Cassius Lange
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Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 12:00:09 +0000 UTC“Finally,” Tyfus said as I entered the Lusty Lion.
He was dressed in the purple and gold of Sankta Varathian nobles. His moustache and beard looked impeccably groomed and his receding hairline was drenched in expensive oils.
“Listen, Tyfus, I don’t need your sarcasm—”
“No sarcasm, Frank. I’m just glad to see you.”
I looked about the club. It was mostly empty since it was still early. Only a few drunken soldiers sat at the far corner of the first floor mumbling unintelligible boasts. Sweaty remnants from last night.
Wort and Korvan usually threw ours out before dawn so Kartusha could get on with her cleaning, but I didn’t want to tell Tyfus how to do his job anymore. As long as the money kept coming, I left everything up to the gnome.
“Yeah, glad to see you, too,” I said somewhat suspicious of the whole situation. Tyfus was never glad to see anyone except his own reflection.
“Come, come inside. Let’s have a drink. What’s new?” Before I could say anything, he turned around and yelled at his tired staff. “Borkel! Get off your ass and bring us a bottle of Hamza’s Dark and two glasses. And tell Sandy to cook up something nice to eat. The big boss is here.” He looked up at me, “Let’s go to the second floor. My favorite table’s up there.”
I followed the gnome as he waddled up the stairs and led me to a table next to the railing, which allowed for a great view of the whole place. He sat down and sighed, folding his hands over his belly.
“My good friend, Frank.”
“You’re scaring me, Tyfus.”
“What? Why?”
“Why? Why are you nice? What did you do?” The gnome threw up his hands and groaned.
“Why can’t I be happy to see you?”
I narrowed my eyes on him but said nothing.
“Alright, fine.” He looked down at Borkel who was carrying a fancy bottle of dark whiskey and two classes. “I don’t know, Frank. I guess I’m bored.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Bored? You? The manager of the Lusty Lion and one of the richest mages in the city? I thought you had it all sorted out finally.”
“First of all, I’m not that rich. You made sure of that.”
“It’s my club, so I’m supposed to be the one who makes a profit.”
“Yeah, yeah, but still. We should really talk about my cut.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Master Frank, welcome,” Borkel said, lowering the bottle and the glasses. “A pleasure to have you here.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Borkel. How’s Tyfus treating you?” The young waiter looked to his boss then back at me and smiled.
“I can’t complain.”
“I’m sure you can,” I said and winked at him.
Borkel smiled politely again and removed himself quickly.
“Nice guy.”
“Nice my ass. I caught him fumbling one of the dancers in the alley two nights ago.”
“He’s young. You were once too, Tyfus.”
“Bah,” the gnome waved me off then poured the whiskey and we both took a sip. It tasted smokey and expensive just like it looked.
“So, what brings you here? It’s not that time of the month yet so it’s something else, isn’t it? Let me guess, you want to kill something and need my help? Or raid a tomb? Is it that? You want to go tomb raiding? I’m up for both.”
I laughed and pulled out my cigar. Tyfus lit it with a snap of his fingers.
“Remember that quest that keeps screaming into my head?”
“Oh,” Tyfus muttered, his expression changing. “Yeah, what about it?”
“I need to follow up on it.”
He narrowed his furry eyebrows and studied my expression.
“Follow up on going to hell?”
“Well,” I said and puffed out a couple of smoke circles. “Pretty much that, yeah.”
Tyfus leaned into his chair almost disappearing behind the table.
“I’d rather go tomb raiding.”
“I also need to meet with Snowdog of the Three of Steel first. Apparently, he has some info I could use and then, well, I guess it’s straight to hell. Relax. I don’t think I need you there. I just need you to accompany me to Snowdog. Shieldmother said I shouldn’t go alone and who better to bring along then my old pal Tyfus, eh?”
The gnome snickered but his expression remained flat.
“Fuck it, sure. I’ll go with you to find Snowdog. One of the most dangerous people in the world. Why not? But the follow-up? I can’t make any promises, Frank. This business is pretty boring, but it sure beats going to hell.”
“Pretty much anything does.”
“Huh,” Tyfus muttered, tapping the rim of his glass with his little finger. “What about the Lusty Lion, though? Who’ll be in charge while I’m gone?”
