"Ah, yer back again, are yeh?"
Kasoria couldn't help but grin at such an obvious question. There was, however, a certain charm to it, especially from one you assumed wouldn't remember you.
"Aye, 'less yer dreamin', old boy."
The publican gave him a grin and a shrug, placing the cleaned mug on the bar and slapping the rag over his shoulder. "You wouldn't show up in my dreams, stranger. Ain't pretty enough."
Kasoria staggered a step, hand over heart. "You wound me."
"Ah, m'sure. Black stuff? Pint of?"
"Bloody good memory."
"Part a' the job. Lookin' for yer man like before?"
"I see 'im."
The Pick And Shovel was more or less identical to the last time. Even the barflies were the same, and in the same seats (though that didn't surprise him much; they were creatures of languid habit). A new clutch of Saccharine Knights were fouling up one of the corner tables, laughing and drinking and smoking and grabbing at any female limb that came too close. Just the sight of them bought the words of the First Blades to the front of his mind. Their story of how these carousing thugs enslaved children, worked them to death in the mine, then threw them away like empty bottles of booze. His hands bunched into fists and-
Remember how that went last time. Batten it. Finish the job. Leave.
Fraxin was at his old table, too. Only now it wasn't strewn with papers of all kinds, and he wasn't alone. He was even smiling. No more grim and frowning determination, instead he looked almost affable. That didn't last much longer after he spied the dark little man with rampant mutations approaching his table, of course. But he still stood up and gave a quick bow of greeting. His comrade - a bearded man almost as broad as he was tall - lurched upright and did the same.
"Mister Kasoria. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to return."
"Oh? Why?"
Kasoria looked close for what their reactions could tell him. They exchanged a look... was anything carried in it? Guilt? Worry? Disappointment? No... just honest confusion, as far as he could tell. Maybe a hint of fear at this renowned monster and butcher of men immediately putting them on the defensive with his words. Finally the miner began, and that's what Kasoria had already clocked him as. The smudges of dirt and black nails gave it away, not to mention the face that was a touch too pale for one used to long, regular hours of sunlight.
"We, ah... thought you wouldn't be bothered, t'be honest, sir."
Kasoria thanked the bartender as his ale was brought over, and he took a seat. "Told yeh I was gonna find out what happened. When I did, jeh think I'd jus'... fuck off, wiv'out setting things back the way they were?" A long, grateful sip. How the hells this beaut made it all the way to some little village in Yaralon he had no fucking clue, but he was grateful. "Fates... tasty stuff, this."
"We're miners and merchants, Kasoria," Fraxin shot back, little more steel in his voice now. "We don't know how sellswords and... men of your type, are known to act. Once you found what you wanted to know, we assumed you'd go back to your... master."
Once, Kasoria would have bristled at the word. Purely out of pride, of course. He did have a master, long ago, and that man was dead. Held his leash for over a decade, he did, and as frank with each other as they were, as casual as their words could be, the man was never anything but his master. When he died, Kasoria forgot about Bangun Vorund, and he guessed most of the Oh'Pee did, too. But the Burned Emperor? Now there... was more of a client. Someone who held a marker he was bound to pay back.
And you're nearly there, so don't fuck this up.
"So," the big man said, eyes wide and almost eager. Clearly this kind of skullduggery wasn't common in his gloomy world. He was enjoying it. "What did you find-"
"I know about the children."
That had exactly the effect he predicted it would. Total, disbelieving, panicked silence. He could practically smell the sweat leaking out of both men now. Immediately, irrevocably thrown off their axis, unable to r'eturn to it without either lying or admitting. But the former might stoke his anger, and the second... might make him go even further. He watched them both now, over the rim of his mug. Fraxin, face reddening and looking away, guilt and fear stark on his usually composed face. The miner, though... he just looked sad. Staring into his drink and gripping it so hard his knuckles were whitening.
"... youse knew as well, didjeh?
The big man nodded slowly. "We all do. It's never... said. Never spoken. But we all hear them. Hear the chains. In the deep shafts, where the air is too thick. We... we tried..."
His voice trails off, too broken or too ashamed to dredge up the memories. So Kasoria turns to Fraxin, with an expression that says he won't be satisfied with that excuse from him. He is the village leader, after all. He is the man in charge not just of production and mining, but safety and secrets. The younger man takes a deep breath and finishes his drink. There was a lot of it left. Clearly he needed every drop.
