The Accidental Pimp

Piro Pentius missed Christophe.

That may have been an understatement. Nothing had been the same since the giant had needed to hide from the law for a while, even before his death. That had marked the beginning of the end, he realized, as he sat in his workshop, working on an amulet. A half-empty bottle of wine rested nearby, tempting him. He shed his magnification goggles and reached for it.

The Warlords' operation had all but stalled without the general of their troops to lead them in battle. Piro had many talents, including a propensity for violence, but rallying others had never been it. It's why they had worked so well together. Christophe operated the day to day stuff and kept ironclad bonds with their boys, and Piro planned and used their resources to network and throw their influence around.

Without his best friend, he had a bunch of angry, aimless teenagers and young adults with little direction. And there weren't nearly as many of them as there had been in the past. So many had died, gotten arrested, or left the city entirely. They had maybe thirty fighters, and a handful of businesses and neighborhoods who still owed them loyalty and tribute in exchange for protection.

Their rivals pressed in on them from all sides. They lost territory by the day, and the only thing holding things together was his enchantments. There were precious few speakers or shapers in the city, and most of them were in the employ of the emperor or the rich elite. Fewer still had a knack for enchantments, loose morals, and the hunger for power needed to operate in the shadows, when there was prestige to be working for the upper crust.

Piro sighed and took a long, desperate pull from the bottle. Drinking didn't make his grief or frustration any easier, but it was still an escape of sorts. The more he drank, the easier it was to focus on his work instead of his constantly simmering anger.

A presence brushed against his mind, courtesy of the wards protecting his shop. They entered the building, and he relaxed when the image of his lieutenant Basch flashed in front of the wall, seconds before the clay parted and let the man inside. He paused, and asked, "Is this a bad time?"

"It's fine. Unless you have bad news. If you have bad news, I may have to burn you alive." Piro flashed a manic grin he didn't feel. His men expected his temperamental nature, so it was up to him to give it to them.

Basch almost smiled, but kept it off his face. He was in his mid-twenties, and wasn't like the rest. He'd almost outgrown his unruly, enthusiastic street fighter days, and had discipline the others didn't. He'd been one of a few to escape the fight that slew Christophe and countless others.

"And if it's good news, sir?"

Piro considered it for a moment, before reaching into one of his desk's many drawers. He held up a ring with a hex-shaped gem. "You get a promotion and this to go with it. It's the shielding enchantment that protected Christophe…until it didn't." He'd made three of them, trying to find a way to perfect it.

Basch nodded. "Our spy in the Moonlit Garden reported back. They're planning something big soon, and the orders come from on high. It's suggested that in a week, they're going to be moving a number of their best fighters away from the business for the night. That would be the perfect time to lead an elite team to strike and burn it to the ground. It's the best opportunity we've had for a while."

"Hmm. Pass."

"Sir?" Basch looked at him like he was crazy.

Piro took another drink from the bottle, emptying it, and then threw it out the window. "What's the point of attacking if they won't be there? I don't give a shit about their business. Not when an attack will just piss them off and make them come here. If they pushed for us, or reached out to our rivals and teamed up, it would be all over for us!"

His lieutenant paled, but worked up the courage to speak again. "Then what do you suggest, sir? If we continue on our current trend, we'll be overrun by winter. What men we have are strong and are armed with your enchantments, but our enemies have numbers, discipline, and momentum. How are we going to kill Razia and Quentin if you hide in your home the entire time?"

The alcohol had dulled most of his feelings, but now Piro felt a spark of anger in his chest, burning him from the inside out. The power inside him stretched, yearning to be let out and directed against his man. Basch stared at him with steel in his eyes, and a tremor in his hands.

But Piro took a deep breath, and let it out. The anger remained, but this insolence came at an opportune time. He smiled, and was rewarded with his lieutenant flinching. "What exactly do you think I've been doing this entire time?"

Basch looked at the window, and back to Piro. "Well, from the smell of it, a lot of drinking. That's the point sir, we have no clue what to do, and it's been chaos out there."

"I've been drinking, it's true," said Piro, tapping his sharp, bearded chin. "But what you rats don't understand is it helps with the headaches from straining my magic. In the last two months, I've pushed myself further than I ever have, and produced enchantments I never thought myself capable of. And not just weapons, but tools and tricks and everything we may need. It's not enough to kill them, I need to ruin them first.

"But you're right. We do need to remind them we exist, and that they aren't safe." Piro gestured for Basch to relax. "What do we know about their plans?"

"Well, our man was selected to be part of the operation. They're being tight-lipped about the target, but we think it's a noble of some kind. The assassination order comes from the palace, and we know that it's in the Zephyr block, a week from now."

The thing about Christophe was that he was great for planning battles. He knew how to rule through fear and pressure, but sometimes opportunities weren't straightforward. Sometimes you needed to come at things from an unexpected angle. Piro grinned, and reached into his desk once more.

