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3.19 Barside shenanigans
🕑 Added 2023-12-04 08:53:15 +0000 UTCDifference: Minimal
AN: Hey, announcement here. As you have likely noticed, the two chapters a week thing hadn't been working for the past month. I blame uni work increase exponentially near the end of the semester and possibly a bit of burnout? Hard to tell. Either way, two things are upcoming: The winter holidays and a new Path of Exile league that sets of this Friday. As many of you might now, I am a big enthusiast for that game and will be playing. Since that is already the case I will use it to take something close to a break. So schedulle will be like this: One more chapter this week before Friday evening, likely nothing for at least a week, then holidays will be starting at which point I want to try and write at least 3 chapters a week since I will be staying home and have much more free time. With that being said, enjoy.
***
“You took your time,” Irwyn raised an eyebrow. He was waiting in a lone alcove on the street, kind of out of sight. Indeed, an obvious spot to wait at. Now that they were out of the camp Irwyn opted to envelop Waylan in an invisible barrier as well - it was only reasonable to take such a precaution.
“Two cunts loitering right on the loose tile,” Waylan shrugged.
“Language,” Irwyn smiled as they got going.
“Alright we headed for the Guild first, or to meet people,” Waylan asked.
“You know where people are?” Irwyn asked.
“I found my sis,” Waylan nodded. “Well, the brothel is still where it always was. Not much else. We got dragged here only a few days ago.”
“Nothing at our old hideouts?” Irwyn wondered.
“Nope,” Waylan could only shrug. “Not a hint. Which is fair, it’s been months and we ain’t been expected.”
“To the Guild then,” Irwyn nodded. “I can catch up with Meilin later.”
“Fair,” Waylan nodded back, “This way.”
So Waylan led ahead through semi-familiar streets and corridors. Ebon Respite was the same old city except in the patchworks where it wasn’t anymore. Buildings either still damaged or visibly recently built in the place of damaged ones. More of the former in the slums though when they got to the more working-class neighborhoods those two more or less equalized. They were not headed towards Roadstreet, though there Irwyn had seen no such signs.
Soon enough they reached one of the sprawling heresies against urban planning that surrounded many of the city’s manufactoriums. The owners had once upon a time cut costs by making their workers build their own housing. 30 or so years down the line, the streets were impossible to orient without extensive scouting, not to mention the many less-than-stable places of inhabitance. Waylan, thankfully, seemed to have a route memorised though. It involved many double and triple turns, dodging haphazard poles in the middle of the street and a makeshift overpass over someone’s withering garden but soon-ish enough they were nearing their destination.
“Want to make an impression?” Waylan suggested.
“Maybe I will,” Irwyn paused, then smiled, pulling his Mockingbird mask. It was absolutely no longer necessary. Not logically at least. His fear of his identity being connected has far lessened ever since the trouble with House Fathomsight has been cleared up. But there was just something to it: A mysterious young Fowl in a mask, wielding magics that would have even the most optimistic folk in the know guessing him a decade older.
“Cool mask,” Waylan observed as Irwyn donned it. “Mockingbird, right?”
“Yes,” Irwyn smiled beneath it. “Thinking about it, how are you looking on Fowlship? I doubt anyone our age can match you in stealth nowadays.”
“I have been eyeing Nightingale,” Waylan nodded. “But I need recommendations for it. Old Crow has the pull to get them if really needed as he did for you, but said I should need to convince a few Old Fowls myself.”
“Well, you can obviously count on me.”
“Already am,” Waylan smiled. “Let’s go, just three more streets further.”
The entrance to the Guild… did not look like an entrance really. Just a wooden wall that Waylan fumbled around. Which made perfect sense given recent-ish events. There used to be three Fowls in Ebon Respite for many years but unlike Abonisle they never ran things. Old Crow had kept a low profile, staying with the Tears and only getting involved when they overlooked something that would really burn the gang. Old Hawk had been an assassin who had barely ever even stayed in the city, mostly going out on contracts as far as Irwyn knew. Then Old Swallow had been a thief and a notorious loner who refused to work with anyone on anything.
