"I wanted to ask about the night's special cuts," Jakob says, in his usual soft voice. "I was told you might be able to help with a problem we've been having."
Corporal Westlake arches his unibrow at Jakob's words. His eyes dart from Jakob to Demitri and back again. It's obvious he's trying to determine if you're serious.
He soon sighs and opens the delivery door. "Well, come on inside. We can talk more there." With that, he leads you in.
The floor of the chamber beyond is strewn with blood-stained straw, and the reek of slaughter is almost overpowering. The room itself is a killing floor. A metal track affixed to the ceiling dangles meat hooks here and there, allowing the hooks and their gory loads to be moved easily from the northwest where a large hammer sits on the floor amid a permanent bloodstain. To the south, a bloodstained grill covers a wide hole in the floor. Just north of the grill sit two large vats of water; one boiling and one cold. Two large butcher blocks stand to the east next to barrels of salt, and in the southeast corner sits a reeking vat of cast-off meat and bones.
Three men are hard at work in this room: a wheezy man whose guard uniform doesn't quite fit, one with greying hair, a scar over his right eye and carrying a bloodstained warhammer, and a much younger ginger man wearing a gold earring on his right ear.
The wheezy man, Private Malder Fetton, looks up from his work, clearly surprised to see Demitri walk in. His shocked look turns into a smug grin. "So, 'Straight-Edge' Severin's finally got bent, has he?"
The other two men pause in their work, the grey-haired, scarred one chuckling to himself.
Corporal Westlake stops over the grill in the floor. "So, who's the mark?"
Ortik's nose crinkles as the stench of blood assaults his nostrils. "Someone who needs to go away, naturally," Ortik replies, noting that the man has intentionally stepped atop the abattoir's grate. "Several someones, in fact, and we'd heard you're very discreet in your work. What's the going rate around these parts?"
Demitri looks to his compatriots to see if they can sense it as well before entering. "You could say that." "You'd be wrong, but you could say it."
"Privates Sand and Storm. So what exactly is going on here?"
Jakob follows the men inside, making a face as the stench hits him. The place is disgusting, but it is a slaughterhouse, after all. He knows these men are up to no good, but he waits, his hammer over his shoulder.
Lyla steps inside hiding between everyone's legs and hangs in the back, trying not to draw attention.
None of the Cow Hammer Boys appear to have noticed Lyla enter.
"Well, Severin & company, these are mighty strange times, aren't they?" Malder says, leaning against the cold water vat. "First Eodred dies, then the riots start, and now people are scramblin' about, looking for food, shelter, and... opportunities to settle old scores."
Baldrago speaks up. "Our services are twofold: by day we hand out meat to the hungry, desperate masses. By night... well, we need to earn our keep somehow. That's where some of the wealthier folk come in." He folds his arms. "See, we've all had that one person that we just couldn't get back at, no matter how hard we try. For 50 Crowns, we'll kit up, find that coworker who cheated you out of a raise, or the wife who's been cheating on you with the dockhands out on Harborview, or whoever, and we teach them a lesson in faithfulness & loyalty."
Karralo starts chuckling, fondling his hammer. "Trust us, they won't forget it. Will they, Private Parns?" He looks over at the ginger.
Parns gives him an irritated look.
"Something wrong, Parns?" Demitri does his best to keep his disdain for these ex-guardsmen turned mercenaries.
Parns looks between Demitri & Karralo. "Nothing, Severin. Sand here just likes to think he's funny." He folds his arms. "Everyone else thinks he's an ass."
Unlike Baldrago, he's doing a good job of hiding it.
"I see. So you really think this is better than being paid by Kroft?"
Taking the man's words at face value, Karri addresses him in a cold voice, "Well, we were thinking of settling some debts with some failed guardsmen, maybe the kind of air-wasting fleshbags as would let dangerous strangers in late at night." Her voice shifts subtly as she speaks, until by the end it sounds like an echo from a tomb. Watching the man's reaction she presses him. Her voice back to its normal timbre she says, "Now that we are done with that unpleasantness, maybe you can answer some questions...Demitri, if'n ya'd be so kind as to take the man fishing. Now, remember Westlake, it's far better to help a man than to be bait on a hook."
