Tunio, Metilia, and Gazali sat around a table in the Whole Hog tavern. Aquillia stood at the bar and chatted with the barkeeper, a portly fellow wearing a dirty apron over a brown tunic, as he polished glasses with a grey rag. A few patrons sat around other wooden tables and nursed a few drinks. A single waitress served them. She wore a faded blue tunic that was torn at the chest, showing off a large amount of décolletage. She had creamy, milk-white skin and her brown hair was tied in a neat, efficient bun that was functional more than decorative. She continued to cast dirty looks at Aquillia, leaning topless at the bar. The smell of cooking meat wafted in from the back room.

Anatoli burst through the front door. His eyes and nose were red. He cast his gaze about the room and smiled at Metilia, and then raised a single finger at the bartender before sauntering across the room and sitting in the empty chair at the table.

The tavern keeper started to pour several drinks.

“Thank you for coming,” Anatoli smiled at everyone warmly. “Tunio, Metilia told me everyone’s name but didn’t tell me your full name.”

Metilia shrugged at Tunio. “I didn’t know what it was.”

“That’s okay,” Tunio stated.

The waitress arrived and placed four crystal decanters filled with a warm ale on the table.

“Good to see you, Anatoli,” the waitress cooed, “how is your mother?”

“She died today, Clara,” Anatoli said, lifting a glass into the air above the table.

The others all lifted their glasses into the air.

“To Mother,” Anatoli said.

“To Mayu,” everyone around the table said and clinked their glasses and took a gulp.

Anatoli tipped his back and drained it dry.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Clara stated, “the next round’s on me.”

She sashayed back to the bar, Tunio watching her hips sway as she left.

“Tell us about your mother,” Gazali said.

“She did the best she could with the hand she got dealt,” Anatoli said and then turned his back to Gazali.

“A fighter?” Tunio asked.

“You could say,” Anatoli agreed. “She arrived in town pregnant with me, after having been rejected by my father.”

“Who was your father?” Metilia asked, placing a settling hand on his arm.

Gazali watched Metilia.

A loud crowd of men burst through the door.

“I only have a name to go on,” Anatoli said. “Rosethorn.”

“A round of beer for all,” the leader of the group at the door announced.

The bartender started to place several large glasses on the bar.

“You really know how to give me work,” Clara called out.

A loud rumble of laughter rippled through the room.

“Anatoli, did you say that your father’s name was Rosethorn?” Tunio asked.

“Yes,” Anatoli replied as Clara placed a loaded tray on their table.

“My father was also a Rosethorn,” exclaimed Tunio.

“What are the odds that you both would have a father with the same name?” Gazali asked, taking a large gulp from his glass.

“Pretty small I would wager,” Metilia rolled her eyes.

“Did your father also leave your mother to fend for herself?” Anatoli asked.

“No. I watched my father’s lifeblood seep between my fingers as he died in my arms.”

Metilia and Gazali both blink at each other.

“Tunio is still grieving over his father’s, mother’s, and siblings’ deaths,” said Gazali.

The noise in the tavern grew as the regular customers began to filter in.

Anatoli stood, drained his glass, and placed it on the table. “Thank you for the drinks, people. I need to go deal with my mother’s things.” A single tear trickled down his face. He wiped it away absently.

Metilia, Gazali, and Tunio wished him well as he walked out the tavern door.

***

Anatoli stepped out into the fresh air and clenched his hand into a fist. That boy is also my father’s son. Why didn’t I get a chance to know my father? What did I do wrong?

He strode out, clenching and unclenching his fist. He walked across the plaza. He comes in here, the arrogance. I did nothing to be kicked to the side. Why didn’t my father love me? Why didn’t he love my mother?

He rounded a corner and walked along a road. The shops and stalls were beginning to pack up and put their wares away.

As he walked, the buildings changed from being neat and orderly, with wide roads, to narrow streets with buildings towering in over the roads. On each side of the road a small trench ran in front of the house, through which refuse and human waste trickled down. Anatoli turned from the street and walked down a narrow alleyway. He walked across a small wooden bridge and pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was small and warm. A small, worn couch sat facing the door. Behind the couch were two doors. When Anatoli stepped around the couch to the left and came to the first door, he hesitated, just gripping the bronze door handle. He swallowed, moved on to the second door, and quickly pushed it open. The room was festive with a fresh coat of paint on the wall. There were two small single pallets and a desk with a single chair sitting under it. On top of the desk was a small stack of coins sorted into different values and organised into two piles. Anatoli knew who the two piles were for. The larger of the two was for his mother’s ‘employer’, as she used to put it. The other was for them to live on.

