Night Shift

[GroatExpectations]

Fair few Rosies trying to hawk old wares seeking Bees for some wax. Tumbleweed off on some southern expedition. All's quiet - "Rookie drew the short straw". Don't know what to call it so we'll call it the Night Shift. That's my life now, working the night shift.

Used to it thought. Wandering alone. Qadira's dry. Gutters empty. Creep is a ghost town. Everyone moved topside. So figure why shouldn't I? Rip-and-racing a few Minor Nuisance worm hunters for a couple hundred dinar was a thrill but it isn't exactly the biggest score. Burglary a waste of time when every merchant isn't buying new wares. Same merchants though don't much respond to extortion or give up the game too easy and just pay you before you can even finish the threat. Bounty boards are dry. Talk about banditry and people laugh in your face, think you're joking.

Night Shift's a good chance to clear the head. Get to know the city. Watch folks. Listen. Find new contacts, new contracts.

Everyone's distracted by the war, desperate, scared. Perfect time to make some real fucking money.

This is gonna be fun.

[GroatExpectations]

"Why do La Banda Rossa turn away so many contracts". "How come you won't kill this man who's bothering me". Me? Personally? Sure. Enough Dinar and I'll slit a man's throat in the Souk. No voiced toga's gonna stop the lovely clattering of Dinar if it's high enough. I'll break an Apothar's knees if it moves the scale, why not. Janissary patrols in the Gutters, that's just dangerous. There's Tormented and Monsters down there. Be a shame what happens.

Folk ask these question like it's meant to be scathing asks. Some thick barb. Not of me, but of the entire company. You need to look at it this way though. Refugees show up here with little more than rags. They got an inkling of a plan else they'd have force fed themselves a knife in the desert.They do their little jobs, they get familiar with the worms, they get familiar with the boards.After that they go on to Voiced, to the Leagues, sitting around waiting for the next fat contract. The next strange man or woman that comes in for a curious little job with the offer of treasure from their private supply. They get their little licenses, they open their little stalls, they make their little fortunes.

No one has bar fights in the Krak or pisses off the Balladeers 'cause they're scared shitless they'll get their precious Board access cut off. No one fights the Sisters 'cause they've got friends in high places. Apothars, Legates, Scribes, just look how they bent to save Selsi from Ka'esh. The Janissaries don't move on the Fortress because they need to drink and blow off steam, or they need to hire refugee mercenaries, or they don't want the Sisters moving the White League to cut their funding, or they don't want the Balladeers moving the White League and Glaziers to start a riot. The Astronomers love making threats but last I heard Vico Rasca challenged them, they blinked, and he bent them over a barrel.

So. I guess what I'm saying mate?  I get paid to protect people who don't need protecting. I get paid to protect a bar that doesn't need protecting. I get paid to protect a fortress that doesn't need protecting. You ever hear monsters attacking the Krak? Folks race here throwing themselves on the spikes so I don't have to.  I get paid extra to do the same boardwork and treasure selling and all that shit you all do for free, like chumps. And you do it without the cute little black and red number that makes my ass look thicker than a Groknak.

But I also get paid to not slit the throats of Voiced in the Souk. I also get paid to not break Apothar knees. I also get paid to not vanish Janissaries on patrol in the Gutters. I also get paid to not break into a merchant's Plaza property while he's sleeping, bury my knife wrist deep into their chest, and sell all their shit in Ka'esh.

Because that's what you do. Fellow with a knife who knows how to use it says "Give me some money or I'll slit your fucking throat". You pay him or you try and fight and he kills you and gets even more than he'd have gotten from asking to get paid.

Sure, you might kill him. But it's simple arithmetic. One way ends with him dead, two ways end with him paid.

That's easy maths. That's why I'm an Outlaw.

[GroatExpectations]

Watching their shock that I knew my shit or that I was candid about breaking into the place felt nearly as good as walking the razor wire. Any one of those Orcs would have cut me in half had I slipped up, but even when I slipped up it was a good chance to clock their reaction. And the Ephians. Talking about raiding the place I even got Balladeer Aurelio to lose his temper and his facade crack. Who know it'd just take a few Refugees stuffed in Catapults jokes. Warfront were a nice jolt of scorch in my veins, lit my brain up like it ain't been in months, since everything burned down.

