Before the Storm: Act 7, Chapter 6

Before the Storm: Act 7, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I don’t get it.

Liam frowned at the men lining both sides of the table. A full third of them had passed out while the rest were somewhere between senseless and comatose. He eyed the liquor swirling in his cup – it was some sort of wine that tasted more like vinegar – wondering how the Eight Fingers managed to get anything done.

While he worked, they just followed him around, chatting, giving passers-by threatening looks, and even sleeping when they could get away with it. Once the day was over, they acted as if they had just done a hard day’s work, which was rewarded by a hearty meal and plenty of drink. Of course, this was only his second day with them, but they were so matter-of-fact about it that it had to be routine.

“I can’t believe you drank Francis’ gang under the table.”

He looked over his shoulder, finding a buxom blonde barmaid standing behind him. The pub had four such barmaids and none of the female staff were over twenty. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what happened to the ones who got too ‘old’.

“I’m pretty sure they did most of the drinking,” Liam said. “Sorry for the trouble, Claire.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” Claire offered him a brilliant smile, “Well, it’s more that this is pretty normal.”

Liam rose from his seat at the head of the table, disentangling Reed, who had attached himself to his ankle.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Liam said. “How much will this run us?”

Claire’s smile wavered at his words.

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Um, how much do we need to pay?”

“That’s...j-just a moment.”

With a swirl of her shortened skirts, the barmaid disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she reemerged with the pub’s owner. The willowy man, who doubled as the establishment’s chef, kept wiping his hands on his stained apron as he made his way over. He then switched to dry washing his hands and his mouth seemed to be stuck twitching in a half-smile.

“Do you need a Cleric?” Liam asked.

“A...? Er, no. I...to make it clear, we’re not demanding that you pay in any way...”

Beside the owner, Claire tearfully nodded.

“I-I didn’t mean it, sir! Please...”

Wasn’t I the one that brought it up?

They were so desperately sincere that it made him doubt his memory. Groans rose from the table at the sudden outburst. Claire whimpered and hid behind the owner.

“Let’s take this conversation elsewhere,” Liam said.

The two were quick to take him up on his suggestion, leading him to a narrow hall between a stairwell and the kitchen. Liam waited for them to say something, but they wouldn’t even make eye contact with him.

“So, what’s this all about?” He asked.

“It’s nothing!” The owner said, “Nothing at all. Look, this is all a big mistake. We won’t ask again. Just don’t do anything. Please!”

“I’m going to get mad if you don’t answer my question.”

Claire and the owner exchanged a look. The barmaid let out a cry as the owner reached out and grabbed the base of her ponytail, forcing her head down.

“It’s this stupid girl’s fault!” The owner said, “She came in saying you wanted to pay.”

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“She tricked you,” the owner said. “You and your friends don’t need to pay. Do what you want with her – just don’t burn down my pub!”

In no way, shape, or form did Liam imagine that trying to pay for food and drink would result in whatever the hell was happening in front of him. He grabbed the owner, squeezing his wrist to force his grip on the girl free.

“Don’t make a scene,” Liam said. “Doesn’t Claire work for you? Why are you treating her like this?”

“Why...? Alright, just take her.”

“Hah?”

The owner shoved Claire at him.

“Do whatever you want with her! Just leave me and my pub alone!”

Liam was left speechless as the owner fled into the kitchen. What did he hope to gain by running away? It wasn’t as if he could escape if Liam felt like chasing him. A ragged sob dragged his gaze from the kitchen entrance to the girl in front of him.

“Are you alright?” Liam asked.

Another sob. One of the men in the common room started making noise, so Liam ushered Claire out of the hallway and into the alley behind the pub. The girl visibly tensed, clutching her skirts tightly as darkness engulfed them. She stumbled as soon as they started moving away from the door. Liam reached out to take her by the hand, reminding himself that Humans normally didn’t have Darkvision.

“W-Wait,” Claire said, “it’s not safe for me tonight.”

“Don’t worry,” Liam said, “I’ll take care of you.”

His reassurances kept her quiet until they reached the end of the alley. There, Claire shrank away from dim light leaking from the bars and brothels along the street.

“Where are you taking me?” The barmaid asked.

“Your place, I guess?” Liam answered, “You probably don’t want to stay at work after what just happened.”

Claire nodded silently and slowly led him to the outskirts of Beaumont. The night’s overcast skies lent little in the way of light. Eventually, Claire stopped again.

“It’s too dark,” she said. “My lamp’s still at the pub.”

