Closed No Stone Unturned (Valerius)

[Konrad Venger]

2nd Bell - 69th Day of Spring, 516AV - The Midnight Market

To paraphrase a wise but demented sage, when things are truly, breathtakingly petched, a man often thinks back to the specific moment when events turned against him for good. In Jeron's case, going home through the Midnight Market was probably what doomed him. After what he'd done, who he'd fleeced with his quick hands and cunning mind, he should have known that traipsing through that den of jackals under the cloak of night was a mistake, and possibly a fatal one.

The one he'd conned had been of them, after all. The same Dynasty, the same name that held sway over all the pushers, cut-purses, thugs, thieves, fraudsters, whores, pimps, killers and upright beasts that called Midnight their home. But Jeron was young, and the "fat night" had been a season ago. Surely if they'd known, they would have acted before, yes?

Either way, it would be a short-term answer. Which, fittingly enough, was really Jeron's problem. The seed of his doom, as it were. Not his choice of route to get home after his shift at the Casino, that was just a contributory factor.

The fact was, the moment he decided to scam a Radacke Dynast out of a fat purse of jangling gold, he was a walking corpse.

"Fancy somethin' 'gainst the cold, handsome?"

The young man let a smile he knew reeked of charm slide across his face as he turned to the painted whore in the doorway. Pretty good, he had to admit. Clean-limbed, nicely put together, and no layers of makeup and rouge like a lot of them seemed to be. No, this one was at the peak of her earning curve, as it were, and whoever her pimp was, he knew better than to dress up steak as lamb.

But still, he thought as he shook his head and tossed her a wink, couldn't he teach her something more sodding original as an opening line?

He continued on his way, too tired to entertain any more sultry lines thrown his way. And there were plenty. Women were rife in the Market, and like most working girls, they looked for money first and looks second. Jeron was hardly a rich man, but he carried himself well, natural appeal stamped all over his blonde hair and clear skin and square jaw. Blue eyes danced with mirth, with confidence, powerful strides speaking of an equally firm body under his uniform.

But it would be Carrine tonight, and only her. Eight bells dealing cards and pushing chips around green felt was oddly tiring, and all he wanted was a cup of ale, a quick (and late) dinner and her warm, soft skin under his hands before he lost himself to Nysel.

"How much fer a tumble, pretty boy?"

Ah. Now, that? That wasn't quite as friendly. Neither was the face that greeted him, stepping out of the alley in front of him with a sick leer all across his face. Jeron grimaced in genuine horror as the pudgy, pockmarked man licked his lips and... gods, was that a third eye he had on his petching nose?

"C'mon. I'll make it worth yer while."

"Not lookin' for trouble, friend," Jeron said, already sideways-walking around the man. "Just want to get-"

"Home?"

Steel gleamed in the light of the hanging baskets and torches and lamps hung over their heads. Jeron stopped moving and his hands formed fists. His new friend seemed to notice and flipped the blade over in his hand and took a step closer.

"No worries. Y'can still go. After I take yer purse, that is."

A wave of cold, trembling indignation filled the Freeborn as this smear of shyke waved that little cock substitute in his face and no-one got involved. Figures that would have taken the narrow little road suddenly turned on their heels and went elsewhere, not wanting to get involved. Whores and peddlers and even other scavenging trash moved aside... and soon it was just them.

"Look, little man," he said, voice low and sharp enough that the three-eyed cretin even looked surprised. "I'm in no mood tonight. So how about you-"

"Hey, hold this for me."

The new voice threw him off in every way that mattered. His first and second punch (and his third, it this tubby turd was faster than he expected), his escape route back the way he came, even his next retort-

-all lost as he spun around and-

-a black orb filled his vision. A hat, and his hands came up by themselves to catch it, glancing down in surprise just before-

He saw a flash, and that was all. All he remembered, at least, when he came to later on in that bleak, deserted place. Just a blink's length of memory, a flash of a face gnarled and lined and gouged like a ham at festival time. Cold green eyes and lank hair than hung like wet weeds. There were no more words from the man, even as Jeron's lips tried to form a question-

-and Konrad's forehead hammered forward like an anvil and-

-his crown smashed into Jeron's nose, scattering stars and flashing lights across his vision, robbing him of his limbs, his balance-

CRUNCH

So it was a strange sensation when Jeron felt his head smashed into the wall he was standing next to. Almost like it was someone else; like he was dreaming, and knew he was dreaming, just observing the theater... but it wasn't a dream. It was the start of his nightmare, and he could barely even think straight as the impact against the brightly-painted bricks came with a wave of black insensibility.

"Rope, sack 'n horse," he heard, words spoken but barely comprehended, as if shouted from afar or in the merest whisper. "Lets' geddim movin'."

Barely, but still enough for Jeron to feel a final, spastic shudder before blackness became his new home. Enough to tell him this wasn't a robbery.

The East Bank, Half-a-Bell later

Privacy. That was always the petching problem with Kenash.

"Petch's takin' s'long?"

"Maybe if I... hffff... didn' have t'... urgh... answer yeh, I'd-"

Crack

"Gotcha!"

Three Eyes peered behind him and saw the long, black shape of Konrad Venger finish levering the back door to the derelict building open. It was one of several along the riverside of East Bank, the Dynasty's personal playground in the city. But even here, there were areas that were... under development, would be a good word. Empty lots or buildings yet to have been re-purposed, signs faded or missing entirely, bare skeletons of brick and wood.