"Look at this." Hanging from an intricate gold chain was a blue stone with strange patterns carved into its smooth, glossy surface. It glowed with an inner light that drew the eye in. Piro dangled it in front of Basch.

"This is something I've been working on since our previous spy was killed. At a command word, it will record everything it sees inside the gem, to be retrieved by another word. It can store one memory at a time. If your man is going to go on this operation…I want him to wear this, and record it."

He handed it over to Basch.

The man took it and scratched at the scar under his eye. "And the command words?"

"To record or stop, Drokomo. To view the memory, Momodro."

Basch made a face.

Piro's anger spiked again, and he wreathed his right hand with flames. "Yes, they sound stupid, they're meant to never be accidentally said mid-conversation. You better fucking memorize it and make sure your spy does too. This took me a week to make, and is worth more than either of your lives. Whatever it is that whore and her freak are doing, I want to see it happen. Is that clear?"

This time, Basch nodded vigorously. "Understood, sir. Drokomo, and Momodro, yes? I'll make sure they know. Is there anything else I should know?"

He was mollified instantly. "No. But I'd say you've earned this ring as well. I want you to pick out another man you trust, someone who will do well with a new weapon and work with you without backstabbing you. The time to strike will be soon, so stop ceding territory and get ready to fight back. We're almost ready."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Basch nodded, took the ring with the black gem, and left the way he came. The wall closed behind him, leaving Piro alone once more.

He was tired. Running the gang wasn't fun anymore. They were useful as a means to an end, but it was enough to make him want to just…walk away, maybe find a new city to try again. Orchrisus was home, but how could it be without Christophe? Thirty years of friendship, a misspent childhood together, and now just…Quiet.

Maybe he would leave. So long as he stayed away from Sazras in the northeast pocket of the continent, there would be demand for his skills. It would be a fresh start, a chance to try something new.

But not until he got his revenge. Razia consumed his waking thoughts, but he no longer wanted her back. No, she would suffer. First, Piro would kill her lover and bodyguard, then he'd end her friends, one by one. By the time he was done, she would beg for death. And then…he could never decide between slow-cooking her in a brass prison, or leave her an empty shell of a person, too broken to ever function again.

Piro went through his drawers again. Rings, amulets, bracers, knives, wands, he had enough to outfit a small army. They didn't have the manpower, but combined with…Yes, it could work.

Basch was right. He'd prepared enough, and they had everything they needed to launch the harassment campaign of a lifetime. He needed to stop ignoring his contacts, and get out in the world. The summer storms were the perfect opportunity to reach out and attend a few events, and make sure the right people were at each other's throats.

It was time.

***

As much as Jonas loved going out to fight, guarding the girls outside of the Garden still gave him trouble.

You see, attacking things was easy. Give Jonas a few men and a target and they'd bring whoever it was down without a problem. It was fun, being able to fight for real. Especially since Amicus had fired him and others for working at the Garden. It was what they did, and despite their reputation for brutality, his Shades took pride in not hurting anyone who didn't have it coming. Many hadn't wanted to be in a gang, until they saw the difference, and the good times they would have, staying close to the perpetual party.

Protecting others, in a city like Orchrisus? Incredibly difficult, even when things were safe. The thing about the Nightflowers, they knew how valuable they were, and it made them cocky and full of themselves. Sometimes it was warranted, other times it made his life painful. Like now.

"Do they always take this long?" Vance asked him. The other Shade was new enough to still ask a million questions and not pay attention.

They were in a large house, full of chatter, whispers, and playful moans and giggles from the bedroom just a few feet away. Jonas sat at the window, overlooking the street and Zervas' estate beyond it. From this height, the entirety of the garden was visible, and he mentally mapped it out.

"Usually, yes," Jonas said, keeping the annoyance out of his voice. "When they do, they tend to share the love afterwards. You like shards? You want the slow, indulgent outcalls. Just relax and keep your eyes open. You never know when trouble is coming your way."

Their girls' current client wasn't just a neighbor to Lukas Zervas. He was a man who was famous for a falling out with the senator, and Vira would no doubt pump him for information, so to speak. The longer they spent together, the better the information was bound to be.

Probably.

"How often have you seen trouble?" Vance asked, unable or unwilling to be quiet for five minutes. "This really doesn't seem like a hard gig, yeah? Did they really need to send two of us? I could've gotten this on my own, I mean."

Jonas forced a smile. "When trouble arrives, it usually outnumbers you and takes you by surprise. We send a minimum of two so one can hold others off while the girl and the other guard return to the Garden as fast as possible. It's not as necessary on the Boulevard, but we don't hold this territory."

Besides, it was also to make sure that the newer recruits didn't embarrass themselves or the Garden, or possibly rob and rape the girls. That had happened once. Once. Jonas had the honor of ending the bastard's life. They took their reputation seriously.

