Butcher of Gadobhra Chapter 277 (Patreon)

Late night in Gadobhra. A large and rotted squash was launched towards the head of the demonic statue sitting in the middle of the open square at the city's heart. Metal creaked, and a clawed hand intercepted the squash.

I've killed men for far less.

"Yeah, well, I'm disappointed. I'd hope that you would kill people for no reason at all. Humans will kill for the last piece of the pie. Squash to the face is a death penalty nearly everywhere."

And yet you risk it?

"Testing your reflexes and seeing if you're always awake."

And what is it my Baron needs from me now?

"I need a teleport stone. A big one. Or I need to know how to make one or where to steal one."

And why should I help? What is that to me?

"Because they're screwing with me and screwing with my city. I don't let anyone do that. I'm about to start hitting back hard, and that would help."

And what are you going to do to them?

"Drive them to bankruptcy and crush their souls. Show them they are ants compared to me. Make them grovel and be forgiveness."

OK, now those are things I approve of. Vengeance and the crushing of souls. Very nice. You should dig down about ten feet from where you're standing now.

"Dammit! Are you saying there is a teleport stone buried here?"

Not quite. When the city was defeated, they shattered the stone, dug a hole, and buried the pieces. That is the best I can do. I hope you like putting together large puzzles.

"It's a start. Know anything about how to make them? Fix them?"

No. I think we brought that one from somewhere else. How the old Baron made it work was not something, he shared with me. Probably a good thing. I'd be playing with it constantly, teleporting meat daemons and ghouls to nunneries. If you get an extra, you know where to put it and leave me the manual.

"Sure. No problem. I'll be bringing back a crew to start digging'"

I'll let the charnel daemons and ghouls know. It will be fun to watch.

"Go ahead; the Butcher will be with them. He still has some anger issues to work out."

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Sometime just after dawn, Geoffrey snuck downstairs. In the common room, he saw two guards snoring by the fire. The inn had yet to stir. He took a wedge of cheese and a half loaf of bread from a table littered with food scraps. His head ached from too much drink and too little sleep. As light filled the room, he felt foolish. He was letting dreams and night terrors affect his actions. He turned to go back up the steps to his bed and stopped as he saw the eyes in the shadows of the stairs. Red eyes glared at him above barely-seen fangs. A low growl came from the shadows as he started to take a step.

He turned and left, sure of what had tormented him all night. The shadows couldn't follow him into the sunlight. He only needed to get his horse, and he could get away. Walking quickly to the stable, he hesitated to enter the dimly lit room. He was saved by the appearance of Lem, the guard they had left here to look after the horse. Lem already had one horse saddled and ready to go. An odd thing but an occurrence Geoffrey was happy for. "Good man. Saddle another. We are leaving."

"Don't have to tell me twice. Damned nags are acting up, and some of them are whispering about me; I know it. Don't believe a word they say, sir. You know how horses lie." He managed to find one more horse that he could deal with. They were off and riding for Rowan Keep moments later, neither talking about the reasons why.

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Theordis awoke much too early. The sun was in his eyes, his room smelled, and the wench he had paid to sleep with him the night before was asking for his attention. He mumbled to her to pull the drapes, but she insisted on making her grunting noises and nuzzling his neck. "Dammit, woman, leave off and control your passions." He opened both eyes and saw Manfred asleep in a feed trough a few feet away. The girl nuzzling his neck turned out to be a yearling pig. With an exclamation, he stood up, hitting his head on the top of the pigpen and knocking himself out.

Manfred woke a moment later from the noise and stood up. Through pounding head and weary eyes, he realized where he was and recognized the bare feet and snores of Theordis in the pen. "Even in a damned pigpen, he somehow gets the best bed." He pulled Theordis out of the pen, managed to lift the portly man up, and dragged him over the fence. He found a wheelbarrow but couldn't get his friend into it. Luckily, the village workforce was starting their first shift, and a smiling woman picked up Theordis and dumped him into the wheelbarrow. Manfred managed to push the cart to the inn and pound on the door.

