Thief of Time

It didn’t take long for Dia to realise why most of the gangs here preferred using warehouses — mansions weren’t the best places to hold meetings. Further compounding this issue was the nice furniture inside the mansion, and after some deliberation, everyone walked back out, forming up in nice little blocks in the mansion’s garden.

“Everyone here?” the bartender asked. “Excellent. Now that we’ve swept the area, I hereby proclaim the establishment of this gang. The name Claud gave us sounds bad and is bad, so I’m open to suggestions that sound nice.”

“Hey!”

“Shut it, Claud. You have no naming sense, so find some place and watch the proceedings,” the bartender shot back.

“Fine, fine.” Claud slipped out of the crowd and sat on a small rock.

Dia glanced at him for a moment, and then hid a smile as the mysterious fellow began to draw circles on the ground, before turning back to the bartender.

“For now, I’d like everyone to coordinate with me,” said the bartender. “Get your maps, mark your territory, and see what shops aren’t under our protection yet.”

“Are we going to wrest with the city guards?” Lou asked.

“Glad you asked,” said the bartender. “We aren’t going to do that yet. No, we’re going to look for shops that have somehow slipped under the radar. That’s part one.”

“What’s part two?” Lou pressed on.

“We’ll be extending our influence in this city. Open small gambling dens. Create a safe haven for thieves to peddle their unwanted goods…at lower prices, of course. Basically, we’ll be uniting to create a real underworld of Licencia, not the previously-fragmented mess you guys had before that.” The bartender grinned. “Of course, in exchange for such riches, we must embrace moderation.”

“Moderation?” Julianne asked.

“Yes. No killing where possible. Keeping on good terms with the guards, and better ones with the people. The underworld cannot be recognised as an underworld if we are to prosper.”

“Are you…trying to make this whole underworld thing a business?” Farah asked. “Legitimacy, power, recognition…”

“Keen eye,” the bartender replied. “Let’s face it. No one is interested in fighting and killing every day. We all want good food on the table. Lifestones to use. People to drink with. Buddies who we protect. What better place can we have than a kind underworld?”

“Is that possible?” Risti asked.

“With you four around, very much so.” The bartender chuckled. “Strength inspires confidence. And confidence is the bedrock of all things ingenious. Believe in me. We shall rule the other side of this city, and turn it into a beacon for all who cannot step into the sun.”

“In that case,” said Julianne, “let’s call ourselves the Moon Lords. We offer a gentle light to those who burn under the sun.”

“Moon Lords?” The bartender nodded to himself. “Nice name. Better than Claud’s.”

“Hey!” Claud looked up from the circles drawn on the ground. “But that’s not wrong…”

“Moon Lords we shall be then. Any objections?” asked the bartender.

“Nope.”

“It’s a great name!”

“Can we call ourselves the Moon Coddles instead?”

“Yeah, about that last bit…no. Just no. Anyway…” The bartender jumped onto a rock. “Leaders of the old gangs, stay behind. We’ll need to do some reorganisation and restructuring, so that none of you will be in conflict. The others, work together and find opportunities we can exploit. Tomorrow night, gather those who are absent, and we’ll begin our first meeting here.”

Chatter filled the air as the ordinary members of the Moon Lords began to disperse, while talking to each other animatedly. There were at least a hundred people here, but Dia knew that by this time tomorrow, the number would balloon to at least three times that number.

“For some reason,” said Farah, “I feel that we just handed a huge business opportunity to the bartender.”

“Bit rich coming from a countess,” Risti replied. “But I think he’ll be good friends with my father if they ever met.”

“What makes you say that?” Farah asked.

“The Folders’ Association is run as a business, made up of people whose main call to fame is strength. This new underworld is going to be run as a business, whose people are largely the underprivileged and the downtrodden. See the pattern there?”

Farah tilted her head. “They’re both businessmen?”

“Yes. And they’re businessmen in complementary fields. In fact, I suspect the bartender would be thrilled to have the Folders’ Association as his customers, specifically the darker ones.” Risti smirked. “The Association can’t deal with stolen and robbed goods. But I’m willing to bet that our Moon Lords can.”