Vance sighed and lounged insolently in his chair. He ogled a servant girl who came up to them with wineskins.

"Refreshments? Since the master is…taking his time." Her smile spoke of a lot of pent up amusement.

"Absolutely, I --" Vance started.

"No thank you, we're on duty," Jonas said.

"Oh, come on," the recruit protested, but movement out of the corner of Jonas' eye made him turn around.

The man himself, Lukas Zervas, left his house and made his way through the garden. He only had a couple of men flanking him, and they looked as mentally checked out as Vance did. If Jonas ran, he could probably ambush them on the street. Gods, it would be so easy.

But getting away from the Watch wouldn't, and there were tons of weaknesses. More than that, they had a plan, the maps, and even a few of the servants to work on to get easier access if they needed to storm the estate and do things the hard way. He took a deep breath and turned back.

"Go on then. Have a drink."

Vance eagerly grabbed a wineskin and drank from it.

"And if it's drugged or poisoned, I'm leaving you here."

He choked on his wine and sputtered. Jonas grinned at the surprise, then rage on the younger man's face. It might've turned into a bit of a fight, but the bedroom doors opened, and Vira came out, makeup smudged and looking like she'd been through quite the ordeal. But her clothes were intact and she looked satisfied, so things were probably fine.

"Gods above and below, but you are a treat," Krieg Millens said breathlessly. He was a large, round, sweaty man, and he mopped his brow with the back of his hand. "The rumors were true, and I can assure you, I'll be coming back."

Vira was tall, statuesque, and tanned, and brought a finger under the shorter man's chin and tilted it up so she could kiss him. It was more than a peck, but less than an invitation to another round. "The pleasure was mine, Mr. Millens. Mr. Q will be happy to hear from you again."

"Of course, of course," said Krieg. He took Vira's hand and kissed the back of it before letting her go. To Jonas, he said, "And pass along my praise to your boss. You two are some of the best behaved boys I ever did see."

Jonas put a hand up to stall Vance's offended response. He didn't understand that this is how rich people showed fondness to those they considered beneath them. "Your lovely home and grace has inspired us," he said.

It was the right thing to say, and earned them some laughter. Jonas bowed, and the three of them left, with Vira in the center of them.

"You can't seriously let him talk to you like that, can you?" Vance grumbled once they were outside again.

This area of town was nicer than they were used to, and they stuck out like sore thumbs. At least they had Vira to lend them some class. Even looking thoroughly used, the three of them made up an increasingly common sight. It would be easy for people to see a whore and her muscle, but their association with the garden turned it into a companion and her entourage.

"For the information we got, we could tolerate a hell of a lot worse than that," said Vira as she stretched. She threw an arm around Jonas' shoulder. "Not only did Mr. Millens used to be his best friend, but he knows of some of the harder to access secret exits, and the typical amount of security."

"And he told you all this?" Vance asked.

Vira chuckled. "Getting them to talk is easy. Getting them to talk about what I want and making them think it's their idea is the hard part. So is finally shutting them up, but hey, I know how and when to use my mouth for the fullest effect."

This time, Jonas laughed and squeezed her in a half-hearted hug. The shards were nice, but like Quentin, he grew to appreciate the company better. Even if Isa didn't want much to do with him these days, Vira was also a strong woman…

"C'mon, let's get back and fill everyone in," Jonas said. The three of them took their positions, with Jonas leading and Vance trailing behind.

The Zephyr block of streets were a good two miles away from home, and were safe enough. The rich took care of their own security for the most part, but they were a ways off the Boulevard of Saint Trassius, and there were always power-hungry bastards looking to fill the cracks and take whatever they could get.

Like the people trying and failing to be discreet while following them.

Jonas first noticed them about halfway through their trip. Three men, all about his age or a little older, wearing dark blue capes and with glass daggers and clubs. Two of them followed fairly close behind, while another broke off down a side street.

This neighborhood was off the main thoroughfares, and the streets were windy and tight. Before long, anyone who came from the opposite direction found a reason to turn around and run. As Jonas weighed the pros and cons of getting into a fight here, Vira tapped him on the shoulder.

"I know," said Jonas, just loud enough to be heard by his companions. "They're going to ambush us in just a minute."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"They are?" Vance couldn't have been louder if he tried. He whirled around, drawing his weapon.

"Shit," Jonas groaned, turning as well. The two men in blue looked wide-eyed at them before drawing their weapons.

"Bold of your moonkissed freak of a boss to send you to our territory," the one on the left said. He had a thick cudgel and looked ready to use it. "Drop your weapons, empty your purses, and leave the whore here, and you two can walk away with your lives."

Vira inhaled sharply. Jonas drew his blade, an actual sword made of steel, and put himself between the Nightflower and their assailants. "Hey Vance. You wanted to know what trouble looked like?"

Vance spat a curse, and the two of them leapt into action.