"Where's the money!"
Jarno drove his fist hard into a fat stomach. Grett, the man on the receiving end, doubled over and sagged forwards. Jarno pushed him off, and the man collapsed onto the wooden floor.
They were in a backroom of a small warehouse on the Southside. Through the thin walls, loud cheers and shouts echoed from the room next door. A dog fight was being played out and dock workers bet their meagre pay on a bloodied survivor.
Half a crown had bought Jarno the time and space he needed, enough to ensure no questions would be asked. The room had a table, two chairs and thin walls with no windows. Perfect.
"I don't know," Grett blubbered, tears streaming down his face. "I really don't!"
For a moment, Jarno felt sorry for him, then he remembered, Grett was a moneylender.
"You have to know. Any lowlifes suddenly close their tallies?"
"No! I swear it, Gods, please!"
Jarno considered hitting him again, but decided it wouldn't do any good. Instead, he pulled up a chair reversed it and sat, looking down at Grett.
"Lynchpin tells me you're the biggest lender on the Southside now."
"I guess I—"
"And quite a little workhouse you got going for the people who can't pay."
"It's a legitimate business!"
"Until we say otherwise and shut you down."
Grett looked up at him and smiled through bloodied teeth. "You can't do that!"
Jarno leaned closer. "You bloodsuckers need to get with the game. If some dock monkey found the Governor's taxes, you've either lost a customer or you'll be hiding a rival."
Grett looked him square in the eye. "I swear to you Watchman, that kind of money hasn't hit these streets."
"Then where is it?"
Grett swallowed and tried to look dignified. "I told you, I don't know."
Frustrated, Jarno tried another tack. "What about if a racket like yours got hold of a few hundred crowns, what would they do with it? What would you do with it?"
"But I haven't got—"
"I didn't say you had, just give me an idea."
Grett wiped his face with his shirt. "If they didn't have to use it, they'd sit on it. Trickle the money down."
"And what would happen to the finder?"
"Big reward or dead, I reckon."
Jarno nodded and stood up. "That's what I thought too. Thank you and sorry for taking up your afternoon."
"What? That's it?"
"No need to waste anymore time, unless you got something else to tell me?" Jarno headed for the door. "I'd take a minute before you head out though. I doubt you'll want your customers out there to know you've been crying."
He made his way out of the backroom, the dog baiting crowd fell silent as he passed, noting the badge and black. He met every stare with a hostile one of his own until he reached the entrance and then backed out into the street. As he walked away he could feel eyes boring into his back. Let them stare.
He turned a corner and two men were standing in the middle of the road, both carrying heavy wooden cudgels and heading right for him. The rest of the street was deserted.
"Can I help you?" Jarno asked, trying to sound authoritative.
"Where's Grett?" demanded the first, a bald man with a squint.
"I left him at the dog meet. I think he fancies his luck."
The bald head wrinkled up, looking confused. "We're to bring him in."
"They said he was with you," the other man added. He had dark hair and a wispy beard.
Jarno shrugged and spread his hands. "Well I don't have him, so best go find him where I said and take him to Lynchpin."
Dark hair grunted and they both elbowed past Jarno. He watched them go for a moment, before breaking into a jog the other way. No sense in hanging around to find out what they'd been told to do if they found Grett roughed up.
---
That afternoon, Jack didn't fare any better.
He sat on his bunk stretching a badly bruised leg and flexing swollen knuckles as the rest of the group filed in. He blinked several times and could feel his right eye was beginning to swell shut.
"So when are you leaving?"
Jack blinked again and looked up. The girl from the group had wandered over and stood at the end of his bed with her arms folded. She was gawky thin and not much more than sixteen; attractive, but for the bumps and bruises including a weeping wound across her forehead.
"Haven't decided I'm going yet," Jack said.
"Well hurry up, you're useless."
Jack stood up gingerly and held her gaze. She didn't blink or flinch and had the kind of confidence someone gets when they've beaten on the person they're talking to.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Fran," she replied.
"Well Fran, if I decide to leave or they kick me out, I'll be sure to remember what you said."
Fran grunted and turned away, heading back over to the others who were gathered round in a whispering group. Jack guessed they were talking about him, working out whether he needed an 'incentive' tonight to pack his bags. He sat down again and ignored them.
Then voices echoed from outside and Jack glanced up. Two of the boys went to the door and looked out before calling the others over. They crowded around the open door. For a minute, Jack thought about joining them, but decided he'd learn what was going on soon enough and instead, lay back on the bed. Everything seemed to ache, but he judged nothing was broken. The worst of it was his left knee which felt weak when he put weight on it.
The voices grew louder, it sounded like more people than were left in the barracks, so Jack guessed the patrols had returned. Confirmation came when the other recruits scattered from the door and Malthus strode into the room.
"Jack! Where're you hidin?"
Jack propped himself up on an elbow and watched the one eyed soldier make his way over. "What's this I hear about you ducking training?"
"I haven't ducked anything," Jack replied. "Told you before; I'm not the master swordsman you think I am."
Malthus snorted. "Horse dung!"
Jack shrugged. "Believe what you like, I'll be out of here by morning." Now the Kingsmen were back, Jack guessed the curfew would be over. Baylen would kick him out, so he could dig up the rest of the money and slip out of the city.
"Not so fast. Come with me," Malthus said.
Jack sat up. "Why? Where are we going?"
"To see Baylen. I ain't givin' up on this yet."
"Fine," Jack got up and followed Malthus. "I don't think you'll change his mind though." "We'll see about that."
---
"Read this."
Jarno took the piece of parchment from Commander Tenneth's hand, noting the official city seal. They were in the Commander's office on the top floor of the Watch house, a three-storey tower that overlooked the Governor's residence and offered a good view of most of the city streets from where Jarno was standing. The buildings were bathed in an orange glow as the sun went down over the walls. Tenneth, his back to the window as he sat in his chair, was missing quite a show.
Jarno glanced down. The words on the paper were well written, which was just as well as his reading wasn't the best. "This what I think it is?"
"If you mean a Governor's warrant, then yes."
"Why you giving it to me?"
Tenneth ran a hand through his greying hair and sat back. "Because you're the only badge I have that decided to keep looking for the money when the Magister's people got involved. I don't know whether that makes your balls big as rocks or your brain small as rabbit shit."
Jarno smiled, "Perhaps both."
"Well, I want nothing to do with this and neither will any of the captains," Tenneth said. "If you knew what was good, you'd back away too." He got up and walked over to a cupboard, pulling out a wine bottle and two cups, "You want some?"
Jarno shook his head. "You know I don't."
Tenneth smiled and shook the bottle at him. "Oh yes, I remember, once you start you can't stop can you?" He poured for himself and drank, grimacing.
Jarno ignored him and read the parchment again. "Says here I'm working under the Governor's order, means I get to ask for anything I want."
"You cross the Magister with it, and you'll end up dead."
"Not a lot of choice," Jarno said. "His people took the dead man's body from the tavern and cleaned up the scene. I need to know what they found."
Tenneth sighed. "Listen Jarno, you might think this is some short road to a reputation, but this puts you as a pawn between two kings. They'll kill you or burn you up first chance they get."
"That why you aren't taking it?"
"Absolutely," Tenneth replied.
Jarno folded the parchment and tucked into a pocket. "I'm aware of the risk,"
"Are you?" Tenneth poured a second glass and walked back to his seat at the desk. "You're a good investigator; since you came here you've achieved a lot. I know you were a captain before, if this goes well, you'll be a captain again, but if it doesn't—"
"Then what happens, happens, sir."