“I thought Matis.”
“Matis,” Tyfus said taking a sip. He shrugged his tiny shoulders then slammed the glass on the table. “Fine by me, boss.”
“Really? Just like that? You’re coming, leaving all this behind and into Matis’ hands without beating an eye?”
Tyfus curled his lips and looked around. His expression went from flat to something almost resembling sadness. An emotion I hadn’t yet seen on the gnome’s face. It was almost scary.
“All my life I wanted people to respect me. To do something big and important because…well, I know I can. You know I can, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And when you gave me this place and all this money, I thought this was it. Tyfus, you made it. Everyone treats me like a noble here. Look at these fucking clothes, Frank. I look like my mother shat me out in the Glade, don’t I?”
“Always the poet.”
“But what did I lose? I lost the fucking stick up my bum that kept me moving forward, Frank. You stole it from me by giving me all this. Now I have no incentive to do anything. I can just manage this club and drink and eat until I’m dead. I need something real, something visceral, you know what I mean? I can’t just be…”
We sat in silence for a brief moment as I tried to contemplate the gnome’s troubles.
“I hate to say it, but you and I gnome are not that different. At least regarding some things. Shit, sometimes I feel like I’m excited about going to hell.”
“See! That, exactly that.”
“But then I think to myself, Frank, is danger and violence the only thing that really matters to you? Is that the only way to feel alive and I’m not sure it is anymore. You know what I think it is, Tyfus? It’s just habit. You get used to violence so your stupid brain thinks it’s normal and when you sit down for a bit it starts going crazy. I found that carpentry really—”
“Ohh, fuck carpentry, Frank. You’re a killer. A violent, dangerous man. Be that. Don’t be a fucking run-off-the-mill carpenter hammering together tables and chairs. Who the fuck cares about that? You need this, Frank. You need the fire of battle, the sizzling smell of burned corpses, the—”
The chair he was sitting on caught fire and the gnome jumped up on the table and kicked his glass over.
“This, Frank, you need this!” I sighed, sinking deeper into my chair.
Did I miss the action? Sure. But hammering together chairs and tables in my courtyard, knowing that Fey and the others were safe and close by? That was a feeling I wouldn’t replace with anything. Still, I needed the gnome on board, and I wasn’t going to dissuade him now.
“Whatever you say, Tyfus. I’m just glad you’re with me on this.”
“Sure as fuck I am!” he said, grabbing the bottle and taking a big gulp as the fire behind him turned into thick black smoke.
“Alright, gnome.”
“When are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning we’ll make our way south. I still have a couple of things to handle today, but I want you there tonight. I want the family to sit together one more time before we go. I don’t know how long the trip will be and it might be good to say goodbye and have a drink or two.”
“Fuck yeah!” the gnome yelled as Borkel came running up the stairs with a bucket of water.
I got up from the chair and Tyfus jumped off, letting Borkel handle the burning chair situation. The young waiter doused the fire and picked up the charred thing. I guess it wasn’t the first time he had to put out a fire or two.
“And Tyfus, stock up on potions, scrolls, and whatnot. Bring your best gear. Shieldmother warned me about Snowdog. He’s an unpredictable character—”
“Bah, fuck him. You’re the fucking Spellmonger and I’m fucking Tyfus.”
“Alright,” I said, realizing the gnome had hyped himself up to the point of stupid and reckless again.
I left the Lusty Lion in a better mood than I expected. For one, I couldn’t even dream that Tyfus would be so easily on board with the whole thing. It saved me a lot of pleading, threatening, and bribing. Just went to show how much we were alike, even though I didn’t want to admit it.
I walked down Shieldwall Street whistling a tune I heard Spif play last night, putting one foot after the other and looking forward to the evening when a warning chime attacked my brief moment of tranquility.
[WARNING: Extreme threat level detected.]
[Leave area immediately]
Shutters and doors slammed shut across the street and a freezing wind picked up dust and garbage and sent it flying. A moment later, everything went silent. Even the wind.
Oh, fuck no.
“Castelian walks!” a high-pitched chant reverberated from behind the street corner. Footsteps resounded from the same direction, and they inched closer with every passing moment.
Alright, nothing to do but stand still and wait it out.