“Hold on,” Liam told her.

He reached into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a magic light. The crystal sphere only had two settings – ‘off’ and ‘too bright’ – so he wrapped it up in a sheet of paper before activating it. Claire stared, wide-eyed, at the magic item in his palm.

“We can talk when we get to your place,” Liam said. “Do you know where we are?”

Claire looked around for a moment before nodding. Liam followed her as she picked her way through the muddy lanes between the wooden dwellings crammed below the town’s walls. They stopped at a set of buildings a few dozen metres from the town’s western gate.

“This way,” Claire said.

She stepped into an alley that could barely be called one. It eventually opened up into a well-kept garden surrounding an old well. Ironically, someone had put in the effort to lay large cobblestones on the pathways, making the lightly travelled section of alleyway the only place Liam had seen in Beaumont that was somewhat paved.

Claire knocked lightly on one of the doors surrounding the urban garden. A few seconds later, it opened a crack. The middle-aged woman within looked from Claire to Liam.

“He wanted to use the house, mother,” Claire said.

“I see,” Claire’s mother replied. “I’ll prepare a bath for our guest.”

“It’s alright,” Liam said. “I don’t need one.”

“Then I’ll wait outside.”

“Why?”

Shouts and jeers rose from below as two groups of retainers started a brawl in the middle of the street. Never mind annoying, he didn’t think he would be able to get any work done with them at all.

His mind made up, Liam left the commotion behind him, crossing over the rooftops on his way to Beaumont Manor. The estate has its own little section of the town that was walled off from the common district, effectively turning it into a modest castle. Unlike other estates he had visited in the past, however, this one was in a dire state of disrepair.

The castle grounds were overgrown and its buildings looked like they hadn’t seen any cleaning or maintenance for several seasons. Scattered groups of men acted as security, but they bore no discernible livery. He could only assume that the Eight Fingers had taken the place over to use as a base.

Their security is full of holes, though...

Liam made it into the estate without so much as a glance in his direction. Once he marked where all of the sentries were positioned, he made his way toward the large manor at the centre of the grounds. After looking through several dusty windows, he found a room lined with bookshelves. Flickering candlelight flowing from an unseen corner gave him pause, causing him to wait and observe its occupants.

A few minutes passed with no movement on the inside, so Liam worked open the window latch and waited again. Again, there was no movement. Whoever was inside was oblivious enough to not notice the cold autumn air flowing in. He lifted himself onto the windowsill and carefully poked his head inside. The source of the candlelight was further away than he thought: a table at the end of a long row of bookshelves with a single figure hunched over it. He shut the window behind him and padded out of sight.

The first bookshelf wasn’t as well-stocked as he imagined a library in a Count’s manor would be. Neither was the one opposite to it. He picked up a string-bound book and flipped through the pages.

Poetry?

He wasn’t a Bard like his sister, but even he could tell that it wasn’t very good. The next few books were much the same. What were the chances that the entire library was filled with bad poetry? Maybe the Nobles here encoded their records.

The thought followed him as he crept over to the next set of bookshelves. He went over journals of hunting trips in the Manticore Mountains, accounts of travels to other parts of Re-Estize, and one trip to Arwintar. Most of the content focused on local art, music, and architecture, which was of little practical use to him.

At least they’re records. Maybe the next row will have what I’m looking for.

The next row of bookshelves turned out to be completely empty. Did they keep important records in another room? Just to be sure, he went to the table at the other end of the room to see what the figure was up to. Several stacks of books framed a tabletop strewn with documents. The figure turned out to be a young Noblewoman wrapped up in several blankets. He could only assume that she was the Countess of Beaumont.

Liam took a book from the table, immediately finding what he was looking for. He went through several more, which all turned out to be one sort of administrative record or the other. How many could he take before the Noblewoman noticed that books were disappearing in front of her?

“This is impossible,” the Noblewoman moaned.

A tear trickled down the Countess’ cheek. Liam leaned in to see what she was crying over. She blinked up at him with a gasp.

“Shoooo...”

The Noblewoman made a weird sort of deflating sound as she fainted. She slid right out of her chair and smacked her head on the hardwood floor.

“Ow!”

Countess Beaumont rolled around on the floor, clutching the back of her head. Her layers of blankets came loose, revealing a slender figure in a somewhat plain nightgown. As far as Noblewomen went, she had average looks...which was to say that most women couldn’t hope to compete with her.

“Are you alright?” Liam asked.

“It hurts,” Countess Beaumont cried. “I was trying to faint, but then this stupid floor hit me on the head!”

