Chapter 408: They aren't making any more....

Chapter 408: They aren't making any more....

Ozzy got a few stares as he pulled the heavily laden wagon through the streets of Wolfsburg. Most people saw a man pulling a wagon and while out of the ordinary, it wasn't unknown in a world where Teamsters and other specialized tradesmen could gain skills in hauling and lifting. But some had more knowledge of wagons and freight. They noticed the extra-wide wheelbase and the extra length of a Sedgewick-built heavy wagon and revised their weight estimates by a factor of four. And a look at the long hardwood beams would show they had already been trimmed square and stacked with little wasted airspace. A few ventured closer and if Ozzy paused to let other traffic pass, knelt to look under the wagon, nodding in understanding as they saw the heavy Dark Iron springs and suspension the Blacksmiths and Wainwrights had crafted. The heavy wagons had been needed to haul the building materials required for Rowan Keep and Baron William now had a small fleet of them. Ozzy used them to haul barrels of raw meat from Gadobhra to his smokehouse and smoked sausages to Rowan Keep to send south to the Red Company.

With the keep finished, he wanted to start expanding his sausage business. The first step was repairing and remodeling the warehouse he'd bought. His idea was a small shop selling his specialized goods, and a large warehouse for the bulk goods that were in demand by the Legion and mercenary companies. He wasn't exactly hiding the place from Billy, but he hadn't mentioned buying it either. There wasn't anything in his contract about buying land or buildings, and Billy hadn't asked. Ozzy saw no reason to bring the subject up. He was helped by the Baron's narrow focus on Gadobhra. It might come up some day and he'd deal with it then. He still gave Billy half of all his sales of Sedgewick Sausage. The bulk goods came from Gadobhra with its nightly butchering to keep the pens empty of critters and the Dungeon Lord happy. It was also great training for all of the Contract Workers, raising their stats and gaining them levels. They'd even begun a program to bring in the braver people from the hamlets. Going to the cursed city to kill and hack at strange creatures throughout the night wasn't for everyone. Billy was supplying the labor, the animals, and the barrels. Ozzy did the smoking and supplied the specialized skills and marketing. That seemed fair to Ozzy.

But his custom meats were a different story. He earned those recipes and the knowledge of the Smoke with blood, sweat, and broken bones. And the possibility of death and a long walk home was always there. Burney Bacon, Ham of the Apocalypse, and other special recipes took a lot of work that Ozzy supplied himself or with the help of Joe and Chainey. Ozzy contributed the smoke to cure the meats but often relied on the other workers to supply mana to the smokehouse. In return, both Ozzy kicked back some of his earnings to the other workers, helping them build and furnish their own houses near the Hamlets. Overall, it was a good system. Jury rigged and changing as they went, but it worked.

He kept careful track of the beasts that showed up in the stock pens of Gadobhra and claimed a few for himself. The Hellpigs and Carnivorous Giant Geese were his favorite meat animals for wings, bacon, and sausage. Twice Gargantuan Sloths had appeared, moving deceptively slow until a person was far too close. Only two fit into a pen they were so large. Rolly wanted to breed and domesticate the sloths and geese, and Ozzy had promised to let him have a mating pair of each, with a dire promise to keep the things under control and far away from Sedgwick. The Shepherd had talked to the Sphinx and found a good spot in the Menagerie to begin his project. At least if they got loose in there, the Fay Lords or adventurers could deal with them.

Ozzy and his friends would head to the pens at 5 a.m. after the other workers had left, and carefully clear out the animals he needed. Ozzy bought all the peppers he needed from Makken, and put in all the work of curing the bacon and grinding the sausage himself. He paid Suzette for the barrels and anything he took from the Sedgewick storehouses. With the work of processing, overtime, cost of goods, and specialized knowledge all coming from him, he felt it was only fair he keep all the profits for himself and his friends. Runt was training a likely lad named Bert, one of the Kalvek extended family, in the fine art of selling meat for fun and profit. If all went well, Ozzy could have his little shop selling Mage's Delight, Ham of the Apocalypse, and special recipe sausages all set up in the next month. He planned on working all day today and most of the night. Then a quick shopping trip, and back to Sedgewick. Suzette was working on plans to expand the tavern and needed more crockery, plates, and mugs. Some just to replace those damaged when the tavern got rowdy, but she and Ben had been busy drawing up plans for an expansion of the building.

He only got lost once on his way to his new shop. He'd arrived the first time when chasing his stolen wagon. But while his memories of the hectic chase were imperfect, he'd left himself some clues to follow. "Damn, I must have been pissed and putting out some heat." Once he found the hidden bar with the great pie, his path was well-marked by his footprints burned into the flagstones. Eventually, he arrived in the large open area ringed by butcher shops, a bakery, three restaurants or pubs, and the Wolfsburg Butcher's Guild. Curiously, something was going on in front of his building. Roughly two dozen people were gathered there, and he had a suspicion it wasn't to admire the smoke-stained stones and charred roof. He left his wagon at the entrance to the courtyard, a little out of the way. He wasn't worried about thieves this time. They'd need a team of draft horses to move it, and each twelve-foot beam weighed a thousand pounds.