I came up to the closest building and turned my back to the street. There was nothing to do but hope he wouldn’t notice me for some reason. I looked to the side and saw a woman with a basket doing the same. Our eyes met for a moment and she looked away.
“Castelian walks!” the chant of his sycophant choir grew louder as he entered the street.
A wave of heat washed over me and the dark energies within my veins began to bubble up and ready for battle. A battle I couldn’t win even if I had a small army with me.
Not now, Morgefah.
As he moved closer to me, I could hear his gnome mage friend speak. Tarnia Kinfall, the Ashbringer sounded angry and that wasn’t a good sign at all. She was usually the one to disarm situations, not to escalate them.
“I don’t want to enter that place. You know what I think of him,” she said.
“Face your fears, Tarnia. It’s time,” Castelian answered. His voice was like an avalanche of heavy rocks. As they passed behind me, I realized they were heading towards the Lusty Lion.
Tyfus, Tarnia, there was something there after all.
I had heard him cry her name in his sleep more than once. So the two had something going on. Tyfus, you gods be damned idiot. The Everdark energies coursing through me suddenly spiked as Castelian stood right behind me. A sudden tendril of purple cracked across my skin, then another.
“Look at this,” Castelian said.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“You there, turn around.”
“Me?” I said still facing the wall.
“Yes, you.”
I slowly turned about, keeping my head low. Why now? Why today? What’s with my shitty luck lately?
As I turned, I could see his black sabatons and the waves of translucent energy radiating off him. Adventurer scum. He must have plundered a thousand dungeons to get where he was now and for what? So he could harass honest citizens in the street? And also me?
“Our luck, Tarnia. It’s the Lord of the Ashpit, isn’t it?”
“Just Frank will do,” I said, still keeping my gaze turned to the ground.
“Look up,” Tarnia said and I did so without hesitation.
I avoided Castelian’s eyes because I heard he’d kill men who looked at him funny, or whatever he understood as such. A big angry baby, that one. But a baby that was hard to argue with.
Castelian Fair the Dreadweaver looked pretty much like he did last time I saw him. A large fur cape sat on his back barely covering the glinting green-red tunic beneath. He wore the head of a Nest Mother on his right shoulder. A trophy nobody else had in the entire kingdom. Kagon’s Hand, the two-handed mace he tore from the undead prince was slung across his back. Tendrils of black mist slowly meandered off the head of the mace to the cobbled street.
Tarnia floated next to him. She was dressed more modestly in a green and black mage’s robe with golden lines shaped like tongues of fire. Her red hair cascaded down her shoulders and over her chest.
“When I heard Lord of the Ashpit, I laughed,” Castelian said. “Then I heard you killed Redball and took his club and I was impressed. But just yesterday they said you cut Shieldmother and now, well, now I’m worried.”
“And you don’t want to worry him,” Tarnia said flat-faced.
“Why worry, Lord Castelian? I only grazed her to win a bet,” I said. “And to keep my life.”
“Only grazed one of the Three of Steel is an interesting way to put it.”
“I’m not great with words,” I said, trying to disarm the situation. “So I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“You see,” he continued, ignoring my attempt. “There is only one man in this city who can stand up to the Three of Steel. Do you know this man, Lord Ashpit?”
“I assume it’s you, Lord Castelian.”
“Hmm. That brings me to my point,” he said, his voice a deep dark rumble that made my skin crawl. Yes, Shieldmother was powerful, just as powerful as Castelian but she lived by rules, she was loyal and disciplined, and she did not kill for pleasure. Mostly. Castelian was an entirely different beast. He and Tarnia did what they wanted as long as the King could utilize their powers when he needed. And even then the Dreadweaver would sometimes simply ignore him.
I had to thread with extreme caution.
“Are you my equal then, Lord Ashpit?”
“No, of course not,” I said quickly.
“Are you a coward then?”
“No, for the most part I’m not.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Tarnia asked and laughed.
“An honest one, Tarnia,” Castelian said and smiled. I only glanced at his pitch-black face. The man was as dark as his armor except for the penetrating light-green eyes that seemed to shimmer with madness.
“Be that as it may, Lord Ashpit,” he continued. “I must make sure. Draw your weapon,” he said and grabbed onto the handle of Kogan’s Hand.
