual guild leader. They all quietly followed Gilfin's lead, including the two bodyguards who plainly knew their way around a blade. "Leave them some." Encrid reined them in where needed. Fortunately, none of them was greedy. No, that should not have been true of one of them. Krais was positively overflowing with greed. Yet for some reason, he only inspected the goods and made no move to take anything. "Not taking anything?"

"No. Oh, Squad Leader. There's something I wanted to discuss." Encrid had something to discuss, too. These men had been forewarned and prepared. There was only one possible source of the leak. It was not within the unit. Only two people there knew they were coming. 'The Company Commander and the Platoon Commander.' Could those two have been taking Krona from the criminal guild? 'That seems unlikely.' That left one place. 'Vanessa's Pumpkin Soup.' While whispering with the waitress, Krais had let slip that they were going to wipe out the thieves' guild, pretending it was an accident. "That business with the waitress. Was it deliberate?"

"Oh, you noticed? You're pretty sharp, Squad Leader." He wasn't stupid. How many years had he spent learning to read people to survive in this brutal world? "That's right. Plenty of people feed this guild information, knowingly or otherwise. The waitress was probably a dedicated informant. A cheerful inn waitress would be perfectly placed to pick up all sorts of information. Ooh, scary. Such an innocent-looking girl, informing for thieves." Scary? Krais seemed scarier. Hadn't he known that and exploited it to the fullest? "I wasn't sure, either. This confirmed it." He should have said something beforehand. It had been an unnecessary scheme. Recognizing his mistake, Krais began making excuses. "Enough. Let it go. But you'd better tell me in advance next time." He would have done it with the squad members' abilities in mind. Encrid himself thought this was more convenient. Otherwise, after raiding the headquarters, they would have had to hunt down the remaining members. Thinking about it, Krais clearly had an aim of his own. What did he stand to gain by gathering the thieves' guild's full strength and crushing it? "Say, Squad Leader. Don't you need Krona?" After Encrid had shown him leniency, Krais abruptly asked the question, blinking those big eyes. Opening his eyes wide in a show of innocence was a sign he was up to something again. Krais knew how to use his looks. He was clever, too. That did not mean it worked on Encrid. "Let's hear what you're scheming." Making pretty eyes had failed, but Krais's words had struck a chord. The name of the Empire's currency, Krona, was used interchangeably with money, so Krais had effectively asked whether he needed money. He always needed money. He had spent every last bit of his reward on a single sword, leaving him struggling to afford the rest of his equipment. What they had just plundered would cover his immediate needs, but he would keep needing money in the future. "Let's take this place over." Krais spoke matter-of-factly. And that was how he offered Encrid a second job.