Rattus Rex

Chapter 51 - Deception (2)

With a spring in his step, Hamelin moved through Tremon eying the bustling industry of the still-relatively small settlement. He rarely returned here, except when business demanded it, and every time he did, something new had been introduced to the townscape.

A well here, a new foundation for a house there; a new set of merchants arriving for the first time, or, as now, an entire contingent of the army, settled only a few hours ride away from the town palisade. Seeing the clueless faces of the townsfolk made him giddy with excitement about the upcoming chaos.

There was no malice on his parts toward these unwitting participants in the upcoming showdown between himself and the kingdom; indeed, these people meant nothing to him at all. As a creature of the night, he bothered only with his own kind—and general Firande was most certainly a man of impeccable shadow.

For a fleeting moment, as a pair of kids ran past right in front of him—the boy in front, laughing as he held a wooden doll aloft like a war trophy, while a smaller girl stumbled after him, squealing to return her ‘Ana’—Hamelin wondered what Mosel might have thought of his uncaring attitude towards these lives that very likely might get snuffed out when hostilities spilled over.

He almost felt his brother’s serious stare—the kind that bore through your skin, bones, and soul. The bead at his chest burned, reminding him to get rid of that thing, and he shuddered.

“Is everything alright, Master?” lady Mina said from behind.

Waving his hand, Hamelin dismissed the worry, and continued down the road to the site of their gathering. The gambling house had grown significantly richer over the years, enough for Heron to gild his entire damn entrance with gold—a frightful waste, in Hamelin’s opinion.

Entering without a challenge from the guards, they proceeded inside and up three flights of stairs. On their way up, Hamelin manipulated his spine to collapse ever so slightly, making him shrink a few inches and adopt a hunched-forward bearing.

He had made a habit out of manipulating his perceived size, in the same way he changed his face, over the past few years to mask how he had grown taller. Even with the gift, accelerating his healing, he dared not attempt to manipulate his actual growth, as he understood from experience that it was a slippery slope.

Using their ability to manipulate body structure, the vexen of his old world had created monstrous rat-mutants, even going so far as to make giant abominations by speeding up growth in their—mostly—unwilling subjects.

Always, the gain in size and mass came at a cost, the greatest of which was intelligence. Growing bone and muscle was easy, but growing the brain to keep suit? Whole different ballgame.

As the body grew larger; more and more brainpower would have to be allocated to control it—and brute-forcing the issue to increase brain matter had always failed… spectacularly.

Thus, he had allowed his natural growth to take its course, while making constant alterations to his overall bearing to hide the fact that he was, in fact, just a child, in so far as his body was concerned.

As he approached the door on the third floor, he also warped his face into flat and asymmetrical features, which he knew would unsettle Heron. With a light push, he opened the door and found himself inside a wide room, furnished only with a single table, lit by an assortment of candles and oil lamps.

At the table sat three figures, who had been enjoying a meal together before Hamelin barged in. Now, they each looked up at the intruder with different expressions on their faces. Heron was, of course, the first to gather his wits and stand up, offering a deep bow.

“Master Halifax, it is good to see you again,” the slick business man said, and Hamelin nodded in appreciation, even as he laughed on the inside. Heron had approached at least three contract killers in the past five months, trying to see if any of them were willing to take out his supposed ‘master’.

Hamelin had paid each of these would-be assassins a visit, and ensured they, and everyone like them, stayed far away from such contracts in the future. Or, rather, the one among them he had allowed to live to spread the message.

The first one to receive that message, of course, had been Heron, who had immediately grown very enthusiastic about acquiring more of the objects on Hamelin’s list. It had therefore been a very productive scheme, as far as Hamelin was concerned, and he had rather enjoyed dismantling it—which was the only reason Heron was still alive.

Second to gain his feet was Asten, who had grown into quite the power-player in Tremon, and in the Undergrowth in general. The awkward apothecary had grown into his role as Hamelin’s voice—when he could not be bothered to give orders in person—as well as a skillful fighter in his own right.

Hamelin had made sure to beat the lad up until he could take somewhat care of himself, before he had sent him out on missions, and so far, the young man had not disappointed too badly.

“Greetings, Master,” he said, teeth still prominent in his mouth, although they fit better together with his confident expression than his former, frightful one. Hamelin gave him a nod as well.