He pulled the giant mace free and let it smack the ground, cracking the cobble and sending a powerful wave of energy up and down the street. Windows cracked, and shutters shook. The lady with the basket next to me screamed and ran off.
Suddenly, the door to the Lusty Lion banged open and out came Tyfus, still holding that bottle of whiskey in one hand.
“What the fuck is going on out heeee—”
“Tyfus!” Tarnia roared.
“Firebird!” Tyfus roared back.
“Firebird?” Castelian said confused.
The floating right hand of the Dreadweaver immediately encircled herself with a fiery shield and a wave of heat washed over me with such power I had to cover my face.
Tyfus pulled up his own shield as the bottle in his hand dropped and exploded.
“Now hold on!” I yelled, raising my hands.
“It’s time we settled this, Tyfus!”
“Just like old days, Firebird, isn’t it?”
“I fucking hate you!” she screamed and it must have shaken even Castelian because the Dreadweaver seemed to be at a loss.
“Not here, Tarnia!” he yelled.
“Everyone, settle the fuck down, come on! I have a suggestion, alright? We settle this, but not here and not now,” I yelled, out trying to reason with the storm.
“There’s no better time!” the burning red mage said. Her hair fluttered around her in a chaotic maelstrom.
“Any time is a good time, remember what you said?” Tyfus yelled, then laughed maniacally.
“Fuck off, Tyfus. Castelian, wait. Listen. We settle this, you and I. Alright? I’ll fight you, I won’t run. And you two, you’ll do the same, alright? You’ll burn each other for whatever reason you need to, but not now, not today.”
“Speak,” Castelian commanded.
An opening. Good. I had to be quick and smart about this one.
“A month from now in the Ashpit. In the middle of the square. The two of us and the two of you, we take it out on each other properly. Hell, I’ll bring drinks and guests and we make a thing of it. What do you say? We settle all scores…if there are even scores, but I’ll be happy to fight.”
Castelian snickered.
“Why wait a month? What will change in a month?”
“Well…” I was trying to figure out something, anything that would just make the current situation less deadly.
“Because you’ll probably kill us and I need to make amends, alright? I need to prepare things, my family, my properties. I can’t just go up in smoke. Besides, imagine the city in a month if we start the rumors now. Everyone and their mothers will be there to see how Castelian and Tarnia put Tyfus and the Lord Ashpit in their place, huh? The King himself will want to see that one, wouldn’t he?”
If there was one thing I could count on in regard to Castelian, it was his sense of self-importance. The black-clad Dreadweaver thought on it for a moment then swung his hefty mace over his shoulder and smiled.
“You weave words like spells, Lord Ashpit. Very well. They served you better than that pathetic weapon on your back.”
“Probably,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
“Tarnia, you heard it. A month from now.”
The little red-haired powerhouse let her shield peter out and folded her hands angrily across her chest. My Deeproot chimed.
[Adept Persuasion skill increased by 1 level]
[ADEPT PERSUASION: 4/10]
I didn’t see that one coming at all, but it was still welcome.
Tarnia ground her teeth then snapped her head away from Tyfus demonstratively and floated forward toward the top of the street leaving Castelian standing next to me. The Dreadweaver watched her go for a moment then looked my way.
“One month from now, Lord Ashpit. Enjoy what’s left of your life.”
“Always do.”
Castelian’s lip curled up and he turned away, walking off after his furious little mage. The dozen or so black-robed sycophants hurried after the equally psychotic man, chanting his name.
“Castelian walks!”
One of the fuckers gave me a cheeky look and I made a point of remembering his face. Once the procession was gone, I finally relaxed.
“What. The. Fuck,” I cursed, breathing out hard.
“I could have taken her.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I said.
Tyfus looked at the cracked bottle then back up at me.
“So, you’ve signed our death sentence. Smart.”
“What would you have me do? One swing of that giant mace and I’d be a splattered against the wall.
Tyfus looked up the street.
“Man, she’s still got it, my little firebird.”
“About that—”
“Tonight, I promise,” the gnome said, shaking his head. “Since you’re a dead man anyway.”
I straightened my shirt.
“Why do people keep saying that.”
“You just ooze dead-man vibes, Frank.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t be late tonight, gnome. And bring a good bottle. I suddenly feel very thirsty.”
