《A Bygone Era》


 01 - Streets

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a pretty little thing now?¡± said Thurston, bouncing his knife against the palm of his hand. He and two of his compatriots had surrounded a young mom and her daughter. The two women clung to each other in fear. They had walked down the wrong alleyway tonight, between the tall stonework buildings the alleyway was mired in pitch black shadows.


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to change that, now would we?¡± Thurston stalked forward.


    The mother stepped in front of her daughter. ¡°D¡ª don¡¯t hurt her.¡±


    All three of the thugs cackled. ¡°We won¡¯t hurt either of you too badly. Why don¡¯t you empty out your purse first, darling.¡±


    The mother, Katrina, was shaking as she fumbled with the clasps on her bag. She dropped it and the contents poured out on the ground. Her purse was filled with tissues, snacks, the other paraphernalia found in a doting mother¡¯s purse.


    ¡°Your wallet.¡± Thuston pointed with his knife at a muted brown satchel under the detritus.


    Katrina dropped to her knees to grab the bag. At the same time, an odd wheeze came from Thurston. There was another man standing behind him, with a knife stuck firmly into his back.


    ¡°Thurston,¡± The man was much shorter than Thurston, with a face completely shrouded in shadows. He spoke in a high pitched and gravelly voice. ¡°What are you doing here, Thurston?¡±


    Thurston grunted by way of response. The two thugs turned to their leader and raised their fists, ready to fight.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you get your boys? They should know better.¡± The shadowed man twisted the knife, causing Thurston to jump from pain.


    Thurston carefully shook his head. They lowered their fists.


    ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, Thurston. You know my rules.¡±


    Thurston nodded.


    ¡°What do you think is a good punishment?¡±


    Thurston spoke carefully, ¡°I¡¯ll forfeit three months profits and leave the streets for three months.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good boy. Now, tell me what happens if I see you again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll kill me.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± The knife slid out of Thurston¡¯s back. He and the two thugs stood around awkwardly for a moment.


    ¡°Go!¡± The shadowed man said, and all three thugs sprinted away.


    After the thugs had sprinted away, Katrina was able to slowly collect herself. ¡°Thank you sir. You¡¯ve saved my daughter and myself.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    There was no response. She couldn¡¯t tell if he was there with the shadows.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Bodyer, the shadowy man, had long since padded his way out of the alley. The knife was back in its sheath, concealed in his shirt. Bodyer was not a tall man, or an especially intimidating one. His face was sharp but he had a weak chin. He seemed like a person that¡¯d be given to being bullied, if not for the jagged scar that stretched from the left side of his chin diagonally down to his clavicle. If somebody can survive a wound like that then they¡¯re not worth messing with.


    Bodyer walked suspiciously to the corner where he leaned up against an abandoned building. The building itself was nothing special, just another tall gabled house that lined the cobblestone street. He waited, eyes darting all over the surrounding area. After two minutes, a wooden panel blocking the entry slid aside and Bodyer slid inside.


    ¡°Where were you boss?¡± The center of the room had a shoddy table with two men and two women sitting casually at either end. The speaker was the leftmost woman, Lydia, so covered in tattoos her skin was barely visible.


    ¡°Fixing some issues.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got people for that. Let them handle the riff raff.¡± The other woman, Liza, spoke, an overweight maternal figure. Her rosy cheeks disguised her cold and calculating eyes.


    Bodyer just fixed her with his stare for a while.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, sorry.¡± Liza nodded her head in deference. There wasn¡¯t even a moment of legitimate remorse though.


    ¡°What do I need to know.¡± Said Bodyer simply.


    The man on the left, Eisen, spoke now. He wore a comfortable but immaculately tailored gray suit that matched his gray hair. ¡°I have runners on first through eighth avenues. We have been operating without attention.¡±


    ¡°I have girls on all the corners Glaster is protecting. Clientele is down, but not a problem.¡± Said Lydia.


    The fourth person, the man named Glaster, went next. He was a massive man, almost seven feet tall and four feet wide. He wore his beard in a wide chinstrap, his hair trimmed close. ¡°No changes. All delayed payments have been resolved this month per your directive. Cracked more than a few heads.¡± Glaster said this final sentence with a building belly laugh.


