OG: Chapter 37

The Van Rijn Trade Post was one of, if not the, most sturdy buildings in all of Alynda. You could tell it had been built for someone with money based on the materials it was made of. Instead of cheaper bricks, wattle and daub, timber, or drystone, like the majority of buildings in town, the Van Rijn Trade Post was actually built of properly-mortared stone. Instead of a thatched roof or wooden slats, like most buildings in town had, the Van Rijn Trade Post had terra cotta shingles like you would see in the more well-to-do parts of Tilea and Estalia, or even in Grand Cathay. Instead of wooden boards or animal horn, the Van Rijn Trade Post had actual glass windowpanes, and so on. The fact that it had been built with a turret tower as part of the design also suggested that whoever owned it was used to living and working inside castles.

Of course, the inside was just as impressive. There were three main parts to the Van Rijn Trade Post, first, the main area, which largely consisted of spices, herbs, perfumes, dyes, and other rare, expensive, and easily displayed wealth was kept. The moment you entered the Van Rijn Trade Post, this was the first room you saw, suggesting someone who, at least, was hooked into a vast trading network that spanned from Tilea and Estalia to Araby and even to the Kingdoms of Ind. Next, however, was the Armory, where weapons and armor in dozens of different makes and styles were on display, from Estalian Rapiers to Tilean Crossbows, from Arabyan Lamellar to Miraglianese Plate, and even a few more exotic things, such as Ind Katar Daggers or Cathayan Jian Swords. Finally, there was the Clothier's section, where one could find cloth and clothing in various styles, from Arabyan Damask to Tilean Taffeta, from Wastelander Lace to Imperial Broadcloth, and even bales of Raw Silk direct from Grand Cathay and Ermine Furs from the Oblasts of Kislev.

It was an enormous amount of wealth concentrated in one place, and that necessitated protection of such an investment, and Piers Van Rijn had protection in spades, courtesy of his association with House de Roelef of the Marienburg Directorate. Three Mercenary Warriors stood on guard with Piers at all times. Iron Hans, a grim, black-haired Stirlander with worn armor and an even more worn look, Bori Burisson, a Dwarf from Karak Hirn who ought to have settled down by now, judging from the streaks of gray creeping into his beard, but who had a large enough family and few enough prospects back in the Hold to make such a continued life more attractive, and Gaspar the Blue, a Bretonnian Fop from Brionne who was, nonetheless quicker with a blade than most, for all that he eschewed the typical Knightly Heavy Armor and Cavalry Charge.

All three of them were well-equipped, well-trained, well-experienced, and most of all, well-paid by House De Roelef to protect their investment. That last bit was important, as it ensured the trio were motivated to actually do their jobs instead of simply sitting back and collecting their cash. Perhaps that was the reason why, on our return to town, after dropping Radamenes off at the Sollander's Soujourn and grabbing a quick pint for ourselves, when we pulled up to the Van Rijn Trade Post with a Strigany Vardo and Pony, the three of them were skeptical of our claims of coming to cash in on the Bounty on Arabyan Artifacts, as well as some other business.

"That's a Strigany Cart. The Strigany are known to be swindlers in the service of various Necromancers and Vampire Lords." Scowled Iron Hans.

"We are not Strigany, Hans. We've met before, remember?" I pointed out. Honestly, I should have figured the Stirlander would take umbrage at the Strigany Cart and Pony. The Strigany had served the Von Carsteins, after all.

"True, but you do not need to be a part of something to be in league with it." Offered Gaspar.

"Degage, Salopard!" Scowled Martine in Bretonnian, effectively telling Gaspar to Fuck Off while calling him a despicable bastard.

"Putain, surveille ta langue ou je la coupe!" Scowled Gaspar.

"Hey, no need for any of that, now." I interjected.

"Do you realize you travel with a whore of the Fallen Duchy of Mousillon?" Questioned Gaspar.

"Since when do you care about Chivalry, Gaspar? We're not in Bretonnia. I thought that was the whole point of your being here?" I queried.