No, the Guild had always been just a neutral ground with most of the underworld ruled by the many gangs in Ebon Respite. There would be at most a few scribe types that organised the services that the Guild provided for the tithe everyone paid, even the labor for those would be almost always outsourced…
Except the purge had hit them hard, Irwyn knew. Old Crow had stepped in to reorganize the local Guild, being the only Fowl left in the city at the time but he said it would take them a while to settle and re-fill their ranks. Then came Alira’s little rampage just when they had settled in. What that had wrought Irwyn didn’t know
Waylan seemed to finally find what he had been looking for, a click sounding as a small opening appeared in the wall. Rather seamless too, given the lack of magic Irwyn was feeling, he hadn’t noticed it and he was looking for something like it while Waylan worked the mechanism. Speaking of the mechanism itself, Irwyn decided to play around with his newest spell, filling a part of the wall Waylan had been fumbling near with invisible, intangible Light under his control, feeling for a discrepancy in the image it gave him.
“You know, I could have opened it for you with a bit of magic,” Irwyn glance at Waylan. No wonder it had taken him a while: The wall had three very small cracks on one side, just wide enough to fit a finger each and adjust the latch within Irwnyn which presumably let part of the wall be dragged to the side.
“Not used to ya being so open with the spelling,” Waylan nodded. “Will ask next time. Come.”
“After you,” Irwyn nodded and they descended, closing the door behind them. A ladder went down below the street level and into a tunnel Irwyn was quite sure wasn’t part of the severs even though it led both ways and had a few intersections. They didn’t walk for more than a minute though before they turned a corner in the tight corridor and Irwyn saw it opening into a cavern.
“How did they build this place in so little time?” Irwyn questioned as they approached. It was not that tall for an underground cave, maybe two stories, but that was still a lot of work to do without mages, in secret, and underground.
“Old village mine, apparently,” Waylan shrugged. “Abonisle flattened and buried it when eatin’ the town. Someone found it under the hill. The Guild decided it was as good a place as any, most of the tunnels were already here.”
And as they stepped closer Irwyn saw better the wooden pillars illuminated in dim torchlight. The ceiling did look uneven enough to be a natural cave but it was still being supported. Irwyn had no idea what was above it in Ebon Respite, though Waylan had just mentioned a hill, which made sense given the top was above usual street level. There was no such thing as reception or a checkpoint as they just walked in. There was one other entrance on the other side and a proper doorway leading somewhere further in. The cavern itself thought? It was a…
“Bar,” Irwyn said the obvious, doubtfully. There were tables scattered around the spacious area and a proper bartending station at one edge. It was not what he would have expected. And looking quite full as well – two-thirds of the tables were taken up by Patrons with varying degrees of thugness.
“Where else would you make deals and burry hatches, eh?” Waylan grinned as he butchered the idiom. “The old one used to be the same, you ‘now.” Irwyn swore he hadn’t taught his friend that one. Was Waylan going out of his way to learn them just so he could…
“Waylan, I thought you wouldn’ be back till night,” a woman’s voice interrupted Irwyn’s thoughts making him look over at one of the tables not far away. Irwyn had been mostly ignoring the people beyond a simple headcount - it was much easier than it used to be, now that he knew they weren’t a threat to him without magic. “And you brought a friend too.”
“What can I say,” Waylan smiled heading in that direction. It actually required them to walk in between two more groups glaring at them. Surprisingly busy given it was not quite evening yet. “Met the right bloke. Figured I best bring him.”
“The more, the merrier,” the woman nodded as they approached. She clothed well enough and did not look like someone used to fighting. The two silent giants by her side did though. Irwyn put her down as some kind of money lender or peddler.
