The_Red_Lands
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Chapter 256- Cornering a market
🕑 Added 2019-12-03 02:35:14 +0000 UTC
Cornering a market
Doug glanced at the intersection at the far end of the street and sighed. His boots continued clacking along the cobblestones while knowing he was halfway on the long journey home. Each step generated a faint wince on his mouth because of the corns on his toes. His facial expression did not go unnoticed by his comely companion.
"Is it your feet again? I'll have Singh collect a healing balm when he walks me home. Use it after soaking your feet tonight and it will be good as new by tomorrow."
"Oh, so you've settled on having Singh escort you to the church every evening. What will the laity think? Now that their most beloved healer has her heart stolen?"
Doug replied to the singsong voice.
"See, I'm not talking to you again. You always find some way to trouble me. I'll tell Singh about you!"
The young lady pouted while brushing her shoulder-length, brown tresses behind her white cape. She stood a head shorter than the blond-haired man who now wore a smile on his face. Skipping forward, she swiveled on a short leather boot to face her companion. Her innocent brown eyes peered at the man while a white, gloved finger tapped her pink lips. Her voice continued like a singing lark.
"But you know, if you answer this question, I won't fib on you..."
Her brightly colored swirling cape and long dress attracted the attention of fellow pedestrians. Daisy might not be rated as a top beauty, but her character and voice aided her above average appearance. Second glances were not uncommon to her. Doug stroked his straw-colored, fuzzy, chin between his thumb and index finger.
"Ask away, but I will only answer if I can."
"Sure, sure, I know you, Singh, and the others are all so secretive. One would think you managed a group of bandits, rather than orphanages."
She waved the palm of her raised hand to dismiss such ludicrous thoughts.
"What I do want to know, is about this person Singh calls his little Boss. I've heard him mention her before, and he once told me I remind him of her. How do I compare to this person? Is she attractive? Really kind to people? His mouth clams shut whenever I ask. Can you tell me?"
Doug paused his steps while watching into the curious brown eyes. If not for the extensive surveillance of Daisy by him and his four brothers, he might have regarded this question as one with ulterior motives. This young Healer, however, originated from a poor family in the slums and lived most of her life in the church. Priest Faut of the Bountiful Nature Church had discovered her skills as a Healer and taken her in as a child.
Free and sheltered from the activities beyond the walls, she blossomed as a curious and innocent young Healer. Under the umbrella of the Churches Union, the protected shield of Priest Faust and the keen eyes of the older Healers, no young men gained the opportunity to woo her.
That is until Doug and Singh arrived with a letter of recommendation and a humanitarian plan which made even the old, staunch priest shed tears.
Doug coughed while covering his mouth.
"Did he really say that? That you remind him of her?"
"U-huh. Is she a pretty lady around my age? Does she laugh like me?"
This time Doug choked on hearing the standards for comparison.
The picture of Dyna sandwiched between those three aggressive hunters crossed his mind.
'Damn, Singh. How much salted-soup did you drink before you spewed this compliment?'
Doug generated a stiff smile while his mind chugged out a lie. Before he could open his mouth a commotion occurred on the street. A boy, no older than maybe twelve, sprinted out from the alley not far ahead. Darting his grimy body among the squeals and curses of the scattering walkers, he ran towards their direction.
Behind him, a smaller girl, dressed in a mixture of rags and soot, chased futilely while leaving a trail of tears.
"Stop, the old lady handed me that copper coin. It's mine... whaaa!"
By the time Daisy realized the cause, the boy had darted past her. Unfortunately, for the little tyke, a quick, and vice-like hand seized his collar. The unexpected interference dropped the thief to the cobbles with a thump. Doug wrested the copper from the slippery hand while the boy sat dumbfounded on the cobbles.
"Why are you stealing from a little girl?"
"So what? I'm a beggar too you know! Should I stare in the face of easy money? Would you leave a gold coin on the street?"
The little ruffian retorted.
Doug shook his head.
"No, I would have done the same in your position. But you should have tried to befriend her. Did you not think her life might require more protection than yours? I am not here to judge. The both of you. If you want to leave this life behind and don't want to starve for food, follow me. The Bountiful Nature church provides room and meals for children without parents."
"Big brother, is what you say true? Will the church help us?"
"Is this one of those lies you nobles feed us to make us dance?"
Shaking his head while ignoring the crowd of curious onlookers gathering, he looked at the hopeful girl and skeptical boy.
"This is the truth. And not only the Bountiful Nature church does it. The Moon Goddess Church in the Noble district, the Golden Sun in the merchant quarters, and many others belonging to the Churches Union are participating in this venture. Through the help of beneficent donors, you can find a meal. Ask this lady here, she won't lie to you."
The dirty heads turned to face the lady in question as the onlookers focused on the young lady.
"Ah, she is a Healer from the Churches Union, no wonder she wears a white cape and gloves."
"Look at the stitched red emblem over her left chest. It's the symbol of the Bountiful Nature Church. What a wonderful gesture for the Churches Union to offer the homeless of our city. Excuse me, I must visit my Church in the Noble District."