Between the glassworks and the forge was a whole row of them, perpetually dark and lifeless, boarded up, some chained. Graffiti was splattered and painted around the sides, but Konrad had noticed the fronts were regularly whitewashed.

Can't be offending visitors with "SUCK OUR COCKS, MASTERS!" scrawls.

"C'mon," he rasped as he ripped the backdoor open, a wave of dust falling from the frame as he did. "'fore someone sees!"

Three Eyes yanked on his horse's reins and the animal clopped and cantered gently where it was told, long, groaning sack over its back. Konrad glared again, remembering the long, annoying route they'd had to take to get there. Alley after alley, heads constantly swiveling for onlookers, holding their breaths whenever they were forced across a bridge...

They may have been working for the Radackes, but the Dynast bastards wouldn't lift a finger to help if someone decided to move against them. Just two more assets two be written off and replaced.

Which is why we bagged him, he thought with a grunt as Three Eyes hefted the sack over his shoulder and Konrad hitched up his gelding where it wouldn't be seen. Much easier than carrying around a tied-up bloke on your horse.

"Gods... petching smells weird in here."

"Just old, Eyes."

But it was dark. Konread breathed in, a steadying gesture... then breathed out... and willed a glob of res to ooze from his palm and congeal into a ball above it. He held up his hand and blew gently, green-black ball becoming one of bright, flickering orange. It cast long shadows around the room, such as it was, and Konrad beheld...

"... looks like a... salon?"

Konrad made a note to ask later why Three Eyes, of all petching folk, would so immediately know a salon when he saw it, but for now, he just looked for what he wanted to see. Namely, a window facing the river. Three Eyes kept his eyes off Konrad and his... new trick.

Not bloody right, his mind grumbled as he took heavy steps with that bloody kid across his back. He knows what mages're good for. Killin' and petch all else.

There wast dust everywhere. On everything, every surface. Sometimes it was thick, like in the corners or on the shelves, and other times it was a dusting on an overturned chair, or a veil of grey across a poster or painting. Three Eyes looked around the room, lit in flashes and arcs by Konrad's wyrd, and saw there wasn't much left to be looted from the place. All the drawers had been pulled out and rifled, all the nice furniture taken. Gutted like a corpse and left to rot, a whole building, until they'd come along to-

Crunch

Fresh and petching natural light suddenly filled the room, coming first in streams and then in a white wall. Leth showered down on them, smiling and chuckling it seemed, as if their work that night met his approval.

Konrad blew out his res, thoughts willing what his breath would normally do, and grunted at the thought. Not petching likely...

"Sed'im 'ere."

He propped up a chair and Three Eyes dumped the sack like it was packed full of potatoes, not living flesh. There was a grunt, gagged and ruffled, that told Konrad their guest was finally awake. Wide eyes that couldn't decide if they were furious or frightened were revealed as Three Eyes started pulling down the sack from the head. Konrad watched in silence as Jeron was pulled, squirming and bound hand and feet, ankle and wrist, his scarf now a gag that held in his bile and begging both.

He didn't move when Three Eyes yanked the kid up and placed him in the chair. Just watched, fingers tapping out an impatient staccato on the hilt of his kopis.

He wasn't sure about this. Not all the way and over the line, anyway. But the peacock needed to be tested, just like Lasher had tested him, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Boy's a breaker, or so he says. So he can prove it tonight. And if he was full of shyke, well... we'll be leaving two bodies here, not just one.

"Jeron, Jeron, Jeron..." he finally said, in the tones of a father or brother so very disappointed with a wayward relation. "Jaaris Radacke wuz not pleased with yer little trick last season."

The kid's handsomeness vanished in a blink, in a flash of understanding and a likely wave of piss... except it didn't. Konrad cocked his head to the side and saw the shock, the worry, but then it was gone. The boy's face was calm. Body trembling, breathing heavy, sure, but that was to be expected. But his eyes, his mind, his soul, his center... it was ready. Just waiting for the gag to come off.

Might be a challenge for the peacock, after all.

"Go get the Ravok boy," he said offhandedly to Three Eyes, leaning down to grab another abandoned chair and slapping the dust off the seat before he planted it opposite their bound and gagged captive. "We'll be waitin' on ya... oh, an' eyes? Bring somethin' from the Market, too. Petching ungry."

Three Eyes just nodded, good little lickspittle that he was, and both killer and victim listened to his footsteps grow smaller and more distant, until they vanished entirely. Konrad breathed in the musty scent, all of age and decay and disinterest. This was someone's pride and joy, once. Their business, their mark, their stab and wealth and fortune.

Now it was a husk. Nothing there but rat droppings and trappings to worthless even runaways wouldn't take them for firewood. He leaned back in his chair and rifled his pockets for his pipe, filling it with Swamp Weed.

"Don't worry," he said as he used his wyrd a second time, just a touch to light his pipe. "Won't be long. Then we can get started proper..."

OOCValerius (or, indeed, anyone else!), just to clarify where they are, click here and the location is pretty obvious on the map.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius had just been in his room, not exactly relaxing, but doing something close to it as he had just been trying to develop a new encryption method when somebody knocked on the door. He knew who it was even before he opened. His students and their parents normally came to his office on Dry Island. The only one he had explicitely asked to visit him elsewhere had been a certain Mister Venger, a man that was apparently tasked with maintaining discipline in Kenash and had an unfortunate talent for magic. So it had to be either him or somebody that he worked together with.

