Ever since news of the rampage having been curbed, the slow trickle of the first fleeing nobles had steadily grown into a huge ceremony of sorts.
The streets thronged on both sides of the sidewalks, barricaded by the garrison guards as crowds of peasant and commoners waved enthusiastically to the returning nobles.
It was a strange affair. Not a week ago these same people had taken out curses for being used as cannon fodder for the escape of much 'better, deserving', folks.
Yet here they were welcoming them with even tears. And the fact of the matter was reliance. Though one group relied more on the other in many ways, the noblesse economy filled the stomachs of thousands.
So despite hate, curses and bad blood, everyday survival triumphed over dignities.
The nobles mocked the effort, the commoners cried more in relief.
Arken as he stood by in this shameless display of raw human necessity saw Komsor eye him with a sly grin, from his faraway horseback position to survey the returning nobles, as if mocking him with the unsaid words: "These are your flock, whom you fight and defend huh? Pity, pity, pity."
"Tch, asswipe and his gloating," Arken sucked in through his teeth and glared at the nearest slum dwellers who were looking at the banners with a dazed look.
"Don't you idiots have work to do? Go on, get! No one gets paid for sightseeing," his shout turned into a slow mumble before looking back at the crowd in a distant manner.
He felt Erom's presence nearby. "Lord, the mayor has asked for an audience."
Arken raised an eyebrow as he walked back to the slum, "he does?"
Vizer joined them, extricating himself from a couple of kids who were dangling from him, "you should put forth that idea of labor. It's the best time for it."
Arken sighed and studied the entire length and breadth of the slum, "I wish but there's still his loyalists I need to deal with. I don't know what's going to be their ask."
Vizer stroked his chin, "let's find out."
☆
Both groups met at the junction of the two slums. The bridge that arched slightly over the river below.
On one side was Arken, Kalni, Vizer, Erom and the Scarves, with the Priest brothers.
The other side was the loyalists. The mayor still sticking to his non-committal role was being spoken for by them.
The loyalists consisted of majority humans, with a few burly beastfolk peppered in. They were much better dressed, better equipped but lacked in numbers.
One of them, a tall man with a bandana, stepped forward and spread his legs inappropriately as he sat down on the chairs, especially showing himself to where Kalni was standing which made his men laugh.
Arken stayed quiet but sat down on the chair in his side. "So you're the leader?"
"Uh-huh," it wasn't as much as a response as it was a dismissal and he leaned his head back to his men, "ay, I am right?"
Chuckles and laughter followed before he turned back giggling, licking his palm like a dog and extended it to Arken, "I'm Blal—aaahhhhgggggg!"
The onlookers on both sides weren't sure when but in a spilt second Arken has deftly pulled his dagger and lopped off the man's wrist before standing up all of a sudden as the guy without the wrist wriggled and screamed in agony, blood spurting out of his hand.
"Now loyal bootlickers of the mayor, go call him and ask him to come here. If he wants to enter this pool, he's gonna have to get naked and dirty."
He kicked off the chair on their end and took one look at the blood spurting hand before rushing to the parapet, making the loyalists yelp in terror and sigh when they realized he was only getting sick.
"Blergh! That was disgusting!"
He turned to all of them and pointed a finger, "no one saw it alright."
☆
Ong Irat spat on the ground, twiddling nervously with his sleeve as he pondered taking the next step into a place he had vowed he would never set foot again in his life.
The slum.
But that was then. Things were different now. He had just barely settled in and reached out for an audience with the new so-called slum lord when a messenger had hurriedly delivered something.
A severed wrist with a note to take him more seriously.
"The hell does he think he is? Bossing around a noble like me. Brat."
But he was desperate. And in his hurry he had been too lethargic to show his hand to his enemies. He could as well have just worn a board around his neck advertising his eagerness to comply.
"God help me," he sighed and took a step to enter, thereafter regretting every other step he took to reach the bridge, all the while swearing bloody revenge on Arken.
☆
Achoo!
Arken sneezed violently startling a horse leading a carriage and backed away as it snorted it's displeasure and continued to trot forward.
The cart wasn't too grand like the nobles or rich folks had in the main town, built out of old wood and rickety parts but nevertheless it was miles better transportation than what was available in his part of the slums.
