4/4.

******

 

Mossknell lotus. Pixie dust. Amorium petals. 

And something which Renise highly suspected to be hair from a moustache. 

That’s what went into Nine-Finger-Ninny’s get out of jail free card. A vial of concentrated unhappiness as smoke worse than anything a mage could conjure filled the room.

The sound of wheezing pierced the smog as all present doubled over from the foulness of the concoction. Or that’s what Renise hoped was happening. She lacked both the curiosity and the will to be stabbed to find out, and so busied herself by escaping through the same exit the baroness did on days where she just didn’t feel like greeting the customers.

The ladder joined with the hatch in her own safe room. 

Although it wasn’t a skill Renise had ever been taught, fleeing was now one she specialised in.

With any luck, it was a short climb to ground level, followed by a shorter stumble and then bursting through a discreet alley door where she could lose herself amidst the forest of winding streets.

The problem was that luck was an asset even smugglers couldn’t find.

Despite offering most of the salary she didn’t officially receive by tossing it to the various fountains of Reitzlake, the heavens were clearly of a mind that Renise had used up a considerable amount of luck already.

She privately disagreed. 

Escaping from situations where people wished to see her stabbed was not a sign of good fortune. Merely her ability to amuse those watching her actions from above. But as long as it was only gods and not guards, then she would manage.

She peered up as she descended. 

Needless in the pitch darkness. But she was relieved when no light flowed down from the hatch nonetheless. Lacking Waltzing Wendy’s grace, she made for an indelicate sight. Brittleness and rust scraped against her hands with every rung as she slid down the ladder, reminding her of a far more frenzied escape from her own home.

That wasn’t long ago, and yet it felt like multiple lifetimes had passed. 

She’d changed in such a short time, and she couldn’t say for the better. 

Renise hadn’t matured in grief, for her parents were not yet dead. She’d matured only in how she consoled herself in the face of dying optimism. 

Optimism which grew bleaker with every suspect attempt at earning her allegiance she spurned. 

One of them, after all, would likely prove true. 

She really hoped it wasn’t this one.

Instead, she pursed her lips as she felt the ladder cutting against her skin, all the while bracing herself for a landing which never came. And that was a problem. Because escape routes usually involved going horizontally at some point too.

Renise paused to allow her burning hands to recover. 

She heard the sound of coughs echoing down from above. Proof that any wish to follow was being hampered considerably by a concoction she needed to ask for more of when she returned.

If she returned. 

Because it was clear that this was no longer a case of a baroness merely smuggling goods to sell off at a high margin across the border. 

The girl’s overwhelming blasé stretched beyond defiance. It was fearlessness. 

The nobility were not known for their cavalier attitudes when questioned by retainers of royalty. Not unless great wealth, influence or a mass of swords followed at their backs. 

Renise wasn’t sure which one it was.

Something far deeper was afoot. 

And if she had to guess … it was as deep as the cracked ground her feet finally found.

This was no escape tunnel. 

Even before she turned from the ladder, she could tell where she was from the odour rotting the air. The urge to vomit. The sound of a viscous liquid dripping. And the taste of her worst memories.

Renise knew this place more than any other.

Sewers.

She’d slid all the way down into the sewers beneath the tavern. Beneath Hartzwiese.

Renise would have laughed if those watching from above were not doubtless doing it for her.

Even so far north of the royal capital, it seemed she was destined to spend her days and nights trawling through the sewers in a way truly befitting her station. Especially since she found herself judging the aesthetics. And what she found was lacking. 

These were not the wide arches below Reitzlake. It was more akin to a mining chasm, held up by the same wooden beams used when first hewing through the earth.

The only positive was that these sewers were well lit.

The bleakest joy. And one she regretted using as she stepped away from the ladder, peering past the edge of the walkway to see the sludge in the wide invert below. The oozing surface devoured even the light as it streamed towards the nearest exit. One she already knew to be guarded.

Sewers were not places to be lit. 

Not unless they served another purpose. 

And thus for every answer Renise gleaned, she was left with even more questions. 

She didn’t know what the purpose of having smuggling tunnels beneath the town was meant to achieve. There were no customs checks at Hartzwiese’s gates. Once smuggled past the border, all goods could be carried openly, and at speed using carriages.

No … something else beyond mundane criminality was occurring. 

This was no ordinary operation. Not least because these were not ordinary smugglers here.

Slipping away from the walkway, she returned to the alcove where the ladder was hidden. 

The next moment, clinking footsteps echoed in her vicinity, giving away plated greaves. Shadows were cast by the sewer’s torchlight, and then the voices of the armoured figures they belonged to. 

“... Pigs,” came a man’s voice, disgruntled and muffled. “She wants pigs now.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“I’m not. And not just pigs. Chickens too. And cows. The whole lot.”

“Bloody hell. I can’t do that. I ain’t no farmer.”

“Well you let her know then. But tell when you do. I want your stuff.”

The figures passed her by, their unkempt armour as clear as the sacks upon their shoulders. 

In moments, all she could hear was the self-deprecating laughter and the cursing.

Renise frowned–and then she followed.

Another her would have hesitated. But she was no longer the girl who only knew how to play truant at the docks. She lived there now. And she knew more of sewers than any other maid in the kingdom. 

And so she left, chasing after the figures as they followed the movement of the sewer’s flow. 

The sewers were far less elaborate than those found in the royal capital, but no less prone to betraying every breath and whisper. As she kept pace, she ensured her steps were as silent as all the tabby cats peeking from the corners where the torches didn’t reach.

Eventually, the figures rounded a corner where the sound of chattering, hauling and heaving echoed. 

Thus, with as much apprehension as misplaced curiosity, Renise peeked around.