    ¡°Only the laundry business is in the red. I¡¯ve found new management yesterday, should be fixed within two weeks.¡± Said Liza.


    These were the four arms of Bodyer¡¯s business. Eisen handled drug distribution. His family name was old, but he was bored and childless. He loved the rush the business gave him. Lydia handled girls, prostitutes and escorts. Glaster was the muscle, his arm was protection rackets. Finally, Liza was the unofficial treasurer and ran all of the money laundering businesses. Liza was completely irreplaceable and she knew it.


    ¡°On that problem, Thurston rounded up some boys to mug some women in our alleys.¡± Said Bodyer.


    ¡°On it, boss.¡± Glaster nodded.


    ¡°Business is going smoothly, which means it¡¯s time to expand. What opportunities do we have?¡±


    Everybody looked to Liza. ¡°We can diversify our legit business portfolio, maybe invest in real estate. There¡¯s no further under the table avenues without attracting Era¡¯s attention.¡±


    Era was a fair god. He knew humans would inevitably gravitate towards certain illicit things, so he allowed them as long as they were safely conducted. Bodyer liked safe, so he and Era were on good terms.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move into real estate. Know anybody who can own that?¡±


    ¡°My niece is a Realtor.¡± Eisen scratched his head.


    ¡°Is she a good girl?¡± asked Lydia.


    Eisen shrugged, paused in thought, then said, ¡°Let¡¯s count her out.¡±


    A few minutes passed with no suggestions. ¡°I¡¯ll find somebody.¡± Bodyer stated, ¡°Meeting adjourned.¡±


    Without another word, Bodyer walked out the back entrance and cut through the connecting businesses. He was out on the streets again, his streets. It wasn¡¯t a glorious empire, but it was indisputably his. He would destroy anybody who said otherwise.

 02 - Prodigal Son

    Deksen was in every way the model soldier. Tall, handsome, strong, he inspired confidence in those he protected. He followed the letter of the law and he believed in his god explicitly. After all, he had met him several a few times now. In fact, Deks was one of only five people who had Era¡¯s gift. He took great pride in that fact.


    ¡°Sir!¡± A soldier saluted Deks, his fist against his shoulder.


    ¡°Report, Bertrand.¡± Deks nodded at the young man. Bertrand was a new recruit to his army, a nice young man. Since Deks was a senior captain, he got to choose who he wanted to join his squad. Bertrand was a bit scrawny, but sharp. They could fix scrawny.


    ¡°We¡¯ve found the trail of the rebels in the woods ahead. We believe they¡¯ve passed through there and have set up camp on the other side.¡±


    ¡°Good! Thank you soldier. We may make it home before supper.¡± Deks nodded at the soldier, dismissing him.


    Deks scanned the horizon. The forest was only a few hours march away, they had a good view of it from the hill they had camped the night on. The sun was already climbing. They¡¯d have to leave soon. He caught the eyes of his lieutenant¡¯s and waved him over.


    Hagan and Alantriel jogged over. Hagan was a tough man to his core, he had fought his way up the ranks. He had earned the respect of every man in his squad, and they would have done anything for him. He was of middling height with a sturdy build, a military haircut and the cauliflower ears that showed him as a consummate wrestler. Alantriel on the other hand, while tough, was not a man who had found that on the battlefield. He was the son of a prince, given to the military as a sign of good faith. He was young and still good looking, yet in him Deks had found a natural leader. He had yet to establish his confidence entirely, but Deks had complete faith in the young man.


    ¡°Bertrand reports signs of the enemy in the forest. I want to march in and flush them out.¡± Deks said, keeping his eyes on the forest.


    Hagan and Alantriel both saluted, ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    ¡°Any ideas? Concerns?¡± Asked Deks.


    Alantriel looked to his more experienced colleague.


