It began slowly.
The first was the jewelers shop in the largest part of the city, a few blocks from the garrison.
The pot bellied jeweller whistled as he opened his shop and sat behind his counter when in marched funny looking children.
They had grey shirts on and a loose cap on their heads, each other's faces with a scarf around their necks. Some of orange, some red. Their hands clasped behind their backs.
But his sharp mind could easily make out that they were slum rats.
"Ugh, this is not your mother's cooch, get outta here before I smack your bottoms! Out!"
They all stared at him and giggled together.
"We haven't even started and he's already bitching," one of them said before they all revealed their hands. They held an assortment of clubs, metal wires wrapped around them, hammers.
"Wait, wait—"
SMASH
CRACK
SHATTER
The boys went on a rampage or at least pretended to as they made a raucous noise and only broke one glass case before the fat jeweller fell to their feet crying.
"Please, please tell me what you want!"
The one he was clutching onto stared at him with murder in his eyes and turned to his compatriots, "I don't think I'm done, eh?"
They all nodded and goaded him, "yeah, yeah I don't think he's had enough."
"Yeah lets go for more."
At this point the fat jeweler was panicking, "please," he turned to everyone of them, "please stop."
"Ok," the leader spoke, "we just want a simple thing. Money. Not all of it," an awkward pause seemed to form and everyone stared at the leader.
"Stupid. Stupid what—what amount did the lord say?"
One of them, a less enthused boy meekly said, "ten percent."
The leader snapped in remembrance, "yes, ten percent. Just that of every month, ok? You have it with you?"
The jeweler scrambled to his feet, and got behind his counter, "yes, yes, I have it. I DO!"
None of them knew how much they were supposed to have so the jeweler was kind enough to write them down a breakup of the amount from his shop's earnings and that satisfied the boys.
"Remember potluck," the leader leered as he stepped out with his mates, "ten percent every month."
Passersby stood in alarm as they shattered a glass window and walked together in a group in the sophisticated part of town, "you're all the next meat in our buffet. The Scarves will bloody return! Stay warned!"
"Whooo!"
Their shouts echoed and melted as they disappeared behind an alley.
In the same week, four more targets were chosen. A baker, a money lender, a florist and a hotel.
All paid up because if they didn't, after the kids came and went, they were followed by the adults.
The proceeds all went back to Arken who suitably distributed for his needs while keeping the slum populace happy, who had needed not much convincing to join his cult.
-Excellent! Your cult has expanded!
12/12 Lv. 1 –> 75/84 Lv. 5. You have reigned in the slum rats, emboldening them. They see you as their savior!
Cult has upgraded to Lv. 5!
Narrative Grasp: 14%
Your cult has acquired a monastic sect's blessings!-
Thinking about the Sun Monks reminded him of Huma. He had said he didn't want to know how the money Arken earned was being obtained as long as it didn't directly involve the monks. Staying safe in his ignorance.
But when he asked why did he select the monks to do the accounting and tallying, Arken remembered the look he had got after telling him why.
"You're all monks. You have renounced almost everything, including material wealth. If money is no use to you, it means you're the most trustworthy people to handle it this part of town. And your discipline is probably gonna pay off well here."
Huma had a very distinct disapproving look on his face, "I can't protest now as many of the brothers have greatly taken to your leadership. But I have to say I'm disappointed in myself to think that you actually gave a shit. Well played son."
Arken had also begun to explore his skills. [Bookmark] was such a skill that worked for him like teleportation.
"If this is a novel then I think it works like taking me to specific instances of the novel but in here it's just the places itself."
Next was [Read between lines] which gave him a unique read into particular characters.
Just when he felt he was getting into a good flow of things his usually dull nemesis pinched him awake.
[The Author has alerted the sloppy mayor!]
"Oh for fucks sake!"
The door to the apartment stopped midway of being opened fully as Kalni froze in the entrance at his sudden outburst, "what's wrong?"
Arken was fuming but he calmed down on seeing her and shook his head, "nothing. Where have you been?"
She watched him sit down in his usual spot, gazing out of the open windows at the empty area of the slum where the roads met at a crossed intersection.
"Training," she tilted her head and pulled her sword belt from her shoulder to lift it from her, placing it on the wall.
"For your revenge?"
She felt annoyed by the tone and grin he gave her. "Don't mock me."
"There's still time Kalni," his voice softened, "you know I haven't forgotten about it."
Kalni nodded.
"Do you even need me, Arken?"
The question felt like a slap and he turned. Her eyes stayed on him as he rose up and walked to her.
She was a gifted wielder, able to hurl a sword equal to her weight with comfort yet she felt a unique horror in his presence. Something that made her knees tremble in a very—very good way.
She gasped as he gripped her shoulders with his hands and shook her gently, "don't poison your mind with self-defeating thoughts like that. You're indispensable to me ok? Hey," he made her look up into his gaze.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" She asked her voice a whisper now.