"We used to use the mining guild alone. Steeper rates, but good work, solid returns. Then the Knights, they... offered another method. Cheaper labor, basically. We thought it was just slaves. Hardly a new idea, but not a smart one. Then someone saw, one trial. Saw a whole group of... kids... headed down. They never came back up. You know how it is. Small town, nothing stays secret. Soon everyone knew." He refilled his glass and took a gulp. He'd had this pent up too long. "Rabban and his miners, they were furious. But the Knights..."
He looked at Kasoria. The hint of accusation in his eyes. Ah. Men of his type. They'd persuaded the miners not to kick up a fuss. Stay quiet, keep your heads down, everyone makes money. Who cares about a bunch of kids that aren't yours? Better to stay silent and ashamed, then noisy and dead alongside your kin. The little man stares back, impassive as a panther.
"Anyway... we ignored it. Until the cave in."
"We knew who was in that shaft," Rabban said, voice rising a touch, or at least strengthening. This was fast going from confession to resolution. "We knew who'd died down there. Left to choke or bleed out in the dark. They told us to go back down, and we told them to fuck themselves sideways. No more. They made their threats again. We held firm. Wouldn't work that shaft, nor any close to it. We knew once we'd cleared the rubble and... and moved the bodies... they'd just bring more."
Kasoria blinked. That was all they had to fight with. Their refusal. Their defiance. Even a poxy pack of jumped-up gangers like the Saccharine Knights could crush untrained miners, traders, and laborers. But they were still thugs, and without violence as a solution, they were without a response. So they'd told Fraxin to fix it instead, and Targon had sent...
"Did Yaralon know about them?"
That drew a long pause. Fraxin shrugged and gave the right answer: "If they had, do you think they'd have cared, as long as the stone kept coming?"
Kasoria sighed. Good point.
"The shaft is cleared. The children are gone."
Rabban scrunched his eyes shut, but Fraxin cocked his head to one side. "What do you mean... gone?"
"The fuck do you think he means-"
"I wanna hear him say they're dead."
Rabban rolled his eyes and looked to Kasoria... then they widened. Because the little man had a little smirk now.
"They... are they?"
"They're gone," Kasoria said, sipping his drink. "They're not coming back."
Hope was a strange thing for him to give someone. So often it was the opposite. But that's what Kasoria saw growing behind the rough man's eyes as he understood what he meant. The kids weren't dead, weren't trapped, they were gone. Escaped, liberated, whatever word you'd want to use. He didn't need to drink himself half to death every night to drown the guilt anymore. Didn't need to keep coin from his purse and food from his family because his shame, his anger wouldn't allow him to work for those bastard false knights. But questions piled on behind the renewed optimism, and as he opened his mouth-
Kasoria raised a hand to silence him.
"No more questions. That's all yeh get. The kids're gone, an' there'll be no more kids inna mines, so youse can work all the shafts, like before."
The two Sutton men exchanged glances.
"That's... quite a statement to make, Kasoria."
"When I take me report back t'Yaralon, I'll let dem know why the production is down. Cuz of what the Knights were doin'. Worked inna short-term, but long-term? Dey had the best shafts in the mountain shut down, cuz real miners wouldn't work 'em anymore." He finished the last of his stout. Savored it, too. "The big lads, in Yaralon? They like profit right away, but they love guaranteed profit fer arcs t'come. They dun' use kids inna shafts, that's what they get. No more... labor troubles, y'ken?"
It was a line of shit, but Kasoria knew how to sell it. Just the right mix of ruthless pragmatism and what they wanted to hear. He was Kasoria, after all. He walked in circles they did not, knew things they'd didn't. He didn't like to trade on his infamy, but for this... he would stoop. He'd been trawling mine shafts and plains and villages and castles and he was fucking done with it. He wanted this to be over, and if this was what got the miners back down and filling those carts headed back to Targon, so be it. Besides, he might be right. Maybe Targon would be shocked, or at least annoyed by the delay those idiot knights had caused. Maybe he would-
Bullshitting yourself, now?
"So... what happens next?"
Kasoria got to his feet, leaving a gold coin on the table. Damn well worth it.
"Rabban? You an' yer pals get back down inna shaft an' get workin'. Yeh've got a season or two a' loss t'make up fer, an' believe me, the nobs back inna city have noticed. Fraxin? Keep the gears movin' an' all dat shite. Like I told yeh, the knight wun' give yeh bother. Might take a few tentrials a'fore word gets t'them about the... new restrictions, on who goes inna mines, but between now an' then, they'll jus' be happy all the shafts are busy again."
The other men got up with him, in a way they didn't when he arrived. As if something had changed in that time, to earn their respect. Maybe just their gratitude, for having this weight off their shoulders. The little man looked at them both and nodded.
"Ain't one fer long goodbyes, so..."
