Glen

Mister Garth

Hardir O’ Fardor

The biggest treasure on Eplas

Part III

-Monarchs and the Fanatics that follow them-

Glen jumped down from Outlaw and tossed the reins to the expecting Metu. He then turned his head around and stared at the two quarreling Gish.

“Wait here,” He rustled. “Don’t disappear again.”

Jinx gave him the middle finger and a toothy grin in response, but Alix cleared his throat and offered a more polite merchant’s smile instead.

“Let me congratulate you on receiving yer divine wife, Mister Garth,” The wayward Gish said. “Had ye find yourselves in need of another partner to liven yer—”

“We won’t,” Glen stopped him with a glare. “Jinx hide that thing for fuck’s sake, there are kids running about in the premises!”

“Pfft, kids these days are right perverts!” Jinx argued and Glen rolled his eyes and left them. He got inside the Watch Tower, now converted into a personal house of sorts. The outside cleared and turned into a yard, a wall built and two more buildings raised with the materials. A separate kitchen building and what would be a bathhouse apparently. The latter to be connected via a second entrance to the first floor of the tower, now turned into a foyer, everything but the stone staircase teared down. Sen had decided the two remaining floors were ‘barely’ adequate for her quarters. The way she’d said it, making it clear that they weren’t even that.

Ninan raised her head the moment he stepped through the open door.

“Master Garth,” The slave said with a frown. “Please remove your footwear.”

Glen frowned taken aback. He stared at his feet, caught sight of the grey carpet covering every inch of the floor.

“Ahm, what is this?” He asked. Eyeing the yellow and white sheets hanging from the walls and covering the enlarged open window.

“The place needs color,” Ninan replied and stooped to get his boots off his feet. “Many things really. Like space for the slaves.”

Glen eyed her plump Cofol face.

“How about upstairs?” He probed. The slave blushed taking her time in that awkward position.

“Master wants us to share his bed?” She asked hopefully.

Huh?

“Ehm, that’s not what I was going for,” Glen protested. He cleared his throat a little embarrassed and equally aroused. “Is Sen around here?”

“Mistress is upstairs,” Ninan replied, getting up. Glen wiggled his toes on the soft thick carpet. “I’ll have a pair of boots ordered Master,” She added, wrinkling her nose at his worn out but trusty footwear.

“Keep these around, I may get back down post haste,” Glen ordered and walked towards the cleared staircase, the place smelling fantastic considering it was a ruin not a week back.

Ninan didn’t appear convinced that he would, but said nothing.

Iskay turned around the moment Glen entered what was a bedroom when he’d left that morning, but now was a very large closet apparently. Two huge cabinets that touched the ceiling, a large table with a polished bronze mirror on it and many rolls of fabrics, dresses, pillows, undergarments, plus at least eight pairs of heeled sandals ranging from almost flat, to quite dangerous to walk on.

I mean, what in the actual fuck?

“Ahm,” Glen mumbled in bewilderment, the place alien.

“Master Lon-Iv sent two carriages,” Iskay the redhead reported.

Glen cleared his throat snapping out of it. He eyed the provocatively dressed young slave. She smiled in reaction to his stare and placed both hands on her belly, under her barely covered breasts, pushing them out.

“Supplies for the men?” He croaked averting his eyes.

“The Mistress stuff. Those we’ll be delivered later,” The slave explained.

“Huh? What do you mean later?” Glen snapped. “Didn’t I put Stiles on this?”

“Mister Crafton protested earlier, but then they met with Mistress and both agreed it was the proper way to proceed.”

“Right. We don’t want people eat afore we have a pillow under our arse,” Glen commented sarcastically.

Iskay beamed, missing his point.

Glen snorted and started climbing the stairs leading to the third floor murmuring under his breath. The last floor of the tower had another set of stairs leading to the open roof above it and was substantially bigger in size, than the floors under it. Of course the whole floor now had turned into a bedroom.

Sen-Iv clad in a long white silk toga tied at her left shoulder and hair gathered in a loose bun, was reading a scroll, behind a short-legged rosewood desk installed across her bed. The latter covered with huge pillows of various colors, none bigger than the one his wife was sitting on.

His lovely wife smiled seeing him walk in, sweaty from going up two sets of stairs and rather frustrated. Glen vowed inwardly to the gods above, old and new, to bring the biggest armchair he could find and place it in the middle of the room.