“Good thing you are here too,” Waylan nodded, pointing at Irwyn as they both took the empty seats opposite to her. “Saves me waiting around with him. Can you believe he refusesto drink? Mad.”
“Refuse is a strong word,” Irwyn shrugged. “I just don’t enjoy numbing myself.”
“Then get better at it, duh,” Waylan bantered.
“I am glad I would be your first choice, Waylan,” the woman smiled. “Who might…”
“As I was saying, I need your help,” she ended up interrupted though. “We gotta get in touch with the Tears.”
“That is not an easy task,” the woman frowned, for more reason than one it seemed. “The Tears don’t speak with just anyone nowadays.”
“We are former members,” Irwyn offered. “Current, technically, I suppose.”
“On a bit of a trip outta town,” Waylan nodded. “Shit’s been fucked after the Third breaking tho. All our old spots are bust.”
“I heard things have been rough,” the woman nodded, slowly.
“You came to town after?” Irwyn asked, realizing his raised eyebrow was not visible under the mask.
“I used to do business in Drathsol but, well… I ended on the wrong side of a dispute between Fowls and moved.”
“And business you do,” Waylan nodded. “Now, can you get us that meeting? Or an address would do.”
“I am not inclined to offend the Tears, they have quite the reputation,” the woman - did Irwyn already forget her name - said slowly. “I could pass along a message.”
“Nah, won’t do,” Waylan said, and indeed it wouldn’t. “We’ll be meeting the lovebirds tonight, won’t we?”
“That is the plan,” Irwyn nodded. “In the evening, ideally. I have a meeting in the morning if you recall.”
“Do I look that spineless to you two?” the woman instead chuckled as she sneered. “You say you know them, but what do I know? Actually, I do know what that mark on your forehead means ‘Waylan’ if that’s even your name. And a lad with a mask and physically tangible ego.”
“I don’t think my ego is particularly inflated?” Irwyn glanced at Waylan.
“Just the usual amount,” his friend shrugged.
“Boy, you walk into here with loose shoulders. Not a glance around at the cutthroats at every other table,” the woman did not quite let off. “I am not messing with the Tears for dead meat and a rich boy who doesn’t know to count the knives in the room.”
“Why would I count the knives?” Irwyn shrugged. Though, she had a point. He might have reached a similar conclusion less than a year ago. Except she had it flipped. “Do you count the blades of grass when walking down a clearing?”
“Very funny,” the woman nodded. “Now fuck off.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Irwyn said and remained seated. After a couple months a simple truth had, indeed, sunk in: Now that he had no need to hide his magic he bargained from the position of power.
“Are you sure about that?” the woman shot him a grim stare. People all around were rising from their seats. It was a simple thing, really: Gangs could stick together when perceiving an outsider. “We don’t much enjoy people who don’t belong along these parts.”
“Don’t belong, do I?” Irwyn inclined his head slightly. “Well, perhaps Ebon Respite has grown too small nowadays. But I will defer judgment on that. Not like I have much need to pick pockets now, I suppose.”
“You probably still should from time to time,” Waylan seemed as unworried as Irwyn himself. “It would be hilarious if someone tried to arrest you.”
“Would it?” Irwyn genuinely asked. “I don’t much enjoy causing people needless trouble.”
“Well, I do,” Waylan grinned, raising his arms in a theatrical motion, gesturing towards the large room. The same room where people were now walking up to the pair who refused to quite leave when told to by someone people knew, unlike the duo. “This shit’s fucking hilarious.”
“You knew it would be like this,” Irwyn sighed helplessly.
“Guilty as charred,” Wayaln’s grin remained unapologetic, “Honestly, all that power is wasted on you if you don’t even goad people into knocking their teeth out on you once in a while.”
“This is pointless,” Irwyn argued.
“Enjoyment is a point,” Waylan shrugged. “And you are playing along. Don’t tell me you never wanted to do this. I sure wanted for years.”
