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The Crime Lord Bard - Chapter 11: The Fat Pig
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 00:14:22 +0000 UTCJamie's eyes gleamed with excitement as the lively sounds of the city enveloped them. "First things first," he grinned. "We find a tavern."
Though Jamie seemed sure of his plan, finding the perfect target for their first move in Hafenstadt was far from simple. He and Jay spent hours roaming through the city’s bustling commercial district, where taverns lined the streets. Yet it soon became apparent that this part of town already belonged to a local gang.
In the crowded avenues, pickpockets wove deftly among passersby while women of the night offered their services in the district’s more secluded corners. Men with hard stares lurked in the shadows, silently enforcing the gang’s control over the streets.
At last, the pair entered the first tavern they came across, known as The Eagle’s Eye. Though the sign above the door promised, the interior proved modest at best. Only a handful of patrons were scattered around, sipping mead and wine. A half-hearted bard strummed a few notes—dreary ones, according to Jamie’s sharp assessment—doing his best to entertain.
“Here?” Jay asked, taking in the sparse atmosphere.
“No way,” Jamie said with a faint snort after a moment of silent observation.
They continued to explore, but each subsequent tavern proved no better in Jamie’s estimation.
“What’s wrong with them?” Jay finally blurted, mystified by Jamie’s standards.
“There’s too much competition,” Jamie explained. “They’re all crammed into the same area, each hoping to thrive by being close to the commercial district and the Wizard Tower.”
“But it’s still daytime,” Jay ventured. “Surely these places will fill up at night…”
Jamie merely shrugged. “Night or festival crowds are easy. You judge a tavern’s quality by how busy it gets during the day.”
Jay regarded Jamie with a flicker of concern. “And how do you know all this?”
Jamie offered a knowing smile. “You could say I’ve owned a tavern or two myself—handy for a base of operations when you’ve got merchandise to move. Plus, you’d be amazed at the kind of people you can befriend in the process.”
Jay’s tail swished with concern, betraying the tension he felt.
After wandering into several more taverns, Jamie finally shook his head and made his decision. “The commercial district will be way too much work, with few opportunities. We don’t have access to the noble district, so that leaves us only one option—let’s see what the lower district has to offer.”
They pressed on toward the city’s cramped back alleys, where ramshackle wooden houses leaned precariously over narrow cobblestone lanes. From the looks of it, any sudden gust of wind—or a careless spark—might have toppled the entire row.
“How is it that this place hasn’t burned to the ground yet?” Jay asked, gazing warily at the warped beams and sagging roofs.
Jamie didn’t have an answer. It was evident that a single fire could ravage the lower district in a matter of minutes, especially with so little room for residents to flee.
Yet one thing had caught Jamie’s eye—something the bard had noticed while weaving through the maze of backstreets. Unlike the commercial district, no organization seemed to control the area’s shady dealings. Instead, every sort of under-the-table business cropped up at random.
Moments before they stepped inside a looming tavern door, Jamie glimpsed two women quarreling down the street. They seemed to be fighting tooth and nail over a prime spot in the lower district’s bustling trade. Nearby, a few shady figures openly peddled contraband magical materials in broad daylight—no hint of belonging to any unified group.
‘Hey! Isn’t that Mermaid Dust? That stuff’s banned for sale,’ Jay spoke in Jamie’s mind. ‘If any of the city guards come down here, there’ll be trouble for sure.’
Jamie, tapping into Jay’s memories, recalled more information. Indeed, such dealings could bring serious complications, but perhaps not as dire as Jay feared.
Hafenstadt’s strength lay not only in its thriving maritime trade but also in the Wizard Tower, a place ever in need of rare or questionable research materials. Though the city guards might confiscate goods and occasionally crack down on some peddlers, they were unlikely to wipe out the trade altogether. This lax oversight was why the lower district received minimal protection—and even fewer patrols—allowing new gangs to establish themselves and vie for control.
After roaming the labyrinth of streets for a while, Jamie paused. He spotted a small, unassuming tavern tucked almost out of sight where the lower district bled into the commercial area. Even from the outside, it felt like a place that might offer something far more interesting than first impressions would suggest.
