Arlen eschewed his horse in favour of marching through his town accompanied by twenty of his guard in a very obvious show of strength. There were faster routes to the Lakehome Inn but Arlen wanted as many people as possible, friends and enemies, to see his intent.
So, with the sun trying to warm a cloudy day and dry the streets that had been swept once again by unseasonably heavy rain, Jasto Arlen strode from the gates of Arlen Castle. Walking quickly up the wide, stone-chipped avenue between his private gardens and the barracks, he turned right on to Market Approach, a meandering street that linked the town to the north trails. Market Approach was peppered by cross-streets the whole of its length, while to the east, increasingly sumptuous merchant and shippers' houses culminated in the magnificent Park of the Martyrs' Souls. To the west, south of
the barracks, the silk and fine goods market and the playhouse fronted a less affluent quarter including Aden's castle workers' cottages and tenements, the stables and the plain but most important Temple of the Sea.
Arlen headed straight down Market Approach, a slightly sloped, cobbled street that opened out into Centenary Square, which housed the main market, selling everything from food to weapons to fine carved furnishings, and ringed all round with eating houses, inns and even the odd gallery. This early, the square was only just beginning to fill but word would spread quickly and Arlen felt his anger rising further. His was a well-formed, prosperous town built on hard work and a tight business ethic. No one would be allowed to change that.
Waving at his townspeople and trading greetings with anyone he knew, Arlen turned right out of the square to walk through poorer tenement streets into the long-nicknamed Ice Quarter where the trawler men had traditionally lived and cold-stored late-landed fish before selling catches in the dockfront fish market each mid-morning. Arlen walked past the iron foundry and fish market on his way to the dockside, taking in the empty harbour that housed the fishing fleet and the first of the deepwater berths, before turning left and walking past an attractive, sleek elven vessel, obviously just tied up, and stopping finally at the doors to the Lakehome Inn.
Looking along the dock past die timber yard and on to the Salt Quarter, Arlen could see a few people about, including some of the Black Wings lounging around jetty-posts. They, like his townspeople and visitors, straightened quicldy, and before his sergeant-at-arms had finished hammering on the inn's door to demand attention, a crowd was beginning to gather, a hubbub of noise filling the air and taking men and women from their work as curiosity got the better of them.
Locks were slid back and the left-hand of a pair of painted black wooden doors squeaked open. One of the innkeeper's sons, a scrawny lad in his early teens, peered out, his freckled face blanching under his shock of tangled orange hair.
'Don't worry, Petren,' said Arlen. 'Just wake your father. I need to talk to one of your guests. Now.'
The frightened boy said nothing in reply, just bobbed his head
and turned back into the gloom. Presently, they could hear his voice echoing through the inn, reedy and high, unbroken.
'Father. Pa! The Earl's at the door, the Earl's at the door.'
Arlen allowed himself a brief smile, catching the eye of his sergeant-at-arms.
'At least he knew who I was,' said Arlen.
'Yes sir.'
During the short wait, the crowd swelled and amongst them, Arlen counted over a dozen of the Black Wings. Right now, the atmosphere was calm and curious but it wouldn't take much to turn it ugly. He leaned towards the sergeant-at-arms and ordered him to place men near the Black Wings.
'My Lord?' It was the innkeeper, Denat.
'Sorry to wake you,' said Arlen.
'Not at all, my Lord. I've been up cooking breakfasts a while now.'
'Busy time for you?'
'I'm full,' confirmed Denat.
'Hmm.' Arlen nodded. 'Unfortunately, I fear you are about to lose much of your current custom.'
'Pardon, my Lord?' Denat frowned and fidgeted at the door. He was a heavier set but balding version of his son.
'I want Selik, is it? Yes, Selik, at this door immediately.'
'Oh.' Denat hesitated. 'Of course. I'll fetch him for you.'
'Thank you.' Arlen's smile was thin. He regretted the necessity for men like Denat but had to concede his type was useful to the town's economy.
'I am quite capable of fetching myself,' drawled a voice Arlen hadn't heard before. Disabled. Not true. And when the misshapen figure appeared around the door and forced himself past the retreating Denat, the Earl could see why.
'Earl Arlen, I take it?' The figure proffered a hand which Arlen ignored.
'Correct. And you are unwanted in this town.'
Selik raised an eyebrow. 'Really? By whom?'
Arlen regarded him blankly. 'Me. And that is enough. However, I'm not an unfair man and I've watched your activities for longer than I should.'
'I-'
'Be silent.' Arlen raised a finger but not his voice, unused to being interrupted. 'And listen to me. Trade in this town is run by word, bond and delivery of goods and payment, not by threat, fist and intimidation. Goods stolen are accepted losses only if the perpetrator cannot be apprehended. And violations of the person, particularly the female person, are not tolerated under any circumstances.
'These key laws and numerous others have been transgressed by you or your men. So here's what happens now. With two exceptions, I want every one of your men accounted for and out of my town by midday. Any found still here after that time will be deemed in breach of the fair trading laws and suffer the appropriate penalties.
'Any goods you have bought legitimately but not received will be delivered to you beyond Arlen's borders. Any shipping deals you have struck, whether fairly or under duress, will be deemed void and any monies due will be returned to you.
'You, Selik, will remain here not only until your men have gone but more importandy, until you identify and hand over the two scum who molested a woman and threatened her young child in my peaceful streets.
'Do I make myself clear?'
Arlen's speech had brought a hush to the crowd that now numbered in excess of one hundred, every one craning to, catch every word. Even this close, the blustery wind off die lake snatched away the odd phrase yet enough was clear to send a ripple of applause around the gathering. Arlen did not acknowledge it.
Throughout, Selik had met Arlen's gaze, a sneer evident on his smeared face. He had not attempted to interrupt. The applause died down quickly, the crowd anticipating Selik's response.
T understood this to be a free town. It appears I was mistaken.'
'No, not mistaken,' said Arlen. 'But freedom has to be bounded by rules to avoid it becoming anarchy. This is what you have attempted to bring here and I will not tolerate it.'
Selik nodded, his sneer broadening into what might pass as a smile.
'We asked for co-operation and received none,' he said quietly. 'Yet we had to have what we tried to buy and I am afraid some of
your traders did not seem to understand that. You see, Earl Arlen, there is a war coming, though you might not see it as such. And I am on the side of the just, fighting against the rising threat of dominion over Balaia of a single magical power.'
Arlen scoffed. 'War. Selik, we are all aware of problems with the mana spectrum. I do talk to my mages, you know. But these problems will pass, and with them this irritating wind and chilling rain. Don't attempt to hang your perverse actions on a magical uprising.' Arlen took half a pace forwards, feeling revulsion grow for the man he confronted.
'I know your beliefs and you are free to hold them. But you are not free to impose them on my people or to use them to justify your simpleminded thuggery. Now do you understand what you are to do, or do I take you to the jail to think on it at greater length?'