"You do not understand. That Black Land infects everything it touches, even here it stretches its hand out and plops this piece of Merde onto our doorstep." Scoffed Gaspar.

"Gaspar, I swear, if you say one more ill word about one of my companions, I'm going to have to demand satisfaction." I warned.

"All right, Manlings, that's enough! I'm getting too old for this shite." Cut in Bori.

"Bori, you know me, and you know Kostek. You know we're who we say we are." Tried Ruggiero.

"Aye, though I can't vouch for the Manling in the Red Robe, or the Bretonnian Lass." Agreed Bori.

"You don't look like a Magister of the Colleges. Too young." Frowned Hans, looking over at Anders.

"I was apprenticed." Huffed Anders.

"Aye, but by whom, I wonder?" Asked Hans.

"What are you, a Witch Hunter?" Questioned Anders defensively.

"Enough. We don't have time for this. Will you open your cart up so we can take a look for ourselves, Manling?" Queried Bori.

"I will. Ruggiero, open up the Vardo so they can have a look. Maybe then we can actually speak with Van Rijn." I sighed.

"Right." Nodded Ruggiero.

Once that was done and the posturing had finished, Bori took a look around at our wares before frowning in thought, chewing on the edges of his mustache as he did so. As Ruggiero closed the Vardo back up, he seemed to have come to a decision as to what to do because Bori nodded to himself once and then made his way over to us.

"All right, Manlings. From the looks of your goods, I can clearly see you were telling the truth, and that presents us with a touch of a dilemma." Admitted Bori.

"What dilemma?" Asked Anders.

"The Boss isn't in the shop at the moment." Answered Hans.

"Why would he not be in the shop? It's business hours, yes?" Questioned Martine.

"Cherchez la femme. Why else would he be out of the shop now?" Scoffed Gaspar.

"A woman, really?" I queried, balking.

"Afraid so, Manling." Confirmed Bori.

"Can't you call him back from whatever tryst he's engaged in?" Asked Ruggiero.

"Normally, we could." Affirmed Hans.

"Not this one, though. Cette femme est trop puissante." Shrugged Gaspar.

"Must be some Woman." Opined Martine.

"Aye, that she is." Concurred Bori.

"Who is it, then?" Questioned Anders.

"Surely she can't be that Powerful, no?" Queried Ruggiero.

"Afraid so, Manling. Van Rijn's off meeting with Anita de Roelef." Informed Bori.

"She came up from Donkerzee to meet with him?" I asked.

"Supposed to be something of import regarding Prince Detz." Remarked Hans.

"Whatever it is, it is above our pay grade." Added Gaspar.

"And he just went off to a meeting with his Patron like that, leaving you three behind?" Questioned Martine.

"Aye, he took the new lad with him. That Estalian Diestro." Answered Bori.

"Diego of the long, impossible to remember name, heir to some backwater Marquisate somewhere in Obregon, who boasts as much as he drinks and fights as much as neither." Scoffed Hans.

"Don't let him hear you say that, Mon Frere. He'll have to challenge you to a duel over it." Smirked Gaspar.

"I take it this Diego isn't very popular." Mused Ruggiero.

"Whatever could've given you that impression, Manling?" Questioned Bori.

"Still, to take someone so seemingly untested to such an important meeting?" Queried Martine.

"Some things require a certain touch, not that I'd expect some Marais Putain to understand." Sneered Gaspar.

"Watch it." Warned Anders.

"You watch it. I'm still not convinced you're not a particularly well-behaved witch." Scowled Hans.

"Enough!" I barked out.

"Aye, I have to agree with the Manling. If you want to bark like yapping dogs, do it on your own time." Scowled Bori.

"Aye, though the question remains, what do we do about this?" Asked Ruggiero.

"Van Rijn's Meeting should be over in twenty or so minutes. He's nothing if not punctual. If you're keen to wait, then I'm keen to let you." Offered Bori.

"Agreed." I affirmed.