Jay flicked his tail in playful disapproval as he peered at the tavern’s creaking wooden sign. “The Fat Pig. Not exactly the most inspiring name,” he joked.
Still, Jamie noted how many people slipped in and out of the unassuming building. “Even though it’s nearly hidden away,” he said in a hushed tone, “there’s a steady flow of customers.”
That was enough for him to decide. The humble wooden shack boasted a small sign with a crudely drawn pig—barely legible in the dim alleyway light. Inside, the place wasn’t much better: a modest assortment of rough-hewn tables, a bar that looked only half-clean, and a small, rickety stage. A half-drunken bard strummed away at something that might pass for a tune—though none too skillfully.
‘Even with questionable quality, there are still people here,’ Jamie thought, watching patrons clap for the inebriated musician or chat among themselves. A narrow staircase huddled in one corner, leading to a second floor that held a few rented rooms.
Choosing a vacant table, Jamie let his gaze roam around, taking in every detail. He hardly had time to settle before a young woman approached with confident steps. She wore a simple patchwork of sturdy, brightly colored fabric. Her wavy, chestnut hair spilled freely past her shoulders, tamed only by a faded scarf. Her eyes, alive with expectation and a hint of defiance, suggested she was unafraid of the tavern’s rough patrons—or at least she wanted them to think so.
Jamie’s own eyes lit up, not only at her presence but at the mysterious verses hovering around her:
She’s steadfast, yet her sweetness sings,
A heart as pure as starlit springs.
Treat her kindly, guard her well,
And in her loyalty, you’ll dwell.
“What’ll it be?” she asked in a steady tone.
“I’ll have some mulled wine,” Jamie replied, keenly observing the girl’s poise.
“That’ll be one silver coin,” the girl said, extending her hand.
Jamie pulled a silver coin from his pouch, and she promptly bit it before tucking it away in her pocket. ‘Biting silver doesn’t make the most sense—silver isn’t that soft,’ he mused, but he chose not to correct her.
A few moments later, she returned with a steaming mug of spiced wine, placing it before him. Jamie offered her a grateful nod. “My apologies, I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t give it,” she said, her voice tinged with playful defiance.
“Would you mind sharing it?” Jamie pressed gently. “I’d rather not just call you ‘miss.’”
‘Now’s where a bard’s charm should shine,’ he thought, doing his best to appear friendly.
She coughed lightly as if caught off guard by his politeness. “You can call me Eliza.”
“Thank you, Eliza,” said Jamie. “Would you mind pointing out who owns this tavern? I’m a traveling bard, and I’d love a chance to play here.” His face broke into a broad smile.
‘My cheeks might kill me from all this grinning,’ he joked inwardly.
Eliza inclined her head toward a portly man dozing behind the bar. “That’s him—Master Bones runs this place.”
“Thank you, Eliza,” Jamie replied, setting his drink aside and rising to make his way over to the slumbering tavern keeper.
‘With someone like Eliza around’, he thought, ‘this place is getting more interesting by the moment.’
Jamie approached the portly man behind the bar and noticed him counting the day’s haul of coins. The man’s belly rested on the countertop, and his stubby fingers deftly flicked through the silver and copper pieces.
“Hello there—Master Bones?” Jamie ventured.
Bones looked up, eyes narrowed with impatience. “Yes, yes. What do you want?”
“Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Jamie, and I’m a traveling bard. I was wondering if you’d let me play here,” Jamie explained with a polite smile.
Master Bones peered at him from head to toe. “Fine. You can go on once that drunkard over there finishes.” He shrugged toward the tipsy bard on stage. “But mind you, the tips are sixty percent mine, and whatever’s left is yours.”
Jamie offered a good-natured nod; money wasn’t his genuine concern, alluring though it was. “All right,” he said, clasping the barkeep’s sweaty hand in agreement.
Deep down, Jamie suspected that even his promised forty percent might never reach his pockets. Especially given the ominous lines hovering at the edge of his vision:
Gold is all he sets his sight,
Beware, lest you lose the fight.
Trust him not, for greed will call,
And in its snare, you’ll lose it all.
