Chapter 297- An overnight fall from wealth

An overnight fall from wealth

A cold wind descended down the mountain tops in the north and blew across their stony feet. By the time it ventured along the rocky plains to Frost City, it became a pleasant, welcome breeze. From the farmers tending their fields to the nobles relaxing in their villas outside the city, it also chased away the summer heat. In the waning light of the late evening, the cool weather thus brought contented sighs from many.

Some individuals, however, showered curses on this wind as it interfered with their activity. As the rays of the sun diminished to greet the dusk, the blood pressure of certain men approached a rupturing point.

"Light another briar, bring more coals."

"Empty the box, maybe the stones at the bottom are genuine."

"Throw some oil in this brazier, probably the fire needs to burn hotter."

"You there, where do you think you're going? Guards! No one is to leave this field. Kill anyone who dares to disobey my orders!"

Patriarch Gofart upped his yells while swaying uneasily from his seat upon an overturned empty crate. Littered around him under the numerous fires lay heaps of gravel and smashed boxes. Scraping, clanking, and the intermittent sizzling pops originated from the emptying of cold gravel into the metal fire bowls.

Yet each toss of damp stones refused to unlock the fragrance he sought. Only hissing smoke from the intense fires billowed out to choke his labored breaths. The two servants standing beside him cowered in fear of facing his wrath while fanning his dripping and glistening wrinkled frame.

Paks!

"Arrrgh! My eye, by the devils, my eye!"

Stones exploded amid one of the sizzling fires, sending hot shrapnel flying. The purple-faced Patriarch paused his rasping breaths as he witnessed his elder son scream while clutching his face. The dreadful wails continued as the son then dunked a bucket of water onto his head. A scent of roasting hair joined the sooty air.

Before the Patriarch could respond, the words of his younger son, drifted from a nearby fire.

"That was the last crate..."

The vision of watching his elder son rolling on the ground in agony blurred as the patriarch hefted his flabby arm. The motion ceased halfway as the conclusion of today's activity finally sunk in. The weight of the disaster cleared his mind and allowed him to prophesied the consequences. The gravity of the current situation tossed whatever he wanted to say out from his quivering lips. His dark pupils disappeared up and behind his eyelids.

Thump!

"Ahh! Patriarch! Help, the Patriarch has fainted!"

***

"Did you hear the rumor about the merchant house of Gofart?"

"You mean about how the Patriarch sent his younger son into the desert kingdom to bring back rocks to sell?"

"Haha, indeed! As if we don't have enough stones from living at the foot of the mountains. Perhaps I should dig up a few from my little courtyard and sell it for him."

A group of merchants guffawed while yelling across their stalls in the bustling marketplace. A few curious shoppers paused and then inquired about this latest story. Beggars and street urchins, who apparently seemed well-informed, hobbled out from their corners to embellish the tale. Sometimes their efforts were rewarded with a welcomed copper coin.

In a corner of a bustling square on the other side of the city, a few men also conversed in hushed whispers.

"The talk in the tavern is that he even killed off the guards and servants who returned. An order like that only makes the rumors seem true."

"Yes, the word is that the garrison sent guards this morning to investigate. Killing over a hundred people just because your son got himself bamboozled in a southern market. What a vicious house! Trying to keep their stupid failure a secret by wiping out your loyal servants."

"I know right! My wife works as a servant in their kitchen. I made her quit last night when I heard the news. Luckily, she found a job at a bakery near the slum district. You won't believe the gossip she says on what goes on in that filth merchant House."

The eyelids fluttered on the wrinkled face of the mass of flab occupying the large bed. Patriarch Gofart heaved a choking gasp as if waking from the dead. Coughing, he complied with the helping hands that shifted his upper half into an upright position. By the time he regained his wits and surveyed the room, the servants had retreated behind the relatives and important members of the Gofart House.

"Have the servants leave the room. Place a guard outside the door."

The old man croaked while raising an arm of dismissal. He then rubbed the flaps under his throat with a frown. Looking at the faces filled with worry and borderline panic, the weight of the last vivid memory crashed down upon his shoulders. With a long breath, he composed himself in the fashion of an experienced leader of a house.

"How long did I swoon for?"

He asked since he recognized his own sleeping quarters of his mansion inside Frost City.

"You have been sleeping for two days. We transported you back to the mansion and sent for a priest and healer."

His Eldest son stepped forward while clasping his hands and initiating a slight bow. The left side of his face bore pitted scars from the burns inflicted by the rupturing stones within the oil-fueled fire. No amount of healing potions could restore his chubby face.

"Two days... No matter, where is your brother? What have you learned within this time? I want to know who robbed us. Have you isolated the guards and servants of the convoy? We need to question them thoroughly."

Patriarch Gofart asked as a shade of red rose from below his neckline and flowed towards his face. No matter how idiotic his second son, he knew quite well of his nature. His offspring would not engage in a trade to waste away the entire wealth of the House.

