Roan tried to ignore the screaming Slovan as much as possible. Hating merchants and declaring you'd kill them was one thing — actually doing it was another.
He wasn't alone in his discomfort. Many people were deserting the area, while others watched the burning Slovan with gleeful expressions.
Boss finally turned, sparing him the torture any further.
He and Shila followed her as she entered the warehouse again. A man came forward and guided them to a makeshift office room. Boss dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
"We'll stay here from now on," Boss stated.
They nodded in understanding. She looked at them one by one and said, "If you have any questions, speak now."
Roan was the one to start. "I understand why you would... punish Slovan, but he was still one of us until now. I don't think people will take it well."
"Then we silence them. The bitterness between guilds and merchants is too old and too strong. Leaving it alone would've made things more complicated," Boss replied.
Roan understood that. He really did. It's just... he didn't like how easily Slovan was discarded. Not even for something he did.
Roan nodded in understanding and didn't speak further. He had other concerns, but none immediate.
Shila spoke this time, direct. "What will we do now?"
"Now we select the main council and assign roles," Boss said and took a sip from her waterskin. This was the first time he'd seen her drink since the speech.
"The loan sharks won't get any say," Boss continued. "They'll use all their muscle in battle."
That would make quite an uproar. But Roan wasn't too worried. They didn't exactly have the best standing right now.
"Dove will speak for the fighting slaves. We'll have to find a representative among the other slaves." Roan noticed how carefully she avoided the term sex slave.
He kept an eye on Shila's expression, but it was the same blank face she'd worn since earlier.
"Rhombus will speak for the thieves. That's it. First, gather them. Then we plan our next steps," Boss finished.
Rhombus was the prisoner from before — the one who had 'understood' his mistakes.
Shaking his head, Roan spoke before Shila could. "I'll fetch Dove."
A flicker of irritation crossed her face before it vanished. She simply nodded and walked away.
It was scary how much a person could change in such a short time. Although he hadn't seen much, the Shila he had met had been a relaxed and cheerful woman. Now she was barely keeping her anger in check.
He had to admit — this business with Shila was starting to worry him. She didn't like what they were doing with the slaves, but that wasn't the trigger.
The trigger had been the deal with the assassins.
And Roan could understand why she'd be against it. What he couldn't understand was what Boss meant when she said what they wanted wasn't different. That worried him more than he cared to admit.
Shaking his head, Roan approached one of the men moving crates nearby. By now, most everyone had seen him at Boss's side. That was likely the only reason the man stopped. Roan could see the difference in how people looked at the Boss and how they looked at him.
Roan would have to work on that.
The man was pushing a large crate. He was obviously struggling.
Naor, how can I make this easier? Roan asked mentally.
'Put the crate on a wooden board. Tie it with rope. Then tie the rope to your waist and walk,' Naor said dryly.
"Bring a wooden board. And some rope," Roan ordered.
The man looked irked, but obeyed. He disappeared for a moment, then came back with a small wooden board. Roan's lips twitched.
"A big one. Big enough to fit this," Roan said patiently, pointing at the crate.
The man looked even more annoyed but obeyed again. Other workers were starting to watch now. Good. The more who saw this, the better. He'd have to become the guy who gave solutions.
The man returned with a bigger board and, without being told, placed the crate on it.
Roan nodded approvingly and instructed, "Tie one end of the rope to that, the other to your waist."
A look of realization crossed the man's face. He tied the rope securely and, without prompting, started walking.
"This... this is much easier," the man said in shock.
Murmurs erupted behind them.
"Why ain't we think o' that before?"
"Who's that guy?"
"Ain't he the one always walkin' with the new Queen?"
Roan nearly choked. New Queen? He'd have to report that one to Boss.
The man looked at Roan gratefully. "Thanks, sir, for givin' me this, uh… technique."
Roan waved it off. "Where's Dove?"
The man looked unsure — and a bit apologetic. Roan had to fight the twitch in his mouth.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
A voice came from the watching crowd. A tall, thick-armed man stepped forward.
"Ay, boss — Sir Dove's in the Gilded Lily."
'Boss?' 'Sir?' He didn't know where the Gilded Lily was, but Roan nodded approvingly and said, "One of you — show me the way."
That wasn't the only reason. He also needed a guard.
The man from before stepped forward. "I'll take ya."
As he dropped a small crate to the ground, Roan heard someone mutter "slacker" behind him.
Hmm. This one would do. Tall. Muscular. No one would try anything with him nearby.
Roan nodded. "Show the way."
