CH 21

February 07, 2023

A guest from the Stock Company visited Glenn’s General Store. Mace Stock, the bookkeeper. He drew out an envelope.

“A letter for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Mace. “A certain messenger stopped by our office insisting that we deliver it to you. His employers being who they are, I had my reservations on the matter, but they went through all the necessary steps. So here I am.”

“Huh.”

By “necessary steps,” Mace meant sending the letter through the Stock Company. Stella was technically a member of the Company; attempting to contact her directly would have been an affront to its authority.

“I was explicitly told not to open it, so I haven’t. I am, however, dreadfully curious.” Mace knitted his brow.

“And I’m the only one who can open it. So you came to me.”

“Correct enough, I suppose. Father is a fretful man; he needed me to see what this is about. You’re quick-witted as always, I see. We could use that in the Company. Would you be interested in joining our ranks? I believe we’ll be needing a new adviser soon.”

The current adviser was Mace’s brother, Gard, whom he’d no doubt love to see deposed. The bookkeeper was fond of his malicious jokes. “Sorry,” Stella said, “but I’m not interested in getting killed in some stupid gang war.”

Mace laughed. “Well, think on the offer, at least. I believe we could do great things together.” He looked again at the letter. “Let’s get this out of the way, then, shall we?”

“If we must. Marie, would you kindly pour us some coffee?”

Marie had apparently anticipated the request. She came at once carrying two cups, which she placed in front of Stella and Mace, who was sitting across from her.

Mace sipped silently, like a man familiar with coffee. Then he frowned. “Tastes rather bland.”

“It’s made with old beans. I’m disposing of some old inventory.”

“I could put you in contact with our suppliers, if you wish.”

“That would be wonderful. I’ll be needing them soon enough.” Stella put down her cup. “Well, enough about coffee. Let’s open the letter.”

For some reason, Mace had delivered the letter personally. And that reason was the name on the envelope. Apollo Orson, heir to the Orson Family, chief family of the East District. The young man who had crossed her path—and whom she’d subsequently humiliated—the other day.

Is it blackmail, perhaps? Should I set Clever on him as promised? If that was the case, his stupidity truly knew no bounds. Stella wouldn’t even feel bad.

Lazily, Stella opened the envelope, took out the letter, and skimmed its contents.

“The anticipation is killing me,” said Mace. “Would you mind reading it out loud?” His tone was calm; his eyes, serious.

“. . . Read it for yourself.” He did.

Here is what it said.

Thank you for the other day at the arena. I wish to repay this debt personally, so I’m inviting you to visit the Orson Manor in the East District. There, you’ll witness the full extent of my power. My servants will come pick you up on the next Rest Day, three days from now, after noon. Make sure to be home at that time. And rest assured that I mean you no harm.

Mace finished the letter and frowned. “What kind of joke is this?”

Stella frowned at his frown. “Don’t ask me. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

“Really?” Mace raised an eyebrow. “Because I happen to have heard of this ‘debt’ of his. Something happened at the arena. What was it?”

“We just had ourselves a little show. Nothing to feel indebted about.”

Even if Stella had kept the details to herself, there were probably rumors going around. And those would have reached the ears of the Stock Company.

“You made the boy wet his trousers,” said Mace.

“If you already know, don’t ask. You’re wasting my time.”

Mace laughed. “Come, now, there’s no need to be harsh. I heard it from our friend Beck, but immediately dismissed it as too preposterous to be true.”

“Beck, huh.” That big-mouthed idiot.

He’d been to the Company’s headquarters after the incident, to deliver a batch of the elixir. Stella could almost see him running his mouth about the whole thing with a stupid self-satisfied smile on his face. He might think he was doing her a favor, but it did Stella more harm than good. Unfortunately, she must set him straight again.

“So it is true,” said Mace. “Color me impressed. Incidentally, the Orson Family didn’t spare any efforts to cover up the whole affair. If not for Beck, it would have never come to my knowledge.”

Mace looked very pleased with himself. After all, he’d just learned—or rather, inferred from incomplete information—that the heir of one of the rival factions was an utter fool. Which was ironic, because Stella had a feeling that, under the same conditions, Mace would also have pissed his own pants. Like Apollo, the man was no brawler. Apollo, however, was willing to let Stella in his house after the events of that day. That showed a level of flexibility that Mace could likely never hope to achieve. Though it was probably not so much flexibility as plain idiocy.

“So, what should I do?” said Stella. “I don’t think he’ll take it well if I refuse.”

