Chapter Twenty-Seven

High Mid-Day

Keong stared out of his office at the perfect streets below. The carriage ride from his manse had alerted him to the stunning state of the streets. Not only was there not a trace of manure, but they were in perfect working order. Part of the reason the manure had been allowed to pile up in the first place was that the roads were a mass of potholes, chunks of stone, and other detritus that had never been cleaned up. It had been far easier to leave it be and let the “horse cement” do its job. The townsfolk hadn’t been happy, but there was nothing they could do.

Keong’s trip to the Town Hall had been a circuitous route, one in which he just happened to pass by the lots with the notorious town crevice. His jaw had dropped when he was that the lots had been cleared and the stone outcropping was completely gone; replaced by a new building that had not existed the day before. He amended his memory, it was not a new building, it was a completely finished building, not the framework of one, not a start. A wholly finished shop that had windows, was painted and was open for business at six hours after mid-night.

It was most worrisome. Strange things were afoot in the Town Square. Already the flyer for the rubbish bin was telling the townsfolk to bring their trash to the Rubbish Bin in exchange for money. Who paid good money for garbage? Tooth did. The question was why. Was Tooth planning on making a run for his office? Was he trying to buy the votes of the town people? If so then he was foolish; the people of Goulcrest needed to remember just how important he was to them. Perhaps another raid on the town would solidify his hold on the people and the intimidating Mister Tooth could become a casualty of the unanticipated incursion. It would cost him some gold to gather some mercenaries and entice local humanoids to attack the town.

The town guard would suffer some losses, but then they could be replaced with even more of his own men. He would get a better quality of ruffian if that proved to be the case. Keong had almost had himself talked into it when he heard his name spoken from behind. It was a voice that chilled his soul, and one that he recognized at once.

“Keong,” Skull whispered.

“Skull,” the mayor replied referentially.

“I like the course your thoughts were taking. Schedule an attack on Goulcrest within a week’s time. Hold nothing back. The more townspeople who die the better. The Empire will send financial aid which we will use to back our plans. I can pull people in from other areas to replace the dead citizens. This would allow us to strengthen our position here and make it easier to move about in plain sight when the town is full of our own people.” Skull’s voice was void of emotion but was commanding and instilled enough fear in Keong that he knew not to question the being behind his chair.

“What about Tooth? Guro? They seem to be working together.” Keong’s voice was surprisingly steady.

“Hmmm. Send this Tooth a message. Kill constable Guro. Pull a tooth from the body and leave it on his chest, he’ll know someone is warning him once he hears about it.” Keong could practically feel Skull nodding in agreement to his own thoughts. “Then select a squad of men to take out Tooth on the day of the assault. When Tooth gets the message, he will either leave town or be killed during the assault. Either way, we will have become stronger here.”

<>

Shu had had a steady run of customers since seven after mid-night. The first person had entered and inquired if the place was legitimate. Shu had assured him that it was and after proving the validity of his words people had been pouring in through the doors.

“Does it matter where the trash comes from,” asked an older woman whose face was smeared with dirt.

“I’m not sure what you are asking me,” Shu replied. “We accept trash of all sorts.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “What I want to know is if it matters if the garbage comes from my home, or if I can collect it from the streets?”

“We don’t care where it comes from. You may come as often as you like but must have five pounds worth of trash to qualify for the coin. I am certain that my employer, the esteemed Mister Tooth, would be very happy to see the town being cleaned up after all the work he did to clean up the roads last night.”

“Oh, you mean he’s the one that fixed the streets? He did an amazing job! I’m going to go out and start gathering everything I can to help clean up Goulcrest.” The old woman held up her copper and gave a nod of thanks to Shu. “My family will be able to eat this week, you tell Mr. Tooth that; his generosity is overwhelming.” She turned and hurried out the door as the people in line behind her began whispering.

“So, let me get this straight,” an older balding man said from the doorway. “We can come in as often as we like, with five pounds worth of junk and get a copper coin as often as we like?”

