Jack

  Grey grumbled. He looked towards a corner of the room and remained like that for a while.

  “Mr. Grey, please, tell us how it went? Did the Austins accept the invitation?” Jack asked with a heavy voice. He wanted to finish this quickly and go back to his inn.

  “They will go to the meeting,” Grey spat the words, still staring at the corner.

  “And?”

  “That is all. At the venue we shall see if they favor our conditions.”

  Bloody cocksucker. Can’t you be more specific? This is why I hate dealing with nobles, Jack clenched his teeth. He forced a smile and began to talk with a softer voice. “Mr. Grey. I know the two families have a long history of rivalry, but I hope that the Devlins can put aside this grudge for the good of the cause.”

  Grey snorted. “What does our cause have to do with you, Mr. Jack? This only concerns those of noble blood. Damn it!” He hit the table, making it wobble. “To think we have to beg commoners for help.”

  “I understand your distress, my good sir,” Jack said. “No one likes to be forced to do what they don't want to. But you need the Austins’ help. If your side doesn’t pick up the pace, you'll lose the race against the other revolutionary groups. They'll be the ones with the spoils at the end of the day.’

  “Stop talking nonsense!” Grey shouted, slamming the table again. “Those scums won’t achieve anything.”

  “Do you seriously believe that?” Jack asked, staring at him. “Have you seen the protests that have been held across the country? They are the talk of the town, the press, the authorities. And what about you and your... little faction? Jack sneered. “Not only did you people arrive late to the party, but you are wasting your time sniffing each other’s farts instead of going after the muses.”

  Grey's eyes turned red. Even though his face was covered, Jack could see the anger in it. "Why should you care about what happens to our organisation? Please tell me, Mr Jack. I'm curious to know why you're so interested in us”, he said bitterly.

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, I don’t have any. Nothing. However, I have to eat. You and your friends hired us to assist you with your revolution, didn't you? Your allies in Alba want to know if they can still rely on your support. That's my reason for coming here. I need to send them a report."

  Grey grunted. “Everything is going according to plan. We sent an emissary to their house with the invitation and a brief explanation of what would be discussed at the meeting. We wanted to see if they expressed any interest. Their official response arrived last week. They accepted.”

  “Good, good. I guess the talks have been prosperous.”

  Grey scoffed and looked away. “Yes, they have… Albeit we disagreed with the terms of the proposal we are to present to… to those damn rats!” Grey suddenly shouted. “Why do we have to bite our tongues and smile like fools before them? Those damn fiends don’t deserve what we are offering them. We are behaving like beggars, beggars begging to commoners! Should we also get on our knees, wag our tails, and cry for some coins? The family feels insulted.”

  “Don't you want their contacts? This is the only way to get them. Why don't you see it this way? Once you've obtained what you need from them, you won't have to keep pandering to them anymore. None of your friends will say anything if something goes wrong afterwards. Do you understand?”

  Grey nodded slowly. “We also thought about that… You believe the others will stay quiet?”

  Jack shrugged. “I don't know. You know them better than I do, but…” Jack fell silent. He was going to remind Grey to make sure they got what they needed from the Austins before hurting them; however, there was something about Grey that irritated Jack terribly. He tried to be professional and suppress that feeling, but he couldn't. The man sitting before him made him nauseous. He reminded him of the pigs in fine clothes and perfumed manners, whom he used to see his father bowing to when he was just a child. His father always strove to please them, even at the expense of his health and family, and they rewarded such devotion by driving him to his death.

  To hell with the nobles and their stupid revolution.

  “Mr. Jack?” Grey called him.

  “Huh? Oh, yes, sorry. I’ve got distracted.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “I was… Well, maybe you could…” Jack muttered.

  “What? I cannot hear you,” Grey asked, leaning forward.

  “I was thinking that if things turn sour with the Austins, maybe your family could try more severe methods, like what you’ll do to your merchant friends. Everything to dissuade them.”

  Grey stared at Jack for a moment, then nodded. “It is an option to consider,” he said.