He unlocked the door and greeted the man, an associate of Mister Venger, it seemed. While he talked about how Mister Venger had asked to see him – and described Konrad’s appearance in detail as the Ravokian voiced certain doubts, Valerius studied him. He found his appearance to be rather … unusual, to be honest. Mister Venger’s ... friend? Business partner? Underling? … he had yet to figure out what the exact nature of their relationship was, had a third eye on his nose.

He could not help but wonder why anybody would willingly get such a tasteless tattoo. The Ravokian’s own face was devoid of such eyesores of course as was the rest of his body. But then Mister Venger’s associate didn’t look as if he knew what good taste was. He rather resembled Konrad himself in that regard. He probably thought that the badly done third eye on his nose made him look frightening, mysterious or, Valerius inwardly sneered, cool.

He knew better than to tell Three Eyes what he thought of his appearance to his face though. He was not the kind of man that walked around insulting others, like a commoner, especially if they could potentially be of use.

„Let me get my coat, and then we can be on our way“, he told him. His voice was cool and perfectly polite, despite his thoughts. He didn’t know what Mister Venger wanted from him yet, but no matter what it was, he would do it in style and not dressed like some common street thug. The Ravokian wore a fine suit of black and silver with a long black wool coat, with a dagger in an interior pocket because he disliked being defenseless in a place that resembled Ravok in far too many ways.

He tried asking Three Eyes once where they were going and what he would find there, but the man didn’t answer, and Valerius didn’t ask again. Neither did he try to make small talk with Three Eyes. He doubted that they could find a topic that they were both interested in, besides, Valerius was not the kind of man that engaged in pointless chatter because he was nervous and couldn’t stand the silence.

Instead he wondered about the identity of Mister Venger’s mysterious employer and whether it would be possible to get closer to him with the help of Konrad and Three Eyes. He’d recognized a certain potential in Konrad when they had first met, but associating with his master would be more worthwhile.

Before too long they were standing in front of an abandoned house, somewhere between the glassworks and the forge, both buildings that the Ravokian had not seen from the inside yet. Of course, Valerius thought. He should have expected that Mister Venger would do his work in a place like this. He was exactly the kind of man that maimed and killed and interrogated guilty as well as innocent people in ruins, abandoned buildings and dead end streets, a walking cliche to some extent.

Valerius himself had done his work in the villas of the nobility of Ravok, in upscale taverns, in hospitals and the famous Kelvic Research Institute, but if it would speed his rise up, he decided, he could overlook certain things that he normally disliked. He stepped through the door and briefly took a look around the room he found himself in. It looked like somebody’s salon. Of course he doubted that Mister Venger knew what a salon was or had ever been in one until that day. He turned to the taller man and nodded at him before he finally paid attention to the squirming tied up man in the chair.

The boy was rather handsome. Was he a dynasty brat? No, he doubted that even Mister Venger would dare to abduct a dynasty brat, besides he wasn’t really dressed well enough for that. An influential Freeborn maybe, not unlike Valerius himself, somebody that had angered Mister Venger’s master. He turned to Konrad again, ignoring whatever things Jeron might say or try to say for now, as if he were just part of the furniture and not a poor man that was soon going to take his last breath.

„Your associate …“ He gestured towards Three Eyes. „… told me that you have need of me and that I should come with him immediately.“ Of course Three Eyes hadn’t used those exact words, but Valerius wouldn’t lower himself down on the same level as the Sunberthian. „He didn’t tell me what the …“ A short pause. „… job entailed and what this gentleman has done to warrant your attention though.“

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad didn't have to strain his ears too much to know when the rest of the party had arrived. Those same footsteps returned, heavy and purposeful, along with a second set. Lighter, faster... busier. He smirked around his pipe and nodded to himself, Jeron thinking he was talking to the voices in his head or some petching nonsense.

Halfway right, Konrad thought. Busy. Sums the boy up nicely.

"The boy", as it turned out, dealt with the squalor and grisly intent of the scene confronting him quite well. He wasn't sweating, even in the not-quite-cool Kenash air of the night. He didn't wet his lips or gulp or fidget. Three Eyes led him inside and he took in every inch of the wrecked and ravaged room... bfore asking his questions.

Impressing. No petching around.

„Your associate told me that you have need of me and that I should come with him immediately.“

Konrad cocked an eyebrow and the mirth on his face was matched by the sneer on Three Eyes'.

"'Associate'?"

"Hey, 'is word, Kon, nah' mine."

"Oh, I'm sure."

„He didn’t tell me what the job entailed and what this gentleman has done to warrant your attention though.“

"Y'bring it?"

That was directed at his "associate", not Valerius, who wasn't in any category yet and still went by his name in Konrad's mind, or just "boy", until proved more than such. Three Eyes bobbed his head as he walked forward, handing over the small package of hot, greasy brown paper. Valerius and he had stopped for a few moments on their way back to the derelict, making a quick diversion through Braggart Square to swing by a vendor Konrad liked.

"Still warm."

"Half a street away, they petchin' well better be. Get yerself anythin'?"

"Nah."

Konrad rolled his eyes, unwrapped the package... and broke one of the two long, thin, sizzling and charred meat lengths in two, tossing the half to Three Eyes.

"Then y'shoulda'," he said, voice a growling warning for the future, even as Eyes tossed the steaming hunk from hand to hand as it cooled. "Might be 'ere fer a while..."

Konrad took a bite, and oh, he savored it. Under the incredulity of Jeron's dumb, helpless stare and Valerius' progressively more irked one, the sellsword happily chewed and swallowed down his fat Kenash-bred sausage, wrapped in a bun thin enough to make a man think he was just getting the meat and greasy onions. Which is what every man wanted, of course.