He stuck his tongue out and patted her head, "what's the difference?"
She flushed and pushed herself from him, "you're too close."
Huh, as I'm not a noble?
He didn't argue. Yet. He saw her eyes fall on the groceries he had made the Priest brothers collect and she jumped.
"Oh you do listen sometimes, now I'll make you feel full," she hurried to the kitchen which was still barely occupied owing to their recent shift.
"Are you really from a noble family? Making food, sorry, I mean cooking."
She turned around with a puzzled expression, "you have very vague ideas about nobility, my friend...lord," she corrected herself in the end and went red.
Arken watched the slum kids playing in the streets and felt like joining them.
Good times. Wonder what the stupid author is cooking up though. Damn you.
☆
Mayor Ong Irat carefully measured the stick. 'Unsatisfactory.' He picked two more, comparing them side by side as he asked his servant in-waiting, "this is probably about five right?"
The servant glanced briefly and nodded, his voice trembling with tension, "yes mayor. I picked them up myself."
"Hmph," Ong threw away the other one and gripped the chosen stick firmly in his right hand, "next time pick better ones and bigger ones."
"Of course, mayor." The servant stepped aside and the stick came out from inside the horse drawn carriage to poke the standing impoverished beastfolk, hands folded and looking down.
As he poked them like they were objects they stiffened. The cane was but a visible reminder of the minimum gap they had to maintain between themselves and the mayor, lest they be flogged to death for merely being too close to touching distance.
"So tell me, what's happening these days in the slums?"
"Mayor, they simply refuse to listen to us. The slum boys. They keep disobeying and doing their own thing. It's not like before. Like they're following someone else's orders. At first we thought it was you. But now we know it's from someone deep inside the slums."
"And I don't go there." He muttered in realization.
They nodded in unison.
"Who is it?" He asked immediately.
"Not much is known Mayor. We do try to find out but so far have only heard of someone called the cult lord."
"A 'cult lord'?" The mayor's fat eyes snared in annoyance. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
But they didn't have an answer for him which didn't make his annoyance go away. He sat back and shook his head in frustration.
"Look I don't know what you do, just find this person and bring him to me."
His loyalists had no idea how they were going to achieve that yet they nodded in agreement as if already having devised a plan. Anything to make him leave them.
His carriage took off at a decent speed and they all relaxed collectively.
Ong Irat had completely forgotten about the whole talk in the slum on his way back home.
His dinner couldn't wait after all.
While the slums were one part of Andluri, the better parts of the city, the more affluential parts where the rich lived was another world in itself.
Right from the shops to the architecture, everything screamed opulence, high maintenance, good smells, white colors. Everyone had a smile on their face, not worried about their next meal or the clothes on their backs.
In the middle of two aristocrats secondary mansions stood the Mayor's residence. Held up by four pillars, the front alone dwarfed the entire road leading up to it.
Even lawns, well bred horses, trained guards and manservants huddled to greet and open up the gates for their Master.
"Good evening, Mayor!" Each of them echoed after the other with a sincerely flattering bow to which he barely acknowledged or at best nodded curtly.
Inside after the wide doors was an expansive hallway with two circular staircases that ran on either side to meet at the center where a small decorative table stood with an imported flower vase.
He walked beyond that, straight to his dining table after a quiet fart propelled him in and sat down on the head of the table.
Spread over an enormous white table cloth was neatly arranged cutlery and towels, candles decorated every second chair and there were four of them; all lit, despite the lights from the magic lanterns hanging precariously on the walls.
A bowl was brought to him on which he washed his hands and wiped his mouth, "where are Hanna and Rogid?"
The maid, still bowing replied, "at a party sir. The young master slew an orc at the dungeons, so it is celebratory."
Ong smiled widely and shooed away the maid, his mood improved and in anticipation of the meal. Nothing mattered more to him.
And why would it? He had his guards who were trained ex-royal knights protecting him round the clock, maids and servants who were the top in their chores and a wife and son whom he doted on.
When the meal was brought and placed in front of him, before being revealed his eyes twinkled. "Ooh what's this now?"
"Roasted turkey with deeply nourished garlic sauce and bread fresh from the royal bakers."
"Sublime!"
His servants all retreated to the rear, closing the door for his privacy and waited at his beck and call.
Just when he was about to eat a voice materialised from behind him, "looking for me?"
Ong dropped his fork and stumbled to the floor in shock as he watched Arken walk from behind him with a wide grin.
Seeing him nod to the side, Ong looked up and gasped as two figures in dark clothing with twin blades, climbed in with ease from the windows Arken had opened and took positions at the doors of the dining hall, preventing escape or entry of the mansion guards.
Arken pulled on a chair to the mayor's immediate right and sat down with one leg up the table, "please eat or sit. I just want to talk."