“Jinx got on your nerves,” Sen-Iv noticed innocently, an obvious dodge. “What did that naughty girl do to my Glen?” The latter a subtle metaphor.

Glen paused to look at her, the light coming from the open window framing her body and that darn material teasing as all hells. Sen bit her lower lip, dropped the scroll on the table and got up. The whole action deliberate and worthy of considerable attention.

“You’ve made changes,” Glen said with difficulty, watching her walk slowly towards him, every part of her moving under that flimsy garb a tease.

Sen-Iv stopped in front of him and raised her smiling opal eyes to catch his. Glen was almost two hands taller than the Cofol woman now.

“My Glen disapproves?” She hushed, her left hand working on the shoulder knot of her toga. Glen put a hand on it to stop her. He had things to do and dangers to concern himself with, like a geriatric bank employee with a grunge on him and a ton of resources, gunning for his head.

“You are trying to distract me,” Glen told her and Sen reached with her free hand to grab his collar. She used it to bring their faces closer.

“Mmm, is it working?” Sen hummed softly, breath smelling of honeyed orange.

Why you…

Glen raised his own hand to stop her, but touched her ringed shapely ear instead, fingers reaching in her luscious black hair and lacing at her nape. One moment they were looking at each other and the next Glen was kissing her. It wasn’t a soft peck on the lips, but an assault. The former thief stumbled, recovered his footing, an arm around her small waist, the other under her hip and they both found their way onto her bed, pillows flying everywhere.

“How did it go?” Sen asked him an hour later, her fingers caressing his hair. Glen opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He felt her soft mounds on his broad back, long legs on either side embracing his body and the position extremely comfortable.

“You’re the best armchair, dear,” He told her with a chuckle.

“Is that a compliment, Mister Garth?”

“I’m being serious,” He replied and Sen pulled at his curls warningly.

“I love being your armchair,” She whispered huskily in his ear. It did wonders for his drained libido. Glen grabbed her left hand and brought it to his lips.

“How did what go?” He asked, kissing the well-shaped fingers. Glen counted almost fifty gold Eagles worth of jewelry on them.

“You wanted to find Jinx earlier, before you got distracted,” Sen elaborated.

Oh, crap.

“I need to go,” Glen said and jumped from the bed. “And we need to talk.”

“I need a bath. You need one too,” Sen countered.

“Girl, we have problems afoot,” Glen said, looking around for his pants. The new pair he had made. Sen tossed him his pants, then his shirt.

“Didn’t you resolve the pirate’s situation?” She asked getting up herself, which didn’t help Glen at all. “I’ll put something on,” Sen chuckled seeing his reaction. “What is this new problem Glen? I thought we could settle here.”

Glen grimaced and buttoned his shirt nervously.

“We might have to travel soon. Nothing serious, just leave the city for a bit,” He finally said. Sen stopped tying the knot on her toga and stared at him.

“Like a honeymoon?”

“More of an adventure in a historic setting of sorts. A short one.”

We won’t even have to leave the continent.

Sen frowned and it hurt his soul seeing her troubled.

“You’ll take me on an adventure?”

Glen smiled, with lots of teeth but no feeling. All forced.

“Gods,” His wife gasped. “How bad is it?”

“No need to be alarmed,” Glen reassured her quickly. “I have this covered thoroughly.”

“You didn’t need to use thoroughly there,” She corrected him. “It weakens it.”

“Won’t happen again.”

“Glen, should I be worried?”

Never. I won’t let anything happen to you.

“There’s a Bounty Hunter after Reeves,” He explained.

“Who sent him?” Sen-Iv asked walking towards her small desk and plopping down, her expression serene. “It isn’t the Khan. Lon has bought off all the officials here.”

“Reeves had enemies. You know that.”

“The Witch?”

No.

Glen grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know who I am, but he knows about Whisper and Fikumin.”

“Your creatures,” Sen said and reached for her scroll.

“We need to talk about this whole slave culture thing,” Glen told her.

“It was there before you, or me,” Sen replied evenly. The first time he’d seen her wear this face since the day she’d convinced him to sign the papers. “It will be there after we are both gone from this world.”

“Sen… sweet girl I wasn’t blaming you,” Glen started and then paused not wanting to press her on this.

“Solve the problems you can solve, my love,” Sen-Iv had told him, the warmth back in her voice and something more even deeper. “Leave the culture building dreams to Monarchs and the fanatics that follow them.”