Baldrago's face pales considerably. He takes a couple of steps back from Karri. The rest of the men are starting to back away.
He looks Karri in the eyes. "Madam, you must believe that I'm being entirely sincere when I say Verik! " He screams, turning and starting to run for the doors in the center of the north wall of the room.
The men immediately scramble for their weapons!
"Kroft wants them alive. They deserve to live pay for their crimes."
Demitri steps forward and swings with the hilt of his blade.
"Alive?" Karri steps between Jakob and the man in front; she pulls down the collar of her robe to reveal the scarred flesh beneath. Her hand moves up, fast like a bolt from a crossbow and her fingers push into her flesh just beneath her collar bone. She cringes, but only slightly, her eyes are not flickering, they are the baleful glowing green that is the harbinger of the Legion. In a voice twisted by the buzzing of insects and the tearing of stone she shouts arcane words and draws out her hand, spilling sparkling, shattering light with it that washes over the two men before her.
Marissel draws his loaded gun, Since you've already called for the other guy, no point in staying quiet. He takes aim at the man in the corner by the hammer. A bang issues through the room.
"Too much to hope this would all end peacefully," Ortik says with a heavy sigh as he draws his hammer and shield. "Throw down your weapons, gents, it'll look better for you when we take you in."
Lyla takes the Harrow deck out of her pocket and whispers "C'mon, Ma'm Z, help us out here." The girl feels the deck warm up againt her hand, and suddenly Field-Marshall Kroft storms through the door.
"Hold your fire, Marissel. Corporate Westlake! Privates Fetton and Parns! Stop right where you are! I don't want to see any bloodshed among my men! Come with us peacefully and maybe we can work something out." Kroft's expressions is stern, and her voice, firm. "Do you really wish to fight me?"
Hiding behind Ortik, Lyla focuses her attention to sustain Zellara's illusion.
The hilt of Demitri's sword hits Baldrago right in the stomach.
While it hits a padded part of his chainmail, he still feels it.
Karri's Color Spray arcs out from her fingers in a flash of power...
...catching both men by surprise and knocking them down and out. Their clothes are now garishly colored.
Marissel's gun goes off, the smell of gunpowder mixing in with the odor of gore and entrails pervading the room. The result is... decidedly less than pleasant. Especially more so when the bullet catches Parns in the shoulder.
The sight of the Field Marshal herself (or at least, Zellara dressed up like the Field Marshal) brings the fight to a standstill. Parn's eyes widen in fright. "Oh, gods above--don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'll cooperate!" He promptly drops his sword.
Karralo, on the other hand, is more confused than anything else. "Wait--why does Kroft look Varisian?"
He doesn't have much time to ponder it as Jakob runs at him, hammer ready to stop him.
He manages to raise his hammer in time to parry the blow.
Parns cowers, hand clutching his fresh bullet wound.
Baldrago & Malder lie on the floor, unconscious & funny-looking.
Karralo, seemingly the smartest one of the bunch, has had enough.
"Oh, f**k this and Verik. You're not taking me in!"
He turns and withdraws, running out the double doors in the center of the north wall!
Terrified that the gibbering Legion will push her farther than she wants to go, Karri stands in place and focuses on her own body; the rush of adrenaline in her heart, the tingling in her fingers. This flesh is mine and I will not be seduced by you, by any of you!
Demitri takes off after Karralo. "Don't do this. How far do you think you're going to get?"
Jakob sprints after Demitri and Karralo, bringing the long hammer in a low swing at the fleeing man's feet.
Catching an ankle with the haft, he pulls back, dropping Karralo face down on the floor.
Jakob's hammer catches Karralo by the legs, sending him falling on his face.
Karralo curses loudly as he falls. Footsteps can be heard on the floor above...
Back in the work room of the butcher shop, Parns looks between 'Field Marshal Kroft' and the rest of the party still in the room.
"...I want to cut a deal. I'll tell you everything that happened here; what we've been doing, where we got the meat, even where we stashed our earnings. I was in charge of the money--I had no hand in Baldrago's 'nightly business'. I don't want to be hanged. Please!" He says, trying to keep calm. His shoulder is beginning to turn a dark red.