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to set up a trap in a forest. We need to keep our eyes on the treetops, sir.¡± Said Hagan, falling into at ease as he spoke.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°We¡¯ll divide and conquer then. Hagan, you¡¯ll take the vanguard. Keep your eyes on the trees. Alantriel, you¡¯ll take the rear. A trap can spring on us at any time, so be vigilant¡±


    Both lieutenants saluted and jogged off. Deks hummed a nameless tune to himself, the song that was his. He never could place where he had heard it first, but it comforted him. It was his secret weapon. It allowed him to face fear head on where other men would turn.


    Within minutes, camp was broken and the squads were marching in formation. Deks couldn¡¯t help but feel the pang of pride. Even months ago, this drill took an hour for them to complete to his standards. Preparedness was the difference between a dead soldier and another few days under Era¡¯s beautiful sun.


    Deks led them into the forest, and the tension hit like a wall, challenging them to turn back. The dense foliage overhead made it hard to see anything, so the soldiers kept their eyes squinted looking up for the traitorous rebels. They approached step by careful step, Hagan himself in the front, checking to ensure no traps had been placed in their direct path.


    It continued like this for almost a half hour, the tension laying heavily on their backs. Bearing that pressure for even 30 minutes exhausted them, yet not a single person thought to pause.


    Without a call, or perceivable sign, dozens of arrows spiked through the men. Six were launched at Deks himself and he caught one in the shoulder. He ripped out the arrow and raised his arm, shouting ¡°Attack!¡± as he absently tossed the arrow toward the trees. Then he charged into the darkness. He made it another five steps, before an ax swung from behind a tree striking him in the chest. He fell to the ground, blood oozing from around the wound.


    ¡ª-


    Somehow, despite the exhaustion and the cuts across his legs, Alantriel had managed to drag his captain¡¯s corpse out of the forest. He had first placed him on his shoulders and when Deks fell he dragged him by a foot. The ax sticking out of his chest didn¡¯t imply that he¡¯d mind much. As soon they cleared the forest, Alantriel dropped to the ground and wept. He wept for all the great men in his squad, and for Hagan who had sacrificed himself so that Alantriel could escape. Hagan¡¯s last words were save the captain, so Alantriel did just that.


    After the tears dried, Alantriel stood and inspected his captain¡¯s very dead body. There was something so heartbreaking about seeing him impaled on the ax that had taken his life. He set his foot against his captains stomach and yanked. With a sickening crunch, the ax ripped clean of ribs and organs and left a bloody hole in its wake. The noise alone was too much for him, turning his head to vomit the past day on the plant life edging the forest.


    With all the food and tears out of him, Alantriel felt empty. He had nobody, they had all left without them. A wave of sadness hit, threatening to knock him down. He wiped his face, it was going to be a long trek back home with the captain¡¯s body.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± a voice came from behind.


    Alantriel spun around to find the captain sitting up, with only a hole in his shirt where the enormous gash once was.


    ¡°Alantriel! You¡¯ll have to help me out, what¡¯s going on? Where am I?¡± Deks smiled broadly.


    Alantriel promptly passed out.

 03 - Bad Habits

    Glaster and Lydia leaned inconspicuously against the side of a large stone fence. Any passers by would mistake them for lovers or ne¡¯er-do-wells, common in these cobbled alleys. The boss was very careful, so if they wanted to go around him, they¡¯d have to be doubly so.


    ¡°It¡¯s cold. I hate the cold. Why¡¯d we agree to this?.¡± Glaster chuckled nervously, rubbing his palms together. Liza had called them both here, and she was the only person besides the boss that Glaster was afraid of. It wasn¡¯t an accomplishment to be smarter than Glaster, but her wit could run circles around just about anybody. Bodyer brought experience, but Liza was the true brains of the operation.


    ¡°It creeps me out. I feel like he knows we¡¯re here.¡± Said Lydia, looking from side to side. Lydia was Glaster¡¯s favorite. She could drink like one of the men, and told jokes that would make even them pale. They¡¯d been asked to leave pubs before because Glaster¡¯s raucous laughter made it impossible for other patrons to enjoy themselves. Then he¡¯d bounce the bartender, and drinks were on the house. Well, that was back in the day, before Bodyer.