Petch the bread.

"Man yer lookin' at," he finally said without preamble, talking around his food without loking at Valerius. "Named, ah... Jeron. Works at the Towery... ulp ... Casino, y'know it? Yeah, sure ya do, everyone does. Anyway, shykehead here works the tables. Portraits, Stammer n' Blush. Y'know those, right?"

Then he turned to Valerius. Let the man see what little there was of his face, under the double shadows of the darkened room, lit only by Leth through the window after he'd ripped the boards down, and the brim of his hat. Green fire blazed at the height of his eyes, though. Enough for Valrius to know he was being studied, even as the crass killer sucked his fingers clean.

"Aye, sure y'do. Fancy man like yerself. Well, 'bout a season ago, Jeron here thought he'd be smart and petch a Radacke outta, oh, just shy of a thousand mizas at the tables. Long con, busy night, quite clever apparently-"

At once Jeron began to "voice" his objections. he rocked side to side, he gabbled and growled behind his gag and the whole insensible noise of it drowned out Konrad. He rolled his eyes and his hand vanished at his back and he whirled-

-Leth catching something that blinked, winked, grinned at Valerius in a gleaming curve, like a daemon's smile-

Shhhrk!

Jeron screamed, that time. No begging. No words. Just a simple, stilted wail as Konrad slammed his kukri into his thigh, twisting it just a fraction as he looked the dealer dead in the eyes.

"Don't. Interrupt. Aye?"

Jeron nodded, eventually, and Konrad got back to his story... leaving the kukri wobbling in the limb.

"So, we know what's gonna happen. But the question certain people want answerin'-" Konrad smiled, as if he could feel Valerius' seething irritation that "no, no names, no information, until you've petching earned it" would be the order of the day "-is how he did it, an' if he was doin' it fer himself... or for another onea' the Dynasties. Now, I could carve it outta him 'inna few bells, but then I thought, petch it, les'give the boy a chance. Man said he knows how t'break people, an' wi' words. Might manage it better 'n me. So..."

He started in on the second sausage, bad teeth ripping apart chunks of flesh and bread, chomping onions with grease dribbling down his chin. He studied Valerius from a mere foot or so away... and then went to sit with Three Eyes by the door, watching the street leading up to the entrance.

"Guh'wan an' prove it. The how, an' the who, is there was one... an' anyone else involved. Oh!" He snapped his fingers as if he'd just remembered something, grin shining with grease and avarice. "An' the dosh, if 'e still 'as it."

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius couldn’t believe his eyes as Konrad unwrapped the food that Three Eyes had insisted on buying and ate it while their victim sat on his chair, tied up like a nice little package, and stupidly looked on. His aunt Amanda and Doctor Alzelin had never eaten while a Kelvic had been lying on the operating table, waiting to be tortured and experimented on and then touched the creature with greasy, unwashed hands. They had separated work and pleasure, just like he did – although the greasy thing that Konrad insisted on stuffing into his mouth did not look particularly pleasant, to be honest.

And of course the man talked with his mouth full. Interrogating, torturing and killing people didn’t mean that you had to act like a … Valerius struggled to find a term that did Konrad justice, and finally decided on the rather lame and lacking „pig“. His aunt Amanda for example had been a Rhysol marked murderer, but she had still acted like a real lady. And Doctor Alzelin had been a proper gentleman despite the many questionable activities that he had been involved in. He did not tell Konrad that though, but maintained his composure which was quite a feat, everything considered.

„I’m familiar with those terms, yes“, he remarked, somewhat dryly. Valerius himself had never gambled – he thought that gambling was a waste of time that he could spend really making money – but many of his peers in Ravok had enjoyed visiting the casino every once in a while. He resisted the urge to offer the man a clean handkerchief and tell him that if he ever needed a dentist, he had some small experience in dentistry. It was doubtful that he would have appreciated it. He also did not react to Konrad’s stare at all. He had thought that, after asking him for his help (or rather sending Three Eyes and telling him to come), the man would make a bit more of an effort.

He should have known better.

The moment Konrad described the nature of Jeron’s crime and told him what kind of information he was looking for, the Ravokian stopped inwardly complaining about his unlikely associate’s bad behaviour though and concentrated on the task at hand. He wasn’t the kind of man that let his emotions, whatever emotions he possessed, get in the way of his work. He didn’t flinch as Konrad slammed his weapon into Jeron’s thigh, nor did he complain that it was unnecessary – a little violence could be quite effective every once in a while. He merely arched an eyebrow in mock surprise, and then he considered what Konrad had just told him. One thousand mizas were not a lot of money – he had held multiple times that amount in his hands – but of course it wasn’t really about the money, but about the principle.

„He will tell us what we need to know soon“, he replied. He didn’t sound arrogant. He also didn’t sound doubtful. He know what he was capable of, and this didn’t seem to be much of a challenge. Jeron was already struggling against his ties and making all those ridiculous noises before they had even begun, for Rhysol’s sake! Valerius found the obvious display of the man’s emotions quite embarrassing. What about his self-respect?