Apollo’s servants would have orders to take her no matter what. That was apparent. If Stella refused, things would get violent, and the store could get damaged. She’d avoid that if she could.

“Indeed, he won’t. However, I’ve made it clear to him that you’re associated with us. We may not be allies, but neither are we enemies. I doubt he would contest us so openly. And we must not forget that you’ve met with His Excellency Mr. Greggs in person.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can put your worries to rest. Mr. Greggs has acknowledged your worth—therefore, unless they have a good reason, they cannot harm you without incurring his displeasure. Either way, I’ll have our best bodyguard accompany you just to be safe. I recommend that you enjoy your visit.”

He was right, Stella supposed. They wouldn’t kidnap her or hurt her or anything in between; Apollo was not so subtle. If he wanted to do that, he would simply attack the store.

But who was this “best bodyguard” Mace was talking about?

“Pray tell,” said Stella, smirking, “who is this dependable strong man who’ll be charged with keeping me safe?”

“None less than our adviser and my half-brother, Gard Stock. He’s in charge of all matters of violence in the Company. Whatever happens, he can handle it.”

“Sounds like he’s overqualified for a babysitting job. How does he feel about that? I suppose it’s not hard for you to imagine, since you feel the same way yourself.”

Mace had orders to put up with Stella—orders which must be, for him, shameful. By forcing Gard to act as her bodyguard, he could shame his brother back. If Leroy ordered Gard to do it, he would have no choice. Stella’s safety was a matter of prime importance to the Company.

“Me? I enjoy my visits here,” said Mace. “You’re a bright, valuable young lady, and you deserve nothing but the best we can offer. Which is him. The only issue is . . . he’s not very intelligent.”

“Oh, really?”

Mace nodded. “To borrow your words, he’s a Beck in his own right. However, he does not want for raw physical strength. He has Father’s trust as well as that of our young members.” He paused, and his face contorted in displeasure. “Idiots love to band together, I suppose.”

He must really hate his brother. He could be planning to depose Gard on his way home from here and Stella wouldn’t even be surprised. Of course, neither would she care.

“By the way,” said Stella, “which is more powerful? The vice president or the adviser?”

“To be quite honest, I’m not sure myself. But we’ll find out sooner or later. And when that time comes, whether they like it or not, they’ll see what money can really do. It is money, not any single man’s power, which makes the world go round. There is nothing in this world that money can’t buy.”

And with that, Mace smiled. Stella did too. “I’ll look forward to it,” she added for good measure. This contest of power between Mace and his brutish brother mattered little to Stella. She wouldn’t get involved. Unless, of course, they left her with no choice.

“A-An invitation from the Orsons? Seriously?!”

Stella scowled, her ears ringing. “Not so loud, Rye.” If it were Beck screaming at her like that, she wouldn’t have hesitated to knock him to the ground and pelt him with kicks.

“Those people are trouble!” Rye said apprehensively. “This is not even their territory. Did you anger them somehow?”

Yes. Stella smirked. “Me? How could I possibly have done that?”

“You could have picked a fight.”

A fight had indeed been picked. Not by her, though. Stella had tried to keep things under control. She could have killed Apollo then and there, but then she’d have to deal with assassins. So, by way of threat, she’d offered a peaceful solution instead. All very tolerant and reasonable, really. He had no reason to resent her.

“Well, you’re not too far off,” said Stella. “They’ll come pick me up on the next Rest Day. Varrell, I want you to come with me. Mace promised me the best bodyguard in the world, but somehow I’m skeptical.”

Stella’s opinion of Mace was getting worse by the day. She’d come to realize who he really was—a man who could do what he was told, but not more. He couldn’t lead people; he couldn’t think and act independently. Mace was playing the succession game with Gard now, but he would yield eventually. Leroy was right about him; he should remain a bookkeeper.

Varrell, on the other hand, was shrewd and skilled with a sword. Leagues above Mace. The man was everything Stella could want in a bodyguard.

“Leave it to me,” said Varrell. “I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you.”

“Now that’s reassuring. You too, Clever. You’re coming with us.”

‘Keke! If ’e so much as looks at ya wrong, I’ll eat ’is balls with a side o’ throat meat, eh!’ Clever’s eyes glinted maliciously.

That’s the spirit, at least. He was like Varrell, minus the wits and the ability for self-restraint.

“Are you sure you should go?” said Rye. “Those people don’t forget grudges. They’ll definitely try something.”