“Where are they?” Glen growled and Metu snapped up from the table he was eating on. “Jinx and Alix.”

“Lady Jinx went to the mercenary camp, Master Garth,” Metu replied quickly.

Glen groaned, the walking distance too great.

“I’ll fetch your horse,” Metu offered.

“Fine,” Glen replied. “Wait, have they started on the fence yet?”

“Mister Gimoss teared that plan down. He was extremely insulted at the idea,” Metu explained. “Asked Mister Stiles to make a bigger wall with guard posts every five hundred meters and lookouts. Five gates, stone base, timber supports and walls with parapets.”

“Ahm, how much will it cost?” Glen asked him, the snags hitting him from all sides.

“There’s timber enough near the river. The building crews are idle for the most part and can’t return to the Khanate due to the war. They were supposed to move to Rida after—”

Glen raised a hand to stop him.

“The monetary cost friend, was all I had asked ye for.”

“Lon-Iv has agreed to shoulder it, Master Garth.”

“Was this Sen?”

“I believe so, Master Garth. Part of the agreement for the… pirate products.”

Right.

“Stiles was fine with it? He’s going to have to take all this upon himself.”

“Mister Gimoss found him very agreeable,” Metu replied.

Of course he did.

Outlaw rode inside the still under construction camp nervously, the soldiers’ quarters still at the converted warehouse and only a single large wood shack erected for guarding the crews’ tools temporarily. The large horse snorted, the sound of saws, shovels and hammers disturbing it. Glen jumped from the saddle and tied the reins on a post outside the open door of the shack.

Ottis who was standing half-in half-out saluted, but Glen waved him off and walked inside. Jinx had both legs on a table, small toes wiggling while Alix massaged them, with an amused Crafton and a troubled Stiles watching.

“Ah, there he is,” Jinx complained, seeing Glen burst inside. “Wait here he says. Don’t disappear he threatens. I’ll be right back he promises.”

“Whisper, I had serious business to take care,” Glen hissed through his teeth.

“Let’s call a spade, a blooming spade,” Jinx retorted with a wince of pain. “And a bloody fuck—”

“There was none of that,” Glen cut her off, not comfortable discussing it in front of the men.

“Bah, the windows were open,” Jinx argued. “I heard enough to form me own opinion. Yer girl is very loud and that was a fuck.”

Glen sighed and glanced at the aged face of Crafton, the old Northman and former thief, turned quartermaster, or paymaster, as the troops were calling him, just shrugged his shoulders. His eyes telling his old pupil to drop it and move on to the important stuff.

That’s what Glen did.

“Sergeant Ottis informed me the soldiers agreed to join the Gallant Dogs for a standard pay and a cut in the profits. Since I’m funding the company, I’m footing the bill for that as well. Whisper Jinx will be running it, with Mister Crafton and Mister Soren assisting her. Ottis will be the First Officer, or something equivalent and be responsible for the training of the men under him. Or women, and if some of the refugees wish to join, I won’t be against it.”

“What will be the mission?” Ottis asked from the door, his eyes on the workers finishing up for the day and clearing up the site with the help of slaves. An extra seventy had arrived from the city, swelling their ranks and speeding up construction at no cost to Glen. Lon wants that Black Market contract and of course there is the wyvern, Glen thought.

“Guarding this part of the city,” Glen replied to the officer. “Use patrols to make certain no one slips near and takes a peek at our business for now. After the wall is finished, the job will be much easier with the guard posts and the gates.”

“Back to guard duty,” Ottis commented with a smile.

“Not exactly,” Glen corrected him. “There might be other jobs in the horizon.”

“Unlawful?” Ottis asked and Glen eyed him not amused.

“Profitable.”

“What about what I want?” Jinx asked and Glen turned to her.

“I was going there Whisper.”

“Ye were takin’ yer sweet time,” Jinx retorted. “And what about Liko? He’s part of the Gallant Dogs core. Gold badge and everything.”

“I think we’ve agreed no gold badges,” Glen stared at Ottis and the officer pulled a cord to show him his own badge. “Unless it’s for officers,” Glen yielded.

“Didn’t agree to anything. Liko has a badge, I ain’t takin’ it from him,” Jinx argued and Glen groaned in frustration.