And that was the general reflection all around them as Arken boldly walked in after that spectacle on the bridge.
Tin sheds, horse drawn carriages, better dressed folk, food stalls selling local delicacies and more importantly lesser garbage or stinky appearance.
"Even the bloody people smile more here," Erom complained and made eye contact with a group of girls who batted their eyelids at him and he turned away red.
"Why wouldn't they? It's like world's apart," Arken said.
"Kalni quit gawking and drooling over meat like a bumpkin for fudge sakes!" Arken groaned on seeing Kalni walking too close to the stalls selling greasy food and got even more upset when he saw the priest brothers emulate the same, "not you too!"
They snapped and Kalni came forward, all flushed as she walked in reverse, "we're definitely having a bite later right?"
Arken rubbed his head, "it's not a picnic we're at."
She pouted then straightened up as her eyes saw something behind them, "oh, mayor's here."
They all turned to see the mayor in his most uncomfortable moments yet.
"He's pretty pissed," Kalni mumbled.
"Yeah, I see that." Arken cleared his throat and walked with a fake smile to greet the fatty.
"Mayor! Long time no see. How have you been? Family all survived the rampage I hope?"
Ong Irat rubbed his forehead, "never mind that. What the fuck does it mean to send a severed wrist to me like that?"
Arken blinked. "It's organized crime 101."
Ong paused wiping, "the what?"
"It's," Arken sighed aloud, "it's like a message. You know, take me seriously."
"Did I imply I didn't?"
Arken thought about it. "Not explicitly but you got the message anyway right? Now that that's done."
Ong stared at the rest of Arken's coterie who simply looked away as if uninterested, not that they could provide any answer anyway as Arken's methods usually didn't make a lot of sense to them either.
"Take me to your loyalists leader, the real one whom they follow and respect and work under."
Ong turned to his loyalists who were unsure about their positions further in this matter, "for the sake of your pitiful lives, please tell me he's here."
☆
"That'll be ten silver now," the gruff bear voice said and huffed in acknowledgement from his snout at the cinkle of coins in his palm.
He expertly swiveled his cleaver and wiped his cutting block off the residual meat before grabbing another fresh stock off the hook to cut it open for the next customers.
"Rallier!"
His eyes quickly shot up before coming back down to his work.
Loud steps echoed as the voice came closer, huffing and puffing, "you cur! You look at me when I talk to you dammit."
The onlookers and customers froze as they watched their butcher slowly raise his head to properly meet eye to eye with the mayor who took a step back and gulped.
The bear slammed the cleaver blade first on the wooden platform before wiping his hands on his apron and tightening them around his waist, his snout giving the littlest snarl.
The mayor would've peed right there it seemed like as he trembled, "I...I meant no foul...I was just—"
The butcher grinned all of a sudden and tilted his head, "it's not everyday you see the nasty mayor down here in the dirt with the rest of the 'undesirables'. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Before the mayor could reply, Blal, the bandana wearing stooge from earlier marched up holding up a bloodied arm wrapped in cloth, "Rallier! Look, look what this stupid brat did to my arm. He's gotta pay!"
Rallier first saw Blal's arm then straight to where Arken was and took a deep breath before hefting himself up and over the cutting platform and launching himself out of his shop to get to the street.
He landed with a loud thud and Arken saw him fully.
He was a beast of a person. Half-bear, half-man he had hairy skin mostly thick and the head of a bear that looked closer to an ape as some sort of nature's way of trying to humanise the beast.
"This is the one I've been talking about Rallier," Ong threw a snaky glance at Arken, "He's been a right menace in the bum."
"Ah yeah! The slum lord yeah?" Rallier snorted and turned to Ong and Blal, "it's this little one that's been bothering you?"
"What do you mean, 'you'? He's been bothering us....he's cut off your man's arm for crying out loud!"
Arken watched Rallier pause and take his time to study him down from head to toe.
"Well what do you want then? A rivalry?"
Arken smiled, "perhaps we pick a better spot to talk and not inconvenience the folks around? Should've been a gesture from the adults shamefully."
Rallier kept his hands on his hips and snorted with laughter, "boy is right," he stared at the mayor long enough to provoke a reluctant response of going to make arrangements for it.