Looking at the large stack of coins, he clenched his jaw. I bet his mother never had to work like mine did. I bet Tunio had everything he ever wanted. He grew up with a father, my father. How dare my father reduce my mother to working like this and some other whore got to have it all.

Anatoli stepped out of the small room and slammed the door behind him. He strode up to the other door and forced it open. Inside, the room was decked out with a beautiful four poster double bed and fine lacy curtains hung over the darkly painted walls. The bed had dark covered sheets tucked neatly over the bed. Several pillows were arranged on the wide bed. The smell stopped him in his tracks. A sense of rich perfume and sticky sweetness over loaded him. He covered his nose and stepped inside, his bare feet stepping onto a thick dark carpet. This is what my father forced my mother to do. If I am to get my revenge on his son, I will need money. Only one person I know has enough money.

Anatoli stepped out of the room and closed the door on the overpowering smell. He marched back to the bedroom he had shared with his mother. He reached the desk and pulled out the drawer. Inside he saw a thick mask and some gloves which he pulled on and strode back out of the house. He left the alleyway and walked out on to the street. Night was falling and darkness was settling upon the city. He strode down the street, turned a corner, and came to a small establishment.

The establishment was a neat and clean red brick building. The door was open and inside several women sat on a couch laughing, wearing suggestive clothes. He stepped through the door and looked around him. The floor was covered in the same carpet as his mother’s room. The couch was used but not worn. The walls had a thin gauze curtain covering the wall. In the gauze, several paper flowers were arranged.

The women on the couch looked at him with his dark mask, gloves, and lean body and leered up at him.

Anatoli ignored them and stepped past. He pushed through a curtain and stepped into a hallway concealed from the street. The hallway had three doors on either side and a set of stairs at the end. Anatoli strode down the hallway.

Several women got up and followed him.

Anatoli reached the stairs and ascended to the next floor where he came across a single room; in the room was a table, piled high with coins and a few neatly stacked promissory notes. Behind the table was a large bed where a plump man lay, flanked by two nude sleeping women.

The man on the bed got up and he looked at Anatoli, his neck flexing as he clenched his fists. He stepped off the bed and his nostrils flared.

“How dare you come here,” the man said, “I will beat your mother for this.”

“My mother died this morning,” Anatoli returned, his voice calm.

“That does not give you the right to enter my establishment and come into my room,” the man snarled, jabbing a finger at Anatoli.

“You’re finished, Umeji Akio.”

Anatoli batted Umeji’s hand aside, clenched his fist, and punched Umeji in the gut. Umeji’s gut rippled as he staggered back.

“You’re going to have to kill me,” Umeji laughed. “If I live, I will not stop until you are dead and your body is food for the fishes.”

Anatoli punched Umeji in the face. A loud crack echoed around the room. A gasp came from the women behind Anatoli, as they awoke.

Umeji staggered back, his nose bleeding. He took a swing at Anatoli.

Anatoli ducked and returned with a lightning-fast punch at Umeji’s chest. Another crack echoed around the room and Umeji staggered back, gasping for his breath. Anatoli stepped forward and delivered a powerful uppercut to Umeji.

Umeji fell backwards and landed on a bed post. His head snapped back and around, dead. Anatoli stepped over him, sat on his huge chest, and pummelled his fists into Umeji.

Several women grabbed his arms and hauled him off Umeji as a pool of blood began to form behind him.

“He is done,” one woman whispered into his ear, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Come, let me wash the blood off you.”

Anatoli, panting heavily, his revenge spent, let himself be led away. They took him back downstairs and into a room that contained a bronze bath. Another woman, wearing a grey skirt, was pouring hot water into the bath.

The woman pulled off his gloves and mask and tossed them into a pile on the side. She assisted him into the bath, grabbed soap from a receptacle on the bath, and began to lather him with the soap foam.

“My name is Ingirid Eydisdottir. I used to run this brothel for Umeji,” she said as she washed away the blood from his chest and knuckles.

“Did he force you to do it?” Anatoli asked, a sad smile on his lips.

“He didn’t need to force anyone here,” Ingirid commented, “well except for sex with him. We all want to be what we are.”

Antoli looked at her, his eyebrows creasing.

“We needed a location to do what we do,” she explained. “He also found customers for us. With Umeji gone, we will need someone else to fill his role. Though I would suggest a more … gentle approach with the customers and the other girls. Not all of them like it so rough.”