He walked over to Jeron, put a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him and asked him, „That hurts, doesn’t it?“ He touched the kukri that was still stuck in Jeron’s leg as if he wanted to push it further in and cause just a little more pain, but then abruptly withdrew his hand again. „The pain isn’t the worst part though“, he stated matter of factedly, as if he were an esteemed professor of medicine rather than a man who had assisted a doctor a couple of times and was mostly relying on guesswork. „My ... associate's weapon wasn't very clean. If the wound isn’t treated properly, it will get infected, you will get a fever, and eventually you will be in excruciating pain. Your organs will start to fail one by one. By then it will already be too late for you. Even amputation will likely not be able to save your life. These men …“

He gestured towards Konrad and Three Eyes. „… could not save you even if they wanted to. They don’t know what I do. If you tell me what I need to know though, I will help you. I was a doctor once …“ His voice seemed to be full of compassion and promise, a promise that he would never fullfill. He cared about Jeron as much as he had cared about the Kelvic in Ravok that had died on his aunt’s operating table. Konrad’s and Three Eyes‘ lack of manners were of more interest to him than the wellbeing of a human. Poor Jeron was just a tool that would aid his rise, nothing more.

He leaned closer to the man and whispered into his ear: „I can also help you get away from here, to a place where nobody can touch you, if you tell me how you did it. Were other people involved? And where is the money?“ He removed the gag. This was likely the moment when Jeron would begin to spout profanities. Valerius had been in enough such situations that he knew that it took more than a few threats and false promises to get somebody to to tell the truth. He’d laid the groundwork though.

[Konrad Venger]

I'm dead I'm dead oh petch I'm so petching dead...!

Yet despite the simple, despairing chorus screaming within Jeron's skull like a daemon's wail, when the gag was finally loosed it wasn't so much a spout as a minor avalanche. Filth and vitriol in three languages (they got all sorts at the Towery) flooded from his bloody lips and filled the dusty room as the dealer let loose with everything he had that wasn't physical. Which was all he had left.

No, some small, sane part of his mind reminded him. As he panted after his outburst, that voice got louder, larger, more confident. Bile and foulness wouldn't save him there; it would only hasten his end. But they do still want something from you. They have to get it. If that wasn't so, you'd already be dead.

"Yuh... You're gonna... kill me anyway," he managed to say between pants, swallowing hard and tasting coppery liquid that made him want to retch. "Nuh... No way d'you lemme go-"

His brown eyes searched the cold, haughty features of the man who'd been speaking. This one... he was familiar with his type. Not the dirty brawlers lounging by the door, their tools of the trade the only clean things about them (or not, as the Toff suggested). Jeron looked and saw the face of every petching Dynasty type he'd dealt with for six years. At the tables, at the bar, stumbling out the lavatories, sneering at him in the streets, laughing in his face-

Toof!

The Toff's face was still close enough for that spiteful glob of spit to smack into his cheek with all the contempt the Freeborn could muster. The fat, glistening blob would impact on Valerius' smooth, calm face and dribble down until it dripped or was wiped off, and Jeron's stare would not waver a fraction.

"You came with them," he said with a quick, burning glare at Konrad and Three Eyes. The latter actually waved, as ignorant to the idea of shame as he was regular hygiene. "You weren't dragged here, like me. You're in this together and soon as you get what you want from me, I'm petching dead."

He swallowed and reined it in, realizing that wasn't exactly helpful. His wrists strained against the ropes... but didn't give an inch. No, he couldn't get himself out of this. And even if he could break those bonds, get to his feet, he doubted the men by the door would let him out of it.

Gotta make a deal, he thought with an internal wince, fighting through the very external pain in his leg, blood dribbling down his good dress breeches and pattering onto the dusty floor. They want the money. They want to know if anyone else was involved. Gotta sell that to 'em...

"Can't trust you, mate," he said, seeming to relax a little, even with his leg petched up. He actually reclined in his seat and gestured to the space around him. "At least get these ropes off, yeah?"

Konrad cocked an eyebrow at Valerius' "progress" so far. The quotation marks were, as far as he was concerned, perfectly warranted. Hardly an auspicious start. He was still picking his teeth when he heard the last words from the kid, and instantly thoughts of food and ental hygiene were gone.

His arm reached out and slapped Three Eyes' shoulder lightly, then pointed to the window behind the dealer. Without a word his partner-slash-lackey waddled over to the window.

Don't get any stupid ideas, boy, he thought to himself, whether or not Valerius did give this kid some room to move. Then he focused his eyes back on the Ravokian. Come on, Peacock. Show me you're worth the effort...

[Valerius Nitrozian]

The insults that Jeron hurled at him the moment he had taken the gag off were rather colourful, to be honest. Valerius had not expected a thief that had been stupid enough to be caught to be so creative. He didn’t say anything as Jeron stated that they were going to kill him anyway, but exchanged a meaningful glance with Konrad instead that told him: For Rhysol’s sake, play along now if you want to know what happened to the money and keep your mouth shut! The man looked as if he might just be foolish enough to correct him and ruin any chance they might have at fininding out what was really going on.

He turned back to Jeron just in time for the man to spit at him and resisted the urge to smack him which was, again, hard. He had a rather strong aversion to certain bodily fluids. He had decided that he would try to comparatively friendly this time rather than subjecting him to a more extreme kind of interrogation. That was more Konrad’s territory than his.

He wiped the saliva off with the back of his end, frowing only very lightly as he did so. „You are right“, he replied coolly, as if he were already somebody that held power in Kenash. It was a role that came naturally to him. „I came with them. They are my men and do what I say. If I tell them to torture you, they will do so. They would eagerly cut all those body parts that you don’t need off on my command and rape you, if I let them. If I tell them to kill you, they won’t hesitate. If you answer my questions though, I might just be willing to spare your life or at least make your death not unncessarily painful. Think of your family. How would they react if they saw your mutilated corpse? You can spare them that sight … your beloved, your children, your dear parents …“

It was just a guess. He didn’t know if Jeron had a family that he could use to threaten him, but it was likely. Most people had somebody that they cared about. As he said those words, he watched Jeron’s face carefully to catch even the most miniscule shift in body language. Did he flinch? Was he beginning to sweat more, breath harder? Did it look as if his heart was beginning to beat even faster?

