Via was mostly paralyzed during the exchange between me and Melior, but now she looks positively amazed by the things Melior is showing us. Their forges are not dirty at all—on the contrary, they look like the nest of some metal geek with OCD. It’s so clean you could probably cook a quiche inside their ovens.

Melior is examining the Beretta once again.

“Would you show me how it works?” he asks.

I nod and put the bullets in the magazine.

“If you get me a plank of wood, it would be better. I’m afraid the bullet could bounce on the hard surfaces otherwise. It will sink in the wood, instead.”

He gestures at two other half-giants, and I finally piece together what I found really weird about these people. They don’t seem to speak a lot. I expected the whole Glass and Steel District to be a meddling cacophony of shouts and swearing, but that’s not it. That’s not it at all. You can only hear the smashing sound of the tools, the clacking of the metal on metal, or even the flames fanning inside their forges. But no one speaks much around here.

As soon as they bring me a piece of wood inside Melior’s laboratory, I take a few steps back and shoot a few bullets. I see the half-giants wince at the sound and a small grin erupts on my face. It’s satisfying seeing their countenance finally crack. A gun, especially in a building, is loud.

They placed the plank of wood against a wall and now they go retrieve it with reverence. They look at the small holes put through it by the small gun with wide eyes. The punch a bullet packs is nastier than an arrow, and it’s penetrative power is on a different level altogether.

When you don’t know what to expect, guns are very surprising. When you handle them long enough, you discover they can jam, that they require cleaning, that the maintenance is a pain in the ass. But what I love about guns is that they became the great equalizer of the 20th century. Men and women finally managed to kill each other with the same efficiency.

Vive l'égalité!

“We need further testing,” Melior says with a frown while looking at the piece of wood.

…

An hour later and several loud gunshots, I’m sitting at an inclined table made to sketch designs. The tools are a bit too big for my liking, but this is as close as it gets too technical blueprints. The half-giants are very thorough with their manners. Melior has been sitting behind my shoulders in silence, observing.

“Even with the right measures, it’s going to take a lot of experimentation,” he says as soon as he notices me taking a moment to stretch my wrist.

“A couple of weeks,” I nod.

“The [Alchemists] will probably be able to make the raw gunpowder in a day,” he says with a touch of annoyance. He’s clearly a [Blacksmith] or a more powerful declination of such a class.

“The smokeless variation is what we need. The residue that the most primitive gunpowder leaves behind means we can’t build semi-automatic weapons. It will take them a couple of weeks, at the very least.”

I turn over my should and see him nod, deep in thought.

“You have our deepest gratitude, Cassandre El Maddouri,” he says looking at me with great intensity. “Few would be so bold as you are. And even fewer as competent.”

Perpetrating a small massacre has paid off its dividends in full.

“Via is a kid,” I say in response, “if she tries to run, don’t kill her. Just bring her back to me.”

The man's lips get thinner before he nods.

…

“You sure you don’t want a house? Melior said—”

I raise a hand.

“I don’t need one. I’ll stay at the inn. And Via will stay there as well,” I nudge the kid beside me. “However, what about the [Merchants]? They must have noticed, by now.”

Cordius shrugs.

“If they did, which is not assured since they are so dull, they will think a [Bandit Leader] or worse has emerged. No one would think of us. We have never had anything to do with bandits every time they arose in the region. And sometimes we got questioned under truth stone. Since you did this, we are still in the clear. Even if they come knocking, they will have nothing on us. We have been working for a long time to get back what’s ours, Cassandre.”

“Via, go talk to the [Innkeeper] and tell him to give us a bigger room and make something good for dinner,” I hand over a few gold coins to the girl and wait for her to go her way. She hesitates. For a second, at least. Then, even though my conversation with Cordius has not ended yet, she reluctantly shuffles her feet toward the inn. Only when she’s gone through the door I look back at the [Guard].

“I want the wife of the man I killed dead.”

“Melior already took care of it. The official story is that the person you killed got a message from a distant [Notary] and that his father left him more money than he had imagined. So, both have gone their way out of the city. Every person in their neighborhood hated them, anyway. They are not going to missed and no one will ask questions.”

