"Is that so?" George said, stopping the cylinder with his other hand. "You must believe you understand me then."
Stephen pulled the bag to his side, dropping it with an exaggerated thud on the table. "Thirty thousand gold, and fifteen percent ownership of the business we'll create."
George glanced at the table, a single gold coin slipping from the bag and rolling across the floor. "Hm. That seems like quite the deal."
"It's exactly as it seems," Stephen said. "All you have to do is scratch our backs, and we'll do the same."
"Alright." George leaned back in his seat, hands together, the revolver placed between them. "What is your business?"
"A brothel. Fully funded by us, of course... but under your complete ownership, at least on paper." Stephen said.
George brought the gun to his chin, finger caressing the trigger as he scratched at his stubbled jaw. "Can I ask why you'd want me to be the public owner?"
Tello gulped, glancing at Stephen, who didn't break stride.
"Our money and faces... are quite problematic if shown. We'd rather not have that if we can help it," Stephen said.
"And why would that be the case?"
Stephen met his gaze without blinking. "Because the money was conned out of four fellow nobles."
"Which ones?"
"The Appletons, and several others. Most of whom reside in the city or in neighboring Ipula."
George leaned further back in his chair, gun lowering, and as if it were an extension of his palm, he used it to lift the bag's head, more coins spilling out in a clink of soft gold.
"And what are you expecting of me?" he asked.
"Defense," Stephen said. "As the public owner, we'd expect you to deny any claims or accusations that you're partnered with anyone else."
"I'm assuming they know about your little business venture. And that's what you used to con them in the first place?"
"Correct."
"Greedy fools," George laughed. "They'd stick their heads into anything as long as they saw a sliver of gold on the other side."
Tello glanced at him.
"Is that doable?" Stephen asked.
"Hm..." George muttered. "It's not impossible. But since you've already claimed the money, why not set your sights on something else?"
"Nothing else would make as much money as quickly as I need it," Stephen replied.
"How much do you want?"
"A lot."
George chuckled, then let go of the bag. He thought to himself for a second before shaking his head.
"I can't do it."
"What?" Tello muttered, staring at him.
"Doing the exact same business model you used to con them would be like stealing a popular artwork and putting it up in your own museum. It's impossible to deny. And denying it too strongly would only raise their suspicions and increase their efforts to pry." George waved a hand lazily. "It's quite annoying, really."
"Instead of denying it, you can say two men sold you on the idea before they left the city," Stephen said.
"And do I know the names of these men or where they went?"
"No. You merely paid for an idea, and they left. That seems more viable than having too many details." Stephen explained.
"...Okay," George said. "I can work with that."
"So you're in?" Tello asked.
"No," George replied simply, crossing one leg over the other. "It's still too risky, at least for the price I'm being offered."
"That's thirty thousand gold," Tello burst out, then instantly calmed himself as Stephen turned to him.
"How much do you believe your service is worth?"
"A hundred thousand upfront and fifty percent in royalties for the brothel," George said. "For the amount of emotional distress and anxiety you'd be putting on my table, that seems only fair."
Tello opened his mouth to speak but stopped short at Stephen's signal once more.
"That's simply too much," Stephen said.
"I believe it's quite too little, really," George responded. "And you forget. Not only do I harbor your secret, at any time I please, I could give you up for a greater price. So it would be in your best interest to bid high."
This was a conundrum, and all Stephen could do was think as he kept a neutral expression on his face.
George simply wanted money. This wasn't a matter of morality, he didn't care for the nobles who'd been conned. He just wanted more gold to validate his services.
And that was fine.
However, his demand was grossly inflated, both in the upfront and the royalty request.
Stephen glanced at him softly, eyes drifting to his neck.
Strength was an intricate way to show superiority. Putting someone's life at risk was the simplest way to bend them to your will and while Stephen could certainly do that, as he was much stronger than the average man.
Using force would fix nothing here.
Even if he managed to rip George's tongue from his mouth, rendering him unable to call for his singular guard or somehow found a way to deal with the guard himself, he knew for a fact that George wouldn't give in.
Why?
Because strength only worked when the subject had something to lose. Be it their life, their family or even their income.
And with the type of man George was, only one of those things mattered.
And Stephen was sure the man would rather die than give that up.
So what was the way out of this?
"Nothing to say?" George muttered, waving a hand. "If that's all, I'd suggest you leave then. Find another noble to help front your business—"
"One hundred percent ownership," Stephen said, relaxing in the chair. "All royalties from every nook and cranny of the brothel would be yours."
"Now that's a deal I can't resist!" George leaned in. "But before I get too excited... what's the catch?"
Stephen glanced at Tello, then back to the table. "There would no longer be an upfront fee."
Tello instantly dashed to the coins, grabbing the bag and tying the head together. Just before going back to his seat, he bent over to reach for the coins that had rolled from the table, staring at George as he came back up.