There! It seemed to him as if Jeron’s eyes had widened a fraction at the mention of „children“. „Do you have a son? A daughter?“ He looked at Jeron again. „You have a son, don’t you? I have children as well, two of them in fact, a little boy and a little girl. They mean everything to me.“ It was a blatant lie. Valerius did not have any children and did not want to have any either. Marriage or fatherhood had never appealed to him. At all. „I would never want anything to happen to them ….“ He paused for a few moments to give Jeron the opportunity to be sufficiently worried about his family before he continued, „By resisting and refusing to answer you are making things unncessarily hard on yourself. I hope that you are aware of that. You have already been caught. This is pointless. Everbody breaks eventually. Don’t be a fool, Jeron.“

„I can’t“, he replied as Jeron asked him to take the ropes off. „ You know that I can’t. You haven’t given me anything yet. I might however be inclined to remove this here …“ He pointed at the knife in Jeron’s leg that caused him a fair amount of pain and discomfort. „.. if you tell me whether the money is still there. That’s a harmless question, Jeron. Do your friends and you – or was it one friend? – still have the money somewhere? Tell me at least that much. I’d hate to hand you over to my associates. They don’t have as many scruples as I do.“

Again he watched Jeron’s face carefully and observed his body language. Sometimes people answered without words. Sometimes their body told the truth, even when they were lying. He doubted that Jeron, a casino employee, a comparatively simple man, had learned how to fake his body language and deceive a man that was used to seeing things.

[Konrad Venger]

A lifetime among men who lied like they breathed had taught Konrad something that many a learned scholar could teach: that much of what is said is not actually said. Tells and flinches, averted eyes and dilated pupils, hitches in breathing and nervous swallows, significant looks and stolen touches... there was an endless myriad of ways that peoples all over Mizahar communicated without a sound, a word, a syllable.

Konrad saw one when Valerius locked eyes with him, just before that saliva smacked into his face. He thought nothing of it at first - the widened eyes and first look just struck him as a man trying to seem tough in the face of failure - but as he continued speaking, he understood.

And he was impressed.

Interesting...

Jeron couldn't help the look on his face when the smooth man with slimy words mentioned Jaresh. Most fathers can't hide when it comes to their children; their wives and lovers, maybe, but not that part of them that was truly theirs. Their own image, cast out into the world, helpless and afraid and yet so pure, so loving...

He screwed his eyes shut and remembered the why behind all this madness. Carrine coming home with rouge on her cheeks and that dead look in her eyes. He just wanted things to be better for them, all three of them. He didn't want his son to have other children tease him about his mother being a whore; he didn't want to lay with his wife and imagine the stink of the men who'd been with her, taken her from him-

Stop it, stop doing this to yourself, he's just-

But the man kept talking. He was a talker, and that meant... yes, he was in charge. The two animals who'd dragged him here were just his creatures, paid for and obedient. Jeron knew he was a Radacke man, maybe even a cousin, given his fine clothes and clipped, educated words. Maybe, just maybe...

Hope. Konrad saw it flicker across the man's face as he licked his lips, like a gambler holding a good hand and praying it would be as great as the mizas in the pot. He hid a smile under the brim of his hat and nodded silent thanks to the Peacock.

Not bad, boy.

"Do your friends and you – or was it one friend? – still have the money somewhere? Tell me at least that much. I’d hate to hand you over to my associates. They don’t have as many scruples as I do."

That was Konrad's cue. He looked up just as Jeron looked over, remembering the pain he could inflict with so little care. He worked his tongue around some fat caught in his teeth, lips and cheek bulging grotesquely around his scars... and he winked.

Jeron shuddered and his cockiness seemed to evaporate like steam from a pond he slumped and the kukri was almost forgotten... but not totally. He nodded, so boneless and afraid for his family now that it seemed to be head and shoulders in the movement.

"I... We... We didn't... We..."

This is all the leverage you have! If you tell them anything, they'll just kill you! You have to keep your mouth shut!

Jeron seemed at war with himself as his nod became a shake, a snarl coming with it; a man enduring the unbearable. His wife? His son? He would never see them again. Part of him knew that, understood it... but he was alive. He was alive and he struggled, he fought to breath again, to drink again, to hear his boy laugh and kiss his wife one more time.

Konrad smiled. They all want to live. They'll do anything to keep doing it. Just need to find the right pressure, and the right time...

"You... My family, you'll..." Jeron couldn't even finish the terrible thought. The next words came out as a sob. The war was a stalemate, producing nothing but pain. In his leg, his head, his soul and his heart. "I... I can't..."

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius could see it as well, a sudden flicker of hope, such a pointless, little feeling, but one that he would hopefully be able to use to his advantage. He saw how Jeron closed his eyes, as if the memories of his family were too painful, as if he wanted nothing more than to get out, to escape this situation and this life somehow and run away to a place where they would all be safe and Kenash would be nothing but a distant memory. He had never understood how one could grow so attached to another person. As far as he was concerned it was a sign of weakness. Valerius would never allow himself to be weak.