His stomach grumbled and complained about missing its last couple of meals. Things had been hectic finishing the Keep and Ozzy had only snatched a snack or two. He burned a lot of calories now, fueling the furnace inside of him. He saw Vassily smiling and talking to some of his customers. He'd met him briefly on his last trip here and the smells coming from his place smelled good. The Butcher decided that lunch and information gathering could be combined. He took a seat in a corner in the back and had barely sat down when Vassily and a serving maid came over to his table.

"Welcome. Welcome to my humble eatery. I remember the Butcher from the fine city of Gadobhra who is going to do business nearby. What can Vassily and his humble kitchen get for you today?"

The smell coming from the next table over was tickling his nostrils. "I'll take whatever those folks at the next table over are having but about three times as much, and a tankard of each of the ales or beers you brew. "

Vassily clapped his hands twice and another girl ran over. Ozzy could see the family resemblance. "Certainly. Daria, my dear? Could you bring our friend Ozzy a triple helping of the lamb and onion lasagna your mother has in the kitchen? And Polina? Please bring a tankard each of beer from the cold room downstairs." The girls moved away quickly, swerving around other servers and customers, reminding Ozzy of how Suzette moved. Vassily moved to a sideboard and poured two small glasses of brandy, returning and handing one to the Butcher.

"A sample of the brandy from my estate outside of town. I try to grow as much of my ingredients as I can, and the vineyards produce a fine grape that I turn into this modest vintage. I thought we could drink together for a moment. You have something on your mind?"

"I might. There's a lot of people over by my building. Any reason?"

"Oh, a very good reason. You see, they are certain you won't be back here. I have my doubts, personally, that they are right. But what does an old man like me know?" He smiled and swirled his brandy. "But, I'll be happy to collect on a small bet I made with my brother if you do happen to show up."

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Ozzy grinned, then smiled wider as his plates of lasagna and the first tankards of beer showed up. It tasted better than it smelled, and the Butcher was silent until he'd finished half a plate, concentrating on filling his complaining belly.

"That's interesting. I take it they know of some reason that would keep me away?"

"I do. It all hinges upon the Baron of Gadobhra defaulting upon his taxes. A very complicated affair, I must say, from what I overhear. But the plot of the story seems to be that after the default, other people will be in charge, and they will declare the Butcher's Guild of Gadobhra to be illegal. This would nullify your agreement with Stavros, and your building will go up for public auction, sold to the highest bidder. Half the money would go to Stavros, as the last legal owner, and half to the auction house, minus a small fee paid to whoever they had to pay off to set such things up."

"Damn, and Stavros is behind this?"

The Auctioneer sneered. "Then the Countess hasn't checked her balance lately. Did you think my magics were so poor as to not notice? Payment is in shiny gold coins or a fat bank account, and you sir, have neither. Begon beggar or I shall lodge a formal complaint against both your employer and the Countess." There was an intake of breath from the nobles. There were any number of reasons the Countess could have given the man a worthless document and embarrassed both him and his corporation. Indeed, several thought it was set up for just that purpose. But a complaint would not be taken well by the Countess or her lawyers. The man slunk away quickly.

"Then let the bidding begin. Do I hear 20?"

"20!"

"21!"

"25!"

"30!"

The bidding inched up, the auctioneer having to only note the bids by pointing. At 50 it came down to Chuck from Raxxon and Jerry from Tesladyne.

"55! Give up Jerry. I'm not quitting."

"60! Then that auctioneer is making a fat fee today. I'm not losing and not spending my own money. What do I care?"

There was a pause while they glared, and the auctioneer smiled, thinking of that fat fee. In the back of the group, a deep voice rang out.

"75."

Everyone turned to see who the new bidder was. It was a large man, sitting casually on a chair taken from a nearby eatery. He had a large tankard in his hand, and two young women stood nearby, each holding several more. Three empties were at their feet. The new bidder wore a red bandana on his head, and a battered Captain's hat and Jacket. A parrot sat on his shoulder with grey-black feathers.

The auctioneer looked at him and cast his spell again. The Captain casually waved a hand in the air. "Not much on me, but there's a few treasures in the gnome's bank." Satisfied, the auctioneer continued. "I have a bid of 75 thousand gold from the Captain, do I hear higher?

"80!"

"85!"

"Let's make it an even hundred!"

The auctioneer smiled with glee, the two corporate agents swallowed but steeled themselves for the fight. The auction continued...