"Healer, please blessed lady, can you help my father with his wheezing chest?"
While the crowd praised the churches and inquire assistance from the Healer, Doug stood on the outskirts between the two children. Normally, a person would not approach a Healer on the street but visit the church. Supported in a mob, the rules flew away. The crowd would scatter eventually anyway. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy and squeezed gently.
"Ben, I hope I didn't injure you with the fall. That was also great crying skills, Kat."
"No Big Brother, that bump didn't hurt me because I'm tougher than I look. Brother Singh sent this message. He said your job is to visit the Tower Stronghold District. Beg if you have to but get it done."
Doug nodded as the boy slipped him a small note. The writing initiated a bout of coughing.
"What the heck!"
***
The knocking continued even after the man hollered out an answer. Tossing the thin, patched sheet aside, he stumbled from the bed while ignoring the protests from his wife. Naked under the long robe, he then cracked open the heavy wooden door.
"What's with this dumbfounded racket! While you're waiting for the sun to rise, bakers have already cooked out bread by the dozen. There is a reason we hit the sack early..."
The bearded man grumbled and then paused on seeing the visitor.
"Huh? What brings you here? I've already paid my protection fees for the month. Riles is the one who collects it from our street."
The eyebrows scrunched on the face of the baker while he pulled his robe tightly across his hairy chest. The scar-faced visitor standing at the door held the unofficial title as captain of the Behemoth Gang for his street. Usually, this man would send his subordinates to liaise with the shopkeepers and traders conducting business in the area.
Stepping back with an unsure look, the baker tried to recall any activity which would warrant this man showing up at his door.
"Goodnight Baker Bunn, please be assured, there is nothing to be concerned about. However, I do need a little of your time to discuss a matter you may find beneficial to your bakery..."
Not long after, the two men sat in the small kitchen by the rounded table. A flickering candle illuminated their bulky silhouettes. The baker waited for his guest to begin since it was not like he could have refused him at the door. The bearded captain pulled out a scroll and then ran a thick, rough finger down the parchment.
"Hmm...here it is. Baker Bunn of Kibble Street. How many sacks of flour do you buy each week?"
The baker widened an eye on the question. The topic in discussion was not one he expected to have with a gang member. Seeing the impatient eye of the brawler, he regained his thoughts.
"I usually buy twelve sacks for the week, but now, I am down to six. It's all because of the ridiculous prices."
The trader quickly continued since he found an opportunity,
"The prices have taken a toll on my shop. My profits will be slim and near non-existent. I may even have to lay off workers and also close my shop."
The captain shook his head. Traveling up the ranks and then absorbed into the Behemoth Gang, the sad words sounded familiar. Especially around the collection day.
"Since we have been working together, I am here with an offer. The leaders have decided that the success of your shop is very important to them. When you succeed, so do we. For the next six months, will you be willing to buy flour from only us at the original price?"
The baker burst out coughing.
"What? Do you have flour to sell?"
"Yes. We know a miller who is willing to sell."
"At one silver a sack?"
"Yes."
"Are you serious? You're not talking about the small bags like those from the General Store, right? The wholesale size?"
"Yes."
The breadmaker stood up from his wooden chair and paced around. He then resumed his seat with a curious frown on his face. Rumors from the taverns had long spread across the shops about the destroyed granaries in the destroyed villages. Both the sellers and shopowners, therefore, expected a period of hardship.
"I have to ask since I witnessed some in the market. Is this old flour? I can't make bread with lumpy or worm filled flour to sell."
"It's fresh flour. Like the grain merchants in the market, the leaders have been hoarding."
"What do you want in exchange? I plan to hand my shop over to my son. Beside this bakery, I really can't offer anything else..."
The baker cast a glance towards his bedroom but looked away. If his wife found out he used her to make a deal, then he would end up in the oven with the bread.
The scarface man cast a wry smile as he inched towards the candle, oblivious to the man's thoughts. This baker like the ones he had visited so far, followed a general script. No wonder, the leaders of the Behemoth Gang controlled the entire slum district.
"As I said before. Since we provide you with protection, it's our duty to help your shop thrive. All the leaders ask is that you keep this arrangement a secret. I believe you are capable of this because you are aware of the consequences. But there is only one little matter which requires your assistance..."
When the meeting concluded, the two participants laughed and shook hands. Rolling up the scroll which bore the stamp of a new seal, the captain then continued his journey to a new mark.
Throughout the slums, the owners of shuttered millers, struggling bakers, suffering general stores, and any manufacturer who required flour received an unexpected visit. Members of the Behemoth Gang of all ranks shot out like tendrils, watched over by insignificant street urchins. This strange quest required them to not risk their lives but to demonstrate their persuasive skills.
Within other gang territories, the meetings occurred under the guise of an unknown but righteous merchant. Which shopkeeper wouldn't pounce on a deal from a simpleton?
When dawn shattered the darkness of the night sky, the damage had been done...