    ¡°When is that woman going to get here?¡±


    ¡°You know how Liza works. She¡¯ll show up as soon as your guard is down.¡±


    Glaster shuffled from foot to foot, noticing an arrow scratched into the surface of one of the stones. ¡°You think this is meant for us?¡± he asked.


    Lydia rolled her eyes, ¡°Seems likely.¡±


    They followed the arrow to a branching path in the alley, where another arrow pointed left. They followed three further arrows before finally finding a scroll tucked away between some loose cobblestone in an abandoned home.


    Glaster, Lydia,


    I have a job for you. There¡¯s a bank on Apple street, the Franklin Trust. In the back, I¡¯ve had an agent loosen some mortar on a wall leading into the back of the bank vault. There¡¯s a safe there. Lydia, crack the safe. Glaster, you¡¯re on security and transportation. Any deeds or wills are mine, the rest you split fifty fifty. At least seventy thousand gold to be made.


    Liza


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Glaster scratched his head, ¡°How¡¯d she know you were a safe cracker?¡±


    Lydia shrugged, ¡°It¡¯s Liza.¡±


    ¡°You know the boss isn¡¯t going to like this. This¡¯ll get attention.¡±


    ¡°Might as well get it over with then.¡±


    Neither of them were going to say no to thirty five thousand gold. They snaked their way out of the alleyway down Second Street, reaching Apple. With Liza planning, it was safe to assume that she had known that this would be the best time to act. The sky overhead was dark and the windows of the bank were black. To the left of the door ran a narrow alley that they sidled through to reach the back.


    Just as promised, the mortar between the stones had been completely dissolved. With a heavy kick from his enormous boot the wall tumbled inward. The sound of the stones crashing echoed around the small alley, but the district would be empty by this late hour. Lydia and Glaster stalked into the pitch black, and now dusty, room. From a concealed pocket, Lydia produced a small lamp.


    The room itself was largely unimpressive, stones picked for their thickness rather than attractive qualities. The walls were austere but separating the vault from the bank was an enormous wrought iron gate made of pig iron as thick as Lydia¡¯s arm. The bank had clearly found success.


    Lydia sat her lamp down in front of the safe and got to work. Glaster stood at attention before the hole his boot had made. This was a well oiled machine by now. Before they had been brought in by Bodyer, they had knocked over fifty or so smaller banks in the slums of Era¡¯s domain. They had even earned themselves a nickname, The Beauty and the Beast. This was before Lydia had her tattoos, which made her rather less appealing to the masses.


    Their problem was their escape plan, or lack thereof. They had both been arrested six times, and escaped five. Thanks to Bodyer, they were now in the clear.


    It was maybe thirty seconds before Lydia managed to pop the safe, swinging the door wide. Glaster carefully trod back in, filled up his pack, then they walked back out the way they came. Three minutes, in and out. There was none of the excitement of when they were younger, none of the adrenaline. They left filled with anxiety and guilt.


    Liza¡¯s operations were led out of the Comfort and Hospitality Inn, the crown jewel of the completely legal side to her business. Guests would be greeted by a kindly, albeit dim matron, ready with a hearty stew and a story.


    Glaster and Lydia opened the cellar door to the Comfort and Hospitality. They passed her ¡®husband¡¯, an actor paid to play the part, who nodded and went about his business. He was the only one outside of Bodyer¡¯s crew that knew of Liza¡¯s activities. There, behind two stacked barrels of potatoes, they slid open the hidden door. Liza was already seated behind the table, a massive accounts ledger laid out in front of her.


    ¡°Any difficulties?¡± She asked without looking up. She still wore her innkeeper costume, a dotted frock and hair pulled back to a loose bun.


    ¡°None.¡± Said Lydia, nodding to Glaster.


    He hefted the bag of stolen goods and emptied it on the table. When all accounted for there were eighty thousand gold coins to be split equally. There were also six documents that Liza picked up, scanned, and then placed beneath the table. Finally, there was an ornate seal detailed with the insignia of the duchy.