The last person at the table did not rise immediately, but eyed Hamelin suspiciously, before reluctantly standing halfway up to greet him, then sat himself back down. Arden Marn was as red-faced as Hamelin remembered him, still wearing a silky scarf around his neck, beneath which Hamelin’s Collar still marred his skin.

The brewery master had grown wealthy over the past five years, which was obvious from the way his waistcoat struggled to keep in his widening girth. His red hair and beard was combed to a silky consistency, far from the gruff conditions Hamelin had found the man in the beginning.

“And a very fine day to you all, gentlemen,” Hamelin said, looking over his shoulder to lady Mina and gesturing for her to take her seat as well. The leader of the Dun family acknowledged the unspoken order and took a seat among the others, leaving only Hamelin to stand.

“It’s been a long time since we gathered together like this,” Hamelin began, smiling crookedly at his pawns, “I hope your return to gentle Tremon was enjoyable.”

“It’s a bloody nuisance, is what it is,” Arden growled, palm hitting the table a little harder than he had probably intended. “What the hells are we here for?”

“My, my…” Hamelin laughed, “Is that a pair of testicles you’ve grown there, Arden, or is it perhaps just your ego talking?” With a gentle flick of his finger, Hamelin excited the Collar around Arden’s neck, tightening his air-way ever so slightly.

Putting one hand to his throat, Arden’s eyes bulged out with both indignity and fear. The others looked on with half-hearted interest, having seen the display many times before.

“I thought we discussed your attitude before, my friend,” Hamelin said, approaching his fat underling, “And I believe we agreed that you should be more careful with your words.” He tightened the Collar with each step he took, making Arden near choking as he stood before him.

Nodding profusely, Arden looked about ready to pass out before Hamelin released his hold, and watched as the sorry excuse for a man collapse upon his chair. Certain that his point had come across, Hamelin diverted his attention toward the assembly as a whole.

“We’ve gathered because Heron has outdone himself,” he said, directing a wide grin in at the man in question. “Not only has he arranged for the final object upon my list to enter our possession by midnight tomorrow; he has also brought the king’s army to our doorstep.”

“He’s done… What?” Arden said, still choking. When Hamelin looked back at him, an eyebrow raised, the man immediately added, “Master?”

“Only what our benevolent master instructed me to,” Heron boasted, giving another deep bow while still seated.

“May I ask, master Halifax,” Asten said, carefully, making sure not to proceed before he had received a nod to go on, “Why you wanted to the army to come here?”

“Because it’s exciting,” Hamelin said, grinning at the dumb expressions that met him in return, “Or—if that is not a good enough reason for you—because the army, led by general Firande, has been closing in on us for some time. If we’re going to clash with kingdom forces, better to do it on our home-turf, no?”

The silence that met him was telling. These humans had no appreciation of how rewarding it was to lead the enemy into your burrow, only to collapse the entire tunnel on their heads and see them squirm to survive.

“Did you say general Firande?” Heron said, his face suddenly void of all the false pretense of devotion.

“Indeed I did. The hero of Wordun, where he held the pass against a horde of Grelden barbarians,” Hamelin nodded, and listed up a few more achievements of their enemy, enough to make the blood drain from everyone, except lady Mina—who already knew.

“How are we supposed to beat a military commander of that caliber?” Arden said, hesitantly enough that Hamelin did not find it necessary to choke him again.

“To that end, preparations are already underway. Heron, how is the work on location coming along?”

The businessman looked a bit winded after being told who had deliberately led to their backyard. Clearing his throat, he said, “Ah—yes, our crews have made good progress, although… We’ve hit upon a slight issue.”

“Which is?”

“Tunnels. Old ones, too, as far as we can tell. They go deep underground, and we’ve been unable to determine if its safe.”

“I assume you sent someone to investigate?”

“We did,” Heron agreed with a nod, “None of them returned… Although, whatever’s down there isn’t coming up either, so we believe it’ll be alright as long as we stay in the upper layers. The men, though, are spooked, refusing to work.”

“Double their pay,” Hamelin said, without hesitation, “Tell them to stay out of the tunnels and bring them some liquor to wash down that fear. If that doesn’t do it, triple the pay, quadruple it if you must; just get it done.”

“Understood, Master.”

Rubbing his hands together, Hamelin looked around at his subjects and said, “So, here’s the plan.”