“Let them,” said Stella. “One bug or ten bugs, what’s the difference? I’ll squash them all and destroy their nest. And, well, he didn’t give me enough room to refuse his offer. If you don’t like them, Rye, you can hide in the store.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I’m worried about you, though.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m excited to get a look at this manor of his. It’s not exactly every day I get to visit one.”

Stella laughed through warped lips.

And thus, three days later, came the day. Stella waited for her escort clad in her usual purple cloak. A group of thirty or so men loitered in front of the store. They were led by Gard Stock. The man was apparently a war veteran, and he’d handpicked his unit and given each man military training. In the Company, they were known as “Gard’s Regiment.” They seemed to be well equipped and reasonably cohesive.

“Shit . . . Why do I gotta play babysitter to this brat?”

“Gard. Boss. She can hear you.”

“Why do you think I’m saying it, dumbass? Tch. What’s the old man thinking? Can’t believe that damn bookkeeper managed to convince him. I’m the fucking adviser here . . .”

Gard waved his sword around, then angrily shoved it back into its sheath. His build was much like Varrell’s. And, despite his young age, he had a receding hairline. Like his father. Mace had gotten lucky in that regard.

Gard squinted. “Wait—Varrell? What the fuck are you doing here after refusing my offer?”

“I work for Stella now,” said Varrell. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d treat her with some respect.”

“I’d understand if you’d ran to the Orsons, but the brat? You stupid or something?”

“Please refrain from insulting my master. You’re here to keep her safe, same as me. We shouldn’t be at each other’s throats.”

For a split second, Gard’s face flared up with anger. Then he forced a laugh and turned to one of his men. “Tch. Golden goose, my ass. That’s Glenn’s daughter. Remember him? That stupid spineless buffoon?”

“Hah. How could I forget?”

“When we used Dominique to scam him, that was fun. And the look on his face when he figured it out! A shame his daughter’s so damn skinny, else we could’ve given him a real show. Nobody wanted to take his hag of a wife either!” Gard sneered.

“Sorry, Boss. We have standards.”

“Standards? You were fucking a sow the other day!”

“You’re just too picky, Boss. She wasn’t that bad.”

“Speaking of that oaf Glenn, how did he die anyway? Haven’t heard the details.”

“Dangling from a rope beside his wife, I hear. Serves them right! I dunno how the kid survived, though, or what kinda deal she struck with Mace.”

“Who knows, maybe he’s just a pedo. They make for a good pair.” Gard laughed. “Jeez. We should’ve burned this ugly shack down, Glenn’s corpse and everything.”

“I know how you feel, Boss, but our orders from the Prez—”

“Shut up, dumbass. Hah, I know what I’ll do. I’ll finish what we started. Dismantle this hovel board by board, then burn the boards!”

Suddenly, Gard drew his sword again and struck at a wall. It left a deep gash. The store shook. Shelves crashed to the floor. He drove his foot forward. An aged window shattered. Stella had liked that window.

Stella had noticed something about herself recently. There were times when she was in perfect control of her thoughts but not of her feelings. Times like right now. Stella had contempt for her father, but it made her angry when people insulted him. It made her doubly angry when people disrespected her mother. And it made her boil in rage to see her store damaged.

“Varrell, step back. I won’t need the services of these inferior life forms. I’ll leave them to marinate and rot, then throw them in the canal once they’re ripe. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Adviser. If there’s life after death, send my regards to my stupid father.”

Stella smiled. A broad smile, to hide her anger. Then she raised her Magic Crystal and activated it. A purple light radiated toward Gard and his men. Thanks to her training, Stella was confident she could now kill these vermin without jeopardizing her life.

“A-A sorcerer?!” Gard heaved, painfully clutching his chest. “So that’s why my dumb brother keeps you close!”

Stella clicked her tongue. The spell was too weak. Their organs were supposed to have instantly gone to rot. Her training was still not sufficient. This would take a while.

“B-Boss, it, it hurts . . . I can’t . . . I feel weak . . . My stomach—”

“Aghhhhh! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”

“Stupid brat! Take this!”

Gard reached into his belt and drew out a dagger of uncommon design. He flung it toward Stella. The next moment, Varrell was swinging his sword to knock it off the air—but before the swing could connect, Clever swooped in and caught the dagger in his beak.

He bent it and cast it aside. ‘Keke! You bone’eads are too slow, eh!’