“You want me to do that?”

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him, “without customers, we will all be starving once the money we have is gone. I can handle the girls and the books, and ensure that everyone has everything we need, but we will need people to know we are here.”

“I see,” Anatoli said, “none of you were forced?”

“Not even your mother,” Ingirid confirmed.

“I am sorry you had to see that. I didn’t know you weren’t forced.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear, “it was time for a change of management. If you are willing to find us new customers I will share your bed.”

“How do I find new customers?” Anatoli asked. A warmth spread across his groin.

“I know where Umeji went. I can show you.”

“Good,” Anatoli said, “but first I have some things to take care of.”

Ingirid nodded and smiled as she climbed into the bath with him. She ministered to his body with soap and kisses.

***

Logan strode through the street. His pockets were empty and he had a headache the size of Mount Wealth. That fat wench throwing me out of my room, all because I have no money to pay for her services. I need a job. Logan walked past a tavern and looked inside. The people were drinking, and a skinny wench was sitting on a man’s lap, his hand up her skirt. He caught a look of his reflection. He was well built and still good looking, but his black beard was unkept like his hair. His clothes were in tatters, in a desperate need of cleaning, but his sword still glinted in the setting sun.

He turned to walk down the street and saw a poster on the wall.

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow.

Ten thousand folia for the discovery of the Belt of Veritas. I need a bed to sleep in tonight, then I can start looking for this belt. How hard can it be?

He walked on down into the market district and headed for the job market. There is always someone looking for bodies even at this late an hour. He passed several shops closing for the day

“You there,” a voice called out to him.

Logan turned to face a fat man dressed in a white blood-splattered apron.

“Would you be able to do me a favour? My apprentice has run off on some fool of a treasure hunt and didn’t come back today. I am prepared to pay five bronze branches if you guard the store while I run home for a few minutes.”

Logan smiled, a pleasant smile of yellow teeth. “I would be happy to do so,” he said. “I am currently looking for work myself and would be happy to guard your establishment tomorrow also.”

“You have a deal,” the butcher said. He hefted a large strong box on his shoulder and took off down the street, at a speed that impressed Logan.

He returned with a ring of keys on his belt, without the bloodied apron. He handed Logan the five bronze branches.

“If you return tomorrow, we will talk about a proper paying job,” the man smiled.

The butcher locked up the shop.

Thank the gods, today might be a lucky day. Five branches will get me a room for a night.

***

Tunio gently closed the door behind him and the din of the tavern softened. Why do they insist on making so much noise? He unbuttoned his pants and kicked them off into the corner. He lay down on the small pallet barely big enough to fit his long legs and closed his eyes.

The stench of smoke filled his nostrils as he looked over the blaze that used to be his family’s home. He collapsed to his knees and the soft words wafted over his grief and anger:

“He did his part in the end and saved his wife’s people. Take up your father’s sword and find the rest of the pieces.”

He turned to face the sound and found himself standing before a mountain that touched the sky. A man dressed in crimson armour stood before him. The land burned and charred smoke was blocking out everything except the man and the mountain.

The red-armoured man raised his arm and pointed to Tunio.

A man’s heart is fickle,

true must a man’s heart be

to wield the spirit.

Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory

The words echoed in his mind; a relentless parade repeated two times.

“Am I meant to know what that means?” Tunio called out. The words repeated. The man in crimson armour lowered his arm and the air cleared. Tunio looked around as he stood on top of a mountain. At the base of the mountain a city rambled over the course of the whole island. Large gardens and sprawling palaces covered the west of the island. In the east, a large harbour complex and many tall towering crystal spires stood collecting the sun. To the north, a huge military establishment sat with small, squat, square buildings. To the south were densely packed buildings made of an assortment of materials, the buildings pressed together and supporting each other. Going from the south to the west, the buildings slowly got more well-constructed and free-standing, until they blended into the ornate palaces.

Where am I and why am I here?

The wind picked up and whipped around his body, casting up dust and dirt. He closed his eyes and mouth, and then the wind died down. Tunio opened his eyes. He was standing in a large anteroom. The room was as wide as it was tall, with several tall pillars evenly spaced out over the large room. At each pillar stood a gnome soldier, dressed in steel plate armour covering his whole body; out the back their wings stood taut. Each soldier held a long polearm and carried a sword-like weapon at their side. The floor was polished white and reflected the light coming in from the many windows along the wall. At the far end of the room stood an ornately decorated seat. Two male gnomes stood at the bottom of the stairs while another male stood several stairs up on the dais.

