Neighbourhood Watch, pt2

Rúna looked at the faces around the makeshift table. The lanterns only barely illuminated the dank chamber beneath Gaddoc Railway. “So, what do we have? I’ve got nothing.” 

The weeks had gone poorly. Neither she nor Steini had been able to catch a glimpse of the masked thugs that had troubled them. Rúna had thought it would be easier to track down such obvious troublemakers but there were so much trouble in Duskvol, she almost felt sorry for the Bluecoats. Almost. Khara looked displeased with the dank surrounding, Clevin was eating a neatly cut sandwich, while Candros was sharpening his hunting knife. She waited for someone to speak up.

Khara raised a cautious hand. “I paid a visit to Lady Anya Hartigan.” When no one interrupted, she continued with more confidence. “She was nearly bursting with the news. Their servingman hadn’t finished pouring tea when she started to gush.” Khara sighed, “but the other ladies forgave her crass behaviour as they were just as excited by the scandal.”

Candros perked up at the word. Had even he heard? Rúna motioned at Khara to continue. “The scandal even made the papers. You see, it all started when a cabbie was delivering some guests to the estate of…”

Rúna frowned and made a hurry up motion.

“Ah.” Khara sniffed. “Well, Lord Templeton was found dead. His body was hacked apart if you can believe it. The son has taken over the family interests, but it seems he is not happy with business as usual. He’s been buying up cheap properties and knocking them down to build anew. The family estate has become a fortress with all the new security he has hired. Now up in…”

Rúna help up her hand. “That is all interesting, but I don’t hear anything that we can act on.” She turned to Clevin.

“Eh. I went wiv the little miss. The cook at Hartigan’s place gave me some Eel soup.” Everyone kept looking on expectantly. “Well, it was very good.”

Khara grinned and patted Clevin on the hand. Everyone then turned to the newest member of the circle. Candros leaned back on his chair and sheathed his knife. “Huh, it seems I can be of some real value.” Rúna made her hurry up signal again. Candros nodded, face becoming serious . “We need to watch ‘The Charhollow Improvement Society’. They look like a collection of local merchants and landowners but they have some violent folk among them. Turns out they have gatherings every wednesday. They generally talk about nonsense, but there are grievances against the incoming skovlan refugees.” He stopped to give more weight to his next words. “A few members have taken to dealing with those grievances with direct action.”

Clevin stopped eating and put the brown paper bag on the table. “So, you gonna tell us where these meetings are then?”

“The Charred Rose Public House.”

* * *

The red brick building had obviously been intended to mirror the fancy constructions across the river in Charterhall, but the cheap materials and sloppy workmanship showed. At least the two story public house stood out squeezed between the Charhollow tenements.

Candros looked up at the second story window from the rubbish strewn back alley. Someone had cracked it open to get some cool air. “Too easy.” He tested his grip on the mortared gaps in the bricks. Satisfied, he scaled the wall up with fluid motions until he could peek into the window. A storage room with a door opening to a kitchen. He slid the window wide open and eased inside. Noise from the kitchen was clear through the cheap walls. He was just sliding the window closed when he caught the creak of someone pushing open the door. A greasy man in an apron. The knife flew true. Candros was across the room and hiding the man before he could hit the floor. The man reached up towards the knife, but his bloody fingers couldn’t get a grip of the handle. His eyes looked up at Candros, confused, questioning.

“Sorry mate. Wrong time for a smoke break.” Candros kept his hand over the man’s mouth until he stopped struggling. Then cleaned his bloody hand on the dead man’s apron.

Across the road, five heavily armed people walked straight at the main door to the Charred Rose. One young man was just finishing washing the glass-paned windows. He heard the footsteps on the wooden porch, dropped his rag in a bucket and turned. “Sorry folks, but we’re just closing for a private event. Perhaps if you come back in…” He saw the knives, heavy leathers, and holstered pistols. There was a flash of recognition. “You. You were at the Skov bar”. Rúna and Clevin pulled back their jackets, hands on knife grips. The young man tried to back away into the wall. With one hand he pushed open the front door. “Pu, please don’t kill me.”

Clevin patted him on the head. “Good boy. Time to run away.”

He needed no further encouragement. He bolted down the road, leaving a bucket spilling soapy water across the porch.

The short entry hall divided Public House. To the right was a door with a sign indicating ‘Lounge’. Three men were just walking through the left ‘Common’ door. Rúna immediately recognised the middle man, Blue-eyes. She stepped forward without hesitation, putting one hand over Blue-eye’s shoulder in a friendly gesture that confused him. Rúna held him close. “Hello there, remember me?.” The knife struck under Blue-eye’s ribcage, blood poured over her arm. He looked shocked, blood dribbled from the side of his mouth as he coughed. She held him while his eyes glazed over.

The roughly dressed man on the left saw the friendly embrace, then blood splashed on the floor. “What…” His question was silenced by Clevin crushing his windpipe with one hand, while Khara slashed her fan across the throat of the man to the right, leaving a gaping red gash. He fumbled for his throat, then looked at his bloody hands in disbelief. He sagged back against the wall, looking up in confusion at the three armed people. Clevin dropped his victim, and all three walked through the door marked ‘Common”.

There were a few dozen chairs arranged around tables, and all but a handful were occupied by men and women chatting amongst themselves, apparently filling time while waiting for a speaker to step up to the rough podium setup at the end of the bar. A dandy looking man was standing at the bar chatting to the publican. The dandy flicked open a timepiece, nodded and put it back in his waistcoat. He started to walk towards the podium. Rúna scanned the room and recognised a familiar face framed in the doorway behind the bar, Candros. Rúna caught his attention then pointed at the dandy.

The pandemonium was immediate. A shot rang out and in front of the crowd the dandy collapsed, blood splashed all over the podium. People screamed and dived for cover. Tables were overturned, glasses crashed, and chairs were scattered as people looked around for the gunman. Candros walked along behind the bar, reloading his gun. Someone in the crowd pointed a pistol and tried to aim. After a defining bang he fell back, one eye a bloody hole. Candros reloaded.

“Anyone who touches a weapon is dead.” Runa drew a pair of heavy flintlocks and stalked into the room, escorted by Clevin and Khara, while Steini pulled his own pistols and covered the room from the door. Amid the panicked screams a couple of people thought to escape through the curtained windows, the crash of the glass panes added to the sounds of multiple gunshots. A few people worked up the courage to fight back, but only a couple of shots did anything more than damage the roof. 

Silence descended on the room. The remaining dozen still breathing crouched on the floor. “This is a message from the people of Charhollow.” All eyes were on her. “We wont take threats.” She thrust a finger at the door. The crowd surged outside.

Candros lifted the whimpering publican into view. “Do we do something about this one?”

“Please good sirs, I am only trying to turn an honest coin. This lot paid well to rent out the rooms.” He stopped struggling, eyes flicking uneasily at the pistol pointed at his temple.

Khara picked her way between the tumbled furniture and dead bodies towards the publican. She pulled his face towards her, gazing straight into his eyes. “Since you have no love for these people, I am sure you will want to share any coin they gave to help those hurt by the actions of…” she pointed at the now cooling bodies, “these people.”

He frantically nodded agreement.

The others went first, leaving the publican to start tidying up the room and think of what to say to the coming bluecoats and spirit-wardens. Rúna lagged bahind in the twisting back alleys of Charhollow. As the battle-rush left her she felt the pain in her side. She slid her leathers away from her side, and saw the bloody bullet hole punched through her abdomen. "Not good."