“Nobility has its perks.”
“How many perks did you spend?” Royce’s tone shifted between amazed and angry but finally settled on a nice restrained tempest.
Albert hummed for a moment. “Only about thirteen gold tenents.”
“Thirteen!” Royce hit the table with his fist, making Albert and the candle jump.
Albert leaned back with his palms up in defense. “The clothes were very cheap. I know several barons who spend twenty-five, even thirty on just a jacket, and I really couldn’t quibble and still convincingly play the part of a wealthy noble who they could trust to pay later.”
Royce huffed and dropped back in his chair hard enough to rock it. “You might be surprised to discover we don’t have thirteen gold.”
Albert straightened up at this and a confident grin filled his face. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I have a month to pay.”
“A month—a whole month? Are you crazy? I think the largest haul Hadrian and I’ve scored was only five gold coins, and those were local stamps, not tenents. Usually we bring in twenty or thirty bits of silver.”
“Which is good money,” Hadrian added.
“Yes … yes it is. But thirteen gold!” Royce grabbed the glass of cider and smelled it.
“Not fermented.” Albert grinned at him.
Royce leaned over to sniff Albert’s breath. “I hope you enjoy those clothes, because you’ll hang in them, or go to debtor’s prison, or have your thumbs cut off, or whatever they do to nobles who don’t pay their bills. Don’t expect us to help you out.”
“Tut-tut. We’ll be fine. After dressing myself properly, I paid an unexpected visit to an old friend, Lord Daref. I asked if he was free this evening and offered to treat him to a night of decadence and debauchery—”
“You did what? Are you out of your mind?” Royce turned to Hadrian. “He’s nuts. Maybe drying out his brain was too much too soon.”
Hadrian had to agree. The viscount was happily running headlong off a cliff and didn’t appear to have a care.
Albert reached out to console Royce, who snapped his hand back.
“Relax. I’m not an idiot. I knew full well he would refuse. He, like every other noble in the city, is attending the autumn gala. It’s an annual harvest soirée, only this year there is the added attraction of celebrating the appointment of a new chancellor. It would be a black mark not to be in attendance. When he asked why I was not going, I feigned ignorance, saying I only just arrived in the city and had no idea.”
“He invited you as his guest?” Royce asked.
Albert smiled. “He did indeed. So tonight I will be dining on venison and pheasant until I am stuffed as a bird. While I am, I will see about finding the hidden foibles and prying those dark sinister secrets out into the sacred and inebriated light of candles. Then, as we discussed, I will nonchalantly suggest a possible, and decidedly irresistible, option. I will dangle the chance for them to get even with any rival at no risk whatsoever, just for the cost of, say, twenty or fifty golden tenents.”
“Fifty gold? You are crazy.”
“Trust me. I know these people. Gold means little when balanced against a single moment of humiliation to an enemy, or sometimes even a friend. If you can do the jobs, we’ll all be wealthy soon.”
Royce’s line of sight veered off toward the bar. Hadrian glanced over his shoulder to see the same man he had drawn his sword on in Medford House leaning over the bar speaking to Grue and looking in their direction.
“I notice you didn’t include a blade with your new attire,” Royce said. “Not even a little jeweled dagger.”
“Lords no.” Albert looked appalled. “I don’t fight.”
“I thought all nobles learned sword fighting.” Royce looked to Hadrian.
“I thought so too.”
“Nobles with competent fathers perhaps. I spent my formative years at my aunt’s at Huffington Manor. She held a daily salon, where a dozen noble ladies came to discuss all manner of philosophical topics, like how much they hated their husbands. I’ve never actually held a sword, but I can tie a mean corset and apply face paint like a gold-coin whore.”
This caused Royce and Hadrian to chuckle. When Royce stopped abruptly, Hadrian didn’t need to turn this time. He could hear the footfalls on the wooden floor.
“Having a good time, are you?” Grue asked. He was as greasy-looking as ever. “So it turns out you two are friends with that harlot. Willard says you stopped him from taking their tun. Says you busted up Gitty and Brock. Gitty’s still laid up and bemoaning the loss of his front tooth.”
“That was an accident. He hit the banister badly,” Hadrian said. “Still, they shouldn’t have been stealing the ladies’ tun.”
“Ladies!” Grue laughed. “That’s a good one, mister. Never heard no whores called ladies before. Those boys were there on my orders. I told you earlier how they’ve been cutting in on my business, making it impossible to turn any profit by stealing all my customers. The only reason I survive is because I’m the only place down here on Wayward with the royal writ to sell ale. But now it turns out they’re starting to make their own, and she’s in tight with the administrators. Cast some sort of witchy spell on them so they agree to whatever she asks. She’ll get her writ—then I’ll be out of business. A man would be stupid to drink here when he can go across the street and have his ale with a pretty wench sitting on his knee. With that much business, she could give drinks for free and I’d have to close my doors. I ain’t gonna let that happen. That’s why I sent the boys over to take her cask of wort and shut her down before she can hatch her plans.”
“So you sent them over.” Royce stated the obvious, which was not like him, but his voice had a tone like a tumbler clicking into place.
“Of course I did, only you two had to interfere. I can’t say I’m happy with that.”
Hadrian marveled at how every time Grue spoke, he tied a noose tighter around his neck. “Are you asking us to leave, or is this where you and your friends teach us a lesson?”
“Neither. Gitty’s awful mad, but Gitty’s also an idiot. I was thinking just the opposite. You boys handled yourselves well. Maybe I could hire you to work for me.”
“Hire us?” Hadrian asked.
“I could use a couple of toughs to keep things orderly. You know, stop the bricklayers from smashing the cups and glasses and keep fellas like Stane from killing girls. That sort of thing. Despite what she likely told you, I learned from that mistake. It’s really bad for business when anyone gets killed in your alehouse—even a whore.”
“Thought you didn’t have any girls,” Royce said. He was crouching more than sitting now, leaning forward, his eyes focused and wide. Hadrian had seen cats like that just before they pounced.
“Well, I might just be getting me some. I’ll even do you a favor and tell you who beat her, if you’re still interested.”
“You told us you didn’t know,” Royce said.
“I’m a businessman. I don’t give stuff away for free.” He grinned.
“Too late, we already learned it was Lord Exeter.”