    Glaster pounded the table, ¡°What was the duke doing storing this here? How much of this money is his?¡±


    ¡°You knew this would be there.¡± Lydia narrowed her eyes at Liza, who had returned to her ledger.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. You did good work, enjoy your gold.¡±


    Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then ushered Glaster out before he did anything stupid.


    Glaster combed through his beard restlessly, sitting down on the curb beside Lydia. ¡°This is not going to blow over.¡±


    Lydia patted him on his massive shoulder, ¡°You¡¯re going to tear your beard out at this rate.¡±


    ¡°Mark my words, we¡¯ll be talk of the town first thing tomorrow. The duke has all the constables in his pocket.¡±


    Lydia sighed, ¡°The beginning of the end. Let¡¯s get a drink.

 04 - Homecoming

    The trek back home was lifetimes long. Deks kept his eyes on the city ahead of him and trudged forward. Alantriel was somewhere behind him, but Deks found it hard to dredge up the clarity of purpose to make sure he was okay. He felt the loss of his squad physically, a burden weighing him down. Pulling him downward to sleep. Something kept him moving though, maybe the tune in his head. He hummed it to himself, a sorrowful dirge now, and heaved one foot ahead of the other.


    At the city gates there was no guard procession as there might be for a winning army, in fact, not a single person awaited them. As they reached the closed gates, a weather-worn old man stood up from behind a bush he had been resting under. He dusted his brown flat cap and placed it back on his close cropped gray hair. His clothes were brown canvas and inauspicious, the clothes a pauper may wear but well cleaned.


    ¡°Hello son,¡± The old man walked slowly but assuredly between Deks and the city, ¡°Don¡¯t remember me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t.¡± Deks shook his head.


    ¡°Probably better that way, I suppose. Alantriel, take a seat. Take a seat, both of you.¡± The old man gestured to the road.


    Too weary to disagree, they both sat heavily on the ground.


    ¡°You boys do me proud by your service. I know you¡¯ll forget this, but I just wanted to make sure you heard that. You make me proud.¡±


    Alantriel looked up at the old man, ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Ah son, I¡¯d have assumed you¡¯d figure it out by now.¡± The old man shook his head, ¡°Deksen?¡±


    ¡°Era.¡± Said Deks.


    ¡°Good. Now these rebels, do you remember anything about them?¡±


    Deks shook his head. He was dead within the first minute of the fight.


    Alantriel scratched his head, ¡°I fought one of them, sir. She was unnaturally fast, and strong too. Lifted two of our biggest men by their collars and tossed them aside. The rest was a blur, I didn¡¯t recognize any faces.¡±


    Era sighed and squinted up at the sun, ¡°Makes a lot of sense now. Well, son, thank you.¡±


    Era reached out and placed his palm on Deks¡¯s forehead.


    ¡ªStolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Deks awoke with a start. He was late. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had overslept and yet here he was. He dressed quickly and sprinted out the door to where the other officers and new cadets had gathered. Alantriel was already standing at his podium, covering for Deks. Deks walked confidently to his own podium hoping the cadets wouldn¡¯t catch on, launching into his practiced speech.


    ¡°Cadets! We represent the finest fighting force in all of Era¡¯s land, the only fighting force at that. We live in peaceful times, where violence is the very last method we employ. When those days come, we do not relish them. We strike with extreme prejudice and only when other options fail us. You will learn to fight, yes, but you will also learn to negotiate and read a situation. We are the arm of those who cannot defend themselves. If you¡¯re prepared to serve for a greater purpose, say aye!¡± Deks raised his fist and all of the cadets yelled along.


    It was a good batch of cadets this time around, Deks took the time to introduce himself to each of them. There were a few standouts, a young man who joined because Deks was his hero, an ex-con who seemed far too serious but had a warm heart, and a swordsman with long shimmering blond-white hair. The swordsman¡¯s name was Ritter, and although he was the youngest of the group he had a self confidence that attracted people to him. Not only that, but his skills with the sword were unmatched. Even Deks himself could not best him.


