The market square heaved with activity, the bustle of dozens of merchants, washerwomen, and beggars going about their day's activities. On a street corner, a priestess of Melitele squawked about sinners and redemption. One silk merchant squabbled loudly with a wine trader over a cracked barrel leaking over his stock, the confrontation drawing the gazes of many present. The mob always liked a show.
Gedymin skulked in the shadow of one of the city's taverns, skirting around the crowds carefully. He managed to avoid the prying eyes of the townsfolk, slipping into a narrow alley between the tavern and a warehouse. There, he found a small staircase descending down beneath ground level, a small wooden door set deep in the shadowed opening. He approached, knocking in a curious, irregular pattern, then waited. There was a scraping noise, followed by a small slot at eye level opening. Narrowed eyes peered out, looking the young lad up and down, then glancing behind him, before finally retreating, the slot slammed shut with a snap. The door swung open slowly, cautiously, and the figure beyond, a hunched old man with a hooked nose, gestured for Gedymin to enter. The door ground shut behind him.
Inside, the small subterranean room was dimly lit by a half dozen sputtering candles, their greasy black smoke filling the air with a choking aroma. Shelves lined the walls, filled with all kinds of trinkets and baubles, from fine porcelain plates to brass water jugs, heavy leather tomes to gold-rimmed looking glasses. In the centre of the room, a table was piled so high with ledgers and papers that it bowed in the middle, oaken planks groaning under the weight. A chest sat on one end of the table, locked firmly. A quill and inkwell sat in the only free space on the table, a lantern hanging from a hook overhead to cast a small pool of light over the workspace.
Gremnel was well known to the denizens of Oxenfurt's underbelly, said to have Dwarven blood in his veins, somewhere. The hunchbacked old man shuffled with an unsteady step, one leg longer than the other, tapping his cane, a simple ash staff with a brass topper shaped to resemble a laughing imp's visage, as he walked. Every step summoned a grunt of effort from the old man, who breathed heavily through open lips, framed by a scruffy grey beard and poorly-shaped moustache. His eyes squinted tightly as he peered through the gloom, ushering Gedymin closer to his table.
"What've you got for me?" He grumbled, his voice hoarse from decades of using the pipe. He coughed, clearing a gobbet of phlegm, which he swallowed. "Not another set of tin spoons, I hope. I have better ways to waste my time."
"I swear, I thought those were silver!" Gedymin protested.
"And now you know better." Gremnel huffed. "So I hope this isn't to be another disappointment?"
"No. This time, I can really deliver." Gedymin took the pouch from his belt, and cast it onto the table.
The aged fence opened the pouch, pouring its contents out into his palm. The gemstones glimmered in the dim light, stars in the sooty darkness. Gremnel whistles, holding up a violet-coloured stone to the lantern.
"Where in the hells did a street-rat like you find these?" He marvelled, inspecting another gem.
"That doesn't matter." Gedymin quickly dismissed. "How much can you give me for them?"
"Well, the market these days ain't what it used to be, son." Gremnel inspected a large, fat ruby, glistering between his thumb and forefinger like a juicy berry. "The Gnomes flood the market with their own stones, and-"
"Don't give me that shit." The youngster cut in sharply. "You could sell blooms to the Elves, so don't start telling me how hard it would be for you to move these on. Just tell me what they're worth."
"... Fine." Gremnel spared Gedymin a fiery sideways glance with his eyes, then returned to inspecting the stones. "They're all of pretty good clarity, finely cut... I reckon I could do fifty orens apiece."
"Are you kidding?" Gedymin scoffed. "I could get a better price from a Troll. Try again."
"You're a pain in my arse, Gedymin, but you've got good instincts." Gremnel sighed. "Fine. seventy-five apiece, and not a copper more."
"Deal." Gedymin nodded. "Now, what about this?"
He produced the golden medallion from his pocket, allowing it to swing on its chain. The ornately carved circle of gold dangled between the youngster and the fence, who drew in a long, sharp breath. He reached out to snatch the golden disc, turning it over in grubby fingers. He rubbed at the salmon embossed in its surface, silent for a long, long moment.