And with that, we settled in to wait for Piers Van Rijn to return from his meeting. Hans and Anders glared at each other the whole time, as did Martine and Gaspar. Ruggiero, meanwhile, had obviously decided that this whole situation wasn't for him and had withdrawn back into the Vardo, supposedly to keep an eye on our merchandise. That left Bori and I to suffer through the whole awkward situation and try to keep the peace. Fortunately, we wouldn't be waiting long. Piers Van Rijn was nothing if not punctual, as Bori said.

Roughly thirty-five minutes after we had settled down to wait, Piers Van Rijn would come walking up to his shop, Estalian Dandy at his side, ready to do business. . .

XXXX

Around thirty-five minutes before arriving at his shop, however, Piers Van Rijn was meeting with his Patron, Anita De Roelef, about a matter of grave importance involving Prince Harmis Detz of Khypris. A slight man, with very little athletic or martial ability of his own, Piers Van Rijn was a scion of the Old Nobility of the Wasteland, second son of the Jonkheer Van Aarnau, Wilhelm Van Rijn, he had sought to use whatever means he could to escape the Genteel Poverty that most of the Old Nobility of the Wasteland found themselves in these days. It just so happened that while he did not have any athletic or martial prowess, what he did have was a keen mind, a sharp wit, and a talent for negotiation. These were qualities that brought him to the attention of the De Roelef Family, the sole members of the Old Nobility of the Wasteland to truly rise high in business rather than to fall short or barely tread water.

Now, here he was, acting as the De Roelef's primary agent in the Border Princes. Oh, certainly, Anita was there, but she rarely left the estate in Donkerzee, save to meet with Piers. He was the tip of the spear, so to speak, for their efforts here. Of course, ever since that Imperial Magister who claimed to be the Chosen of various Forgotten Gods had shown up and taken over a vast swathe of territory in the west, there had been a great deal of volatility in the markets, but if you were clever and lucky enough, you could navigate those eddies to an even larger fortune, which was what Piers had done. After all, there was plenty of demand for good steel, leather, and all the necessities required to equip a body of troops whenever such volatility occurred, and the De Roelef's, through Piers as their intermediary, could provide such at a hefty markup.

None of that, however, was the reason that Piers was meeting with his Patron today. Anita De Roelef had arrived with news she claimed was urgent, her Arabyan Bodyguard, Mahmoud trailing behind her as always. Piers had to admit, he didn't know quite what to make of Mahmoud. The large Arabyan Man had clearly been trained by someone of note, judging from how he carried himself. True, Piers had no Martial Skill of his own, but he had studied the skills of others as a matter of self-preservation, and he knew the hallmarks of the Arabyan Dervisher's style when he saw them. However, the Dervishers were known for their intense hatred of the People of the Old World, such as Anita, Mahmoud's current employer. They were also known to forgo armor, yet Mahmoud wore a cuirass and helm, along with leather gauntlets. It was an interesting puzzle, one which was not helped by the Arabyan Bodyguard's taciturn demeanor, only speaking when necessary.

Unlike his current bodyguard, unfortunately. Diego Miguel Sanchez Casador Y Ortiz was, supposedly, the heir to the Marqués of Céfiro, Don Armando Jorge Sanchez Casador Y Ortiz. Unfortunately, there had been some scuffle over a woman back in Obregon, and Diego had wound up killing the other man in a Duel. Ordinarily, that would have simply been business as usual, but the Man he killed was the Nephew of the General Superintendent of Finance for the King of Bibali. Given how it would have been impossible for him to lie low in Estalia, thanks to his constantly boasting of his deeds and prowess, Diego had been shipped off to the Border Princes by his father, where Piers had picked him up at a bargain just as soon as he had drunk all his money. Of course, the bearded, immaculately-coiffed, and ridiculously-dressed Diego had proven to be something of a savant when it came to swordplay. He must have been, at any rate, because Piers could not imagine any other reason why a Man could be so heedless of consequences and yet capable of dueling his way out of any situation his mouth talked him into.

