Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

From indulging in prostitutes to examining legal matters, the range in the man’s morals did not seem apparent to him, but I did not mind too much. To be honest, the drinks and bright company would be a blessing tonight. Veron was correct in thinking I had not wanted to be alone.

Located on a good street, the tavern looked rather impressive, much like the private residences on either side of it, with a grand facade made up of regular columns, each one possessing remarkable detail.

As we passed through the iron gates, a couple of alleyways led away either side, but I couldn’t see any assailants or anyone wanting to collect a debt, only puddles glinting in the light of several cressets. So far, the moneylender was keeping his word.

Inside, the building was luxurious, and it didn’t strike me that the place could be considered a crude tavern. Then we passed through to a large room beyond, which was an assault on the senses. The walls were gaudy with colour, a mix of deep reds, purples and blues. There were quite a few people here, many having conversations in booths lit by candles, or lounging on long, circular couches, with hostesses perched nearby. Across a marble floor, drinks were being carried by busy serving staff, while men and women of good standing chatted as if this was any ordinary party. I could only speculate at what was happening in the rooms beyond, where women led men away by the hand. At the end of this long room was a stage, on which women were dancing to the slow, tribal beat of a drum. Needless to say, they were not wearing much, just a few strips of cloth.

Cressets burned, incense was heavy in the air, and everyone but me seemed glad to be there. Veron strode about with an ease I couldn’t quite share. He led us to a small table in front of the stage, where he applauded the three scantily clad female dancers. Each of them wore a mask, possibly for artistic reasons, but I wondered if it was also so that the many hungry eyes around the room could not identify them.

‘Does your wife approve of you coming to this place?’ I asked Veron.

‘Oh, yes – this is one of the milder establishments. She’s probably doing the same sort of thing wherever she is.’

‘Atrella isn’t in the city?’

‘No, she’s out and about doing a few business deals with people in nearby nations. Our children have grown into fine young men and women, and are living their own lives. Well, when they’re not bringing shame on the family, that is. My wife being the really smart one of us has stepped in for me, in order to finish off negotiating various trading deals. It was said I couldn’t be trusted, but I don’t know. Hopefully this business will be enough to see that we live well in our old age. Don’t worry, she’s quite safe – she’s taken twenty former military personnel with her for protection.’ He paused to stress the fact. ‘That’s if they’re not busy roughly taking her at her insistence.’

Veron didn’t even seem annoyed by the prospect of infidelity. He just kept on grinning to himself. Beyond his carefully orchestrated facade, I got the impression that he’d crossed a point in his life where he just didn’t care any more, and that he would now forever drift between islands of sensual pleasure. While I’d had my suspicions about Veron, I felt rather sad for him, suspecting that he might actually be a rather lonely man.

I said nothing while he ordered drinks and motioned for me to sit. After wine was brought to our table, he spoke in the half-light about how often he came here, that he used the cordial atmosphere to negotiate business contracts and trade rights for the city, but most of all he came to escape the Senate.

‘Do you enjoy your work?’ I asked.

He gave me a sly glance. ‘You question me as if I’m a part of an investigation. I know how it works. Get people talking.’

I smiled. ‘I’m merely curious about the life of a politician in Tryum. It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to liaise with someone of such a lofty status.’

He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. ‘People in the city talk a lot. They like to criticize the role of senators.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t criticizing…’

Veron waved my apologies away. ‘I can sympathize with such sentiments. We senators do not always possess a perfect reputation, but many of us do good work, Drakenfeld. We bring money into the city and we honestly try to look after the people. Things are a lot different since the days of the collapse of the Detratan regime. There is fairness and light where there used to be a ruthless rule, though that’s probably why some want to recreate those days. The money’s being spread about more on public services, and not on lining someone’s coffers. Me? I’m happy when people leave me alone, and if that means building a better sewer or public baths, so be it.’

‘And how will recreating the old days work precisely? Remove Detrata from the Union? Risk the wrath of a continent?’

Veron held his hands in the air, grinning. ‘I merely speculate, Drakenfeld! It’s Senate talk, you know me. People talk of a lack of space here, of the need to stretch our wings a little. I’m sure Mauland’s capitulation to us will help on that front. The frontiers are a little safer, the nation can be proud once again.’ He paused to take a sip, one eye on the nearest serving girl. ‘Which reminds me, I wanted to pick your brains about policing.’

‘Ask away,’ I replied.

‘The king’s applying gentle pressure to shake up the cohorts, which means we senators have to deal with them. There is still much crime in the city, and our cohorts, who report to senators individually, are under a great deal of strain, or so they tell us. Between you and me, they seem a remarkably disorganized bunch, and I dare say many of them are corrupt as hell, taking all sorts of illegal payments, working with the gangs and so on, which means the people of Tryum do not trust them. What advice do you have from what you’ve seen so far? I know you’ve not been here long, but I would like a fresh pair of eyes to evaluate matters for me. I have a report on my own district to make to the Senate and I’d like to see if I can improve things not just there but across Tryum. To make it a proud city once again, to recapture some of that discipline from the Empire days…’ He gave me a satisfied look on that final point.

I sipped my watered-down wine before giving him a considered answer.

Constable Farrum kept prisoners in his own home, I explained, in front of his children. The cohorts had so few resources to hand, and gained little respect from the people of the city. In my experience in other cities, this often meant that they preferred to make money on the side. They needed more public resources and a stricter code of training – something to make them feel proud. I suggested Farrum was a good man, ultimately, and that he just needed support.

‘I have seen no evidence of criminality on his part,’ I finished.

‘That’s because he’s in awe of you,’ Veron laughed. ‘It must be rather lovely to be envied.’

‘I don’t see how – I don’t see why.’

‘It’s rather simple. Not only are you an officer of the Sun Chamber – a station which even the most honest of them could only ever dream of obtaining – but you’re also a Drakenfeld. Your father did more to help this city than any of those cohorts combined will achieve. His name carries prestige, and you carry that same name.’

Wearing an eye mask, a girl danced slowly on stage, rather near us, moving her arms through the air as if she was swimming deep underwater. It was an utterly enchanting move, but seemed to be technically brilliant as well.

‘I’m sorry,’ Veron continued, ‘his name must be a lot for you to live up to.’