“Think about them”, he said. His voice sounded almost gentle again, there was a certain warmth to it, as if he honestly cared about poor Jeron, as if he were really trying to forge a connection with him and become his friend or at least save his family if he couldn’t save Jeron himself. “Think about your beloved wife and your little boy. They must already be wondering where you are. You are not doing them a favour by drawing this out. How old is your son by the way? Mine is only two. He’s such an innocent little boy, so full of life. His sister is four. They are still so blissfully unaware and happy …” He felt nothing as he said those words, nothing but a vague disgust, not at what he was currently doing, but at the fake family he was talking about. He looked concerned though and perhaps slightly sentimental as if he were remembering something pleasant.

“Who is we?” he wondered. “Who did you work together with? Was it a man or a woman? It was a man, wasn’t it? I know that my wife would never allow me to spend so much time in the company of another woman. She would be worried that we were having an affair. All the planning it must have taken. You had a friend or a colleague. You were tired of that miserable life you were living. You wanted at least a bit of the money that the dynasties have and you thought that it would be a good idea to get it from the casino where you were working because they have too much money anyway. I understand it. You took the money and then you hid it somewhere … “

As he said this, he watched Jeron’s face closely. Of course he had no way of knowing whether Jeron’s accomplice had been a man or a woman, if there had been more than two people helping him and if the money was really still hidden somewhere. He had made it all up, just as he had made his own wife and his family up. Hopefully the expression on Jeron’s face would give him a clue as to whether he had guessed correctly, even if he still refused to speak. If people lied, their eyes tended to move to the left. If he were remembering facts on the other hand, he would look to the right.

Maybe Jeron would also feel the need to correct him if he was wrong. It had happened before, in similar situations.

He saw that he was getting closer, that Jeron was getting a little closer to giving up. He needed to tread carefully now. He allowed the man just a moment to think, to take a breath, as if he honestly cared about him and his wellbeing, before he continued, “Think about your family again, Jeron. Give me something, for their sake. I can make sure that they'll be safe. You and your friend – what is his name, by the way? – took the money from the casino and …” He stopped here, giving Jeron a chance to continue the sentence and shorten his suffering, although he was not sure if the man was going to take that chance. He also avoided the word “stole” on purpose, perhaps in an attempt to feign understanding, as if stealing from a casino that regularly rid people of their money was not really theft, but almost acceptable.

[Konrad Venger]

Getting better and better...

Konrad had to admit, Valerius was treading water he wouldn't even dip his toes into. Maybe he couldn't? Intimidation and terror were one thing, but he was watching the Peacock strip away each layer of Jeron's defiance and stubbornness and pride like he was mounting a siege. The guy was a fighter, even terrified and with a knife in his petching leg, but eventually, Valerius found that point. That last inch that everyone tried to hide, and surprise, surprise-

Wife and kid. Meh.

“Think about them. Think about your beloved wife and your little boy…”

Konrad kept up his silent observation as Valerius worked his art, listening even as he pondered how a man could be so stupid. Stealing and scamming, well, he was hardly one to argue, but he was just so... weak. To shackle himself to a woman, and then have a child? That just gave him two vulnerabilities to be exploited. Two gaping wounds that a smart man just had to find and when they were pushed...

"Muh... My family," Jeron gasped, and Konrad could almost hear the last of his spirit breaking. "Don't... Please, don't hurt-"

“Who is we? Who did you work together with…“

Konrad perked up at that. Looked up and let the Lethlight touch his face and creep into his scars as he studied Jeron. The man was clearly working with someone; every decent con for that much money always had a partner somewhere, something beyond the front man and the mark. Janus had told him that they wanted to know everyone involved, and not just that, but-

"Har... Harven." Jeron bowed his head, utterly defeated. A coward and now a traitor. "He... I've known him for years. He was... kff! ... he was at the other table. What the Radacke had, he... he signaled to me. Tapping on the table. We had number, for each card..."

That perks went back down as Jeron kept rambling about the ways and means, talking and talking because at least as long as he was doing that, he wasn't in pain. He didn't have to face what he was doing, he could hide in the past and not his bleak present. Konrad grimaced slightly and nodded to himself.

The who and the how. Now we just need the money.

“Think about your family again, Jeron. Give me something, for their sake. I can make sure that they'll be safe. You and your friend – what is his name, by the way? – took the money from the casino and …”

Konrad smiled, genuinely impressed. Ask a man a straight question and he might deny it, or simply lie. But it was easier to finish a sentence. Valerius was speaking so softly, so sensibly, a beacon of well-dressed hope in the darkness Eyes and him had created. Jeron was latching onto it now, praying for mercy but hoping more for a quick death.

He would get it. In a way.

The man in question felt like he was dreaming... or nightmaring, more accurately. All his plans, all his confidence, the toasts that Harven and he had made to each other over how clever they were, how smart and smooth and... and it was over. All for nothing. He closed his eyes and every blink was a snapshot of Carrine and Jaresh. Little hands and scrawny arms around his neck whenever he came home. Her lips on his and her cooking in their kitchen. Walking on the beaches and building sandcastles with his son.

His life. Past tense.

You're going to die tonight, he whispered to himself, internal voice as dead and hopeless as he felt. But they don't have to... and they don't have to be poor anymore.

Do this one last thing. For them.

That was all he needed. All any father would need.

"We... We lost it," he said, eyes downcast again. His mind whired frantically, not even thinking about the little chest with pilfered bags of gold buried behind the vacant business on the West Bank. No, he focused on the lie. Made it big and real so when he looked up into Valerius' eyes, it would be all the man would see. "Bad investment."