  “Indeed, it is. Make them understand the greatness of your proposal,” Jack said with a smile. “Anyway, I think it's time for me to leave.” Jack stood and walked to the door. “Let me remind you to keep us informed of what happens with the Austins at the meeting. Oh! Before I forget. Do we need to slow down the deliveries, or will you be able to resolve the problem with the merchants on time?”

  “Don't worry. We will take care of it,” Grey said. “You can keep sending the merchandise as usual.”

  “Very well. Mr. Bottle, my dear friend. Could you please escort me out?”

  Bottle went up. “Wait here while I take him out,” he said to Grey.

  ?Jack followed Bottle through the somber corridor of the basement. The path lay invisible. The air smelled of wet earth and mold, and the brick walls felt cold on the fingers. And yet, Bottle steps seemed certain of where to go in the darkness.

  “Don’t you have someone to light this bloody place?” Jack asked.

  “Naw, we’re low on hands right now. I know the way, so that’s fine.”

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  “Is the business that bad?”

  “No, we fine. It’s just that the boss took some lads with him.”

  “I see… Bottle, can I ask you something?” Jack said, staying as close to the man as he could, for he could not tell where they were going.

  “Sure, ask.”

  “Why did you change clothes?”

  Bottle laughed, his roar boomed in the darkness. “These bloody rags? Ha! I had no choice. I went to the Devlins’ home to tell ‘em that you wanted to talk, as you told me, but the cunts didn’t want to see me. They said it’s ‘cause how I looked, but I knew it was some shit they'd made up. The boss left me in charge and told me you were coming, so I had no choice but to keep trying. I put on these expensive rags and went back there. These belong to the boss, by the way.

  Maybe they didn’t want their neighbors to know they knew a man like you, Jack thought. “And I bet they still sent you off, right?” he said.

  “Their guards slammed the door in my face, the bloody cunts.” Bottle snorted. “They thought I was goin’ to give up and leave, but I didn’t. I told ‘em that I needed someone from the house to talk to, that it was urgent, but they were badly stubborn. Now the problem wasn’t how I looked; now they asked for the boss. I knew that was another excuse to shoo me off, so I told them that, ‘or they meet me, or our relationship ends here.’ I yelled to their men that there was no other choice.”

  “And why didn't your boss go instead?”

  “He can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Busy with something?”

  “Nah, paranoid. He doesn’t want us all at the same place, so we always scattered and moving around. That’s why he couldn’t meet with you.” Bottle sighed. “This has only made my work harder. I’m gettin’ tired of this shit.”

  “And what worries him?

  “The fiasco in Westbourne. We’re lucky they only got the guns, but I heard they captured some of our people. Didn't you know?

  Jack recalled that Adam mentioned something about it. “I know.”

  “Well, that's what driving him crazy. He's afraid someone squeaked and now the police know everything. He sees their dogs every way he goes, thinkin’ they are after him.” Bottle suddenly stopped. “Be careful with the stairs here; they’re slippy. Up leads outside.”

  They slowly climbed the stairs. Bottle didn't lie. Jack had to desperately grip the wall with his fingers to avoid falling. At the door, Bottle took out a set of keys and opened it.

  Fresh air hit Jack's face as he stepped into the open. He breathed deep, taking it all in. The sun was setting, painting the sky red over the horizon. There was an empty lot before him, filled with overgrown grass and rubbish, probably from the pub. He started to feel hungry, and his dry tongue asked for water. He had wasted a whole afternoon inside that decrepit room. Bottle had been an inept host. He looked around and guessed that they were behind the pub. No one was around them, except for the horses inside the stables to their left.

  “I understand you perfectly, mate,” Jack said, continuing the conversation. “My boss suffers from the same illness as yours, but he has valid reasons for it.”

  “The police?”

  “The kingdom. We've lost four wagons of goods so far in the last months, in Nivewall alone. The last one was ten days ago. The checkpoints and road patrols have been difficult to avoid lately. It seems the authorities have figured out our routes. Maybe your boss is right: someone talked. It's getting harder and harder to transport the cargo north.”

  “Bloody hell, mate. We ain’t to make a damn profit if this keeps on.”

  “Yeah, we won’t. We might even need to stop the business for a few months, wait for things to cool down. Or maybe drop everything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Jack shrugged. “We’ll see. By the way, who was that bloke you brought?”