The man walked ahead, and Roan followed. After exiting the warehouse and gaining some distance, Roan asked, "What's your name?"
"The name's Joel. I'm from the Sharks," the man said, looking back. He slowed his pace to walk beside Roan and quickly added, "Was. Now we part of the Rebels."
Roan's shoulders tensed as he eyed Joel. He waved a hand dismissively. "It's hard to get used to."
Joel silently studied him. Without hesitation, Roan continued, "I'm the advisor. Roan Ninefingers."
"Eh? You the new Queen's kin? I heard she called Ninefingers too," Joel asked curiously and took a turn.
Roan made sure to memorize the path as he replied, "Something like that."
Pausing a little to make sure Joel caught the shift, Roan asked, "What's this about the 'new Queen'?"
The man shrugged. "Dunno. Just started floatin' around. After the speech, folks been callin' her that."
"That was a great speech," Roan admitted, though a suspicion took root in his mind.
"It was," Joel said with an unreadable expression. "Who knows—if we pull this off, maybe she really ends up Queen."
Roan highly doubted that. The kingdom wasn't that fragile. Though if Boss really pulled it off—something he still wasn't sure about—the kingdom might be forced to admit defeat to the Principality.
Of course, the kingdom wouldn't fall. The Republic would never allow the Principality more ground. No one wanted to share borders with them. The kingdom would likely become a puppet state instead.
Taking another turn, Roan shifted the subject. "Which part of the Sharks were you?"
"Muscle. Ain't got the head for the other stuff," Joel replied.
"Good for you. I heard most of those other guys are dead," Roan said, watching his reaction.
Joel looked delighted. Good. Not a loyalist.
"Good for me," Joel repeated. "Them bastards finally got what they deserved."
"Forced?" Roan asked.
The man sneered. "My pop's loan got dumped on me after he ran off."
Ah. One of those. A well-known tactic of the Sharks—using a single loan to bind entire families.
"I never quite got why they didn't just take folks from the slums. I'm sure plenty would've joined willingly," Roan said. In truth, he already knew. He just wanted to test how deep Joel's understanding went.
"They wanted full control of their dogs. Slums better for the flesh trade. We sold slum folks cheap to the merchants," Joel said, like he wasn't one of the 'dogs' himself.
"They don't take anyone they can't control?" Roan pressed.
"Nah. Too scared for that," Joel confirmed.
"Sounds dumb. Most of y'all clearly hated it. If you grouped up, they couldn't have done shit," Roan mocked.
"Half the boys liked it. The rest? Replaced regular with new ones. From the merchants," Joel corrected.
"Those two guilds were tight. Might as well have been one," Roan said with a chuckle, subtly putting some distance between them. Joel didn't notice.
"Worked better that way. They just couldn't pick who'd run the show," Joel snorted.
"What about the casinos? I heard they brought in a lot of coin," Roan asked.
"They did. Merchants love that stuff. It's joint work—us and the flesh dealers," Joel replied.
Roan caught the "us." "What kinda games? I heard y'all throw knives at old slaves."
"That's one of the crazier ones. There's finger choppin'. Cum drinkin'. All sorts. Gotta admit, they creative as hell," Joel said with a snicker.
"You must've been there a while to know all that," Roan said.
"Yeah. Been workin' there four years now," Joel said—and then stopped.
Roan kept his distance. "You know your business, then. I'm sure Boss will reward people like you."
"I'm sure she would've," Joel said and turned to face Roan. His face was stone cold. "What gave it away?"
"It's an unspoken rule in the streets. You always keep some distance from others." Roan replied while looking for any weapon in Joel's hand. Thankfully there wasn't any.
"Hostage?" Roan asked calmly.
"Got my girl. I'm sure you understand," Joel replied, stepping closer.
"Surprisin'. I figured they'd get word tomorrow morning," Roan said, slowly backing away.
Joel replied, "The Lord ain't the fool folks think."
"Why me, though? I'm new. Don't even know much," Roan said, stopping as his back hit the wall. He quickly looked around, forming a plan.
Joel snorted, "I believe you," and lunged.
Roan ducked low, evading. He dove sideways. As Joel turned, Roan threw the bloody rags in his pocket.
Joel flinched, backing away in alarm.
Roan took that moment to grab some sand from the ground. He hurled it at Joel, but Joel had already closed his eyes.
Joel opened them with a smirk—but a second wave of sand caught him full in the face. He screamed in pain, blinded.
Roan didn't waste a second. He ran. Joel's angry howls echoed behind him.