Death At The Opera - 1
Milo sat on a dirty bar stool in the basement of The Bloated Pig, his quiet and calm demeanor betrayed only by the beads of sweat forming on his brow.
Upstairs The Bloated Pig was a bar for headhunters where various bounties were posted and collected. On the books it was a legitimate business in accordance with imperial law. But below the bar was a secret club meant only for members of the criminal underbelly of Lexingrad. Jokingly called the People’s Union, this criminal enterprise was run by a human man named Edward Howlett. A ruthless figure that Milo had made a point of never meeting face to face…and now he was forced to sit at the man’s table with his own son sitting right next to him. His stomach was in knots.
Among the regular folk of Lexingrad, most of whom were either hyperians or of elderkin blood, Milo stood out. For Milo was a ruukai man, a goblin from the Gorgol Tillage. His grayish blue skin, red eyes and long ears made him easy to pick in a line up. Which is why he always tried to cover his features as best he could when traveling and he had taught his son River to do the same. Ruukai weren’t illegal here in the imperial capital or anything like that, but since he had been forced into criminal work he wanted to minimize the risks of him getting caught or seen as much as possible.
A tall and lanky hyperian man stepped out from behind a tapestry on the other side of the table, seemingly emerging from some hidden chamber behind them, and sat across the table from Milo. He didn’t need to introduce himself, Milo already knew Mr Howlett by reputation alone.
The man’s facial features were sharp, his nose long and hooked. His skin was pale and his eyes were a piercing blue with dark circles under them. One of his most notable features, other than his plane clothing and lack of armor, was his well kept handlebar moustache that linked with his mutton chops. It gave him a permanent scowl it seemed.
“Mr Milo Kravic.”
The goblin stood up and bowed. His son, who was busy reading a penny dreadful, briefly looked up in confusion.
“Yessir.”
“Sit down, Milo. We’re not the imperial guard.”
Milo sat back down and continued to twiddle his thumbs. His stomach was killing him.
Mr Howlett flipped through some papers before turning his steely gaze upon the demure goblinoid before him.
“You owe us a fair bit, Mr Kravic. Frequent loans and not much of return payments.”
“It’s hard…as a single father in Lexingrad.”
“Oh I’m sure.” Said Mr Howlett before reading another piece of paper. “You came here to work in the factories, right?”
“Yessir. Me and my wife both did.”
Edward Howlett briefly glanced upon the child beside him before returning his gaze to Milo, letting him continue.
“We moved here during the industrial revitalization of Lexingrad, as they called it, and both got jobs at Copperspoon Industries. Making parts for war golems and the like. But, there was an accident and my wife…”
Mr Howlett nodded. “And then a few months later they closed down their factories and moved them closer to the Frontier where the taxes are lower and the cost of transportation is cheaper.”
Milo nodded.
Howlett sighed. “I understand your predicament, Mr Kravic, I really do. But we’re not running a charity here. You still owe us 1500 crowns and we can’t just nullify that debt…but there might be an opportunity here for you. Something that can help you wipe your debt entirely, if everything goes well.”
Milo’s red eyes lit up as a flicker of hope sparked in his heart.
“Yessir, anything.”
Mr Howlett narrowed his gaze.
“How long am I going to have to stay here?” asked River as he sat on a dirty bed in a small chamber located in the subterranean club under The Bloated Pig.
“Hopefully not long. If everything goes well I’ll be back tomorrow and we can finally leave this place. Forever.”
The seven year old long-eared child looked upon his father and saw the worry and fear he so desperately tried to hide. In that moment the little boy wanted nothing more than to take all his worries away but he didn’t have the faintest idea of how.
“Just read your penny dreadfuls and stay in here. Someone will bring you dinner, alright?”
River nodded. His father leaned in and kissed his forehead before leaving.
The child had a growing pit in his stomach and the strangest feeling he might never see his father again.
“What’s the password?” said the voice behind the wooden door.
Milo looked around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. He was standing in the open air hallway of the Borden apartment building in the Dreadward. On one side was a wall lined with apartments and on the other was a balcony that looked over the city streets of the district. A torrent of rain pummeled Milo, drenching his heavy cloak in the process.
“Gutter rat.” Said Milo in a hushed tone.
There was a moment’s silence before he heard the distinct sound of locks being disengaged on the opposite side. As the door opened he was met with a short but gaunt human man. His skin was pale as was common among the imperials and his head had been badly shaved but his thin beard had been left to grow, though it seemed to struggle at that. His clothes were poor as befit the district but in his hand he held onto a silver knuckleduster.
“You Milo?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard you were a burglar from Obscura.” Said the man.
“Gorgol. Can we have this conversation inside, out of the rain?”
The man turned his gaze outward to the city and seemed mildly surprised by the weather.
“My gran lied. She said it wouldn’t rain today.” The man then stepped out of the way, allowing Milo to enter.
Inside the apartment was dirty. Every furniture was stained with gods know what and the floors were littered with empty sardine cans and scattered pages of the Daily Scribe. Leaning up against one of the kitchen cupboards was a woman with long brown hair and fair skin. As she looked up Milo was taken aback by her bright yellow eyes and beautiful smile, so much so that he didn’t immediately notice her pointed ears. Long and sharp, she was no half-elf…she was a full blooded elderkin. A lorian.
“That’s Sofia.” Said the man. “She’s the charm. I’m Brian, I know the layout of the place.”
There was a loud flushing sound coming from the bathroom, soon followed by a large human man emerging from there, still buttoning his pants. His greasy black hair was both long and swept back. His ears, like Brian’s, were round as was common among the hyperian people. His cheeks were covered in four day stubbles and he had that were unnervingly focused for a man who so casually sauntered out from the toilet.
“That bastard over there is Rykard, he’s the muscle if things go bad.” Said Brian.
“I’m also quite proficient with the violin, you know, dickhead.” Said Rykard has his sauntered into the apartment’s living room and plopped himself down on the dirty sofa.
Milo swore he saw at least three rats scurry out from under the sofa as he did.
“You’re the Valghastian spy, huh?” asked Rykard, turning his cold stare towards Milo. “Why else would a goblin be here among us civilized nobles?”
Milo was used to this sort of treatment. Goblin was a common enough term, but the way said it made it sound more derogatory.
“Gorgol.”
“What’s that?” asked Rykard with a sneer.
“I’m from Gorgol. And I’m just a factory worker who needs money.”
“I don’t care where in Valghast you’re from, spy.”
“Gorgol isn’t in Valghast, you oaf.” Said Sofia as her fingers nimbly played with a gold coin.
“Well it ain’t here, now is it, elf princess.” Rykard spat before leaning back and pulling out a cigarette.
“Simmer down, Rykard.” Said Brian as he sat down on a lone wooden chair. “Who we are and where we come from doesn’t matter. We’re here for a paycheck, we’re here for the job. What did Mr Howlett tell you, Milo?”
“Not much. Only that we were going to rob an event of some kind?”
The three hoodlums exchanged knowing smiles.
“You could say that.” Replied Brian. “We’re here to rob the biggest event in city. The grand reopening of the Lexingrad Opera House.”