Boss is puttin' in a good word with the Condottieri and the Warmaster about my work on the warfront. Probably means my billables gonna go up. Janissary Camp wasn't anything too impressive but it'll definitely slow down the Orc's march from the North.

Dayshift's some odd folk. No two ways about it. Strange working it but mission was on and Boss said needed eyes on. Breaking into a fortress ain't so different than breaking into a bank or museum, just that folks expect it to get a bit louder. And afterwards they thank you for it.

Boic's going places. Quartermastery, Security, can't cut a cleaner sail anywhere in the money making business than either one of those. Emiliana's a tough nut. She and the Boss be alike in a lotta ways but different too. Half the time she's runnin' late somewhere, other times she's sparring with the Balladeers or Janissaries. Same as Boic - She's got that lion in her. Maybe just enjoys the simple work of kicking over cabbage-carts. But in this business? A mercenary who loves barbs and staring down a crowd. Yeah. Going places. Banducci's stepped in it, and is pretty dour from House Arrest so I ain't trying to judge him too harsh. Even if it's a cozy prison it's still trapped in the fucking Castle awaiting his fate.

Boss. She cleans up messes. What more be said? She's so good at it that the Condottieri go to her to sort shit out. Makes it strange watching her work. Learning a fair bit. Mostly though learning that I ain't sure what's to come of me. I'm getting paid more now to not rob folks than I did when I was trawling the gutters looking for refugees. My edge is getting sharper dodging all the shit the Rose Cloak is throwing my way. Big target on my back that says "I'm Expendable pay me some Dinar".

It all keeps circling back though. I feel like a square peg bein stuffed in a round hole.

Two Recluta didn't even kill the man and the entire city's turning over rat holes. How the fuck these people react if I rip-and-run a Magistrate to get'em to lean a different way in a judgement? What happens when a Voice's throat gets slit and I get a lot richer the same week?

Worse, how's the Company react? While I was shadowing the Boss at the Art Gallery all I could think how much my contact would pay me to smash-and-grab the Archaeological pieces they got on the shelves there. But my contact's too passive for that kind of job. And if I did it no contract they'd hang me out to dry.

And it seems every job is just cashing in on the Company's reputation. Which is fine, these people are fuckin' horrifying. Good sort. Sure as shit ain't inclined to piss them off doing something stupid like robbing a Voiced Merchant or something stupid like that.

...but at what point am I just some fucking House Cat licking my balls being fed scraps every time I yowl?

[GroatExpectations]

Hard part of the Night Shift is names. People love names in this city. Rattle them off like each one's a dinar in their purse. "Oh they know Phwipple. Oh yes Phwipple he's divine. Though did you hear he's sweet on Korp. Ooooh." You just sort of smile and nod, forget you're wearing a mask, and keep the fake smile anyway. I doubt i'll ever even meet half these folks they're howling about so it's just sort of... sure thing, mate.

Boss and her Nadiri Friend keep giving me lessons on politics and shit. I get why she's good at what she does. Proper Artist. But they both keep talking about how I need to find "Something more". I'm alive, I'm paid, people aren't alive, people aren't paid. That seems pretty simple maths to me. "But all the money and power don't mean anything unless you do something with it".

And I guess they ain't wrong. The Legates got power and they seem pretty miserable. Deputy Chief Scribe's got all the money she could ever need and seems pretty miserable. Scribe Bashir's rich, mopes. Apothars have the power to bend the stars and fates of men, cranky. Janissary can end Voiced's entire life in this city if they get an itch in their belly to make someone suffer, and they're a canktankerous bunch. Gold Prelate howling all the Cabin Boy had to do was kill Orcs and he'd have the world, but seemed miserable and killed a mess of folks just to feel something. Gold Prelate seems pretty miserable too.

They ordered me to join the Gold League and haven't even made a single Dinar since doing that but they all keep saying "We'll need you there come Election. Have patience. In time you'll find what you want to do with your money, with your power."

I don't know what to tell'em. Qa'im's real good at pulling people apart. Banafsi burned and it broke something in me.