“No kidding,” Lily added. “The bartender might make a killing in Julan. Almost everything the baronets in Julan have are stolen. Like their tiny holdings. Or their titles.”

Dia winced at Lily’s scathing words.

“It’s that bad?” Farah asked. “I heard a report or two about how Julan is run, but I had dismissed them as hearsay.”

“Which ones did you hear about? Like the young men who come for a Julan flower rarely come back? Or how women on tours there are routinely kidnapped, with their families killed?” Lily asked. “My family even takes part in that, so I can tell you that it’s all true.”

“How has Julan managed to stay untouched so far?” Farah asked, shocked.

“Moderation. And a robust target selection,” Lily replied, her words taking a bitter turn. “This heiress position of mine…I don’t even want it. Countess, if you have the time, please send an army to purge Julan of its nobility.”

“Even your family?”

“Especially my family.” Lily shook her head. “There’s a reason why I fled from that Moon-damned place.”

“You’re a cold-hearted one.”

“Anyone would be if they paid a visit to the cellars of the Julan manors,” Lily replied. “In fact, countess, I suspect that you might be commended if you sent your men there and reported what you saw to Duke Istrel, or whoever his successor is. Even Emperor Grandis himself might grant you a merit or something.”

“It’s that bad?”

Lily replied with a smile devoid of humour.

Before Dia could press the topic, the bartender raised his voice. “Everyone, please follow me into the mansion. Claud, stop drawing circles and follow us in. You’ve been slacking off, considering your part in the whole thing.”

“Fine, fine. I’m coming.” Claud rolled off the rock and got to his feet. He paused as he went past Lily, and asked, “Right, Julan is the easternmost territory of the Schwa Dukedom, right?”

“Huh? Uh, yes. Why?” Lily asked.

“Oh, nothing much. I was just thinking about the place, that’s all.” Claud smiled brightly, and then walked into the mansion. “The maps that depict the territory of you nobles are very confusing.”

Dia watched him enter the mansion, and rubbed her nose. Clearly, he had overheard their conversation, but what did he mean by asking Lily about the directions there? Was he intending to do something there?

“What a nice person,” Lily murmured.

“And how, pray tell, did you even arrive at that conclusion?” Dia asked.

“He was reminding me that there’s a big world out there. Someday, an ally of justice would show up at Julan and save the poor people there,” said Lily.

“Huh?”

“Maybe he’s even trying to encourage you to be that ally of justice,” Risti added.

Dia blinked thrice.

“Sounds reasonably,” said Farah. “Or maybe, he was hinting at me to do something about the place. Right?”

“You guys are…” Dia swallowed her next words.

“Are?” Lily asked.

“Incredibly perceptive of other people’s true intentions,” Dia forced out. “As expected of you guys. How…perceptive.”

Or rather, delusional. Moons, how are you three reading that deeply into Claud’s words? Didn’t you get the impression that he wanted to do something huge there? No? Or am I actually the odd one?

Lost in thought, Dia followed the others into the mansion. The world of social interaction was growing more and more foreign to her by the day, and she couldn’t help but lament at how the others had such innovative minds.

Filing into the living room, she made herself at home on a squishy chair called a sofa. There were a few of them in the Lustrel Palace, her father’s home, but the sheer craftsmanship required to make them meant that such furniture went at a premium.

The value of gold had a tendency to fluctuate, but on average, one such sofa would cost six hundred gold. It was worth a lot more than normal artefacts, but again, nobles were spendthrifts.

Most of them, anyway. Dia’s little palace only had seats worth around fifty gold. It wasn’t really extravagant.

Patting herself on the back mentally, she continued to look around the mansion, and felt a bit disappointed when she realised that the things inside really couldn’t compare to her room or the sofa earlier. Evidently, the previous occupant — the fellow called Lirac — had been strapped for cash, even as a mana-user.

“Ahem.” The bartender cleared his throat. “Alright, what we’re going to do next is to consolidate our economic base. Everyone, report your assets. Don’t worry, I don’t need them. I intend to have each of the eight gangs work on a specialised aspect of Licencia’s new underworld…and then we’ll be rolling in riches.”

He grinned, showing off a flawless set of teeth. “Now that I have your attention, I’m going to lay down some regulations for our new world. Disobey them at your peril. First…”