  “That chap, ha! He’s some bye blow fucker—a nobody who thinks his farts smell better than ours. He’s here ‘cause he’s worthless. If he gets caught, the family can quickly disown him and pretend they didn’t know what he was doin’.”

  “Are they also concerned about the kingdom, like us?”

  “Bloody hell, they are. Are you daft?” Bottle laughed. “Haven’t you heard about the Walsh thing?”

  “Are you talking about the murders? Of course I did. It was all over the newspapers.”

  “Well, that shit has shaken the family. The Devlins believe the kingdom has somethin’ to do with the murders. It’s been a pain to meet with ‘em ever since. That prat, Grey, is who they now send to talk with us. That arse only knows how to blab and complain. He doesn't help us at all. We have to wait for him to talk with his family first every bloody time we ask him for somethin’. We hear their answer days later. What a waste of time.”

  “What a hurdle. Can we even trust those people?”

  Bottle shrugged. “As good as trusting a dog to guard your food, that little we can. But don’t worry, mate. We have our eyes on ‘em.”

  “Will they pull that off, you know, what Grey said about the merchants?”

  “Aye, they will. Don’t doubt it. They’re like us. The Devlins are only noble in name.”

  “You think they might ask you for help?”

  Bottle scratched his beard, pondering. “Who knows. Those cunts might ask us.”

  “If they ask—make ‘em bleed. Don’t sell to those buggers a cheap service. And be sure they use their own people, not ours, when they pull that off. Keep our involvement to a minimum.” Jack's tone was sharp.

  “Don’t worry, mate. I got this.” Bottle smirked. “I won’t piss on my own leg.”

  “I’m just warning you. They may ask you for that bloody damn room you have back there.”

  Bottle laughed, shaking his head. “What! No, no, no, you’re wrong there, mate. That room’s for troublesome clients—twats who don’t want to pay and think they can just run from us. We keep ‘em in there for a while, then we call the constables.”

  Jack nodded. He looked at the red sky. “I know you don’t want me inside the pub, but can’t you at least gift me a blue ruin, you know, to warm up the road back.”

  “Aye, wait here. I'll tell the groom to bring your horse. He'll bring you the gin.” Bottle headed towards the door from which they had come out. Suddenly, he stopped. “Can I ask you something?”

  “What’s wrong?” Jack noticed the seriousness in his voice.

  “You look like a clever man. How’d you think this will end? You think our friends will get what they want?”

  “Are you talking about the revolution?”

  “Aye, that shit. The boss tried to explain it to me, but I didn't make heads or tails of it. The Devlins say that all this rubbish is to gain independence, or some shit like that. But why don't they join that other group? The Heirs of Nivewall. I asked my boss ‘bout it, but he didn't tell much.”

  Jack stared at him for a moment before answering. There were many possible answers to give, which is common when it comes to political factions and their complex nature, where each member has their own agenda, sometimes at odds with the general consensus of the faction, but in this case, fortunately for Jack, the answer could be summed up in a single word.

  “Because it was founded by commoners, and with commoners’ ideals,” Jack said. “They want a Republic. The nobles a kingdom. The nobles will gain nothing if they join. I heard they may join hands after all, though. But that’s just a lousy rumor.”

  “So it's ‘cause they are commoners.” Bottle laughed. “That I can understand. And who's this family they need to meet?”

  “The Austins. They are a wealthy family from Blackferr.”

  “How's that family goin’ to help?”

  “They are friends with powerful people, and that's what the Devlins are after… Say, our friend didn't hide anything about that merchant family, did he?”

  Bottle shrugged. “I don't know. But between you and me. I think it was just an excuse.”

  “What'd you mean?”

  “That shit ‘bout the merchants betraying them. Don't buy it. I think those cunts just wanted an excuse to get rid of ‘em. The boss told me they had been eyeing that business for a while. The merchants are makin’ a lot selling our goods, so the Devlins got greedy. They want that blunt.”

  “Cocksuckers,” Sam smirked.

  “They bloody are,” Bottle said with a nod. He opened the door and went inside, without saying anything else.

  Jack stood there, watching the end of the day. He hoped his dull host would not forget the bottle of gin he promised.