174th Summer – The First Year of the Regency

(Earth Date 22nd January 2017)

Selamu Alu - The Entertainment Quarter

Gordon

I looked at the script lying on my desk and sighed. I had to give my youngest surviving son credit. Duncan had collated all the mad stories coming out of the Empire, the ones I’d been pointedly ignoring, and produced a play that was not only workable but sounded like it might attract the type of audience who wouldn’t normally frequent foreign language theatres.

Helena burst into the office, looking flustered and a little angry. She was still beautiful after all these years, even if her red hair had streaks of white in it and the laughter lines in her pale, freckled skin creased her eyes.

It had been her idea to come here after the Civil War had made our position in Midriver untenable. To throw our lot in with her extended family, either the oldest and most respected of the many roaming bands of players that journeyed up and down the River, or in the opinion of my family, a bunch of disreputable mountebanks who’d steal anything not nailed down.

“Gord, what have you done now? There’s a Red Dragon and a Druid Healer to see you,”

“What the hell do they want?” I asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. Who haven’t we paid?” She replied. I racked my brains, to my knowledge, no-one was owed any more money than usual, certainly nowhere near enough to warrant hiring a Red Dragon mercenary, and the Druids had their own methods of extracting payment from people. I put my hand under my desk and felt the reassuring coolness of the revolver I kept there, just in case my old life came knocking.

“Send them in.” I sighed, drawing myself up in my chair, I might as well give them the whole theatre impresario treatment. For I knew they might be investors. The couple entered my office looking around at the gaudy surroundings of my office with unfeigned interest as Helena quietly slipped back out.

They were a strangely matched pair, the Druid, a woman in her late teens, with short dark hair, light brown skin, wearing healer badges but holding herself like a fighter. The Red Dragon was an older, grey-haired man with skin that looked like leather, wearing a faded but immaculate Red Dragon uniform with no badges of rank as if he’d been born into it. Neither looked like big fans of foreign language theatre which was a big plus in my book.

“Welcome Healer, welcome Colonel, what can this humble theatre owner do you on this fine day.” I boomed in Semulian, giving them my best fake smile.

“Well, you can cut the crap about being a humble theatre owner for a start, Commander,” the mercenary said with a smile, speaking in fluent English with only slight a Semulian accent. He’d obviously spend quite some time upriver to speak English this well.

“You better take a seat and tell me what you’re here for then.” I replied in English, “can I offer you a drink?” I asked switching back to Semulian. The two of them looked at each other, and then nodded. Interesting. It was business then, and not the business of recovering unpaid debts, or at least not mine. I took the cap off the speaking tube and politely requested three coffees from Helena.

While we were waiting for my wife to make the coffee, we exchanged pleasantries before the unsavoury subject of what the business in hand was, as was the custom here. The Red Dragon was indeed a Colonel, or at least was happy to claim that rank for the purposes of this meeting, but he told me to call him Balto. The Healer, Gula, was from an isolated Sacred Pool somewhere in the wilderness. I wasn’t surprised to find out that she was a former Red Dragon and a former subordinate of Balto’s.

We politely pumped each other for information, and I got the best of it, mainly because the pair of them had not the slightest interest in my theatre, whereas my deliberately cultivated disinterest in local politics disappeared in a flash when it became apparent Balto had all the juiciest gossip from the Government Quarter.

Helena brought the coffee in as Balto finished recounting the tale of one of the senior members of one of the great merchant clans who’d managed to get an audience with the Emir on one of his ‘bad’ days.

The Emir had already been a bit drunk and had attended the Audience stark naked in no mood to listen to any puffed-up Merchant Prince drone on about paying what he considered too much tax. It could have ended very badly, although the Emir, after the disappearance of his first wife and son, now had attendants to make sure his more… unreasonable orders were filtered through functionaries who had a bit of common sense.

The Audience had ended with both men drunk as lords, singing obscene drinking songs, dancing naked in a very public ornamental fountain. The merchant clan had kept paying the same taxes as everyone else.

As Helena served the coffee as I returned the tale with one of my own about a certain senior functionary and his mistress, both rather large people, who’d got stuck in one of our smaller private boxes during the act of coitus.

“And how did you get them free?” the Healer asked showing a certain professional interest.

“We covered them in olive oil and our most muscular stagehands prised them out.” I replied.