She blinked at what she saw. A notable feat for someone rarely shocked by what she found in sewers these days. Even so, she had to remind herself to keep her mouth closed to the threat of everything which dripped from the ceiling.

The very walls had been excavated, creating what was clearly an underground warehouse. 

The scale was beyond anything she could have imagined. 

Everywhere she looked, figures scurried to and fro, organising and tallying goods. Crates and sacks stacked high enough to cause every inspector to groan as all their days off were lost.

This would be a significant seizure even in the royal capital. And that was by career criminals. 

Not a baroness whose life to date was presumably more concerned with climbing up social ladders than climbing down sewage ladders.

Renise pursed her lips as she peered around her.

Then, feeling the knives in her belt, she kept to the wall as she scooted across.

Keeping beneath the torchlight, she stumbled as she bent too low, scraping her knees before bundling herself behind the nearest pile of sacks. With a glance, she could see the emblems of trading houses and merchant guilds hailing from Granholtz lit up before her. She knew them all.

Or rather, the ones worth knowing.

Triese Farmers Cooperative.

Renise did a double-take just as she was about to hurry onwards.

This was new.

She had no clue who the Triese Farmers Cooperative were. Only that it was a name unlikely to draw attention. And so hers was captured at once. 

She ran her hand against a sack, feeling the texture of grains within. 

Then, she pulled a knife from her belt and cut the sack open, allowing the seeping grain to reveal what was hidden within.

She waited all the way until it fully emptied.

It was a sack of grain and no more.

Renise was shocked. Even more so at the next sack she duly emptied. 

Again. Grain.

Of all the foodstuffs to be smuggled, she never knew grain to be one of them. This was hardly exotic spices from the Dunes. It was the most basic of necessities. There would be little return from this. Especially with the falling prices coinciding with news of Rolstein’s blight receding.

No … there was no profit in this.

Not unless the prices were expected to rise.

Indeed, in times of war and trouble, grain was more expensive than gold. 

Renise frowned, now knowing more than ever that the scope of the baroness’s scheme was far greater than what the Crown Prince gave her credit for.

It was time to leave. Answers could be gleaned later. She had to report back swiftly.

“And just who the hell are you?”

But first.

She had to do what she was trained to do, long before any troublemaker in Rose House had the opportunity to do so.

Lie shamelessly.

Renise was unhesitant as she rose, the knife hidden behind her back. The man’s call of alarm was held back at once, both by the look of disappointment on her face and the maid uniform she wore.

“What is this?” asked Renise, her voice laced with ire.

“Huh?”

“Baroness Arisa asked me to ensure there were no issues with the inventory. Giant rats have been sighted in disproportionate numbers. And I come down and immediately see the cause. They have become bloated, tearing through the stock with abandon.”

Renise pointed at the grain spilled where she’d sliced at the sacks. 

The colour on the man’s face paled at once. 

“No way. This can’t be.”

“And yet I see the proof before me.”

“But that’s … the amount of cats we steal to make sure this doesn’t happen is ridiculous!”

“Well, perhaps you need to steal better cats, because these ones clearly aren’t sufficient.”

The man clicked his tongue.

“Crap, I know why, it’s because we didn’t get that order of cats from Trierport.”

He turned around and raised his arm.

“Hey, Markus! We got a problem! Rats chewing through the sacks!”

“What? That can’t be right. We got cats bloody everywhere. My hayfever won’t stop going off.”

“Well, we need even more, because rats are chewing through the goods. The baroness sent a maid down because of it.”

“Ugh … the day before my holiday …”

Another man strode over, as did his entire group, clipboards in hand and expressions of woe at the ready. The one in charge glanced over Renise without a word, then peered down at the mess. 

“Damnit. They’ve been everywhere. We can’t let a single rodent down here. Otto, go grab us some cats. Better a few more sneezes than a bloody infestation. Leon, put in an order for more. This is all because we lost that Trierport delivery. Everyone else, get back to work and keep a lookout for rats.”

One of those addressed raised a hand.

“Boss … uh, I think I found one.”

“What? Where?”

“There.” He pointed at Renise, his eyes slowly blinking. “That … That’s the Smuggler King’s daughter.”

All of a sudden, a silence filled the air as even the dripping from the ceiling ceased.

“Say that again?”

“That’s the Smuggler King’s daughter. I’m sure of it. I saw her when I was working the capital.”

“The … The Smuggler King? This maid is his daughter?”

“Yeah. Except there’s no more Smuggler King. She works for the prince now. Got Jarrod and Rill locked up over it, too. She ain’t with us.”

All eyes turned to Renise in varying states of shock. 

“Wait … is this true?”

Renise answered with a smile.

She considered her options. Running was chief amongst them. But no matter how much she knew sewers, these men likely knew the ones here more.

Instead, very calmly, she turned around and plucked a torch from the wall, before casually tossing it into the middle of the highly flammable goods.

“The fire will spread in seconds. You will need every hand to put it out should you wish to rescue your wares and prevent your employer’s wrath.”

Horror filled every face at once. 

The goods truly must be worth a lot. She waited for the first man to make for any source of water, even the sewage to stop the spread.

Instead, they all darted as one … with not a single thought spared towards stopping the flames.

They ran as though the heat was already nipping at their heels, fear in their faces and eyes despite the budding nature of the fire.

Renise looked on in shock as they all fled. 

Then, she turned to where she’d thrown the torch, noting at once that there was more than sacks of grain surrounding it. There were crates. Some labelled with the Tawson Reagents Company. 

Renise thought for a moment.

Ah, they dealt in alchemical goods, didn’t they?

Things highly volatile to changes in temperature, and with a strict requirement to be kept in cool and secure environments. Much like a sewer. Or else bad things happened.

Renise started running after the fleeing figures at once.