The last person in the room was his Patron herself. Anita De Roelef was a Woman in her early thirties, full-figured, with red hair she wore in long ringlets. Anita was generally more composed than to arrive before informing him of a meeting, but this was, apparently, something that could not wait. On hearing the information, of course, Piers was pledged to agree with that assessment. He could scarcely believe the news himself, after all.

"You're positive this is accurate?" He questioned.

"I am. It has been confirmed by our people in Aldium and Vimera. There can be no doubt." Confirmed Anita.

"Beastmen having grudges against specific people is new. Is your source sure this latest Warlord demanded the head of Harmis Detz in particular? Not simply the Head of the Prince of Khypris?" Queried Piers.

"Our agents questioned the survivors of the Patrol three separate times. They all agreed every time, the Warlord specifically mentioned Harmis Detz by name." Nodded Anita.

"Why? What did Harmis Detz do to anger some random Beastman so much that he would become a Warlord just to get even?" Asked Piers.

"I have no clue, but we should find out soon. If we want to keep hold of our holdings here, at any rate." Opined Anita.

"Perhaps we should begin thinking about defensive strategies?" Questioned Piers.

"Hire on more Mercenaries, you mean?" Queried Anita.

"That is part of it yes." Affirmed Piers.

"The family is already trying, though it may take some time before they can muster." Informed Anita.

"How long is some time?" Asked Piers.

"Long enough, unfortunately, to ensure that we might want to look closer to home for a solution." Admitted Anita.

"Well, what do we have at our disposal. Prince Detz's Border Guards, obviously, and I can call out a militia in Alynda, I have just enough political capital for that. What of Donkerzee?" Questioned Piers.

"The Captains of the Donkerzee Guard, Ninth Griffon Legion, and Voland's Venators, though it is possible the Ninth Griffon Legion's contract runs out and they return to Kislev before fighting starts." Warned Anita.

"With that in mind, what are our odds of winning this?" Queried Piers.

"Not great." Muttered the Normally-Silent Mahmoud.

"Not great, he says, as if simply out for an evening stroll!" Laughed Diego, bitterly.

"Enough of that! Do you have anything constructive to add?" Asked Piers, snapping at Diego.

"It is likely the Prince already knows, just bring your resources to him and allow the professionals to sort things out." Scoffed Diego.

"Not the worst idea, though it may have come from a wine-addled mind." Snorted Mahmoud.

"Hush." Insisted Anita.

"They're right, though. Neither of us is exactly a strategist. We may just want to gather what forces and resources we can and offer them to the Prince." Admitted Piers.

"And in the meantime, plan for an exit strategy." Mused Anita.

"Naturally." Agreed Piers.

From there, a few minor points were shared and debated, but the course they would take here was set in stone. As Anita left, her Bodyguard trailing behind her to go back to Donkerzee, Piers' mind was whirling. He would have to find both capable fighters and resources that he could lay at Harmis Detz's feet so that hopefully, they would all survive the incoming Beastman Horde. He would, ironically, find those resources and combatants waiting for him when he returned to his shop, pushing a Strigany Vardo filled with salvage from the ruins of Zarwai. After all, not only had Konstantin Ptorski and his companions clearly succeeded where others had failed, but they had also brought loads of viable and valuable equipment along with them.

And that fulfilled two criteria right there. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we have the next chapter. This one is largely based on character interaction as well as moving the Plot along. Canonically, Harmis Detz became Prince of Khypris after slaying the mortal body of a Daemon Prince of Nurgle and banishing its spirit back to the warp. Said Daemon Prince had been in the middle of enacting a major plot for Nurgle. Now, Nurgle is telling some local Beastmen to get a horde together and avenge him. So that will be the next phase of this part of the Fic, dealing with Nurglite Beastmen. You can expect that if the MC becomes the Prince of Khypris, it will happen during this next section of chapters.

At any rate, the next chapter will actually be talking with Piers Van Rijn as the MC and Company learn what's going on up North and Piers puts a proposition to them. I'll also have a character sheet update and more images out before then as well.

Stay tuned. . .