Konrad's eyebrow rose sharply as a low, crackling laugh slithered from the man's lips, ending in wet coughing. The Towery dealer shook his head as if at his own stupidity, sighing before he spoke again.

"We... Harven an' me... we knew a guy, said he'd put our money t'work on a shipment from Syliras. Gemstones an'... an' wine, from Riverfall. Clothes, too. We gave him the money and..." Another bitter laugh. "... bastard never showed again. We asked around and no-one knew when he'd be back. Went to his shop... poof, everything gone."

He slumped, and by the gods he sold it. A defeated and penniless idiot. That's what he wanted to appear. Carrine knew where the money was hidden... or she would, if she ever found the letter he wrote for her, buried in his things. The onyl way she would find it would be if... if...

If she ever had to clean it out, because you were dead. But she would, and she will. She's smart. Gods, she's so clever. She'll put it to work and won't be stupid. Jaresh can get his letters, she can do something, anything. Anything but the brothels.

Jeron sighed and rose his head. He straightened his shoulders. Konrad recognized the look of a man resigned to his fate. Especially when he shrugged fatalistically and gave his head another little shake.

"It's gone."

Shyke...

[Valerius Nitrozian]

He could hear how worried Jeron was about his family, he could practically see the last of his spirit breaking, but he did not assure him that his family would be safe, not again. It would not be necessary He simply urged him: “You need to tell me now.” He did not smile triumphantly as Jeron finally revealed the name of his accomplice. He never did such a thing. He just nodded, barely noticeably. He had already suspected that Jeron had not worked alone, but had somebody inside the casino that he had thought he could trust.

Even after he he had told him how he had done it and who he had worked together with, Jeron babbled on and on as if he thought that it would prolong his life, that he could save himself if he only talked long enough, repeating himself in the process. The Ravokian found that to be a fairly annoying habit. Some people just didn’t know when it was time to shut up. He had half a mind to pull the kukri out of the man’s thigh and put it elsewhere. He had promised Jeron that he would remove it if he told him what he wanted to know, after all. He’d never said what he would do with the weapon afterwards though.

“How unfortunate”, he remarked in a dry tone of voice as Jeron claimed to have lost the money. He was cool and composed once more. Whatever anger he possessed, it never lasted longer than a few moments. “I was just about to tell you that I might be able to save your family if you gave the money back. They had no part in this after all.”

Valerius paused for a moment before he leaned closer to Jeron and looked directly into the man’s eyes. The tone of his voice was a little sharper now. “Did you really think I would believe that you went to all this effort to steal the money and risked your life and the lives of your wife and son only to hand it over to a man you don’t even know? No, you are lying. You have to be. Even you would not be that stupid …”

There had been no sign that the man was lying, nothing about the look in his eyes or his gestures that had been in the least suspicious. He had laughed, as if at his own stupidity, and he had looked so defeated. It looked as if he were speaking the truth, but Valerius didn’t believe him. “A man that wants a better life for himself and his family does not take such risks. It doesn’t make sense. I know people like you. You would have saved at least part of the money for your wife so that she could leave the city if everything went wrong. That’s what I would have done in your place. It’s the sensible thing to do.”

But Jeron did not answer. He only thought of his wife and his little boy and hoped that Carrine would find the letter before they came for her. She would be able to start a life elsewhere. She’d be able to open a shop. His son could go to school, maybe even to university. Jaresh was so young that he would barely remember him. He’d be a happy child, once the initial pain had passed. He closed his eyes so that he did not have to see the face of what he believed to be a member of the Radacke dynasty. Valerius reminded him of everything that was wrong with Kenash.

“He still has it”, Valerius said to Konrad. He was not discouraged, not yet, and he would not let his doubts show.. He would not give up so easily, not when there was so much at stake. He wanted to find out who Konrad’s employer was, and they would be more inclined to consider his request if he brought them one thousand stolen mizas that they thought were lost. “I’m sure of it.”

He grabbed the kukri and quickly pulled it out. Jeron’s eyes abruptly shot open again. “If you don’t tell us the truth, my men …” He gestured towards Konrad and Three Eyes. “… will visit your family and ask them what happened. I hope you remember what I told you about them, what they like to do. They can be a little overeager sometimes.” He gave Konrad a sign to come closer. “I … I …” Jeron stammered. “You don’t need to tell me where they live. I already know …” Valerius answered and smiled at Jeron. It was a smile that was entirely lacking warmth.

”There’s …” Jeron began, but then he shook his head. His leg hurt even worse now, if that was at all possible. They wouldn’t go that far, would they? He dared to glance at Konrad and immediately looked away again as he imagined how he wrapped those hands around his little boy’s neck before he took Carr … no, he didn’t want to think about that. It made him sick. “There’s a chest. We buried it, behind the … behind a vacant building on the West Bank.” There. Now the secret was out. At least his family would be safe. Maybe that Radacke man und his underlings would not find out that not … no, he wouldn’t even think that thought! Valerius always seemed to know just what was going through his head.

“You heard him”, Valerius spoke and looked at the kukri in his hand for a moment before he returned it to Konrad. “I would check if the money is really there before you pass the judgement though. If it turns out that he lied again it might be necessary to pay the wife a visit after all.”

His voice was nearly devoid of emotion, as if he were talking about a completely trivial matter like the weather rather than the potential torture of a woman and her child. He only cared about those that were family or useful to him, and poor Carrine and her son were neither.