The Façade of Quad in Nimrod ✓ | Satire, family drama, dark society

XIII

It was three in the afternoon when Thomas Benedict returned to the Quad mansion. He had called before and come to collect his pay. Mordecai was waiting for him and answered the door swiftly when a knock came.

"Are you sure you can't teach her anymore?" Mordecai handed him the pay of twenty-five pholars. He thought it wasn't much for a man that brought out an unexpected talent in his daughter, but Thomas had insisted on the amount.

"I am sorry. Something urgent has come up at home and I must return at once."

"The Countess?"

Thomas nodded. He had told Mordecai about his family and his mother the Countess who was having a hard time with revolting workers. His story was that while the family was from Lwendolen, she bought a house in Sarkovi, Roktia to make some money off of the red wood trees.

"I don't know when I will be returning. Please do tell Miss Valerie is a very bright young lady."

"Of course," Mordecai said. "Hold on a moment." He went away up to his study and took out some more money from his savings envelope. He came back down with cash in hand and tried to add it into the one Thomas held.

"Mr. Quad, I couldn't possibly—!"

Mordecai grabbed the envelope and added thirty more pholors. "I insist. For the Countess. Please. Tell your mother if she needs help with workers, I can always be of assistance."

Although his intentions seemed kind, he was really just trying to make good relations with a Countess to elevate his status and it was clearer than if he had said it out loud. Yet, Thomas only thanked him profusely for the donation and was off on his way. Mordecai watched him go and hoped that one day the Countess would call on him for advice.

From atop the hill, Mourning was barely visible. Cold touched the air as the sun went down. Now that it was nearing winter, frost would soon arrive, and it often covered Mourning first before anywhere and would bite anything it could get its teeth on. Those living in the north parts of the poor city would light lamps and candles about their house if they couldn't afford a fireplace.

The residents of Mourning were prisoners in the winter. Most had no shoes, so they couldn't risk walking around the forest looking for mushrooms, berries, or small animals for it was too dangerous in the waist deep snow and they could freeze their toes off. (Many Mourning residents had already lost many toes this way.) Some lucky ones stole clothes off of clotheslines belonging to the designated poor of Nimrod who were slightly better off.

"Bastards," Mordecai muttered as he readied for the staged robbery tonight, grabbing gloves from the back of the closet that no one used anymore, and a big bag to stuff the money in. Today and tomorrow, most companies were closed to calculate the end-of-the-year financial situation in order to understand how well they did and how better they could be. 

For that reason, the office building of Quad's World Goods would be vacant of workers. He would be the only one and he would not be to blame.

The plan was to go to work, and work at work, and then steal away with the money. If he went in and came out right away, it might look suspicious, so he had decided to actually go and work there so if he was ever accused, he had an alibi.

* * *

At that same moment, Thomas Benedict was at the station, buying a train ticket that would take him to Koltsland and from there he could go to Roktia. He even talked with the ticket master and made a point to talk about his Countess mother who moved from Lwendolen to Roktia and 'kind Mr. Quad who paid me extra'. 

Then he bought a separate ticket to Quinex because he had to go home to his apartment and gather his clothes up and 'all the warm things are there' he joked. The ticket master said he should wear double of everything because 'Sarkovi is a dank cold place, Mr. Benedict'. 

Thomas Benedict thanked him and checked the train times. There was still thirty minutes to departure. He left the station and head into a prostitute joint where he was shown to a storage room in the back.

"Your tickets," he called and a man sitting among brooms and pails looked up. The two men had identical faces. As they changed clothes, their mannerisms were the same and when they smiled, the wrinkles were almost the same, too.

"The money?" said the man as he adjusted his pince nez eyeglasses.

"Right here," said 'Thomas Benedict', letting his mask melt away. "He was kind enough to give fifty-five in total. Take care, Thomas."

"Thank you." The real Thomas Benedict shook the fake Thomas Benedict's hand in a firm grip and head out the front door to catch the train.

The man left behind in the prostitute joint grabbed out his own clothes hiding behind brooms and pails inside a bamboo mesh bag. Once dressed in a black suit and black pants, he took a moment to reflect on that character he just played. It was his own personal ceremony to say 'goodbye' to a character well-executed.

In his lifetime so far, the man had played a multitude of characters, some were easier than others especially if they were just ones he made up. The harder ones were those who had died. 

After a few moments of clearing his mind, he put on a different mask. Muttering words that only made sense to him, the man soon had a new face.

"I am Oliver Watson," he said in his own voice. "I am Oliver Watson," he said over and over until he copied the exact way Oliver Watson, Georgina Quad's lawyer, had spoken before his death. 

Then, with confidence, 'Oliver Watson' left the prostitute joint out the back and head off to make a visit at Quad's World Goods to inquire about the will that Georgina wrote and if he so agreed to let his wife give the Quad fortune to the daughter.

"Will you sign here, Mr. Quad?"

Mordecai, at his office waiting for sundown to steal his own money, raised his eyebrow at this will. He had thought Georgina only cared about herself, but it seemed to him, she still deeply cared about their daughter and was willing to let Valerie take the Quad fortune. 

Mordecai had put the money in Georgina's name out of love when they got married so it was her money to do what she liked after his death.

"If it does come to be that she passes before you, that bit is included here," Oliver Watson pointed at a paragraph, "that your daughter will still receive the money after her mother's or after your passing."

Mordecai raised an eyebrow and shifted in his chair. "So, you mean to say if I sign this, no matter what happens, the money will be Valerie's?"

Oliver Watson nodded. "Precisely."

It sounded good to him, so Mordecai signed his name and Oliver Watson left to file the will at the law firm. Now Valerie was the true inheritor of the Quad fortune and no one could say otherwise. Oliver Watson went on his way to get a ticket to Quinex. He stepped in a phone booth briefly to make a call.

A man answered. "Hello?"

"This is Oliver Watson."

"It's been done?"

"Precisely."

"Payment?"

"Roktia is small," he spoke in code, "and it will come."

Oliver Watson hung up the phone, purchased a ticket, and rushed to catch the train.

* * *

It was still early in the evening when a short Roktion man came knocking on Aulen's back door. Aulen handed him the money and the man took it, checked the amount, and he was off. 

No words were exchanged.