That dagger was probably one of those “magekillers” Stella had heard about. A mere scratch from it would make a sorcerer unable to use magic. Which was as good as a death sentence. Hence the name. Gard had come prepared for the worst.

“Well done, Clever,” said Stella. “Well, it was a pointless endeavor anyway. I doubt this thing would have worked on me.”

‘If you wanna ’urt Master you’ll ’ave to get me first, eh!’

“Is the bird another one of her spells?! Dammit!”

“You’re about to start rotting from the inside out,” said Stella. “How does that feel? Come on, grovel and squirm for me some more. Then die like the worthless worm that you are.”

Stella leered, her white teeth on full display. Gard writhed in agony. His face was completely pale.

‘Keke! When’s the last time you were this mad, eh, Master? That smile is terrifying, eh!’

“I can’t control my emotions right now, but I don’t have to. No one’s going to miss a few dung beetles. It’s okay to kill them, right?” Stella reached into her cloak’s inner pocket, took out her knife.

‘Go a’ead! Kill the bastards, eh! Wipe the floor with their brains!’

“Wait, Stella! Don’t do it! And Clever, stop instigating her!” Varrell looked her in the eyes. “I understand that you’re angry, but this is Leroy’s own son. Killing him would cause all sorts of trouble. That’s not what you want, right? You let Apollo go for the same reason. So calm down!” He put his greatsword between Stella and Gard.

Stella made the rotting spell weaker. Varrell was hers; she didn’t want to kill him. He was saying these things not to save Gard, but to protect Stella’s best interests. That much she could understand.

“I did let him go. And look where that got me. This idiot was supposed to protect me. What did he do instead? He ruined my store. My home. You can’t get much more stupid than that. I don’t want any more sub-Becks in my life. Too much effort to keep them in line. I’ll just kill this one instead.”

“Stella, you’re not thinking clearly,” said Varrell. “Take a deep breath, get it out of your system. That crystal is trying to seduce you. Don’t give in to your bloodlust! You’re stronger than that!”

“What are you talking about?” Stella laughed. “The crystal is not trying to seduce me. It is me. The source of my own power. But if you insist, I suppose I’ll follow your advice.”

Stella took a deep breath. Anger was like a fire inside her. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to kill Gard. Why? Did she want vengeance for what the Company had done to her father? A big part of Stella thought her father was to blame for his own undoing. Still, her anger didn’t subside. Both feelings coexisted inside Stella, contradictory though they were, and neither was right or wrong. Feelings were simply felt.

“Here’s how it’s going to be,” she said. “I’ll forgive the idiot if he apologizes from the bottom of his heart. Go on. Get on the floor and beg for your life.”

“You wish!” said Gard, spittle flying from his mouth. “I’d rather fucking die!”

“Then die and get it over with. I wonder how long you and your stupid minions will last as your organs rot inside you.” Stella smiled. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

She was about to do it when one of Gard’s men spoke up. “Gard! Please, just do as she says! You don’t want to die, do you?”

“I-I can’t back out now!” said Guard. “I-I’m not a coward . . . I’m the bravest man in the Company . . . I . . .” The blood ebbed from his face with every word he said. He was shivering. Once Stella gave that final push, once she increased the force of the spell, there would be no going back. This was his last chance.

Stella got ready to snap her fingers. The gentle sound was to be his death sentence. The swing of the Reaper’s scythe.

“B-Boss, she ain’t joking! She’s gonna kill us!”

“You shut the hell up! I-I can’t have cowards in my regiment!”

Gard’s words were betrayed by the cold sweat on his brow. He could see his own death, inching closer with every breath he took. He raked at the dirt, trying to divert his mind from the pain.

And then—

“I . . . I’m sorry,” he said. “For what I said. And for what I did to your store. P-Please, don’t kill me!”

“Can someone translate for me?” said Stella. “Do my ears deceive me or is the great adviser of the Stock Company apologizing to a little girl? Not just any little girl, either—Glenn’s little girl. This can’t be right. That Gard would sooner die than do something so demeaning, right?”

“I-I’m sorry I spoke ill of the dead. I mean it. I’ll fix your store! You can do whatever you want with me, just p-please let me live! I beg you!”

His men followed his lead, and soon all of them were on hands and knees, begging for their lives. Stella felt inclined to kill them anyway, but Varrell stopped her with a look. He was right, of course. Killing Gard would damage her relations with the Company. If they became enemies, Stella’s store and possessions would be in danger.