“Oh, they must have been mortified,” the Healer said, smiling.

“ You’d think so, but they rather seemed to enjoy the attention.” Helena answered, sitting down.

“What happens in the Entertainment Quarter stays in the Entertainment Quarter,” Balto said, laughing. I nodded. What happened here on the few islands on the upstream end of the city was normally turned a blind eye to by the authorities, mainly because we employed our own Guards who knew exactly when to step in and when to turn a blind eye.

“So why are the two of you here?” Helena asked in English, a little impolitely, you weren’t supposed to get down to business until well after the first cup of coffee had been drunk. Balto grinned evilly at my wife.

“Information, o’ radiant flower, your esteemed husband may be able to give us some information on a person of interest to us. He may also want to join us in an… umm… business venture,” the Colonel replied in elaborate Semulian. Helena glared at the Colonel.

“Who?” I asked pleasantly, grinning at my wife’s reaction to being called a radiant flower.

“Tell me Governor, in your previous life, did you come across a man by the name of Clive Bonner?” Balto asked in English. I went cold and my hand went to the gun under the desk.

“His name is known to me.” I admitted.

“When you first arrive here, I believe you were offering a generous bounty for his capture.” Balto continued. My eyes widened, and I stared at the Red Dragon Colonel, my mind racing. Had the Red Dragons actually managed to capture Bonner?

“That is true, I withdrew the bounty shortly after buying this place though. Have you actually managed to catch the slippery bastard?” I asked, mentally reviewing the very small list of people and organisations who might lend me money. Balto waved his hand as if my bounty were of no importance.

“No, not yet. There are others who are more than willing to pay through the nose to make sure Bonner’s remaining time on this planet is brief and unpleasant. The Governor of Trafalgar is offering a reward of a thousand Dragons, and even my esteemed employers are offering a generous reward for his capture.”

“So why have you come to me?” I asked, wondering what Bonner had done to upset the normally neutral Governor of Trafalgar for him to offer the eye wateringly insane bounty of a thousand Dragons.

“You know who he is, you know what he’s capable of, you know his methods, and most importantly there is no chance of you being in his pay.”

“So, what are you offering me?

“Five percent of any bounty we are paid, plus a day rate of ten Shekels.” Balto said.

“Twenty percent and thirty Shekels,” my wife countered instantly and there was a brief but intense period of negotiation for my services, settling on ten percent of any bounty and, more importantly, I thought, a generous day rate of twenty Shekels.

“You do realise Bonner is going to be really hard to track down, I was trying to corner him for years. If you don’t know where exactly where he is the Red Dragons will be supporting the arts for quite some time.” I commented once everything had been agreed and there was no chance of Balto weaselling out of the agreement. The mercenary laughed.

“How closely have you been following the events in Midriver over the last couple of years?”

“I cherish my ignorance. My youngest seems to keep his ear to the ground though,” I picked up Duncan’s play “he wrote that based on some of the madder tales coming downriver. What has actually been going on?”

“You really have no idea”

“None, why?”

“The last two years have been rather eventful. Two Emperors have died, some Knight took down a rogue dragon, the Bishop of Bergraz was made Holy Father, an Imperial Princess had not only had an illegitimate son but then went and married a Knight, talking of the Knights, there’s a new Lord Commander, oh and, there is a new Governor of Trafalgar which means there’s a new Goddess of the River, a woman this time, a Druid healer…”

“Wait, wait… start from the beginning… Two Emperors dead, how?”

“You really have been cherishing your ignorance, haven’t you? Well, the Beltane before last…” Balto began and ran through what had happened in my former home.

It took him a while. Both Helena and I listened in horror as he told us my cousin, Duncan whom I’d given up any claim to the Empire for, his wife Freya, and Marcus were all dead. Their only surviving daughter, Blodwyn was married to some over ambitious Knight and a militant Priest whom my men had arrested for being drunk and disorderly on several occasions was now the Holy Father.

To top it all my little brother was now Regent, the Empire was ostensibly being run by a so-called High Council made up of ambitious Lords and socially climbing Guildmasters, no doubt rubber stamping whatever he wanted. I was more than half tempted to return and bang a few heads together.

