~That Night~
Within a gilded office of House Tariost adorned with banners of gold and blue, Lucian read his papers through gold-trimmed spectacles. The Intelligencer stood at attention before him, silent, with a chair pulled off to the side.
"Sir, with all due respect, why didn't we put Gideon or the receptionist in charge? Someone with more experience or someone from our side?" he asked, his brows furrowing.
Without lifting his gaze from a shipping ledger, Lucian answered slowly.
"Young people are malleable. They are," he said, pulling out a second document and cross-referencing it. "Easily manipulated and molded. Older ones? They're already shaped into whatever nonsense principles they claim to stand by."
There was a pause as he marked the ledger and offered it to the Intelligencer. "Someone's been liftin'. Find out who it is and kill them."
The Intelligencer slowly took the document, though he still appeared unsatisfied with Lucian's answer. Lucian sighed and interlocked his fingers, frowning before breaking them apart and pointing both hands like knives toward him.
"Principles are just another title for early manipulation made manifest into something harder. Shape it with religion, money, power, whatever the fuck you want, and then call it principles later. I doubt you'll find a living person in SwillCity who understands what principles really are."
Readjusting himself, he grumbled under his breath, "Well, there was one, but that bastard fled."
"Why are we putting the bastard's son in charge then?"
Lucian's eyes silently flicked up to the Intelligencer. He shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, his eyes darting nervously.
"That bastard's son is bait. I haven't forgotten about your wife, Captain Orson."
Orson cleared his throat, muttering, "Thank you… sir."
"You are very fucking welcome," Lucian sighed before returning his attention to the papers and pulling out another ledger. Without looking up again, he asked, "Did you enjoy it?"
"I wasn't able to, sir. The boy may find out too."
"It doesn't matter. Now politely get the fuck out of my office."
"Sir." The Intelligencer bowed his head slightly before turning on his heel and briskly walking out.
After he left, Lucian's eyes lifted toward the barren doorway, where nothing but a flickering light remained. He shook his head and returned his attention to the ledgers.
------
~Back to Present in GearWright Guild~
"As of today, you are the new Rat King! And I, Lucian Tariost, Head of the House, am your new fucking overlord."
Hovering in front of my face, Lucian pulled from his pocket a cloth-wrapped object. It's a small, decapitated rat's head with thin wires embedded into its skull. Along the wires, rat teeth were tied off in a twisted imitation of crown peaks.
Lucian smiled and pointed at it. "Your cousin," he said, before setting it on the floor in front of me.
Still wheezing, I slowly managed to get onto all fours with blood dripping and my head ringing. Lucian remained crouched silently in front of me as I did, and my head rolled upward until I met his sneering gaze.
Suddenly, Lucian sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Look, Varyn. You probably want to gut me like that fish you had yesterday and disembowel me for the crows. But right now, in the absence of leadership and in front of the swill around you, you can become someone better!"
"Run my lanes," Lucian said, tapping the floor with two fingers. "But if you talk, everyone here, and your mother, will die. Their families. Their kids. All of them."
I spat a glob of blood at his shiny black shoes. In response, he slammed my head into the floor. The side of my face smeared into my own blood and in front of me I saw the rat's head topple over, its fur dipping into it.
"If you don't, they'll die. If you spit your diseased liquids in my direction again, they'll die. If you breathe too much without my fucking permission, they die. But if you work for me—" Grabbing my hair, he dragged my head through the grime and blood. "If you work for me and do it properly, you might one day see yourself sitting on a glittering pile of gold instead of on the floor staring at filth. Then we can all have our happy holidays and merry fucking celebrations to the little fishies."
Still sputtering blood, I coughed, "But why me? Gideon and Anya have more experience!"
"Because I, me, my fucking self, don't want them to lead," Lucian snorted, finally releasing my head. He gestured broadly, his voice rising. "I want a bright young rat- I mean, man, who has some brains!"
He pointed toward Anya. "I heard you learned some of the books." Then toward Gideon. "And how some of the legal business works. The illegal business is no different except you don't want to get caught."
It still doesn't make any fucking sense, I thought as I pushed myself back onto my knees, vision swimming as I looked up at Lucian. But I don't exactly have a fucking choice unless I want everyone to die.
Gesturing weakly before my hands fall back onto my thighs, I asked, "So when do I start?"
"Hm?" Lucian tilted his head and then nodded as if he just remembered. "Oh. Right. Today. Now. Erm…"
He gestured around the wrecked room. "Sorry about the furniture. It shouldn't cost much to fix. And the bodies... you might find a few lying around."
Hunching slightly, he gave me a meek smile. "My bad." Then whistled sharply.
Immediately, the man holding Anya released his grip and Lucian's men began filing toward the exits.
"My first shipment needs to be picked up from the Riverside Docks tomorrow evening," Lucian said. "Don't be late."