For a few moments, Stella considered. She really didn’t want to do this. But it was her best option. I suppose they won’t be completely useless. As disposable pawns, at least.

She crouched in front of Gard. With one hand she grabbed him by the hair; with the other, she held the crystal up to his eyes. “Look straight into my Magic Crystal—don’t look away—and swear that you’ll be mine. I don’t usually take sub-Becks as pets, but you’ve entertained me with your pathetic apologies. I’ll make an exception for you. You’d be wise not to betray me. It’s not difficult to imagine what I do with traitors.”

“A-All right. I got it, so hurry up and—”

“Watch how you talk to me, worm.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I understand! From this moment forth, my life is yours! I-I’ll never betray you, I swear! Now, w-would you kindly let me go?”

“Please forgive us, ma’am!”

Under Stella’s merciful smile, Gard and his men gave in to their fear. Tears streamed from their eyes as they promised to serve her. After the words were said, a black mist oozed from the crystal and into their bodies. The contract was established. Breaking it would result in a terrible death.

“W-What just happened? Am I still alive?”

“The pain, it’s gone . . .”

“You’re lucky I stopped it before the rotting started,” said Stella. “It’s thanks to that mist you just saw that your bodies are still functioning.”

“R-Really?” Gard looked relieved.

Stella glared at him with loathing. “I can’t stand you useless vermin. Forget the task you were here to do. Get out of my sight. Go back to your headquarters and think about what you’ve done. And tell Mace to send someone over later.”

“Y-Yes ma’am!”

They scrambled away as fast as their feet would take them.

These new pawns of hers were everything Stella had never wanted. She sighed, wishing they’d drown themselves in the canal while she wasn’t looking.

“Mace, you idiot,” she grumbled. “Was this really the best you could do? It’ll take more than an apology for me to forget this.”

“What did you do to Gard and his men?” asked Varrell in a tone of reproach.

“Nothing much. I just made a promise that I won’t tolerate betrayal. But it’s thanks to me that they’re still alive. I’d say it’s a fair deal.” Stella glanced at the girl quietly watching from the store’s entrance. “So, Rye. Is this what you wanted me to do?”

Rye had been watching the whole time, her eyes pleading Stella not to kill Gard and his worthless men. In the end, Stella had opted to let them live, giving them the same treatment as Beck. But she hadn’t done it for Rye. Why had she done it, then? For no particular reason. There had been no logic involved; humans weren't always logical creatures. She’d attacked out of anger and forgiven out of some other emotion. Maybe she just didn’t want to be seen killing.

Why would I care about that? she asked herself. Those people wronged me; they had it coming. Besides, I still haven’t forgiven them.

There were things worse than death, though. As Gard would soon learn. He’d sworn to serve her for the rest of his life, and he would. Though, of course, Stella would strive to keep his ugly face at a distance.

“Y-Yeah, I guess,” said Rye. “But more importantly, how’s your body holding up?”

“I’m fine, thanks to my daily training. This is what it’s for, after all.”

“Just because you’re training doesn’t mean you can go crazy with your magic! Look, you’re shaking . . .” Rye walked over to Stella and rubbed her back.

Do I look that bad? Stella didn’t have a mirror on her, but it felt as if her body temperature had slightly dropped. Now I’m even more like a corpse, she thought. That’s not even funny.

“What about the store?” said Stella. “It must be a mess.”

“Marie is taking care of it,” said Rye. “The wall is gonna be easy to fix, and he didn’t damage any of the goods. It’s all right. You should worry about yourself.”

Bless you, Marie. Stella would make sure Gard himself fixed the damage he’d caused. All was going to be back as it should be. Still, looking at the tragic state of the wall, Stella couldn’t help feeling depressed. She shouldn’t feel that way. She had enough money to build a new store from the ground if she wanted to. But this place was special to her. It was why she didn’t leave.

Fighting a sudden urge to go into a coma, Stella whispered to Rye, “I have to go meet with another sub-Beck today. Would you make me a nice cup of coffee when I come back?”

“All right. But be careful, okay? Varrell, keep her safe.”

“Of course,” Varrell said with a confident smile. Then, cursing Gard’s foolishness, he returned the greatsword to his back.

Stella wiped the cold sweat from her body. Her hand had gone white from clutching the crystal too hard. She opened and closed it a few times.

Acting on emotion, without thinking. Is it proof that I’ve become human? And is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Ten minutes later, Apollo’s servants arrived. Stella greeted them with a listless nod and accompanied them to the East District.