“Then maybe it should be something you will remember for a while, lads,” the… information broker? - probably - was seething a bit, probably because she was being ignored.
“This one’s a bit rude,” so Irwyn continued doing so… alright, it was a bit fun, even for him. Not like any real harm was being done. “And I already forgot her name.”
“She never introduced herself,” Waylan shrugged. “So you technically haven’t this time.”
“Either way I should spend my considerable wealth on someone else,” one of the thugs surrounding them tried to throw a punch. Irwyn held the man’s hand in place with a bit of invisible Light magic. A few were brandishing knives, though those wouldn’t be used. Idiots got a beating, not a shanking. At least in most places.
“You have a considerable wealth now, do you?” Basically everyone in the room was watching them by then, not just the few more violently inclined that had approached at first. Some might have even been catching on, though it was hard to tell from the distance.
“I know someone with so much money they literally do not know what order of magnitude they have,” Irwyn said. A few more tried to take a swing and Irwyn held their limbs in place. The only reason the Light magic even needed a single intention was to make it invisible.
“Sound like a great mark,” Waylan nodded. “Are we robbing them?”
“Well, that would technically speaking be breaking the tenets, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Waylan nodded after a moment. “But what about your retirement fund?”
“I can just take a loan,” Irwyn shrugged. Some of the thugs seemed to be getting through their surprise. “My acquaintance will probably forget I borrowed in a few months - or just make it a gift rather than a borrowing in the first place. I think they genuinely believe owning a mansion is completely normal.”
“A flawless scheme,” Waylan nodded.
“M-mage!” one of the thugs stuttered as they made the connection between their immovable limb and what it had been attempting to do just beforehand. Then it was as if a wave went through the room, filling it with exclamations of surprise. Mages were so very rare in Ebon Respite after all, and the last time many passed through left more than one person present crippled or brotherless. So, soon there was tense silence instead.
“I suppose I haven’t introduced myself either,” Irwyn looked back at the unnamed information broker whose face seemed to be rapidly going through an entire spectrum of emotions. “You may call me Young Mockingbird, or just the latter for short. The young part is, hopefully, quite obvious.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” to her credit, the woman answered while mutters of ‘Fowl’ traveled through the room. This was the Guild after all, everyone knew what those titles meant.
“Now, will you tell me where I can find my old friends or do I need to find someone else who will?”
“Ah, yes… yes, of course,” alright, not handling it quite as well as Irwyn had thought as she did not continue after that for a moment.
“Waylan?” a new voice sounded though, cutting off whatever answer might have been upcoming. The speaker - a barely teenage girl - flinched as most eyes in the room turned to her. She still continued walking towards them though and no one got in her way. Her visage seemed… vaguely familiar up close. What was more familiar though was the familiar armband of a water droplet.
“Yo, Abbs,” Waylan was clearly more than vaguely familiar though. “Been a bit, eh?”
“I couldn’ recognize you with the tattoos,” she timidly admitted, though her stride grew more confident as she approached, then looked at Irwyn. “And are you…”
“Who else could bear with this oaf?” Irwyn pointed at Waylan. He hadn’t been away that long and the younger Tears would know their secret mage, even if he might not know them.
“I guess we save on the brokering, eh?” Waylan grinned standing up. “Do you have something you need to do here?”
“Nah,” ‘Abbs’, whatever her full name was, shrugged.
“Then please, lead the way,” Irwyn nodded and they were off.
Comments
David
Edit suggestions - 1) "[...] Irwyn was quite sure wasn’t part of the [severs>sewers] [...]" & 2) "[Abonisle>Ebon Respite] flattened and buried it [...]"
David
Edit suggestions - 1) "[...] Irwyn was quite sure wasn’t part of the [severs>sewers] [...]" & 2) "[Abonisle>Ebon Respite] flattened and buried it [...]"
Lars de Tombe
Love these kinds of chapters
Simon
This chapter was fun :)