“Yes,” Shu replied with certainty.

“And,” he continued, “We can gather the trash from anywhere and you’ll still accept it?”

“Indeed, so long as no one is hurt, and the rubbish is not stolen then we will honor this deal.” Shu slid a coin to a young boy who had just come out of the storage room that they were placing the collected garbage. The lad snatched the coin and ran out the door.

“An’ just how long are ya plannin’ on staying here, then,” asked another man.

“We are here in perpetuity,” Shu replied.

<>

Two hours later Keong was seated across from Chozen. The clerk sniveled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. His upper lip, even though it had just been wiped in conjunction with his nose, was covered in sweat.

“You want me to go out into the woods and contact the bandits with the intent to hire them and the surrounding inhumanoid tribes to attack Goulcrest?” Chozen’s cheek twitched in a spasm of nervousness.

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” the mayor replied. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Yes, but it feels wrong. Can’t you feel it? The minute you step out your door it feels like you’ve walked into another world.” The weasley man sniffled. “He’ll know.”

“Who will know? Skull? He told me to do this!” Keong’s irritation with his right-hand-man had been growing over the last few days.

“No, not Skull. Tooth. He’ll know. That man is not normal,” Chozen whined.

“Neither is Skull,” Keong rebutted, “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“I think Skull is worried about Tooth, or else he would have taken care of the man himself.” Chozen’s eyes darted about as if he was worried that Skull was hiding just out of sight. He has no idea just how accurate that concern is, Keong thought.

“I would focus on keeping Skull happy, and letting the bodies fall where they may,” Keong replied.

“I’m worried that it’s going to be our bodies falling,” Chozen said. The nervous little man was stock-still and serious.

The mayor was about to reply when he noticed a commotion in the streets. It wasn’t a riot or a panic as his first instinct suggested; it could have been possible that some goblin or orc tribe had decided to raid the town all on their own but it wasn’t that at all. The townsfolks were racing to gather trash.

Keong could see that that town was significantly cleaner already. He could not see a scrap of garbage on the street. The people, in some sort of haze of civic duty, were cleaning the town in a fervor. Keong, as a child, had once seen a town overrun by a horde of hungry zombies that had ravaged everything that moved in a similar fashion. By the time they had finished nothing in the open had survived. He saw the same scene replayed before him now, but with less blood and debris left behind. The peasants were rabidly cleaning the town as if they actually cared about the way the area looked. Community pride was not something he needed now. If they could unify to clean the town then they could unify to fit back against his hired swords.

“Get moving Chozen, we can’t endure any delays.”

<>

Constable Trond Guro had not felt like himself over the last couple of days. He didn’t know why, but he felt duller, slower witted; he had missed things that he would never have overlooked if he had been at the top of his game. He watched as the townspeople went about cleaning up their home. He was proud of them; they were good people and it was his honor to protect them.

He just couldn’t get beyond the fact that something was wrong with him. Trond considered talking to that Tooth fellow he’d met the other day. He didn’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he trusted the man. His thoughts took him further and further from feeling better about himself and his ability to do his job. He meandered through the back streets with no particular destination in mind. In the past, he’d found he could clear his head just by walking until clarity came to him. Not this day.

Trond found himself down by the docks before he realized where his feet had taken him. The river was low and looked inviting. He noted several people walking along both banks gathering armloads of garbage. This sight brought a smile to his face. He didn’t know what had inspired so many people to improve the town landscape. He decided he would go back to the square and make inquiries.

He turned around and casually strolled back. There was no point in hurrying, no crimes were being committed and the people genuinely seemed excited. Trond wished every day was like this day. The town was finally showing signs of caring about their home.

The constable stopped as a shadow fell across his path. His eyes, which would have normally been scanning his environment, but were instead trained on his feet. Now, he had allowed an unknown and unnoticed individual to approach him without fear. The man before him was bigger than he was and held a spiked mace in his hand.

