Saigo flung open the door. On the threshold, filling the entire space of the small shop, stood four men.
They were lads of less-than-intellectual appearance — their malicious, weather-beaten faces were riddled with scars and bruises from constant brawls and chronic alcoholism.
The 'knights of the road' preferred dark, worn clothing. With his experienced gaze, Saigo immediately noted the characteristic bulges under jackets and cloaks — carelessly concealed weapons.
"Linsi, there you are, you little fish devil!" one of them drawled loudly with cheap irony, the one in the red scarf — quite unusual for the criminal brotherhood.
"I... I was expecting you to arrive in the evening," Linsi began, faltering and timidly.
"But we came now," — a pause, to size up Saigo with an appraising, insolent look. "Or aren't you glad to see us?"
Linsi fell silent, lowering his head dejectedly, and then Saigo took the floor.
"Would you care to share the reason for your visit?" — his voice was calm and slightly ironic; he already knew what would happen to all four of them in just a couple of minutes.
The bandits stared with undisguised interest at the insolent fellow. The leader, the one with the scarf, raised an eyebrow slightly, maintaining a feigned sense of superiority in his voice.
"We're here for the money."
"Do you charge interest on long-term loans?" Saigo parried.
"Ha-ha-ha!" — a coarse, choked laugh rang out. The leader even shed a tear from the effort and, wiping it away with a dirty sleeve, continued:
"And where did a sharp-tongued fellow like you come from?"
"I..." Saigo hesitated for a moment. He had no desire to flash his status — both as a potential emperor and as an assassin from the Kotto clan — before this rabble.
Leaning against the counter, he continued: "It doesn't matter where I'm from. What matters more is what I want to get across to you. Take your adolescents, turn around, and go adolescent each other until you forget the way here."
"Saigo..." Linsi wheezed in an almost whisper, full of horror, tugging at his sleeve. Saigo calmly brushed him off, not taking his eyes off the leader.
His 'colleagues' also stared at the stranger. The leader smirked nervously, almost laughed, and in an instant, the silver glint of metal flashed in his sleeve. Without further ado, he lunged forward, closing in on Saigo, and...
Was floored by an instant, swift kick to the Adam's apple. The sound was short and wet, the effect lightning-fast. The leader fell to the floor like a log, showing no signs of life.
"Get them!" the remaining three shouted almost simultaneously, but Nuria had other plans.
From nowhere, an elegant ebony staff with a small garnet at its tip appeared in her hand. In an instant, her eyes glowed with a poisonous green light. The bandits, who had turned towards Saigo, didn't even understand what had happened.
Whoosh... Whoosh... Whoosh...
A green lightning bolt shot from the tip of the staff — thin, no thicker than two fingers, unremarkable in appearance. It raced through the room with a soft hiss, ricocheting from one bandit to another, dropping them to the ground like a hurricane fells young trees — quickly, efficiently, and mercilessly.
Saigo whistled — wordlessly. Though what else had he expected from an elf? Handing the now-unneeded knife to Linsi, who was pale as a sheet, he proceeded to the leader. The latter, sprawled on the floor, had slightly recovered, coughing hoarsely and spitting clots of blood onto the wooden planks. Saigo grabbed him by that very red scarf.
"Well then, satisfied? Earn a lot of money?"
"Go to hell!" the leader growled angrily, hoarsely, and spat at his tormentor. Saigo naturally dodged, and only pressed the scoundrel harder to the floor.
"I'll go," Saigo replied. "But..."
BAM!
The door burst from its hinges with a crash, and a squad of guardsmen, weapons at the ready, stormed inside, smashing the counters.
Saigo, the elf, and even Linsi — all three synchronously, almost picturesquely, raised their eyebrows. The squad commander immediately noticed this and nervously spun his head around, trying to figure out what was wrong.
"You could have come tomorrow," Nuria said with a slight taunt, a barely concealed smile flickering on her lips.
The guard commander, a decurion in a cloak the color of a dank night, exhaled nervously.
The situation was ambiguous and quite foul. On one hand, they had screwed up completely — they'd missed the moment of an attack on the person under their protection. The fact that this very 'target' could twist all their necks in no time was something the decurion preferred not to dwell on.
On the other hand, it was he who had sent them to weave through the back alleys, picking their way through palisades of fences and endless garlands of dirty laundry drying on clotheslines.
In short, he realized he was in trouble. If Nuria filed a report to the proper authorities, he could say goodbye to his capital city service.
He'd be kicking water around in some backwater garrison, playing the role of imperial overseer of hay supplies.
Saigo just shrugged. He genuinely didn't care about anyone's delicate emotional anguish. He turned his head towards Linsi, without getting off the leader's chest.
"And how long have they been bothering you?" Linsi hesitated, but realizing there was no turning back, forced out:
"For about a couple of days. The protection racket gangs are changing every week now, if not more often."
Saigo raised an eyebrow questioningly, expecting an explanation.
"After that raid, many ended up in the mines. Or on the gallows. And nature, well... or the gods, abhor a vacuum."
"Alright," Saigo summarized. "Hey, you," — he dug his knee into the back of the defeated bandit. — "Where's your dump? You know, the place you crawled out of."
"I'll tell you noth... Ow!"
A finger crunched with a juicy, unpleasant sound.
"I can't hear you."
"Your mother! Ah-ah-ah!"
A second finger shared the fate of the first.
The guardsmen watched the spectacle with detached disgust. They themselves, of course, didn't shy away from such methods, but preferred to delegate this dirty work to the professionals of the Torture Chamber.
Linsi was trembling slightly, while the elf couldn't have cared less — she smiled sweetly right at the bandit leader's pain-contorted face.
On the fourth finger, the man gave in and, overcoming the pain and the desire to faint, croaked: "The third alley of the southern side slums! The building with three crossed daggers on the door!"
"Excellent..." Saigo hissed.
And then... crunch! — a sharp heel strike to the back of the head sent the poor wretch to the next world.
"Well, congratulations, boys!" Saigo announced cheerfully, getting up.
"On what?" a nearby guardsman asked stupidly.
"On what? We're going hunting!"
"No! We need to return to the mansion and hand this matter over to the city watch!" the senior guardsman began to recite by rote.
Saigo just smirked.
"Don't want to, suit yourselves. I'll go alone, then..."
"No!" the decurion squealed in panic and glanced at his subordinates. Slight horror was written on their faces like an open book. "We... we're with you!"
"Well, that's just fine," Saigo said and headed towards the exit with an easy gait, as if heading to a social soiree.
His motley retinue — the elf along with the squad of overly shiny guardsmen — hurried after him, while Linsi remained in his shop; after all, the damages from the trashing wouldn't count themselves.