Wake of the Ravager

The faint sensation of being roughly jostled alerted Calvin that maybe he should snap out of Medi-tate.

“What?” He said, blinking the sand out of his eyes. Five days and he hadn’t been able to use Meditation to work on any of his skills, instead forced to recover from his last Mutation. He was almost completely back to normal, now, having healed the rough equivalent of nine weeks.

Calvin expected to open his eyes to a princess, and when it turned out to be a panting, sweaty Carl, he had to stop himself from recoiling.

“I’ve got news!” the runner gasped.

“And?” Calvin asked. Is it a get-out-of-bed kind of news, or is it a Let-the-underlings-handle-it kind of news?

“Orson Huul is coming here! We’ve only got five minutes or so!”

Calvin’s arms flung out and grabbed the edge of his bed. This was definitely a get out of bed kind of news.

Orson Huul was the owner of the caravans they’d been raiding recently, and Kala’s host. Last time he’d seem him, the man hadn’t even bothered to give Calvin a second glance, which made his presence here highly suspicious.

“Crap, tell Maya to keep a low profile, and fill the rest of the drug wagon with raw glass! I don’t want him to see our little nest egg.”

“Sir!” Carl saluted, sprinting away.

Grant had already been dressed up, turning the lumbering, unshaven beast of a man into a genteel buyer and seller of men before being shipped out to get Calvin his mercs early in the morning. He was already off the mansion’s land, and hopefully far enough away from Calvin that he wouldn’t implicate him.

That only left one person who needed to lay low, and Calvin had an idea.

“And you!” Calvin said, poking Ella who was blearily waking up beside him. “You wanted an excuse to try that dress on, Right?”

She nodded, suppressing a yawn.

“Well, here’s your chance.”

***Calvin***

Calvin was waiting the front yard when Orson arrived, trailing a rather tall and slender looking uleisan fellow with close-cropped hair.

“Mr. Huul, what an unexpected surprise! Is this about the princess? I hadn’t heard anything on my front.”

Calvin welcomed the scowling old man with open arms, guiding him onto the grounds.

“Kala is fine, she’s been the perfect guest. Other people, maybe not so much.”

“Oh?” Calvin asked, blinking innocently under the man’s gaze. He could feel irritation and suspicion rolling off of him like heat.

Orson gave a forced smile and shrugged like a younger man.

“But that’s not what we’re here about today. Today is just a social visit, me coming by to welcome you to Uleis!”

“Thank you, Mr. Huul.” Calvin said with an exaggerated nod. “We’ve been settling in just fine.”

“I can see that.” Orson said, glancing over to the side yard, where human soldiers were setting glass support beams into the foundations dug by Knick-Knacks. Carl was sitting on the back of the drug and spice wagon, leaning against the glass jutting haphazardly out the back and drenching himself with water from his canteen.

“You work fast, young man. I’d expect you to still be working on the digging.” Orson said, scanning the pit.

“They’ve been taking shifts living in tents,” Calvin said. “As a result, everyone is highly motivated.”

“Hum..” Orson frowned as he looked into the foundation. “You’re going to want to hire an Uleisan engineer, not just a glass artisan, if you don’t want to bake in your new home. While the pit is open is an excellent time to install a Stells air cooler.”

“I’ll… make sure to do that.” Calvin said, a little confused.

Why is he being nice to me?

What, you thought he was going to huff and puff like the big bad wolf? He’s going to butter you up until you show him where to stick the knife.

I see.

“You’re planning quite the structure,” Orson said, glancing at the mountain of raw glass waiting for Jinsei to patch it together into something resembling a home.

“Well, It’s gotta house two hundred of us.” Calvin said with a shrug.

“Hmm…I’m no expert, but you might have bought a bit more than you need.” Orson said, rubbing his chin contemplatively.

“I figured it would be better to buy more than I needed, seeing as we’re probably gonna mess up here and there.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Orson said. “A lot more than you need.”

“Never worked with glass before,” Calvin said with a shrug.

“Uh huh,” Orson said before turning to him, stepping in close and lowering his voice. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

Whoah, ease up, creepy uncle. Calvin thought.

“What’s that?” Calvin asked, leaning forward himself, pleased when Orson drew back rather than make out with the teen, ceding his position to Calvin.

He felt a flicker of irritation in the man’s gaze that was quickly smothered behind calculated cunning.

