Firebrand

Chapter 682: Method and Opportunity

Method and Opportunity

Nowhere had seen more change since the conquest of the city than the copper lanes. Morcaster suddenly had several times more soldiers than usual in garrison, and patrolling the poorer districts kept them busy. For the first time in years, perhaps decades, the copper lanes saw regular patrols of ten legionaries through both day and night. It had made some people's lives more peaceful, others more difficult.

Opinions remained divided; half the district seemed to prefer the old status that they knew and understood, or profited from, while the remainder hoped this was a precursor to other improvements. And a few feared that what had happened to the Khivan quarter with the new insula would happen here as well.

Regardless of opinion, everyone knew to get off the street and stay behind locked doors as five hundred legionaries of the third cohort of the Tenth Legion came marching through the quarter. The swift pace of their boots on the cobbled stones declared that they had come for a specific reason, and every resident prayed it had nothing to do with them.

It soon became apparent that their destination was The Copper Drum, the largest structure in the district. It did not appear to be that big from the outside, being various houses built together, but all locals knew what and more importantly who could be found within.

Approaching, the cohort split into its five centuriae to surround the entire neighbourhood. Once in position, Prefect Quintus gave the order, and the legionaries stormed the building.

***

Employing watchful eyes throughout the lanes, the people of The Copper Drum had warning as the soldiers marched towards them. Once the alarm spread, panic overtook both staff and customers inside the establishment, and people scrambled to escape through the nearest doors, tripping over furniture and each other.

Acting in a calmer fashion, but still making haste, Kerra stuffed her pockets full of valuables from her drawers along with a dagger in her belt before finally grabbing a candle. Resolutely, she made her way through the tavern; some corridors were empty, others had people shouting and running. For once, the owner of the Drum had to step aside in the corridors, lest she be gored by stampeding customers.

While they made for the doors, she ventured deeper into the complex, reaching the basement. She lit a torch with her candle and opened a hatch in the floor to descend the staircase hewn in stone underneath.

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With careful movement on the uneven steps, she almost made it to the bottom of the stairs before she froze. At the bottom, two cloaked figures stood.

Removing his hood to reveal his face, Martel shook his head. "Too predictable, Kerra."

"Martel. Unexpected to see you here. Given I once let you pass this corridor, would you return the favour?"

"I know it was you. The arrows used, the men used, it all points to you."

"How could – ah." She exhaled. "You arranged it. Choosing the same route every time, controlling the method by offering Tyrian arrows. You provided me with method and opportunity."

"I learned from the best. And I'll give you a choice," Martel declared. "I don't believe you'd do something like this unless you got handsomely paid by one of the many people who'd want me dead. Unless you want to face the executioner, you'll tell me who."

"You leave me little choice, I suppose." Swiftly, Kerra threw the torch at them and turned to race up the stairs.

Martel sighed, summoning a wall of flames to block the way up while Eleanor with empowered dexterity caught the torch. "We'll give you some time to think about it. A night in a cell does wonders for clarity, I find."

***

After handing Kerra over to his men, Martel took a walk around the tavern, ending up in the common room. While he had been to The Copper Drum when he and Eleanor first emerged from the Undercroft, he had scarcely registered his surroundings at that time, rushing towards the nearest exit to accomplish their task. Now, he allowed himself the luxury of memory.

The first night visiting this place with Maximilian, where they had been caught cheating at dice. What a long and twisted road that had placed him on. He looked towards the fighting pit with its balconies for spectators. While he had never fought in this establishment, it reminded him of his own time in the rain, and his friendship with the other fighters.

It had been short-lived; after Kerra's betrayal, using him as bait to draw Tibert out, Martel had stopped coming to the Drum. He wondered if they still fought here, Lothar, Cornelius, and Butcher. Probably. They would be hard pressed to find other employment that paid as much when fighting was the only trade they knew. Well, they would be forced to now.

"Sir Quintus," Martel called out. His prefect appeared before him. "Have all the food and drink in this place confiscated and brought to the fortress. No reason to let it spoil. Otherwise, lock it down and leave a strong guard behind. Nobody in or out except our own."

"Sir!" the prefect responded, giving a salute before he turned around and began barking orders.

Martel let his eyes glance over the tavern. It was strange to see it this way, filled with men in uniform; before, nobody from the garrison would ever set foot in this place. Rather than raucous laughter and a cacophony of voices talking, only boots against wooden boards could be heard. A few unlucky patrons and servants, too slow to have made their escape, sat on the floor with their hands bound.

He could think of a few ways to use a large structure like this in the heart of the copper lanes. A place to feed the poor much more efficiently than the temples did, or barracks for a cohort maintaining the peace in the copper lanes. Eleanor might have good ideas as well. But it would never again be what it had once been. The days of the Copper Lady had come to an end.

He looked at his legate. "Let's go home."