There were several taverns and dilapidated wine holes to be found in Winghem, all of which served the finest ales and spirits from all over the known world. For all its grimy, dreary mediocrity, Winghem was first and foremost a town full of merchants, and with merchants came a steady intake of all things exotic and luxurious. Money flowed through the rocky, pot-holed streets and alleys like a river, yet the tide always led to the pocket of a man or woman with unsavory morals and spending practices. At its core, Kingdom law held no sway over the inner clockwork of the town. The Magistrate was on the take with the more criminally minded business owners and Glimmer dealers; the lawmen were typically young, inexperienced and naïve. As long as Corland received legitimate reports every month detailing that all was well, the Royalty was content to simply leave it at that.
With the increased level of organized illicit activity, however, came the logical increase in public safety. Murder wasn’t tolerated, neither was robbery. Anything that might skew those reports or raise eyebrows and invite unwanted visits from Royal bureaucrats was kept strictly to a minimum. They had a very profitable racket to run, why let someone screw it up?
Viska whistled all the way to the Bolt and Bodkin alehouse. A place where the vomit was almost never cleaned up and the smell of stale piss drifted from the toilet room day and night. The special on the menu never changed: slow roasted badland brown potato bathed in honey maple reduction. The badland browns…some were as big as a cat, but more flavorful at smaller sizes. The food was well liked but the ale was just weak…weak yellow water, it almost seemed. Word was the bartender made the mistake of sleeping with the wives of both the merchants who sold all the good drink. Truth or not, the customers usually stuck to a strong tea instead.
He let out another slight cackle as he stepped through the open double doors. The large room smelled rancid, as always; though the last time he’d visited there had been more bloodstains on the floor. The torches around the walls were few, most likely to keep the patrons from getting a good look at the subpar ale. The piano music was a brisk tune, upbeat and full of good fun. Viska sidled up onto a barstool and hummed along. He ordered the finest white ale in the establishment and a small plate of salted root jerky.
After the first bite he realized with a giggle how funny it might be to set fire to the building and help everyone get out safely at the same time–before stabbing them all in the neck, of course.
The silly thoughts turned somber when he suddenly caught sight of someone he hadn’t noticed when he came in. Behind a slightly parted pair of sheer curtains, back in the private party room, sitting in a plush, cushioned booth surrounded by empty bottles and tiny beakers of Glimmer was a man well known around the Kingdom of Corland. Viska was certain that the chuckling, fawning women surrounding him on every side knew exactly who he was as well. He couldn’t quite make out the conversation, but the fellow’s lips moved a bit before he threw back a shot of something and most of his company burst into laughter. Oh yes…this man was very well known. He was no stranger to bad press, and worse reputation. His constant displays of public intoxication were the stuff of legend. To his own family he was nothing more than a cumbersome thorn in their collective foot. David, Cousin to King Janus and Princess Lorna; son of their Uncle Mordechai and Nephew to the late King Leorian III. Viska had wondered why the Royal barge was docked at the spire.
Most of David’s group was enjoying the evening. Some snorted Glimmer by the tiny spoonful, others kissed his neck or whispered things in his ear that made him grin and take another shot from his bottle of dark liquid. Most, but not all, seemed to think there was absolutely no better way to spend their night–the young girl on his lap, likely no older than thirteen, didn’t seem to think it was fun at all. She was blond, with hair done up in short pigtails. Pale skinned, with nothing but sad, hollow fear on her face. David would take a drink and try to kiss her, she would shy away but relent after stern looks from the rest of the group.
Viska took a violent bite of his jerky, chomping down hard on the chewy morsel. The little girl had grey eyes. Under normal circumstances he might not have spared a second look at the private room in the back. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Under normal circumstances he probably would’ve already shot the bartender for making food that was simply too damn good before setting the whole place on fire; but, under present circumstances, he would refrain from causing any trouble. Man, he really liked fire.
She had grey eyes, like him. That made things a little difficult to tolerate.
The law was loose in The Crevices, but it was simply nonexistent out in the wastes of the badlands of the North. Farms and small towns were routinely raided by pirates or nomads, the food and money pillaged and the children taken and sold to slavers from the Freeholds, or far to the East, beyond the serenity of Greenhaven. Most weren’t hurt–being sold to wealthy, albeit infirm, buyers who simply needed a hand tending to the garden or moving furniture. Many, though, especially the girls…many weren’t so lucky. Viska knew about all this because he’d seen it happen. But no…no, no, this was not the time to dwell. This was not the time to remember.
He had no idea who exactly this little one belonged to–even David wasn’t brazen enough to purchase a slave–but the disgust and resignation in her expression made his blood boil He downed his ale in several furious, dripping gulps; his eyes never leaving the smug, despicable, spoiled, chubby and pimpled little prick in the back room.
“Yeah, that’s David back there,” the bartender had wandered over, polishing a glass. Obviously Viska’s heated stare hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I saw the Barge headed in earlier. I think we all did. Got everyone’s knickers all knotted. Never good for business when Royalty comes ‘round ‘ere.” Viska didn’t even turn to acknowledge the man. “’Course that rule don’t apply to the young master over there. It was smiles all around when we saw his arse comin’ down the stairs. Drinkin’ all the good wine and eatin’ all the good food and snorting every shiny bottle he sees, eh?”
Viska didn’t avert his gaze, but said, “He’s got a slave in there.”
“I saw that too.”