Lyla suints her eyes forcing her own words into Kroft's image.
"Clever choice, Parns. Tell me all you know about this operation, and I'll see to it that you don't get the noose. Who's behind all this? Surely not Sergeant Vancaskerkin, there's got to be someone else pulling the strings. Spill it."
Parns swallows.
"You'd be right, Ma'am. Verik didn't come up with the idea of nightly merc work: that was all Baldrago & Malder's thing. I don't know who Verik talked to to get the balls to desert; we all just thought it was a refreshing change from the guy who would only s**t if you told him to." He puts a hand on his bleeding shoulder.
"You'll have to--ow!--get Verik to talk about his contact. I don't know the guy's name; I was just the money man." He looks at the prone, colorful forms of Corporal Westlake & Private Fetton.
"That's not the whole story, though..."
------------------
Karralo tries to get to his feet before looking back and seeing Jakob and Demitri catching up. The sight of the large Varisian holding an equally large hammer causes him to sigh in resignation and lie still.
"What the hell's going on down here?!"
Standing at the top of the stairs, clad in his Korvosan Guard chainmail and pointing a nocked arrow at Demitri, is Sergeant Verik Vancaskerkin.
"Severin? What are you doing here?"
"Putting a stop to this. Now drop the weapon. We have some questions."
Karri steps even with Demitri, her eyes baleful in the butcher's work room. Through her mouth the Legion pleads in a buzzing, unnerving whisper, "Or don't. We want to play with this one!" Under the main voice, hints of others can be snatched out, "cut! burn!"
In her own mind, Karri is terrified, Oh Gods! Why am I letting them run!?
Ortik lays aside his hammer and approaches Parns. "Head for numbers, eh?", he says, unshouldering his pack. "This math should be easy, then - the more you cooperate, the less likely your neck will be stretched for desertion. Hands behind your back, son." He withdraws a silk rope from his pack, and proceeds to tie up the private.
Parns offers no resistance as Ortik begins tying him up.
"And if I tell you everything, I'm less likely to get the axe for several counts of murder and assault as well, I know." He sighs.
"If you need evidence of murder, just take a look down the grate Baldy's on." He nods at Baldrago's unconscious body.
------------------
Verik pales as Karri walks in, eyes glowing, scars movingshifting as he looks on. He appears to be rapidly entertaining the idea of running off.
"Wh-wha-what the hell are you?!" His hands tremble on his bow, accidentally dropping the arrow he nocked.
His bow follows suit. "What do you want?! You break into my shop--a charity-run shop!--and attack my men, then bring in a possessed FREAK to make things even worse, all for what?!"
"First off, we didn't break in. They let us in." Demitri says pointing to his men. "Second, this isn't some charity. You're a hit squad without the organization skills. Third, you should watch who you call freak. Someone like me could take offense to that, and well I could claim you were resisting arrest." He will move Baldrago's body and look down the grate. "What do we have here?"
"Hit squad? What the hell are you talking about? And what do you mean they let you in?" A look of utter confusion appears on Verik's face, eliciting a snicker from Karralo.
Verik follows Demitri, taking care to avoid Karri as he does so. Karralo doesn't bother getting up; having a hammer held over his head is enough to give him second thoughts about escaping.
He stops dead in his tracks when he sees 'Field Marshal Kroft' in the room with the party.
"Kroft?" Is the only word that comes out of his mouth. Between Karri's intimidating presence, the 'Field Marshal' showing up in his shop and his men having essentially surrendered, Verik appears to be well and truly cowed.
The iron grating is heavily rusted, and the smell of rotting meat mixed with blood and stale sweat hangs in the air. Beyond the grate is a circular cesspool about 15 feet across and 10 feet high, with animal carcasses, bits of bone and congealed blood littering the floor.
Seeing that things seem quiet for now, Jakob steps back into the workroom and takes a look through the grate.
As Jakob takes a closer look at the remains below the grate, he notices something off about them.
Specifically, that not all of the carcasses there are from animals.
He can see fragmented bits of human hands, feet and heads.
And he can hear something *clacking* down there, crunching up bones and flesh alike.