“Good.”

“Anything else?” Cordius says, more curious to see what’s on my mind than anything.

“Whatever you need to do to make sure I’ll be completely loyal, don’t have people touch my belongings. If anything goes missing, we are going to have a problem. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” the man smiles.

“You can go.”

“I’m actually curious, Cassandre. I knew there was something with you from the start… but this? This is… Rizilius’s ears… what’s the long-term plan? You must be thinking of something, right?”

Thankfully, what he just said reminded me of something.

“Give me some space in the Glass and Steel District and put back every single book from Marzallium’s Shop there. Also, get me any information you have on bandits. Human bandits. Maps, as well. And let’s schedule a talk, me and you, tomorrow at 8 in the morning. I have some ideas to discuss, more on the military side.”

“At your service, milady,” Cordius gives me a cheeky smile before walking back toward the Watch building.

…

“Bi-bien à l’ava-ava-ava,” Via stutters.

“Bien à l’avance,” I correct her.

“Well in advance, right?” she asks, sighing.

I nod.

“We need to speed up your training,” I say, “we might need it soon.”

“Tell me again why I have to learn this weird language,” she whines.

“Because translation spells are extinct. It means we can easily communicate without anyone eavesdropping on us. And we can teach it to our future net of [Informants] and [Spies]. This and cryptic messages. I’ll show you a simple cipher tomorrow. It’s really not hard to learn how to use one. You just have to pay enough attention.”

Via, nods.

I explained some of my plans to her. I don’t want her to stay with me among half-giants all the time. I’ll give her enough money and the promise of much more to return; but most of all, I’ll be giving her a very important job: information gathering. I need to infiltrate every single whorehouse on this damn continent and try to get all the criminals I can get under my hands. From what Licinium told me, there are large criminal organizations around the world, but none is truly that dangerous. And [Pirates], especially, are at an all-time low. Sirens have a chokehold on sea commerce and no one brings a ship upon the waves without them saying so.

Whores.

The stories I have read in the small book about the Sirens are…

Focus.

I need [Prostitutes], [Pickpockets]. All the scum at the bottom of the barrel, all those who have to live off scraps and are shunned away by the rest of the world. In a way, that’s what half-giants are. And when you want to start a war, those are the easiest people to convince to give away kindness and civility, to trade them for blood and death. If someone has too much to lose, they’ll never take part in a war. Why risk a family, a stable job, a boring life?

The only problem is that desperate people act in the short-term. Poor people have no sense of what happens in the long term. They live in the terrible bubble that is the present moment. They are blind to what they might have earned in the long term if they just kept the route instead of being enticed by the next shiny thing.

Promises and fear, though, bridge the long-term thinking mentality you need in any organization. Promise the world, and scare them to death.

“So, when I get to Keveiz…” Via lets her sentence hang in there, waiting for me to clarify her role.

“Once you get there, the most important thing is getting to know the right people. Avoid [Merchants] since you were on a convoy with them. This mission is risky because it means you might get caught. If that happens, simply tell most of the truth; that the [Merchants] and their [Bodyguards] got all killed, but you had nothing to do with it. Then, you escaped to the half-giant’s city, which was somewhat near. Keep to that story. Unless someone really smart is among them, it’s going to be enough.”

“Who are the right people?” Via asked, trying not to think about the second part of what I just said.

“Prostitutes and thieves. But just the most desperate you can find. Look for people in debt with the [Merchants] but who also hate them. Look for those [Prostitutes] who are sick of their life. Once you have interesting prospects, tell them you are part of a secret gang that needs a foothold in Keveiz. Not just that, you should also tell them that we are going to make them rich, to pay them enough money that they will never want for anything again. Make sure they don’t have a family. We don’t want people rooted in Kerveiz. We need those who want to leave but don’t have the money to do so, who want to change but can’t afford to.”

Via looks at me, part confused, part scared.

“I’ll explain it as many times as you need to understand it…” I take it from the top.