“She’s a child. And an orphan.”
“That’s usually how they come, don’t they? Trust me; I don’t much like it myself.”
“Looking the other way to keep your reputation?”
He put down the glass and threw the towel over his shoulder. “Lookin’ the other way to keep my place open. Makin’ waves with the Royal Family ain’t exactly good for your health ‘round these parts, if you catch my meanin’.”
“I do.”
“And I’d think twice before goin’ and tellin’ any lawmen about this if I was you, mate, savvy?” With that he walked away, off to fill some other fellow’s order and bring fresh pints around the room. Viska quietly finished his jerky, grabbed his cane and put on his best smile as he walked to the curtains. The bartender looked confused but made no move to stop him.
He brushed the draperies open and stepped into the room, asking, “David? Is it really David?”
His entourage, even the little slave, all turned their heads at once to the grinning newcomer. Laughter died and smiles left. The Royal drunk himself set down a full shot glass and said with quiet anger, “Woah, mate, woah, what are you doing just barging in here? This is a private party, couldn’t you tell?”
Viska cackled. Several of the women cringed at the sound. “I knew it! Oh you know you remember me, right? Gods I can’t believe it’s really you!”
David frowned with his mouth open in deep thought. He appeared to be racking his memory for the deranged face before him. “You? I…I don’t know you. Please leave.”
Viska sat down in the chair across from him and his little blonde slave, who dared not look at the guest whatsoever. “You’re still fucking hilarious, mate,” he said. “It’s Selnick. I was at the tavern that night you got into the fistfight with the Constable? That was amazing.” The story wasn’t hard for anyone living in Corland to recall. One evening, two years ago, the feckless idiot had gotten completely smashed at a bar in the Leisure District. The crowd inside did nothing but cheer him on as he bought round after round for the thankful patrons. The bartender was only too happy to oblige, but mentioned that he would stop serving at midnight. David slammed the man’s head down on the bar and told him that he would stop serving when the Family was good and ready to let him. The law got involved, and it all ended rather messily.
“Selnick?” David mumbled, nodding. Slowly, a half smile grew on his plump lips. Viska was lying through his teeth, of course; but David was so drunk that night he wouldn’t know any better. “Yeah. Yeah, mate I remember.”
“Yeah?” he laughed. “Yes! You. Are. A. Legend. And I never thought I’d get a chance to meet you again and at least maybe…buy you a bloody drink, my friend. And here you are, in the fucking flesh.”
David raised his shot glass. “In the fucking flesh, with some fucking flesh, my good man.” He downed it and slammed the glass on the table.
The group chuckled nervously and began to relax a bit. One of the ladies even took a seat on Viska’s lap. It took every ounce of focus to hold his pleasant smile and keep from reaching for his dagger. The weight of this vile creature, this whore, the feel of her soft blue taffeta dress against his skin made his feelings turn dark, and bloody. The knowledge that they all clearly condoned the treatment of this little blonde on David’s lap was nearly more than he could handle; their visible disappointment at her refusal to let him have his way with her spoke volumes about their involvement with her “training.” Viska made a mental note to kill this one first. “There we are!” he said. “That’s right everyone, don’t stop your fun because of stupid little me, come on now.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and poured himself a shot in David’s own glass. They all relaxed as Viska swallowed his drink–turned out to be the driest, most watered down bourbon he’d ever had. Conversations resumed. Giggles and drinks flowed. One girl even reached for the Glimmer on the table between them. He looked David in the eyes and saw them swimming in red, wet glaze. He was good and sloshed, not to mention his heart was most likely racing from all the Glimmer he’d been sucking up his nose. “So she’s cute,” Viska pointed at the pigtailed innocent, “how exactly did you get her back here?”
“A gift from Old Magnus, down at the Winking Lady,” David slurred. “About time, too. Bastard knows I pour more coin into his establishment in one night than most of his clients do in a month.”
“Old Magnus has slaves? And this young? I’ve heard of the daily special but he’s been holding out on us, it seems.”
“Nah, mate. Just this one. This lot here,” he indicated the women around him, “came in just two days ago from Tesper with her. This party wasn’t cheap, let me tell you.” He laughed and slapped the wooden table. Spittle coated his lips as he calmed down. “But this little one,” he tried to suckle at her neck, grabbing her throat to hold her still. “She was a freebie.”
“Big spenders reap what they sow, eh?” Viska poured another shot and raised his glass.
David laughed again. “I like you…Selnick, right?”
He put the empty shot down and smiled. “That’d be me!” David offered him one of the small, glowing beakers and a tiny spoon. Viska shook his head. “Bad heart. I take pills to keep my chest steady.”
“Rotten luck.” He dug out a tiny smudge of the glowing stuff and snorted it. He shook his head violently for a moment, grunting in momentary pain. “So we met that night? Back in the city?”
“You were probably way too drunk to remember me. I held the bartender down while you poured wine all over his head.”
“No, no, man I remember.” He took yet another shot. “That got Janus’ arsehole tied up in knots, I can tell you. My father actually kept me in the bloody dungeon for three days.”
“I’d have kept you down there for a month, with how bad you made them all look.” They both had a laugh at that. The whore on Viska’s lap poured him another drink before digging out some Glimmer for herself. He drank the bourbon and then shook his head. “I’ve got to be out early tomorrow with a shipment of gears, my friend, that’s it for me.”
Steamworld 