Qadira, the Gutters, the money wasn't there. So I found the Krak. Occasional job there, Boss got impressed, gave me the Cloak. But sitting here on the night shift I'm just watching folks and I'm not seein' it.

No body gives a leaky shit if I'm a good scout, 'cause the city's got two dedicated scouting companies and a litany of shit-kickers like Xing. They ain't gonna hire Banda for that.

I can appreciate folk trying to teach me the business of how to be a spy for the company. That though isn't paid work. No one's got spying contracts beyond the barest and pettiest shit. Sit in the Krak and listen to so-and-so, get me information about that Voiced who was mean to me. None of it even enough money to throw the Company after expenses. Buying drinks to get folks talking adds up, and so that payment of 3-500 dinar is suddenly 150. If I put 50 gold in the pot in keep 100 for myself, Blackbelly's gonna kick my teeth out.

Also been told my time at sea's a boon. That Caravaneers pay good money for navigators and contract workers will still take me even if they got Six if I want to make a bag of dinar to ferry them. Paid 1-200 gold to sail to Frost Port or ride to the Ashways and do nothing though doesn't fix the problem.

Black Market Archaeology's a dried up fountain since everyone's terrified of the Astronomer's licensure even though it's been said they can't enforce them.

Got a potential hook on training up some of the more green Nadiri in the fine art of Boardwork which isn't thrilling but could be some money in the pot.

If that works could I guess do the same for Creep-dwellers? Though word is most of them don't care much for the Banda. But if the options dead or starving, that tune may change.

[GroatExpectations]

Night shift being what it is, it's starting to get to me. They said it was inevitable but I didn't expect it like this. On the job the risk, the danger, it's so real.

...Then comes peace. Boardwork starts feeling restless. Political shit taxing. Bodyguard a fashion show. Contracts that are basically listening to gossip. People aren't exciting when they don't know you're there. It's mostly bodily functions, little musings, and their guard dropped. Watching Bashir when he isn't aware. Watching the Deputy Chief Clerk when she thinks she's being sly. Joining the Janissaries on a Patrol around the City.

I know well it means I'm broke, but I miss the danger.

I've been talking to a lot of folks about it. The situation with La Banda. I enjoy it, I hate it. There's no middle ground between peace and war.

Ever since Banafsi started burning it's felt like a pit in my stomach. And watching them indulge the Mad King made me want to scream... but not as much as Rosseau asking if Banducci and I could sing her an entrance song whenever she walked in a room like the Dwarven Guards did for the old greybeard.

I respect the Boss. She's great at what she does. Effortlessly so. Amazingly so. There's no denying it. But lately it's just feeling like i don't fit in here. They want to fight for pride? Fuck pride. I don't get paid in Pride. This mess with Malik. It's making my brain climb the walls of my skull. We're not getting paid for this shit. We're actively losing money on this feud. Even if the outcome spins in our favor, as the Boss always spins chaos and catastrophe into Gold.

This hollowness in the pit of my stomach. Emptiness. This clawing feeling.

The Torchbearers said they could help. But tomorrow they may die in an irradiated hell-pit borne of astral horrors from the last war.

...Night shift is weird...

[GroatExpectations]

Heard there were riots. Couldn't go cause I had to patrol. They assigned me to patrol... the upstairs. Voiced making thousands of dinar paying 300 dinar for a room. And I gotta spend entire shifts just walking past the doors. 'Cause they pay 500 dinar to keep a small box in there full of refuse they took from a job. 800 dinar for a lockbox inside a lock room while they race off on another board contract. And it's my job to...

... to make sure its still there when they get back.

It's giving me time to plan for my first big contract we got signed. But i'm waiting on the go ahead from the bosses. So I just patrol.

Tap the signs. Check the names. Report any oddities to the Balladeers.

Tap. Accorded folk wanting private space away from their barracks.
Tap. Sellspells wanting somewhere they can rest that ain't the 12 dinar bunks.
Tap. Beloved patrons of the Krak de Rose clearly making our hopes and dreams come true.
Tap.

Hard not to get cynical. Hard not to want to attend a riot.