“Right...I’ll be going now.”

“Wait! Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you among those ruffians loitering in my estate.”

Liam considered his answer. He didn’t want to deal with the local Nobles because they all seemed useless, but Countess Beaumont looked like she was actually hard at work.

“My name is Liam,” he said as he held out a hand to her. “I’m an official from the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“The Sorc...do you mean to say that Lady Albedo sent you? But...but it’s too soon! I haven’t had the chance to do anything yet! I didn’t know it was like this! I don’t want to dieeeeee...”

The Noblewoman grew increasingly frantic as she spoke, breaking down into tears at the end. She sobbed pitifully, hiding her face in her hands.

“Um, I’m not here to kill you,” Liam said.

“But why else would they send an Assassin?”

“I was sent to inspect a few things in the Azerlisian Marches,” Liam said.

“...you didn’t deny that you’re an Assassin.”

“Look, I need to collect some information and I figured you could help. Can you?”

Countess Beaumont lowered her hands and turned her eyes up at him.

“I can’t promise anything, but I can try. In exchange...could you please tell Lady Albedo that I didn’t know things had become like this? I’m trying my best – I truly am!”

“You keep repeating yourself,” Liam said. “What are you panicking over?”

“The...the...everything!” The Countess shrieked, “House Beaumont is ruined. Our fief is impoverished! My vassals are useless! I never knew about any of this.”

“But this is your territory,” Liam said. “How could you not notice what’s been going on?”

“I lived with my mother at our manor in Re-Blumrushur. My lord father never mentioned that we were experiencing any difficulties, financial or otherwise! He always told me not to worry about the demesne and to keep refining myself for my fiancée. I got whatever I needed, so I never once doubted him. It wasn’t until the title fell to me and I arrived in the summer that I started to uncover the truth!”

Liam scratched his head as the Countess presented her predicament. He didn’t know enough about Nobles to decide whether she should share the blame for her family’s failures or not. By her account, she was purposely kept ignorant of her family’s troubles. Additionally, she had been kept far away from those troubles, unable to discern the truth for herself.

“Do you have any siblings?” Liam asked.

“My brother fell in battle alongside my father,” the Countess answered. “We weren’t close. He left to serve as a page around the same time that I was born and only returned once a year to be seen with our lord father during the war with the Empire.”

“I see. Then what do you plan to do now?”

Countess Beaumont snorted, her voice laden with bitter frustration as she replied.

“What can I do? It’s an impossible situation, I tell you.”

“Well, what were you doing just now?”

“Trying to locate funds to hire Adventurers,” the Countess replied. “Winter is coming. The wildlife is moving down into the valleys and the things that prey upon it will surely come as well. House Beaumont needs to come up with a budget to contract security services, but we don’t even have enough for a single Copper-rank commission. We can’t even defend ourselves for a day, never mind an entire season. Never mind being ruined, we’ll just all be eaten!”

“Are you sure about that?” Liam asked.

“What? Of course I’m sure. They’re called the Manticore Mountains for a reason. Those monsters will paralyse our iron shipments and what’s left of the economy will collapse. Without the assistance of Adventurers, the mountain tribes will drive us from our homes. We have no other way to prevent this.”

“Doesn’t Re-Estize have some sort of subsidy for this sort of thing?”

“Counts and above don’t qualify,” the young Noblewoman replied. “We’re supposed to be prosperous enough to secure our fiefs and those of our vassals.”

“Isn’t House Blumrush charged with a similar obligation?”

“On paper, they are,” the Countess replied. “In practice...Liam, you seem like an honest man. That’s a rarity in the Azerlisian Marches. Knowing House Blumrush, what will probably happen is they’ll allow this county to collapse and then use it as evidence that House Beaumont isn’t fit to rule. Only after I’m stripped of my titles will they send Adventurers to clear out the territory, and then House Blumrush will claim the land for itself.”

“Huh,” Liam said. “That sucks. Well, you won’t have to worry about that. There’s another way to do this.”

It seemed that she didn’t know what the Eight Fingers were doing up in her territory’s mines. Countess Beaumont reached up to grasp Liam’s hands, fluttering her eyelashes up at him prettily. The loose neckline of her nightgown offered him an eyeful of her budding cleavage.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, dear Liam,” she breathed.

Liam shook his hands free and took a step back, turning his attention to the books on the table.

“Uh, you’re going to have to hold onto that thought,” he said. “I have to check with my superiors to see what I’m allowed to do.”