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Free Lances - Chapter 151

Published at 27th of December 2022 10:35:11 AM


Chapter 151

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“Despite the best efforts from the best sort of men and women, no region in the world could truly claim to be free from crime and underhanded activities. Even in the best, most prosperous places, there would always be those who simply could not fit into society at large, the rejects, the exiles, the never-do-wells who would often turn to crime and violence to live the way they wanted.

 

It was most telling that even in regions as prosperous as the Lichdom, where hunger and starvation was unheard of, and the punishment for banditry is not just death, but eternal servitude thereafter, some never-do-wells still attempt to prey on the populace. Even their gruesome ends at the hands of the necromancers who oversaw the region failed to prevent others from making the same mistake in the future.

 

For some, a safe, fulfilling, normal life was just the sort of thing they could never do, regardless of how horrific the alternatives might be.” - Alosyius “The Old Man” Grange, former mercenary turned guard captain, Dvergarder, Posuin, circa 6 FP.

Hidden deep in the uninhabited regions to the south-west of the Duchy of Dvergarder, in the small mountain range that served as part of the border between the Duchy and its neighboring Marquisate of Aluvo, were a network of caverns and hidden trails, where a small microcosm of society, formed by those rejected by society at large, formed.

 

The network of caverns and the cramped living spaces dug within the mountains were the handiwork of various exiles, outlaws, criminals, and never-do-wells that were unwanted by society and had been since cast out, where they made a living by doing all sorts of things the rulers of the regions frowned upon. The network of caverns was one of the largest gathering places of such types in the entirety of the former kingdom of Posuin.

 

While these criminals struck everywhere within the former kingdom, prosperous regions like the Duchy of Dvergarder was always their favored target, as there was always more to earn there. However, with the strict security measures the Duchy had in place, the high rewards came coupled with high risks as well, and criminals who attempted a foray into the Duchy failed to return more often than they did.

 

The Duke of Dvergarder had long wanted to eradicate the hideout, but its location on the mountain range - which was a touchy subject as both Dvergarder and Aluvo laid claim to it - made sending troops without risking the rise of a larger incident difficult. The Duke had also rightfully suspected that quite a few of the criminals had been “encouraged” by his political rivals and enemies to turn their eyes towards his territory.

 

Unfortunately, the always-tenacious political situation, followed by the outbreak of the civil war that engulfed the Kingdom, prevented the Duke - and many of his predecessors - from cleaning out the place, and as a result of the decrease in security as part of the guards that kept the Duchy secure now fought in the front lines as soldiers, such criminal types had grown bolder and made many attempts that tested the patience of the Duke over the last few years.

 

That early winter morning - though winters were pretty warm in Dvergarder, except maybe for a couple of weeks in the middle of the second months where it sometimes snowed - a large collection of such criminals were gathered within a stuffy cavern that served as a bar and tavern of sorts, where swill that would make horse piss look tempting were served and drank, and of course also turned over heads and splashed on faces.

 

In a table tucked away by the corner of the cavern, sat a group of seven, who calmly drank their swill - most others noticed that they had the better sort of ale rather than the usual shitty one the tavern served, but none dared to accost the group over it - and snacked on charred and undercooked pieces of roasted meats of an unknown kind while they talked to each other in low voices, ignoring the ensuing brawl in the middle of the tavern.

 

The group of seven were known as the Reasley siblings - although none of them were siblings - and had some infamy as kidnappers, most notably for their successful kidnapping of a young noble in Oleynuos itself, where they escaped safely after they collected their ransom. All seven were hardened criminals, who were currently in the midst of discussing their potential next target.

 

“I’m telling you all, their coffers must be flush with gold, with that recent victory and feat in the north,” said the oldest man on the table, a weasely sort who looked maybe forty or fifty, with salt-and-pepper beard and long unkempt hair, as he slammed his tankard on the table, spilling some of the ale within, to punctuate his words. “If we can just pull this off then we’d be flush for at least a couple years!”

 

“They’re right next to Dvergarder itself, though, Big Bro,” said another of the group, a chubby, younger man maybe in his mid-twenties, with some messy stubble on his chin. “The Old Man’s cracking down hard lately, and not even our man inside can really stop him with that.”

 

“You said it yourself, though, little bro,” countered an older woman with only one eye who had a long, jagged scar from one side of her mouth that reached all the way to her ear. “They’re right next to the city, not in the city. The Old Man doesn’t really police the surroundings much, as he’s focused on the insides of the city itself. I say it’s an acceptable risk.”

 

“It should be easy enough to ensure that the patrols near that area would be some of the ones eating up our coins, too,” added a suave-looking man who wore glasses and had a neat, trimmed mustache. He had been the one who dealt with bribing people for their group’s benefits. The “Old Man” they referred to was the Guard Captain of Dvergarder, who was competent and not an option, but he was growing old, and his second in command turned out to be far more agreeable to their entreaties… and coins. “All considered, I agree with big bro, this should be a profitable venture.”

 

“It’s not like they’d be that hard to deal with anyway. What do they have there in that camp? Retirees, the old and the weak, nothing we can’t deal with,” said a brawny woman with a bit of a gut next. “I’d say it ought to be much easier than that job we pulled off in the capital back then. That ass had some real guards.”

 

“I’m in favor too,” said a skinny, tall man who looked like he could not stay still for long. “We’ve hit harder targets before, successfully, and besides, all their fighters are gone anyway. How much trouble could a bunch of old decrepits and children pose?”

 

“I have a bad feeling and wanted to say otherwise, but you five clearly want to do this, so screw it, count me in,” said the last person on the table, a younger woman whose head was shorn bald and had earrings dangling from her ears and nose. “What’s the worst that could happen anyway?”

 

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