“Fine. Liko can plaguin’ keep it! Can I move on to the important stuff now?”

“I hadn’t finished talking,” Jinx reminded him. She was very polite though.

Shamed him to a corner.

“Go on then. Please do.”

“Ottis get the men their schedule and assign the watches,” Jinx ordered the officer, switching her tone. “Give ‘em a good pep talk and a vague promise of pay sometime this week. Feed them first. You might need some sergeants, or seconds in command to lighten yer load. A better pay will do the trick.”

“Right away, milady,” Ottis said evenly and departed.

“He’s quite professional,” Jinx commented after he did. “Very handsome,” She paused seeing Glen’s incredulous stare. “What? It’s important for an officer. Dante’s words.”

“Anything else?” Glen queried his patience running thin.

“A smart outfit,” Jinx added. “I need to get him a belt with a large buckle.”

“I meant are you finished?” Glen grunted, a vein appearing on his temple.

“Yes I have,” Jinx replied innocently, as if anyone would buy that! Glen thought. Crafton cleared his throat and gave him a disapproving stare.

“You don’t have to be so abrupt to her lad,” He said and Stiles made to nod agreeing, but spotting Glen's venomous glare, shrugged his shoulders opting to remain neutral on the matter.

“Right,” Glen started, pausing again as Alix had started sucking on Jinx’s big toe making weird slurping sounds of pleasure. The Gish stopped in turn under his scrutiny and placed a grinning Whisper’s foot on the table. Glen cleared his throat, sweat trickling down his cheeks and continued. “There’s the matter of the expedition.”

“What expedition be that?” Stiles asked, his presence in the room unnecessary given that Glen had tasked the former pirate with the responsibility of running the District business for him, as well as communicate with the other pirates, Leona and the markets as his representative.

“There might be a backdoor into Wetull proper,” Glen deadpanned and Stiles blinked in shock.

“Does this have to do anythin’ perchance, with what you have in the Mastaba?”

“That would be partly true. The main reason is profit,” Glen explained. “Crafton?”

“Well, a basic caravan will reach Dragontoe and Jadefort inside two months. Perhaps sooner weather permitting,” The old Northman explained and got his scrolls out. Whatever he’d written in there anyone’s guess, since no one but Glen could read that well and the latter was disputed.

“Let me see that,” Alix asked and took the scroll to read it. Apparently he could as well. “I see a carriage for supplies, three mules and horses. What’s the second carriage for?”

Glen eyed him not likening losing the lead on a job.

“I can get him to suck on my toe again,” Jinx offered seeing his frustration.

“Tis a legitimate query goddess,” Alix argued, a naughty grin on his mouth. “But I’ll take ye up on yer offer and raise ye a fully body lathering.”

Good grief!

What is this shite? Glen groaned inwardly and unable to keep it in snapped at everyone.

“Enough wit this perverted bullshit! Listen up, Crafton knows what he’s doing and is under orders,” Crafton raised his hand to ask for permission to speak and Glen paused grinding his teeth. “Yes?”

“I don’t know what the second carriage is for,” He admitted.

“Moving on from the carriage,” Glen proceeded, pressing a finger on the throbbing vein to alleviate a fatal aneurysm. “We need to have knowledge of the general area, if we are to find a passage, or—”

He stopped again and glared at Alix, also annoyingly asking for permission to speak. “Yes?”

“Just want to report, the Thieves Guild is in Eikenport,” The Gish blurted quickly.

Glen licked his lips. “How is that relevant Mister Walker?”

“They might have information we don’t. One of them mentioned the sources of the river, which is in a sense a point on a map.”

Glen thought about it for a moment.

“You met with a member of the Thieves Guild in Eikenport?” Crafton moved on his chair a little nervously. “That happened while ye were talking with the whores at the ‘Tenacious Rat’?”

“After,” Alix elucidated. “And very little talking was involved.”

“With the man?”

“The whores was my meaning. The man gave us that bit of info.”

“Why is the Guild in Eikenport Alix?” Glen probed. “Stealing from thieves is hardly lucrative.”

Although an argument could be made here, he thought.

“I have no idea, but they know about the pendant. Which means one thing for certain,” Alix replied.

“What’s that?” Glen asked him, although he knew.

“There’s a lot of coin to be made on this job,” The Gish answered evenly. “One might even argue, if a safe road is found, it might lead to untold treasures. Why, if we make it across with a way to return, then we could steal the wealth of all the kingdoms combined out of there!”