“There’s going to be a hike in the price of tempered glass soon. You’ll probably be able to sell your spare material to recoup some of your costs, if you’re fast enough.”

“Wow, really?” Calvin asked, truly bewildered as the man watched his expression like a snake watching a mouth.

Why is he telling me that?

Tell you later, keep playing dumb.

“Yes, really. Taking advantage of an artificial price hike is one of the most basic schemes. So simple, it’s one of the most common ways people try to make money.” Orson said, eyeing Calvin for a reaction.

Calvin didn’t give him one.

“Normally you’d need a certificate of integrity from the inspectors to sell,” he said, lifting an engraved plate off one of the pallets of glass. “But these are still good until the end of the month.”

“Well, thanks!” Calvin said with a smile. “How’d you hear about it? the glass thing, that is?”

“It’s my business, moving basic materials from here to there, so I’m the first one to know when there’s been a…reduction in the flow of goods. Makes my friends and I light on our feet.”

“Neat. Can we get you anything? Drink? Sandwich? I like the Gulper and mushroom sandwich, myself.”

“No, I’m just here for well wishes. I’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

“What’s that?” The tall man beside Orson said, pointing at where one of Calvin’s more artistic men was painting Calvin’s house symbol on a large glass canvas, two stylized wasps facing each other.

Crap.

“It’s my house symbol.” Calvin said, resisting the urge to cross his arms defensively.

“It’s fucking cool, is what it is,” He said with an amiable smile, his hands in his pockets. “Although I don’t recognize it. It new?”

“First of my name. Gadsint.”

“A lovechild got their name in the Gadveran registry of nobles?” At your age? Damn!”

This guy knows something.

No shit.

“Nothing impressive. I’m on the bottom of the ladder. About as noble as those kids who toss out chamberpots.”

“You must be…” The tall man snapped his fingers a couple times. “That wasp guy!”

“What?” Orson asked, glancing over at his companion, grey brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I asked around for the latest gossip, and heard about a teen with strange magic that held off the Ilethan offensive at Mujenan nearly single-handedly. That was you, right?”

Orson’s gaze changed from sour and irritated to downright angry, but the man’s expression didn’t change a bit.

“Yeah, people started call me ‘The Wasp’ for some reason,” Calvin said, waggling his fingers for emphasis. “Kinda sounds lame and effeminate to me. I never wanted a nickname.”

“Yeah, most of the time we can’t choose our nicknames,” the Uleisan man said with a shrug. “I’ll give you some nick-name advice.”

“Oh?”

He stooped low and lowered his voice.

“Change the meaning of the words.”

“How so?”

“Well, say your nickname is Ass-licker.”

“Ussein, please,” Orson said, rolling his eyes.

Calvin blinked. “That’s quite an image.”

“Right?” Ussein said with a chuckle. “But let’s say hypothetically you took the name in stride, and tore a path of destruction through the known world. People come to know ass-licker as the bringer of death and fear.”

“And If I’m honorable, clever and just, Ass-licker becomes a shining example of what to aim for.”

“Exactly.”

“So what’s your nickname?” Calvin asked between chuckles.

“Fat Kabva.” He said proudly.

“You’re not fat.” Calvin said.

“I know.” Ussein said, straightening again to tower over him. “You’re not a wasp.”

“I suppose.”

It was about this time that Ella showed up, her skin dark brown, like so many other Uleisans, although her hair was straighter, jaw wider than the typical Uleisan.

The dress conformed to her curves, highlighting her body even further with geometric designs that created a sense of curvaceousness…or maybe she’s just built like that, Calvin thought, watching her approach.

“Drinks?” she asked, her gaze lingering on Ussein.

Rather than carrying a dainty platter, she was hauling a large ice chest behind her with bottles of different refresments buried in the ice. The whole thing must have weighed more than the four of them, but she pulled it without any noticeable difficulty.

I like the dress.

Me too. Knick-Knacks do good work.

“Over here,” Calvin said, raising his hand before fishing through the bottles, pulling out something cold and chugging it down. It turned out to be Gadveran cider, far more expensive than back home, but welcome anyway.

Orson waved off the refreshments and focused his attention on the new arrival, shaking her hand lightly. “And you are?”

“Ellanore Kuun,” She said, doing her best not to smile. She might look normal now, but as soon as she showed her pointed teeth, Orson would start asking more difficult questions.

“A seamstress from southern Gadvera, along for the ride.”