When the doors finally swing shut behind me, I exhale. My stomach, my head, it all hurt. My body felt fatigued and my vision was swimming still. Anya collapsed to the floor and began crying while my gaze rested on the blood-tinted rat king's head.
It looked angry. One glaring eye half submerged in blood and the other gray.
Fuck...
That was my final thought before passing out.
------
~At The Last Drop~
"Thank you," Vander said, passing a silver and a beer to a thin-haired, hunched man with eyes that pointed in opposite directions. The man gave a toothless smile and nodded before shakily walking away, making strange noises as he went.
Vander, in the meantime, frowned with a serious expression before burning the paper he had been given.
"Is this something we need to handle?" Sevika asked. The dark-skinned, heavily muscled woman watched Vander's expression carefully. She was his muscle when he needed things doing and was more violent than his most mean looking men.
"There's nothing to handle. It's already done," Vander said grimly. "Keep an eye on those fine folk, though, aye? Make sure they don't wander places they aren't supposed to."
"With pleasure," Sevika snarled. "Can I kill them if they spot us?"
"No. We can't risk another war breaking out. But you can beat them within an inch of their lives."
"Good enough."
Standing abruptly, Sevika walked toward the exit with several men rising to accompany her, their expressions eager and violent. Vander sighed before signaling to a young man near to the counter.
"Watch the bar for a second, will yah, lad?"
"Yes sir! No problem!"
"Atta boy."
Slinging the bar cloth from his shoulder onto the counter, Vander made his way downstairs where the little ladies, Vi and Powder, were lounging with their new companions.
"How are you boys settling in?" Vander asked as he opened the door before freezing.
The kids were frozen too, locked in a bizarre scene. Vi held a half-eaten apple high in the air, her other hand pressed against Mylo's face. Powder was making a scary face, mimicking horns with her hands while Claggor knelt on the floor with his hands on his head.
"What's going on…?"
"We're playing," Powder giggled.
"Right," Vander said as the boys awkwardly stood and brushed themselves off. Even Vi looked flushed, hiding the apple behind her back.
"This is much better than Hope House Orphanage," Claggor said, clearing his throat. He was a heavyset boy around Vi's age, with dark brown curly hair and brown eyes. "Thank you!"
"Yeah, that place was a dump in comparison!" Mylo exclaimed. In contrast, he was also around Vi's age but lithe and far more talkative, perhaps too much so. He had longer hair of the same color, green eyes, and a restless energy about him.
"I'm glad to hear this place meets your standards," Vander chuckled. "Ladies? How are they?"
"They're fine," Vi answered quickly. "Mylo sucks at ball."
"Do not!"
"Do too," Vi replied flatly, arching a brow at Mylo's glare.
Mylo grumbled, crossing his arms. "Whatever…"
"Can we go hang out with Varyn tonight?" Powder asked suddenly.
Vander frowned, falling silent. The pause stretched before he shook his head.
"Not tonight," he said softly. "I think he might have his hands full. Why? Did you like them that much?"
Powder shrugged, picking up a toy bunny and fiddling with its ears. "His mom was nice. I like her. And Vi likes Varyn."
"I do not!" Vi snapped. "Stop saying weird stuff!"
Powder giggled anyway, rolling her eyes before sitting down at the table with paper and crayons, placing the bunny beside her.
"I do not want either of you around Varyn or his mother for a few days," Vander said firmly. "Understand me?"
"Why?" Powder asked.
"Just don't. I mean it. Otherwise I'm taking away your toys."
"Awwwww!"
"Did something happen?" Claggor asked, adjusting the goggles with the Hope House Orphanage insignia.
"Yes. So steer clear for a bit."
"Yes sir," Mylo mock-saluted, his lockpick case on the table with the insignia on it as well. Vander paused, eyeing him until he stiffened his bravado evaporated. Vander's gaze then drifted to Vi who frowned before finally nodding.
"Good," Vander said, feeling like the case was over and done. "Now who wants pie?"
Powder shot her hand into the air.
"ME!"
------
Stumbling home early, I opened the door to my house, afraid of what I might see. The door to my own home felt intimidating and large but when I opened it, all I saw was my mom standing over the stove. Her head snapped toward me, watery eyes locking onto mine before she slowly walked over.
She hugged me, sniffling as emotionally teared up.
"I heard what happened," Relia croaked, her fingers tracing the bandaged cuts on my face. "Anya sent a runner. Those bastards will pay one day, I promise."
"It's all right," I grimaced, gently taking her hand away. "I'll handle it. We'll handle it. Did anything happen here?"
Relia paused, looking me up and down with a strange expression before wiping away a tear and shaking her head.
"No," she whispered. "Nothing happened."
Turning away, she went back to the stove and began stirring again. "Dinner will be ready soon. Sit. Tell me what happened."
Watching her, I nodded slowly and closed the door behind me. I paused for a second, eyeing the door, before moving to sit at the table.
I need to find a way to shut the door.