"So you're selling me on the future." George laughed. "Is that it? If you add something like 'I'll have to give you a hundred thousand,' I'll be kicking you out instantly."
"In one year," Stephen said, looking at him. "A year from now, you'll have full ownership of the brothel. That's the deal."
"...that's more understandable." George said, "what about this year, what happens to the profit?"
"It all goes to us." Stephen replied.
"...How about thirty percent to me this year, and the full hundred next—"
"Won't work." Stephen cut him off. "It's this or nothing else."
"Hm," George muttered, then shook his head softly. "That won't work. There's no guarantee your business would make me any money then. I could be taking on so much pressure for no reason."
"I see." Stephen stood. "That's quite unfortunate. I believed we could come to an agreement."
George didn't respond, he merely watched as Tello stood alongside him.
"Wait," he muttered, dropping the revolver on the table, both index fingers now beneath his lower lip. "Sweeten the deal a bit... you're not quite there."
"There's no point in trying anymore," Stephen said. "I've given you two deals, and you rejected both. I don't see a point in—"
"Just one more sweetener," George said, glancing up. "You're so close to making this deal."
Stephen looked at him.
"One million."
George almost fell back as he clapped to himself.
Then Stephen continued, "One million if the business doesn't make you more than a million in the next year. Is that good enough?"
George stood, hand outstretched. "It's perfect."
Stephen reached out as well, and the two completed a firm handshake. "I'm glad we could come to this agreement."
"I am as well," George said. "It's not every day the sky hands you a free business for the low cost of emotional distress."
"It really isn't."
"So, where are you building this brothel? When are you starting? Do you have enough money to begin?" George rubbed his hands together. "I'm so excited."
"I'm sure you are," Stephen said, turning to Tello. "But I'm sorry, I don't know much about the whole process. My brother here is the architect for this job."
"Oh?" George turned to Tello. "Where are you building this thing, then? Do you have the appropriate permits for the land site?"
"Yes, we're planning to build it beside the Love Supreme," Tello replied.
"Oh, so that bastard Rumm finally let go and sold the lot to you guys?" George asked. "How much did you get it for?"
"I wasn't the one that bought it," Tello turned to Stephen. "It was my brother here."
"Oh, I didn't buy any property," Stephen said.
All that followed was a facepalm from Tello.
"So that's where we're starting this off from..." Tello muttered to himself.
"Is anything wrong?" Stephen asked.
"Well, you need to have ownership of a lot before you can build on it!" Tello screamed, but calmed himself moments later.
"Oh," Stephen said. "Is that an issue?"
"Depends... I know Rumm. I could acquire the lot for you instead," George muttered.
"You'd do that for us?" Tello turned to him, eyes glimmering.
"Hell no," George said, walking away. "Favors are the intellectual equivalent to money. Find a way to get the plot yourselves, and leave my house while you're at it."
Then he shouted, "Silas!"
"Yes, my lord." The guard entered the room, hand on the sword at his hip.
"Escort these men out," George said, disappearing into a room.
"At once," Silas replied, walking toward them.
And moments later, the two of them stepped outside under the veil of night. The only illumination came from the occasional street lamp lining the road and a few lanterns swaying gently outside nearby shops.
"That went better than expected," Tello said. "I thought he wasn't going to budge for a moment."
"No, I always knew he'd agree," Stephen replied, resting his hand on the horse's mane and stroking it gently. "He was just trying to squeeze us for as much as he could. It's not like he's spending a single penny."
"I still feel like the negotiations could've gone better," Tello muttered, lacing his fingers together. "Kinda off putting, knowing we'll lose ownership in a year."
"We'll have to get something else before then," Stephen said, resting his cheek against the horse. "Who's a good girl? You are. Oh yes, you are."
Tello glanced at him, then turned away with a sigh. "In any case, we better head back to the alley. We've got an eventful day tomo—"
A loud rumble cut him off, then another, even louder than the first. Two stomachs grumbled behind him in near harmony, though Stephen's somehow dwarfed the horse's.
Tello turned back. "Guess we should find something to eat."
Stephen came up beside him, guiding the horse by the saddle. "We haven't eaten all day. How are you not starving?"
"I once went a full week without food while job hunting," Tello said with a somber nod. "It was this challenge I gave myself, 'don't eat till you land something.' Safe to say I nearly starved to death."
The horse neighed beside him. It sounded... suspiciously like laughter.
Tello turned slowly to face them. "You're bringing the horse?"
Stephen and Darla looked at each other, then at him.
"She's family," Stephen said proudly.
"She's not even yours."
"Finders keepers," Stephen said, hugging her neck.
The horse neighed again, as if doubling down on the statement.
Tello sighed, turning away. "This is going to be a very long couple of months."