"This is a very high quality piece of work." He muttered under his breath. "The symbol will make it very easy for others to identify. Best thing to do would be to send it off to Novigrad, or even further, to sell, so it isn't seen by someone who might recognise it. otherwise, you could melt it down, but then it'll only have value for the raw gold. Either way, not gonna be easy to move on. I'll give you a hundred and fifty for it." He raised a hand, palm aimed at the young lad before he could open his mouth to protest. "And before you say anythin' smart, that's as good as I'll go."
Gedymin paused, considering pushing his luck, but then relented. The old man was right. Selling such a distinctive piece on would be a complicated matter. he silently nodded, at which Gremnel smirked.
"Good. Now, it'll take me a little time to get the coin fer all of this. Bring it all back after noon has passed, I should have it all by then." He handed the pouch and the medallion back, then waved the youngster off with a shooing gesture. "Off with you!"
~o~0~o~
The warehouse overlooking the dockside had been the victim of a recent fire, fortunately quenched before it could devastate the rest of the city. Even so, in spite of the best efforts of the owners, the building had been utterly gutted, little more than a skeleton of blackened timbers. A few walls offered shelter from the elements, and some patches of roof remained, but otherwise the warehouse was now useless to its owners, waiting to be torn down and rebuilt.
Gedymin and his friends had been quick to move into the blackened husk, happy to take advantage of the temporary refuge. A small pile of sacks in the most sheltered corner of the building provided a rudimentary place to sleep, while a barrel that had once held salted mackerel now collected rainwater for the youngsters to drink and wash themselves in. It was no luxury, but it was enough to survive, all that Gedymin and his crew could hope for.
The four children now lurked inside that burnt husk, sitting in silence. Ebbe and Son sat together, cross-legged on the floor, seeming to draw strength from one another. Ebbe, the youngest by just a few months, rocked unsteadily, arms wrapped tightly around his narrow chest. He stared at the scorched floor with dead, empty eyes. son tried to reach out and put a comforting arm around his shoulders, but the young boy flinched, recoiling from the touch.
Kera sat on the remains of an old crate, chewing at a fingernail nervously. Her hair was even more unkempt than usual, dark circles around her eyes from a lack of sleep.
Gedymin paced back and forth, unable to find any peace in sitting still. He would occasionally glance upwards, looking to the sunlight streaming down through the gaps in the roof. The sun had yet to reach its height, although it was drawing close. Frustrated at the slow passage of time, the young lad resumed his pacing. Silence hung in the air between the four, until at long last, right when Gedymin felt like he couldn't bear it anymore, Ebbe broke the silence. His voice trembled, as fragile as fractured glass.
"This is bad." He muttered. "This is very, very bad."
"Take it easy, Ebbe." Kera tried to soothe.
"How?!" Ebbe snapped back at her. "We killed two people, Kera! You can't just 'take it easy' after something like that."
"We'll get through it." The girl tried to reason. "Nobody saw us, there's nothing to lead the guard to us. we just need to lay low for a while, until it all blows over."
"That was one of Capricia's girls in his bed." Son muttered, staring ahead with empty eyes. "She's not likely to let that slide."
"We'll leave town." Kera answered. "Once we get the coin, we can get out of here, and head for Novigrad, or Vizima. Somewhere that nobody knows us, or the name Hans Eckleberg." She paused, turning to face Gedymin. "Isn't that right, Gedymin?"
The young lad opened his mouth to answer, but a noise caught his attention. The rustle of metal on metal, followed by some shouting. His stomach turned to ice as, with wary steps, he moved towards the door, peering out through the narrow gap the warped frame created.
Outside, a dozen men in armour could be seen, all wearing the vivid scarlet of the Redanian crown. One, Gedymin noted with a lurch, wore the ornate pauldrons and helmet of the captain of the guard. Beside him, Gremnel gestured to the building with gnarled hands.
"Shit!" Gedymin hissed. "It's the guard! That bastard Gremnel sold us out."
The other three leapt up, rushing to other parts of the warehouse to peer out through windows and doors. Son let out a dismayed whimper.
"They're here, too." He moaned. "We're surrounded!"
"This is bad. This is very bad." Ebbe, shaking, sagged to his knees, beginning to rock back and forth with tears dancing in his eyes. "It's the noose for us, for sure. I don't wanna hang!"