It also sounded extremely likely Bonner had died when the Governor of Trafalgar had dropped the Knights precious airship onto the Iron Brotherhood warship Bonner was fleeing from Bergraz in. The incidental death of the Lord Commander of the Knights of the Citadel had either been acceptable collateral damage or a two for one assassination. I was beginning to get the impression the new Governor of Trafalgar was a ruthless bastard.

“So, how are the Red Dragons mixed up in this?” I asked, focusing on the task in hand. The Empire of Midriver disappearing up its own asshole was not my problem.

“Who says we are?” Balto asked. I gave him my best Commander of the Guard look.

“Because the Red Dragons themselves have put a bounty on Bonner’s head which means you’ve had dealings with him.” I replied when he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, okay, he managed to convince a couple of of our High Command that he needed to borrow one of our Battalions to scout out an overland route to his settlement from Selamu Alu.” Balto admitted.

“I guess he didn’t mention that his Settlement was the Iron Mountain?”

“That was the clincher. All they could think of was all that iron flowing directly to Selamu Alu without going through the Empire first and how rich they were going to be. They didn’t question why Bonner needed that many soldiers.”

“What did he do with them?”

“He directly attacked the Palace in, as far as we can tell, an attempt to abduct the royal family. They almost succeeded too.”

“Oh. How badly did it end for you?”

“Considering it ended in the death of their Emperor it could have been whole lot worse. Directly attacking legitimate Governments always ends in tears. We were lucky that we only lost 300 troops and the Empire is being relatively magnanimous in victory. All we have to do is pay them the usual ransom, do the Empire a few favours and then I can reclaim what remains of our battalion before the Governor of Trafalgar uses them up, or worse, recruits them.”

“What does the Governor of Trafalgar want with a battalion of Red Dragons.” I asked. Balto sighed.

“He has made it his personal mission to wipe the Iron Brotherhood from existence and has been given the blessing of the Midriver High Council to do so. Acquiring the Red Dragons gives him a force capable of attacking the Iron Mountain itself.”

“And I thought the Avatars of the Spirit were meant to keep themselves above Midriver politics.”

“I think, Commander, the rules have changed. We are living in interesting times. Or they are in the Empire, anyway.”

“So, what makes you think Bonner is alive?” I asked. Balto smiled and motioned to the Healer who looked like she was struggling with the English we’d been conversing in.

“Gula treated someone of Bonner’s description not long after Beltane.” Balto said bringing her back into the conversation.

“Oh?”

“I treated him for a gunshot wound to the face.” Gula said.

“How sure are you it was him?” I asked the two of them.

“The timing fits, the injury fits, they turned up out of the wilderness in a strange vehicle, the like of which I have never seen before...” Balto started

“There were three of them and they were not good people, I slept with a gun under my pillow while they were there. I didn’t think they would let us live.” Gula interrupted.

“What did Bonner’s companions look like?” I asked. In reply Gula passed me a piece of paper someone with quite a bit of artistic talent had drawn three faces on. One was obviously Bonner. His remaining features fitted every description I’d ever had of him and I felt a wave of righteous satisfaction seeing the extent of his injuries. The other two were also known to me and they would have quite happily slaughtered everyone at the Sacred Pool if they thought it would have profited them. Helena looked at the picture and gasped.

“I know these two evil bastards. They were Guild enforcers in the Civil War. You would have done the world a favour if you had killed them when you had a chance,” she said to Gula. I nodded in agreement.

“I am a Healer.” Gula replied, reproach in her voice.

“Do you have any idea where they went after they left the Sacred Pool?” I asked, trying to get things back on track.

“We traced their strange vehicle to an abandoned warehouse in the Western Quarter. It looks like a ship’s steam engine on wheels, an amazing piece of engineering.”

“Okay, Let us assume they haven’t gone up or downstream. That leaves us with just the few thousand islands that make up this city. Any idea who owns the warehouse?” Balto grinned at me.

“Does the Azure Trading Company mean anything to you?” He asked. I nodded, a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was why they had come to me.

“A highly respected merchant consortium from Midriver. Certainly not a bunch of disreputable smugglers, whatever anyone says.” I replied lightly.

“I don’t suppose a reputable theatre owner would know how to get in touch with any of these disreputable smugglers… I mean honest merchants?” Balto said, sounding more than a little smug.

“We have a shop just around the corner.” I replied, giving in to the realisation my associates were probably harbouring my worst enemy.