“That explains the accent,” Orson murmured. “I never knew a young upstart like Gadvera could have lovely creatures like you.”

“Oh, I’m not that lovely,” Ella said, playing coy.

“Of course you are, my dear. And talented. Why I’ve never seen anything like that dress. I’m sure it’ll take the city by storm.” Orson said, too focused on Ella to catch the strange look Ussein was giving her.

“Was there anything else you needed?” Calvin asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from Ella and her origins. It would be best not to pick at her flimsy cover story. “I could give you a tour of the mansion, if you like.”

It wasn’t like he had anything to hide in there, aside from May and the escape tunnel his Knick-Knacks were building.

“No, no,” Orsan said, returning his gaze to Calvin. In the split second the man’s eyes were turned away, Calvin saw Ella give Ussein a wide, blood-soaked smile. The man silently chuckled and put his hands in his pockets.

What the hell are you doing? Calvin thought, frowning at Ella for an instant.

“I’ll be heading out in a few minutes, and I’ve seen the estate before, so no need.” Orson said, waving his hand. “Just wanted to wish you well…although…would it be terribly impolite of me to take one of the drinks on offer?”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

The shipping magnate reached in, avoiding the most expensive brew, aged Bolean wine, and seized a bottle of cheap Ilethan beer, bringing it to his lips with a sigh.

“Thank you, young man. I was more parched than I thought.”

“Anytime,” Calvin said, watching Ussein stare daggers at Ella.

“You know Grant?” Ussein asked, causing Orson to flinch before glowering at the tall man.

“Who?”

“Big guy, older, salt and pepper hair, general in the Mujenan offensive? Makes swords float?”

“Oh, yeah,” Calvin said. “I saw him from afar a couple times when I was on the wall. I think I heard he lost his position over the outcome of the war. Why, have you heard something about him?”

“Yeah…” Ussein glanced at Calvin’s mansion and shrugged. “Thought he might have gone east looking for opportunity. Maybe not.”

“Ussein, I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Orson said.

“I suppose.” Ussein said, nodding, joining his employer as they headed out the gate.

Well, they’re definitely suspicious of us.

No shit.

“Why’d you give that guy the ‘fight me’ smile?” Calvin asked after they were out of earshot.

“He recognized me, I figured it wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, I don’t get the feeling he’s going to share that information with his employer.”

Calvin rolled his eyes. They had to trust a henchman to keep something that important a secret? Might as well get ready for war.

“Alright, well, put some bounce in everyone’s step. Odds are shit’s going to go sideways sometime in the next couple weeks.”

“Can do,” Ella said.

Chained Spirit.

12/15 Bent Remaining.

11/15 Bent Remaining.

10/15 Bent Remaining.

He made three Nadias and instructed one to grab the loot from the wagon and store them in the west-facing room, while the other two got them ready for a possible legal attack. It wouldn’t surprise Calvin if they were somehow misled about their ability to resell. It would be laughable if the man had simply given them advice they could be imprisoned for.

Why did he give us that advice, if he thought we were the ones responsible?

Getting all his ducks in a row, I think. Hedging his bets.

How so? Calvin asked.

Even if you weren’t responsible for the attacks, he can bring up the subject of profiting off of them to probe your reaction, earn your gratitude, and make sure you commit to a specific course of action, making you easier to plan around.

Damn, you really think he was doing all that?

Maybe, maybe just one or two of them.

Huh.

Calvin was overseeing the afternoon work several hours later when a shadow loomed over him. He glanced up, expecting Ella, Baroke, or Grant, but it was Ussein.

“I want a new whip and two hundred stone for my silence.” He said, arms akimbo.

Calvin blinked a couple times. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Sure, kid. And before you say anything, I’m a Legend, and Grant’s not on the premises, so you can’t stop me from leaving and taking word back to my employer. He’s not the brightest, but he already thinks something’s going on here. I know you were responsible for the attack on the Cobalt mine. One word from me will be enough for him to come down on you like a ton of glass.”

“Huh, I’ve never been blackmailed before, give me a second while I process this.” Calvin turned back toward the construction where the uleisan hired help were marking the air intake tunnels for the air conditioner.

Hired help.

“If you’re willing to stay silent for a price, how much more would it cost for you to take a short leave of absence?” Calvin asked, meeting the man’s eyes.

Macronomicon

too hungry to leave a pitch here. Must go make sammich.