“Good morning,” Trond said politely.

“Not for you,” the man replied as he raised his mace.

Constable Guro drew his sword and began to block his attacker’s swing, but stopped as a sword sprouted from the center of his chest as a second attacker behind him drove his blade home. Trond’s jaw went slack and he slid off the sword and onto the ground in one fluid motion; dead for a second time.

“I told you this was easier to do in the daylight.” The second killer said over Trond’s body.

“I’ll go tell the mayor that we’ve taken care of the constable like he wanted,” the first killer said.

“That means I’ll be disposing of the body, then,” sighed the second killer. The first man smirked and walked away. Killer number two looked down to search the body; one never knew what a body had on it, but the body was gone. There had been a grey wisp in the air but it was gone so quickly that the killer discounted it. A pang of fear shot through the killer’s heart as he considered the possibility that the officer had not died. His head twisted from side to side as he scanned the area for any sign of the missing constable.

The killer’s eyes locked movement at the end of the back street. He stiffened and held his breath when he realized that the motion was made by something small, like a cat. Whatever it was it wasn’t the officer. He began to slide his blade back into its sheath when he heard a sound that chilled his bones.

“Quack.”

<>

Killer number one was almost to the town hall when he paused. Constable Trond Guro was leaning on a column outside the entrance of the building. He showed no sign of harm, but there was something different about him. He seemed more alert, sharper than ever, and his eyes cut over the crowd and stopped right on him. Even from a distance of fifty yards, the killer could see the officer squint in suspicion. The peace officer stood ramrod straight and began making his way to the killer.

The assassin ran. He made no pretense of the fact that he knew he’d been spotted and was now fleeing so as to avoid capture. His only hope, that he could conceive of, was to make it back to his partner. Two against one was better odds than him facing the man on his own, and this time they would make certain that the law enforcement officer was dead and dismembered before leaving the body behind.

The docks were not far away when one was running for his life, and the killer was a complete coward when he didn’t have the upper hand. He moved like a cat whose tail was on fire and managed to reach the back street that he and his partner had tried to kill the constable.

The place looked like a crime scene. Blood was everywhere, as were bits and pieces of his partner in crime. There were bloody footprints that looked like they’d been made by webbed feet. He heard bones crunching just around the corner of the far end of the alley. The assassin decided that he was better off going back and turning himself in rather than facing whatever had gotten his comrade. He spun around, intent on spending a safe night in jail when he ran into the constable.

“Good afternoon,” Trond said with a friendly smile. The constable was not winded nor did he show a bead of sweat or exertion from chasing the killer; something that distressed the assassin to no end.

“Is it?” The killer asked with a gulp.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you looked distressed when you saw me; is something wrong?” The officer’s question seemed chock-full of concern, but the killer knew it was all an act to make him trust the policeman.

“Don’t you find the horrific crime scene behind me wrong?” The killer pointed over his shoulder and the constable leaned over and looked at the area the man was pointing at.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about,” the officer replied and returned his gaze back to the killer.

“What?” The killer didn’t want to take his eyes off of the policeman, but could not believe that there was nothing amiss behind him. His neck refused to turn, so he tried to extend his peripheral vision to see what he could but his eyes also rejected his commands. Able to stand it no more killer number one spun about and found the alleyway in pristine condition. There was no trace of his partner at all.

“Well, I can see that you are wrought with some psychological issues,” Trond said, “If you ever need to talk you can come and see me in my office. My door is always open.” The officer turned away and whistled as he went. He was swinging his baton in a carefree fashion as he sauntered away.

The killer wanted to collapse. He was exhausted from his flight and stressed from seeing a dead man returned to life and finding his partner dead, but not dead, as well. Now he had to go back and report to the mayor that they had succeeded and simultaneously failed in their task to kill the authority. His exhaustion left when he heard a ruffling behind him, terror reinvigorating his muscles and letting him flee back to the center of town. Behind him he swore he heard a long mournful quack.