Dreisterne

CHAPTER 9

The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the worn wooden table in the tavern of the Side-swept Inn, Dreisterne's favourite haunt, where it was quiet and sombre in the late hours. Dreisterne, freshly released from their days of helping the Watchmen investigate the sites of Spice manufacture and transport as part of their civil duties, gathered around the table, the silence between them filled with anticipation as they caught up on what had transpired during the last few days. Harald looked remarkably unscathed despite his dramatic recounting of the chaos he'd endured. He spoke with his usual flair, sprinkled with his usual smattering of Teutonian Nathan and Keith had just begun to miss in their lives.

"I must admit, meine Freunde, it was nothing short of a catastrophe," Harald began, adjusting his hat as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes dancing with the excitement of his tale. "I was thrown into the clutches of the most vicious horde of freelancers I have ever encountered. I saw only the thrill of the hunt in their eyes. I could have sworn I was done for right then and there."

Keith, shaking his head, leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Sounds like you had a hell of a time, H. We were all worried sick 'bout you. Thought you might've ended up with a permanent spot in the healing temple."

Harald waved off the concern with a dramatic flourish. "Ah, well, I was not without my dignity, Keith. Thankfully, I had the intervention of a few Watchmen who arrived just in time to rescue me from becoming one of the tiles in the pantry by the crazed mob. My life was saved, though I did spend a few extra hours in the healing temple for recovery."

Nathan, who had been listening intently, raised an eyebrow. "And Briggs? What happened to the Headmasher?"

Harald's expression darkened. "Ah, that one... I had hoped to find some answers, but alas, it seems the great sheriff has disappeared. According to the Marshall, he was nowhere to be found when the riot broke out. Factor in a hastily-emptied treasury in his house, he would most likely have fled the city before the authorities could make their move."

Keith grimaced, slouching in his chair. "The two big brains behind the whole operation manage to skedaddle, eh? But at least Skinner's still in the frame. Maybe we can get something useful outta him."

A soft voice from the shadows interrupted their conversation, startling them all. Ren, who had been silently watching from the corner of the room, stepped forward, her eyes sharp and calculating as ever. "Skinner's not the mastermind you think he is, I'm afraid," she said plainly. "I've just got a confession from him. He was more of a passive player in the whole operation. Sandman and the Headmasher did all the heavy lifting, while Skinner gave them the spaces to operate safely in exchange for a cut in the profits."

Dreisterne looked collectively disgruntled at this revelation, exchanging glances with one another. Keith scratched his head, his brow furrowing in frustration. "We've been working so hard to bring him down, and it turns out he's just a bloody opportunist. Great."

Ren, sensing their frustration, nodded sympathetically. "But don't be discouraged. The authorities have already alerted every chapter of the Watchmen all across Rossland. Sandman and the Headmasher are wanted fugitives, and they'll be arrested on sight."

"Sounds like something easier said than done, especially when it comes to a career criminal like Sandman," Nathan said as he leaned back on his chair, looking contemplatively at the wooden ceiling. "And considering that all four of us were responsible for destroying their business venture in this city, I've got the feeling that we're going to run into them again in one way or another."

Silence hung heavily among them for a long moment as they ruminated about the consequences of their actions, and how their futures may unfold with outlaws possibly out for their blood in the picture.