The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The ballroom had erupted into an orgy of violence, as many of the servants present drew hand cannons from their uniforms and opened fire. The opening volley cut down an abundance of the bougie party guests. The guards moved to intercept, cutting several of the attackers down just a fraction of a second too late.

But, of those who survived, it rapidly became apparent that they had more than hand cannons at their disposal. Flashes of magic flew from the hands of the survivors, surges of flame and force that shredded chunks of the ballroom asunder,

Fiodor, of all people, was one of the first wizards present to respond. He created a great wall of umbral light, shielding himself and a few elven diplomats from a bombardment of fireballs. "Damn," the old elf hissed, rumpling his brow. "This year has been one disaster after another."

Coin watched, briefly awestruck, as Merrick Vaust lifted an assassin in each hand by the ankles, swinging them around with dreadful ease and shrieking with a beastly furor. He smashed both men into the tiled floor with such force that their head splattered like ripened melons. Coin was a little impressed. He had to wonder if even a hundred men could match that gorilla's beastly might.

"How in the world did they manage to blend in with the serving staff? Damned fools were supposed to be screening the people they hired," Velasco growled. He waved his hand, a flicker of purple light appearing ahead of them in a curtain of gravity that deflected a pair of incoming bullets.

"It's an attack on the whole damn city," Coin said, sparing a look over his shoulder at the horizon beyond. Great plumes of smoke were rising through the city, forming a canopy that smothered the sky. "I have to get back home." Magical defences or otherwise, he refused to leave his friends to face danger alone this time.

"Master Velasco!" A young man burst through the chaos, face slick with sweat and flecked with droplets of blood. It took Coin a moment to recognise the brunette as Handel, Velasco's assistant. "We... we have to get you to safety," he said, flinching as sparks of magic were launched off the rippling surface of Velasco's barrier.

The old man sighed and closed his eyes. "This is all terribly inconvenient. Fine, lead on, Handel."

Coin frowned, his gaze darting between the old man and the city itself. Sentinel was in a whole mess of trouble but things would get far worse if Velasco ate it. And, in his own way, he did like the old timer. Just a little.

"I'll come too."

Handel nodded stiffly and motioned for the two to follow after him. The remaining would-be assassins were trying to focus their fire on Velasco, but they were being held at bay by the likes of Merrick and the imperial guards.

People outside the ballroom had congregated by the windows, staring in terror at what was happening in the streets. Others were already rushing out, intent on finding any friends or family in danger out on the street.

Velasco had set his face in a mask of grim determination. Coin could not read the man's mind but he could nearly hear the gears turning in his head. People would die for this. Whatever respite or relief the Brotherhood felt now would fast come undone. He'd use his resources to scour every hovel and hiding spot they could make use of.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"This way," Handel said, short of breath. "Sir, are you sure it's wise to have this one follow us?" he added, sparing a quick glance to Coin.

"In the midst of a crisis, there are few men I'd want the aid of more than him," said Velasco gravely.

They took a side set of stairs down to a lower level of the Obelisk, and soon came upon a shaded hallway that seemed to only see use from serving staff. "Through here," Handel said, hurrying toward an unassuming alcove. The young man pressed his hand to a brick, indistinguishable to the rest, and it slowly sank into the wall. Then he reached over at a torch holder in the wall sconce and pulled it down.

The wall silently split open into a pair of brick doors, spitting dust as it went.

"Master Coin would you please go first? I doubt many know the way to the Archchancellor's private bunker but if the serving staff has been infiltrated..."

"On it."

Coin stepped forward, but he could not shake a strange itching sensation in the back of his mind. He told himself he was just worried about his friends, but his instincts were still warning him about some sort of danger, closer than the chaos in the city.

There came a sudden gasp from behind him, and Coin spun around to see Velasco staggering forward with a knife buried in his back. Handel's face had lost its former fear, now set into a manic grin, his eyes devoid of anything that could have been construed as humanity.

"Die Velasco!" he shrieked. "Die you wretched-"

The old man spun around, faster than Coin or Handel had anticipated. He squeezed his gnarled fingers, purple light flashed around Handel's head for a fraction of a second, and then his skull exploded into a fountain of gore that splattered the roof of the alcove.

"Damnation," Velasco huffed, shaking and swaying. "I actually... liked him. He was... good at paperwork," he rasped.

Coin caught the old man firmly. "Archchancellor-" he hastily said.

Velasco waved him off. "Into the bunker," he said, motioning into the dark ahead of them. "Soldiers and a healer... down there. Rotating shifts all day every day... Just in case."

Coin set his face and nodded. He did not try to remove the blade. Painful as it doubtless was, he knew enough to understand that the old man would bleed like a burst pipe if the knife was out of the way. But if it did hurt, Velasco did not let it show as Coin led the way. He set his face like a stone mask and staggered along with Coin.

"That was there plan then. Cause that chaos in the party, and if that didn't kill you... Handel would lead you to 'safety' and finish the job," said Coin. The doors slid silently shut behind them, and a few gleaming gemstones embedded in the walls and floor were the only source of illumination to guide their way.

The old man nodded grimly. On some level, Coin thought, he looked impressed.

The end of the tunnel was marked by a heavy steel door with no visibly keyhole, only a great ring-shaped knocker. Velasco grabbed it without a word, slammed it once against the door, and then after a pause gave two more rapid knocks. The sound echoed like a gong trough the tunnel.

A great clunking sound came from the other side of the door, and there came a great strain from a pair of men behind the door as they sought to pull the heavy bulkhead open. Bombs wouldn't have scuffed such a door.

The guards beneath, Manticores going by their surcoats, stood swiftly to attention and drew blades on Coin when they saw him.

"He's with me," Velasco rasped, waving the two off. "Now would you kindly put your swords away and get this damned knife out of my back?"

Coin followed the old man inside, finding himself in a large circular room staffed by four Manticores and a slim woman in the clean white robes of a healer. She was quick to get to work, guiding Velasco to a cot at the far end of the room. Coin scanned the other walls, noting shelves lines with tins of food, medical supplies, and many sealed jugs of water. A man could live down here for months if he had to.

"This way, lordship. It's a deep wound, but my magic can mend it. Good thing you got to me in time," she said softly.

"I need to head out to the city," Coin said. "My friends might be in danger."

"Do as you will," Velasco replied. "These are... tricky times. But, thank you for your aid, Master Coin. I will... remember your deeds."

Nodding, Coin made to leave and did not notice the stunned looks on the guard's faces as he effortlessly pulled the bulkhead door closed behind him.