The innkeeper's wife crossed her arms and refused them entry. "You come to my door stinking of pigs and alcohol and want a room? I think not. Good day." Manfred finally made her understand that they had rooms already. She relented, but only after the agreement that she could dump a bucket of water over them first to wash off some of the stinks. Cold baths were drawn for the two of them, and some fruit and bread were put in their rooms for breakfast. Both taxmen washed and then crawled into bed. The Innkeeper tried to wake them for the breakfast the Baron had provided, but they ignored him.

At noon, a courier from the Baron pounded on their doors, yelling loudly and reminding them of their meeting with the Baron. In a panic, the men dressed, crying for their scribes. Geoffrey was nowhere to be found; his room was cleaned out. The innkeeper's wife reported he had been seen leaving early in the morning, leaving town with one guard and two of the horses. They cursed him as useless and went to yell at their scribes, collect their notes and contracts, and head to the meeting with the Baron.

Their scribes had not slept in their beds. Their belongings were gone, and the window in each room was open. The rooms were locked from the inside, and the innkeeper had to open the rooms. The only clue to their disappearance was what they found in Kenneth's room. A large maple leaf contained a message written in silvery ink.

"They belong to me now and are happier because of it. Meddle not in the affairs of the Fae." The leaf changed into a hawk in Manfred's hand and flew out the window.

Shaken, the men found their notes and contracts, woke their three remaining guards, and staggered to the tavern. When they entered, the talk died down, and quite a few angry eyes looked at them. They hurried upstairs. Manfred was worried. "The Baron has turned the populace against us. I'm worried for our safety."

Theordis puffed out his chest. "He wouldn't dare touch a hair on our heads."

"Oh please, tell that to our scribes."

The Baron and his people were in attendance. Stone-faced and unhappy. The taxmen sat at their end of the table. By agreement, Manfred went first. He handed a letter to Suzette. "As agreed to by the Baron, you are charged with paying the sum of 32,000 gold pieces in taxes by the end of the month. If you cannot pay, you will be turned over to the Legion to serve a term of not less than 20 years, and your goods will be used to pay the taxes. Please sign all four copies. One for your records, one for the Baron, one my records, and a fourth to be submitted to the imperial tax collection office." The cowering young lady signed, and Manfred countersigned, witnessed by the Courier and Theordis.
That done, Manfred leaned back in his chair to watch Theordis put on his show.

Here, your excellency is a notification that I have deemed it necessary for you to install and pay for an upgrade to the teleport stone at Rowan Keep. After all, the number of troops it can house will be increased, and so must its ability to move those troops or bring more in. We must ensure the area is safe, and I'm sure you agree. If you don't agree, you can appeal to Duke Carl or the Emperor. Appeals are running a few years behind, but that's your problem, not mine." Again, all parties signed, and the signatures were witnessed. When it was done, Theordis smiled like a cat with a bowl of cream.

"And now we can talk about what it would take to make those pieces of paper disappear."

The Baron looked at his tax advisor. The man's eyes were not human this morning, and to the taxmen's horror, a large spider descended from the ceiling to sit on his shoulder. He stroked its hairy body a few times before glaring across the table. "I don't think so. The Baron is tired of your games and your insults."

"Last night, you sent three underlings to spy upon the Summer Lord. That is between you and him. The young men have learned a lesson about dealing with a Fae Lord. They are alive but owe service to the Fae. The Baron is upset that you interfered in a delicate matter of trade."

"And, it wasn't the only matter. You interfered with the Baron's arrangement with Captain Windrider, Captain Shipbreaker, and Captain Woodrat. They informed the Baron that they were off to, as they put it, 'Drink some different rum in a different port.' The ramifications of this are unknown, but we will be protesting sternly to your superiors. Very sternly."

"And finally, a local sow has filed a grievance against you for disturbing her sleep and trying to seduce one of her daughters. Such behavior will not be tolerated in Sedgewick, sirs. You will be leaving now! Good day!"

The room grew quiet. Theordis cleared his throat. "I'm sure we can discuss matters. The Baron is very close to defaulting on..."

The tax advisor cut him off. "I said Good Day! And I meant Good Day! Do not make me raise my voice again, or I will feed you to my spider!"

An overwhelming fear hit the two men as the Baron and Baroness glared at them. They were out of the room, and out of Sedgewick, within minutes.