    After the training bout, Deks caught up to Ritter placing a hand on his shoulder, ¡°Where did you learn to swing a sword? I couldn¡¯t even get close.¡±


    Ritter looked past Deks with a dreamy expression, he never made eye contact, ¡°Taught myself.¡±


    ¡°Would you be able to teach the rest of the group a few tricks?¡± asked Deks.


    Ritter nodded, then continued along to help the rest of the cadets clean up.


    ¡°Odd, that one. Seems to be wise well beyond his years.¡± Said Alantriel, sitting on a bench behind Deks.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be a real asset. Maybe even lieutenant within the year.¡± Deks sat down beside Alantriel, stretching out.


    A moment passed while the two commanding officers admired the hustle and bustle of the new cadets.


    ¡°Easton,¡± Alantriel pointed out the young man who worshipped Deks, ¡°He¡¯s one to watch too. Good build, inexperienced, but he¡¯s going to be a force to be reckoned with.¡±


    As if he had heard them calling, Easton came forward with a sword in hand.


    ¡°Sir!¡± He saluted, fist against shoulder, nearly dropping the sword, ¡°I found this in with the training swords, does this belong to you?¡±


    Easton proffered the sword, a long sword with a slight bend in it from overuse. On the pommel was engraved a name, Hagan.


    ¡°Thank you cadet, dismissed.¡± Commanded Deks, taking the sword.


    Easton saluted again and scrambled away, nearly knocking over two other cadets.


    ¡°Who do you think Hagan is?¡± asked Deks.


    ¡°Some prankster most likely. A bent crude sword like this. Give it to me, I¡¯ll give it to the blacksmith to melt down before the day is out.¡±


    Deks held out the sword, but something held him back. His tune played in his mind and he hummed it listlessly. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s got a good heft to it. I think I¡¯ll hang onto it for now. Who knows, maybe there¡¯s value in a sword that bends before breaking.¡±


    He made a few cursory swings then replaced his other sword on his belt. A sword that had no notches and no bend, shined to perfection. Alantriel regarded him with an odd expression. Deks himself couldn¡¯t explain why he had switched swords, but some gut instinct told him that this was right. Or at least, more right than it was before.

 05 - Misgivings

    The Franklin Trust had been stripped. Only the deaf were saved the constant prattling of gossip hounds, endlessly bloviating about who might be the cause. Unfortunately, Bodyer¡¯s name came up in these conversations quite often. More unfortunately still, this made it to the ears of the constables. Despite Bodyer¡¯s absolute lack of involvement, he had found it necessary to avoid the limelight for the time being. Any sort of attention tends to be problematic in his line of work.


    A week passed. Bodyer camped out in one of many safe-houses that nobody knew the location of, waiting until the heat dissipated. The countess had slept with a lord¡¯s son, cuckolding Count Visser. Instantaneously, everybody forgot about the bank heist and Bodyer walked outside unaccosted.


    He was out of touch. When it comes to the city, the myriad tangled lies, a lot can happen in a week. He walked down Gangrel street, flipping the signs on the outside of four shops. This done, he walked the remaining four blocks to the meeting place, slid open the wood panel door himself and entered to wait.


    The first to arrive was Eisen, he nodded to the boss and sat down at the table. He took a small book from an interior jacket pocket and began to read. The next was Liza, who joined them silently. The three sat in silence for an hour before Bodyer broke the silence.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Lydia? Glaster?¡±


    Liza glanced to Eisen.


    ¡°No clue I¡¯m afraid. I haven¡¯t seen them since our last meeting.¡±


    ¡°You work pretty closely with Glaster.¡±


    ¡°I had in the past. He¡¯s assigned me my own lieutenants. I work with them any further.¡± Eisen placed his bookmark back in the book, returning it to his jacket pocket. ¡°Would you like that I send my runners to investigate?¡±


    ¡°Send them.¡±


    Eisen rose and crossed to the door, sliding it open to reveal Glaster and Lydia.