"We found the markings of a crest from another merchant house among the crates. I dispatched my son and half of the guards of the House to find them. It seems that in their haste to rob us, they forgot to change the crate."

"I believe this occurred when the entire convoy fell ill on the road. While we suffered in the throes of life and death, they swapped the contents of our wagons. Since leaving the Desert Kingdom, our convoy always remained tightly guarded."

The younger Gofart added angrily while stepping forward beside his older brother. One look from the old man, however, smacked away all that anger into fear.

"If this is the case, question the servants and guards. Someone should have at least seen something. Don't let any guards or servants present in the villa that night leave the premises. I don't need to remind you of the devastation any news of this would cause to our family."

The eyes of the Patriarch narrowed on spotting the trembling lips on his sons.

"What is it? So?"

"Someone spread a rumor the same night on how Simon got scammed and returned with rocks. The rumor also said we were killing off the servants and guards at our villa to prevent the truth from leaking. Because of this, the garrison sent a guard troop to investigate."

"What?!"

The shade of pink on the face of the patriarch began reddening into a lively purple. The Eldest son bit his lip before continuing on noticing the change.

"As if not enough, the talk reached the ears of the servants and guards inside the villa. During the arrival of the garrison troop, someone broke the news that a few of the servants were indeed missing. The words caused chaos and ended with the garrison troops escorting away our now distrusting guards and servants."

"By the heavens! How could this happen so quickly? What about the Guild? We cannot allow this rumor to spread to the ears of our lenders. Send word out to claim this as slander and snuff it out!"

The old man clenched a fist and then pounded it onto the bed.

"Too late, father. It's too late... Within one night, every tavern and corner in the city knew of our misfortune. Yesterday, representatives from the Guild appeared on our doorstep, inquiring about our ability to repay our loans. Over half of the merchants in the city refuse to trade with us unless we provide gold upfront. Even the beggars roaming the gutters consider our House as a laughing stock."

"What devilry is this?! The fallout from this will break our house! No one will want to trade with us on hearing rumors like these. Who ratted their filthy gums? In all the taverns, you say? How could this happen? How?"

The old leader slumped onto the cushions in despair. By sheer willpower and effort, he wrestled himself from the throes of another swooning. After a lengthy period of uncomfortable silence, the aged leader spoke.

"Wealth... we need to gather as many coins as possible to delay those money-lenders who will come knocking. Simon, follow the lead and recapture our wealth. Kill the robbers if you need to do so. Go join your nephew in this task. This quest involves the very survival of our house."

Staring at the rafters on the high ceiling, Patriarch Gofart looked to his scarred son.

"Inform Elder Higg and also Elder Wick. We must have them ready for the competition between the Ancient Houses during the fall. If we can defeat an Ancient Clan, then we will earn a valuable position that can be used as leverage. Remember, the future of our House now rides on success in the competition."

With a wave of his hand, Patriarch Gofart dismissed the crowd.

Outside in the hallway, the eldest son smacked his fist into the stone wall while careful not to damage his pudgy fingers.

"Simon, send the word out to all clan members in the city to gather as much gold as possible. The family needs to brace for a storm."

The man rubbed the fresh scars on his face as his fingers ran unconsciously over the burnt beard surrounding his blackened chin. He then turned to the guard walking obediently behind him. This fellow proved valuable in discovering the crest of the merchant thief and served him well in handling personal matters. It was due to the man's cunning and sharp mind that aided in his rise among his fellow guards.

"Some good may yet come of this, Ursus. As long as we can weather the storm of merchants knocking on our doors, we can participate in the competition among the Ancient Clans. Send word to my brother Wung Pigu. Let him know I plan to join him in the competition. With two additional Sersens, I am sure we can defeat the Clan he has his eyes set on."

Seeing the guard bow he then added.

"Ursus, continue to search for that family. I want them to witness my clan's ascension at their expense. Maybe the added pressure will also ripen them for a spot of blackmailing. Women do so tend to offer themselves in hopes of protecting their families."

"As you wish, lord. Your words are my command."

Ursus replied while gazing at the chubby back of the leaving merchant. In his mind, however, a different scene played out. The guard remained in awe at the efficiency of his true masters. The wordings of the different rumors at just the right time created chaos and spread over the city like wildfire. Not even the Military possessed the ability to achieve such results.

Like the sages reading the stars, the information they relayed to him about the foreign crest proved true, and once again increased his standing within this House. His own family might yet reside in the slums but they never lived on the edge of poverty.

His wife held a stable job at a baker while his son learned to read and write at a special orphanage. Barring the receding smell usually hovering over the slums, his street now resembled the ones found in the better districts. Shaking his head as to the overwhelming power supporting him, he then muttered silently within his mind.

'How could I have ever wished to serve this bunch of fat idiots... Unfortunately, they somehow pissed off a clan of true power.'

****