Where am I now?

Tunio strode towards the three male nobles at the far end of the room.

“The belt of your ancestors has been lost for many years,” one gnome said. He wore a white robe that hung off his shoulders and covered his feet. It was belted at his waist.

“Yes,” agreed the other next to him, “can you imagine the prestige that would come with finding it?” The second noble wore a robe like the first but his was deep blue.

“How do we know that the belt can actually be found?” the gnome higher up on the dais asked. He wore a robe of purple and had a golden torch around his throat.

“Your majesty,” the blue-robed gnome said, “you heard the sister, as well as I did.”

“We must find the Belt of Veritas because the seals are falling. That is what the prophecy said. Only the one who holds the belt can prevent the greater peril,” the white gnome insisted. “If we can find the Belt of Veritas, we could not only prevent the seals from falling, we could also prevent the pieces being united.”

“It makes sense to me,” the blue gnome retorted. “Your majesty, the sister of the seals said that the next seal to fall would be deceit; having the Belt of Veritas would safeguard the people and our island from the great deceit.”

“Very well, post a reward for whoever finds it,” the king instructed.

The blue gnome turned to the white gnome and smiled deeply.

“How much of the treasury shall we put in?” asked the white gnome.

“Ten thousand folia should be enough to bring the right sort of treasure hunter,” the king declared.

“And the wrong sort of perjurer,” finished the white gnome. “How will we know it’s the right belt?”

“I will leave that to the two of you,” the king instructed, “go and make it so.”

Tunio sat up with a start, breathing heavily.

A loud moan echoed along the corridor, a thump on the wall against his bed. Tunio turned and stared at the wall. There was no new sound, so he closed his eyes and settled back into his bed.

A gasp and another thump crashed against his wall again, followed by a loud giggle. Tunio’s eyes flew open. What are they doing? I am sure I never made that much noise.

A male voice hushing the giggler put a smile on Tunio’s face. Gazali is getting some action. Could it be with Metilia? Tunio lay awake and listened. The sounds died down and silence resumed. His eyes grew heavy and he started to drift off to sleep.

Another loud thump on the wall and a loud creak jolted him to wakefulness. The woman gasped and started to pant heavily. The creaking resumed and started to pick up speed. She gasped again and a moan was heard through the wall. Silence descended.

Tunio closed his eyes again. Now they are finished. I will be able to sleep.

A loud thump and then a giggle quickly cut off from the room next door.

Tunio sighed and sat up in the bed and placed his feet on the wooden floor. The sound died off for a bit and then quickly resumed.

Can’t they make up their minds? Get in and finish the job or stop playing these games. Tunio grumbled and leant against the wall. Another gasp and then a quick giggle came from the wall.

That’s it. Tunio stood and stepped out of his own room and strode down to the next door a single pace away and knocked on the door. A series of soft whispered words found his ears and then the door creaked open a crack. Gazali pressed his eye against the door.

“Tunio, what’s the matter?” he asked, opening the door a little wider and blocking the room off from view.

“I am in the room next door and I know you have someone in there,” Tunio explained, “please, could you keep it down.”

“Sure, we will try to keep it down.” Gazali opened the door widely, exposing his body to Tunio.

“Does he want to join us?” came a woman’s voice from behind Gazali.

“Is that Metilia?” Tunio asked, looking past Gazali.

Metilia stepped forward and placed her head on Gazali’s shoulder. “Tunio, please join us.”

“Does Aquillia know about this?” Tunio asked.

“What mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Metilia stated, looking at Tunio, a glint of steel in her eyes.

“I don’t think he wants to join us,” Gazali said, “he wanted us to keep the noise down.”

“Of course, he wants to join us,” Metilia said, ducking under Gazali’s arm. Her body, lithe and fit, glistened with sweat in the candlelight.

“How would we do it?” Gazali asked, wrapping an arm around Metilia’s waist.

“We could make a sandwich,” Metilia suggested, her eyes sparkling, “I could be the filling.” She clapped her hands and turned to Tunio.

“Come on, Tunio,” Gazali pleaded, “she has wanted this for some time.”

“I don’t know,” Tunio yawned, “I am pretty tired.”

“I can banish that away,” she said, reaching out and grasping Tunio. She pressed her hips to his waist.

“No!” Tunio declared loudly and stepped away, “Sorry, I can’t.” What? Why did I do that? She obviously wants to, why don’t I want to? Something about this is wrong.

Tunio turned and rushed back into his own room.

“What was that all about?” Gazali asked, as the door closed with a thump.