The biggest treasure, Glen thought, remembering his dream. Not all of it, but bits and pieces. I just want enough coin to run this scheme and to throw Lear off my scent. Protect the gem that matters.

“Couldn’t we make it over there from the coast?” Crafton probed, checking on his notes. Stiles and Jinx almost jumping out of their skins in terror.

“Go ahead,” Jinx told the one-eyed former pirate and current manager of Garth’s District. “You tell them.”

“We got attacked by a Kraken on our way here,” Stiles explained. “Which means that darn thing is active around these waters again. Now it might move away, never to return for a hundred years, but making the journey from the sea is ill-advised. Assuming you know where to land, or how to navigate the reefs in the mist.”

Glen smacked his lips the matter settled. He knew Jinx’s reasons anyway and didn’t want to dwell on them in front of the others.

“I want to talk to that thief Alix,” He told the small-bodied Gish. “Even have him join as a guide, or expert.”

“He’s a thief,” Alix reminded him.

“He’s weird,” Jinx added with a frown.

Glen sighed. “What are we, a bunch of virgin monks? We can handle a plaguin’ thief!”

Glen stared at the open door of the Mastaba, an owl’s warning coming from afar. He eyed the soldiers standing guard next, trying not to act surprised at the lightstones he and Sen had hanging from their chests. The light illuminating the emptiness in front of them, but only for a couple of meters. Three at the most.

“Close the door behind us,” He ordered them and turned to an expecting Sen. The Cofol wearing a fiery red silk tunic that left her right leg uncovered to display her beautiful hand-crafted heeled sandals. The gems sparkling on them, sparkling on her, but nothing matching the gems on her face. “Close yer eyes and give me your hand.”

They moved inside the Mastaba, the doors closing behind them, Glen looking about the vastness worried, an eye on the starlit sky over their heads, strangely framed through the half-top pyramid’s missing roof.

“Can I open them now?” His wife asked and Glen turned to look at her. A strange smile on her face. A bit of awe in it, maybe pride and something else, he couldn’t yet understand.

Though he could feel it coming out of her pores. A scent, an aura.

“Sure. Don’t be scared. What you will see might be weirdly terrifying—” Sen stopped him. She placed a warm hand on his to stop it from shaking.

“Lon wrote me a missive,” Sen-Iv explained looking around the seemingly empty ancient building. “I know.”

Glen gulped down. “You do?”

Sen approached him even more, touched his lips softly with hers.

“My Glen,” She hummed and the Wyvern stirred from where it was watching them, claws scratching the walls coming down. “Sweet, sweet husband of mine,” His wife told him. “All your secrets are safe with me. I shan’t be afraid of him, if you aren’t. Don’t let your fear of me, hold you back.”

Biscuit clacked with his black glass-like teeth, burgundy eyes burning like torches approaching. The Wyvern had risen high on his hind legs, when he reached them and sniffed at both in turn. Sen extended an arm and touched the Wyvern’s horned scaled head. The color an onyx black, polished alike a mirror reflecting the light from their old Zilan stones and her famed eyes. Red and white. Shades of blue and light teal. A touch of burning amber like lava, when she turned to look into an enthralled Glen’s face.

“What will you do with him?” She asked Hardir O’ Fardor huskily and the Wyvern snorted, forked tongue licking her bejeweled ear. Sen chuckled, her fear gone and Biscuit let out a similar low guttural sound.

RRRE?

“I’m going to get him a home,” Glen rustled suddenly encouraged to be open about it, and stared into Biscuit’s gleaming eyes, a hand on his dagger’s handle. “Somewhere no one can come for him. A place to stay, if he so chooses.”

Over their heads Nesande’s Shade created a blue halo around Ora’s Eye, the two moons almost full on the sky. Their light absorbed by the dark walls of the ancient Mastaba, reflected on the stirring waters of the Scalding Sea and over the still shining abandoned ruins of Wetull. Pierced through the clouds hugging the Goddess’ Wall, its drops and high rises.

The basalt vertical slopes and the chasms horrors still inhabited. Danced over the thick jungle’s canopy and whispered to the ancient winds to wake up and spread the word. Somewhere where no map showed, the biggest God of them all ever watching, leered a dragon’s leer at the unfolding scene and placed a round onyx bead on the previously balanced scales.