    Glaster raised his fists in defense, then barked in his guffawing laugh. ¡°Surprised me, pal.¡± He entered, clapping Eisen on the shoulder. Lydia slunk in after him, leaving Eisen to replace the wooden door shaking his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a week,¡± Bodyer started, ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°My interests have all but halted considering the advanced constabulary attention. We will be restoring activities tomorrow.¡± Said Eisen, returning to his seat.


    ¡°Our profits have exceeded expectations for this week, mostly the Hudson Namkoff Bank.¡± Said Liza.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°When did we get a bank?¡± Asked Bodyer.


    ¡°Six months, eight days ago. I told you about the opportunity and you said to jump at it.¡±


    It sounded vaguely familiar to Bodyer, but he didn¡¯t share Liza¡¯s incredible talent for memory. He nodded at Glaster to move along.


    Glaster shrugged, ¡°Nothing to protect boss. Kept the boys out there to avoid suspicion when they return.¡±


    ¡°No collections?¡±


    ¡°Nobody to collect from. Good week all in all.¡±


    Silence followed, with Lydia understanding it was her torch to pick up. ¡°Same as Eisen. It¡¯s been slow. Girls are getting restless with no cash flow, but it¡¯s not a situation.¡±


    Bodyer nodded, everything in order. ¡°What do we know about the Franklin Trust?¡± He did not miss the glance that passed between Glaster and Lydia.


    ¡°Team of safecrackers blew the back open and walked away with everything.¡± Said Liza, ¡°Nobody seems to know who they¡¯re with, it¡¯s possible they¡¯re an independent group.¡±


    ¡°Civilians?¡± asked Eisen.


    ¡°Or a rogue element. Nobody we know.¡± Liza responded.


    Bodyer rubbed at the scar on his neck. It itched at him when something felt off. He had not survived this long by ignoring his honed instincts.


    ¡°Glaster, Lydia, anything?¡±


    Glaster rubbed his forehead. His tell. Glaster was a terrible liar. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard nothing more than Liza.¡±


    ¡°The only other thing I had heard was it was somebody with a vendetta against the duke himself.¡± Said Lydia.


    Lying was more Lydia¡¯s domain, yet Bodyer still felt something was off. The duke, Arin of Holdes, was the most powerful public figure in all of Era¡¯s domain. He owned the constables, the banks, and the casinos. He had more money than any man could ever know what to do with. There was no person dumb enough to hold a vendetta against him. His crew was lying to him about something. He just couldn¡¯t put his finger on what.


    ¡°Anybody asking questions?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Liza shook her head.


    ¡°Good. We resume business as usual in two days. We¡¯re going to need to run hard to make up lost cash. That goes for all of you.¡±


    Four nods was the only response.


    ¡°Good, everybody head out. Liza.¡± Bodyer looked to his second in command, who nodded. The others filed out of the room leaving only her and Bodyer.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Bodyer took Eisen¡¯s chair.


    ¡°It¡¯s a real mess. Too many players. The constables have no leads. They won¡¯t find anything.¡±


    ¡°You seem confident.¡±


    ¡°When am I not?¡±


    Bodyer scratched at the table with his dagger. His weapon of choice, small and unassuming yet just as deadly. ¡°Why is Glaster lying to me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me this?¡± Liza narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°Glaster hasn¡¯t had an original thought in his life. If he¡¯s got something to lie about, somebody placed that there for him.¡±


    ¡°And you think I placed this thought.¡±


    ¡°If I thought that, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡± Bodyer dug his dagger into the table.


    Liza placidly eyed the dagger stuck in the table, adjusting her hair. Bodyer pulled it out, continuing, ¡°So who placed the idea?¡±


    ¡°I can find out.¡±


    ¡°Good, thank you.¡± Bodyer slid the dagger back into its sheath on the inside of his coat and disappeared from the room.


    Liza knew more than she was letting on, but how deep that went Bodyer couldn¡¯t be sure. She was the one member of his crew he didn¡¯t want on his bad side, she was more dangerous than the other three combined. In a situation like this, information was the only advantage and Liza had a leg up on him. He needed to even the playing field. Rounding the corner, Bodyer let himself disappear into the darkness of the alleyway, his home away from home, and descended into thought.