Terror Eight - Kingpin

Terror Eight - Kingpin

Terror Eight - Kingpin

Fancys place isnt very fancy. Its a warehouse, tall and built of brownish bricks, the same as most of the buildings in the South Quarter of Santafaria. It would probably be a lot more imposing if it wasnt stuck in between a dozen nearly identical buildings. The only thing that really sets it apart are the guards by the front, and the constant flow of people moving in and out in ones and twos.

The people leaving the place often look angry, or on the wrong side of drunk if theyre being escorted out, and not a single one of them looks well-off.

Then again, the South Quarter makes the North Quarter look positively lavish. The homes here are nearly all tenement buildings, and there are more warehouses and what look like factories than anything else.

Theres also a constant and persistent stink of fish in the air.

So, thats the place? I ask.

Felix nods. It is. Did you want me to wait out here?

No? Why would I want that? I ask.

My new... friend shrugs. Im a nobody, I wont help Miss look good in there.

Im a nobody too, you know. At least when it comes to a place like this.

Felix laughs a bit and shakes her head. No, I dont think youre a nobody, Miss. Nobodies dont have gold to spare for blind girls on the street, and they dont walk the way you do.

The way I walk? I dont really know what she means. Mom is always going on about how poor my posture is. She always says that if I dont stand up straighter, Ill never grow as tall as her, which is very much not how anatomy or biology works.

Well, nothing for it, I say. Come on. If anyone asks we can just pretend that youre my... I dont know. Handmaiden? Nobles have those, Im pretty sure.

I dont know if Im fit for that kind of thing, she says.

Nonsense, youre a mage; at our age, thats super uncommon. Especially one as skilled as you are.

We come up to the front doors of the warehouse, and I can make out a sort of antechamber just inside. Just a small room with a low ceiling and a curtain for a door off to the side. A decent way to keep people from snooping, I figure. That, or they dont want the noise from inside escaping.

The guards dont even look at us. Im not even sure if they are guards. They have slim swords by their hips, but are wearing plain workers clothes and one has a thumb jammed up his nose.

We move past them and into the antechamber. I dont want to touch the curtainsthey look filthybut needs must, so I use that bit of disgust Im feeling as I touch them to prepare my core a little. If things go pear-shaped, I might need that little boost of magic.

I realize that it wont be a problem as I step into the main room of the warehouse.

The warehouse is a den of vice and depravity. Felix had told me as much, but I guess it didnt really register completely. I was expecting a bar, maybe a few tables with people playing blackjack or poker or whatever card game is popular in Santafaria.

What I am not expecting is what I see before me. There is a bar, but its a grimy mess near the back, with men standing near it that look like theyre guarding the racks of alcohol behind them while a fat man sets tankards in front of people who already seem drunk.

The guard opens it up into a room thats entirely unlike the first floor of Fancys den.

There are couches here and there, some love-seats, others made to accommodate more. The people sitting and lounging around are at least wearing clothes that look clean. Others are dressed in finery of one sort or another.

Young women with very little clothes on walk around carrying silver platters. Cups of what looks like chilled wine and bowls full of fruit wobble as they try to avoid getting pinched by idle hands.

The gambling table here, and there is only the one, is being supervised by a man in a tight-fitting suit with a pair of spectacles on, and the players are laughing and talking in low whispers.

This is... better than below, at least. Not much better, but better.

Oh-hoh, whos this?

I find who I presume must be Fancy.

Hes not what I expected, though Im not sure what I was expecting, really.

Fancy is a shorter man, in a peacock blue vest and bright green pants with white stripes running their length. His collar, one of those big ruffled things some nobles wear, is so clean it almost shines.

He grins, and the expression makes his long but slim beard twitch. Guests that Ive never seen! Are you looking for your daddy, little miss? he asks.

I glance around him, at the guards in half plate by his cushion-covered throne, and at the beautiful women lounging nearby. This is a man who puts a lot of stock in his appearance.

Smiling, I walk across the width of the room, then bow a little while tugging at the sides of my skirt. A shallow bow, given between unfamiliar people who are uncertain of each others status.

Mom drilled a few etiquette things into my head, even though none of them apply to her. She doesnt bow.

Greetings, Mister Fancy, I say. Im Valeria, and Im here on business.

One of the ladies on a lounge chair nearby coos at me. Shes wearing too much clothing, and of too fine a make, to be any sort of serving lady or arm candy. A few others chuckle along with her.

Is that right? Fancy asks. Well, Im sure I can at least listen to your offer of business.

I bow my head again. Thank you.

[Fancy - The Peacock - King of the Slums]

Novice Kingpin

Initiate Black Marketeer.

Time to see if I can learn anything while Im here.

***