Karri stays in the hall for a few moments fighting against the Legion. She can be heard uttering soft groans and she wrests herself away from their influence. Finally, she returns to the abattoir looking like herself, if exhausted. Damp, dark circles ring her natural green eyes, but she smiles, "I am fine, better than these." She gestures roughly towards the now captive guards.
Of course you are fine... I made them quiet for you. But I want something for my hard work... Hush! I am in control! Not you! As you say, Mistress, but remember my name...Kasdaye
Verik follows Jakob over to the grate, peeking down it. When Jakob points out the human remains, his face pales. His look is one of utter shock and horror.
"Oh... oh gods... that's--URK!"
He staggers away from the grate, over to a trough filled with cast-off pig parts, and collapses on all fours in front of it.
He then shudders, his muscles locking up as he starts vomiting.
Parns looks on impassively. "As you can see, Verik had no idea this was going on. I tried to tell him what was happening, but he was too wrapped up in his delusions of grandeur to listen."
He nods at a pair of double doors in the leftmost portion of the north wall. "I stashed our earnings through there. They're in one of the pigsties, under a load of pig s**t. Thought it'd only be appropriate. Careful when you go in there, now: there are a couple of angry boars through there that don't take kindly to people."
You can also tell that Parns is being truthful.
After Verik makes it obvious that he had no idea, Demitri just sighs. "Who are you working for? Who put you up to this?"
Verik's retching comes to an end, but he remains on the floor.
He pushes himself up, still staring at the ground. In response to Demitri's questions, he just points a trembling finger out the double doors leading to the hall, up the stairs.
He doesn't make a sound.
Raising an eyebrow, Karri asks, "More? How many?"
"There's no one else up there." Verik replies.
He sounds entirely defeated.
Demitri will wait for the answer to that question before heading to the double doors.
As Demitri walks out the double doors leading upstairs, he notices Karralo is no longer in the hall. The open door at the other end of the hall revealing the empty storefront is evidence enough that he fled into the night.
Upstairs, a round table sits in this room, surrounded by four wooden
chairs. A stack of cards sits on the tabletop. A cabinet to the southwest hangs open, a tangle of dirty clothes and blankets within. Four thin bedrolls lie rolled up against the north wall.
Past that room is the slaughterhouse's offices. A single large desk stands in the eastern part of this large office, transformed into a makeshift bed by a bedroll and several blankets and pillows. A table and three chairs sit to the west; several papers lie strewn over the table’s surface and a chamberpot sits under it.
One of the papers is pinned to the tabletop by an exquisite silver dagger.
Demitri will check out the pinned piece of paper first.
The paper appears to be a letter.
Dear Verik,
I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for not writing more often, but please understand: my father would have my hide if he found out I'm writing to you.
I know you've stood by me for longer than anyone else has, even when you had no reason to. I know you've told me that you do everything you can to serve Korvosa within the system, and your efforts have been stymied at every turn. That is why I'm writing to you: I can't let you go through this alone any longer.
Leave the guard. You've risen as far as you can before you start becoming bound to a desk; take your men and serve Korvosa another way. Food is becoming scarce; I can supply you with a way to get food to the people. Reopen the shop that was once called All the World's Meat and I'll see what I can do.
Please, accept this enclosed dagger as a token of my affection. Keep it close, and never forget that I'll always be by your side.
With love,
Vimanda
The bottom of the letter bears this seal.
House Arkona is one of the major noble families of Korvosa, primarily based in Old Korvosa. They're responsible for much of the overseas trade with distant Vudra.
They're also well-favored by the common folk by virtue of its current lord, Glorio Arkona, lifting up the poor and granting them enough sustenance to survive. Perhaps it's because his family was once on the verge of poverty before his ancestors struck it rich in Vudra.
Something changed about them... and not for the better.
"The Arkonas?" Jakob mutters, looking over Demitri's shoulder. Then he shakes his head. "I've always heard they were eyeballs deep in every shady deal in Korvosa, but this seems to go beyond the usual sleaze."
"I have not heard anything like that. I've only heard of Glorio's good works with the poor. But I guess every family has their secrets."
Marrisel waits, with his gun loaded, in the abattoir. He keeps a close watch on the ex-guards, making sure none of them try to leave.