"We know you're in there!" The captain had turned from the old man, now facing the warehouse. Gedymin recognised his fat, piggish features. The young lad had run into Captain Belger a few times, usually right before spending a night or two experiencing the hospitality of his cells. Now, the portly, middle-aged man strut forward, tilting his head back to bellow at the crumbling warehouse.
"Come quietly. We have the place surrounded, and there's nowhere for you to go."
"What do we do?" Kera asked, stepping up next to Gedymin to look out at the gathered forces.
Gedymin chewed his lip, his mind racing. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, his shoulders sagged. He turned a sorrowful look to his friend. a lump gathered in his throat as he spoke.
"There's nothing we can do." He said apologetically. "They've got us. Our best hope is to hand ourselves in, and hope they go easy on us."
"Fat chance of that." Kera snorted. "Why would they do anything for a bunch of children like us?"
"There might be something I can do." Gedymin straightened, a firm gleam in his gaze. "I'll tell them that it was me who killed them. You were all just watching outside, and had no idea what was going on in there. Maybe they'll let you off the hook with a few nights in the cells."
"What?" Ebbe asked incredulously. "Gedymin- no! We're not about to let you take the fall for this."
"Do you have any other ideas?" Gedymin challenged. His three companions fell silent for a long moment. "That's what I thought. Come on. The longer we make them wait, the more pissed they will be."
With that, the young lad pushed the door open, stepping out into the daylight. All around, guardsmen flinched, reaching for their swords. A couple of blades slithered from their sheathes, while others waited with tense breaths, unsure what the youngster might do. Captain Belger stepped forward, a haughty expression crossing his features.
"Gedymin." He drawled, a satisfied tone filling his words. "I'm putting you and your little bunch of vagrants under arrest for the murder of Hans Eckleberg." A pair of shackles dangled from his hand. "On your knees!"
Obediently, Gedymin knelt in the dirt, keeping his hands out to either side in a gesture of non-aggression. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground before him.
"It was all my fault." Gedymin proclaimed loudly. "The others had nothing to do with it. They just-"
"Do I look like someone who gives a Nekker's shit?" Belger interrupted, stepping up close to him.
The captain grabbed first one wrist, then the other, roughly pulling them together and closing the shackles around them. Other guardsmen gave Kera, Ebbe and Son the same treatment. As the children knelt there, numb, speechless, the guards began to rifle through their pockets, turning out knives, coins and other things into the dirt. Gedymin's precious lockpicks were cast aside without ceremony, a jab of sadness and remorse tugging at the young lad's heart.
Then, with a triumphant snort, the captain produced the pouch of gems and the medallion from the youngster's coat, holding them aloft like some kind of trophy. He held onto the pouch, but passed the medallion to Gremnel, the elderly fence hobbling over to stand next to him.
"This is it?" Belger asked.
"Aye, that's the one. Sure as day." The old man confirmed hoarsely.
"You sold us out." Gedymin managed to lift his head to glare at the older man defiantly. "Why?"
"Why?" Gremnel, groaning as he moved, leaning heavily on his cane, lowered himself into a squat to bring himself level with the kneeling youth. "Can't an old man be concerned with fulfilling his civic duty?"
"Bullshit." Gedymin spat vehemently. "A crooked bastard like you doesn't care about 'civic duty'."
Gremnel smiled at the insult, taking it in stride. He lifted his hand, the medallion draped across his gnarled fingers. A thin, venomous smile crawled across his lips.
"You see this here?" He nodded to the golden disc, the salmon flashing in the light, almost seeming to dance on its own. "This medallion once belonged to my uncle. He was a wealthy man, until he passed, and all his fortune fell to me. I traded this medallion to Eckleberg, in exchange for a caravan of very expensive silks from Ofier." He looked back to the boy, eyes flashing with a dark fury. "Eckleberg brought a vast amount of money into this city, and was one of my best clients. Until you, you little shit, fucked everything up."
The old man reached out, cupping Gedymin's chin, lifting the boy's gaze to meet his own.
"I'd love to see you skinned alive for this, Gedymin." He hissed. "But I guess the gallows will have to do. Sleep well tonight, little street rat. It'll be the last night you and your friends ever see."
With that, Gremnel stood, turning to shuffle away as Captain Belger and his men dragged the children to their feet, hurriedly marching them away.
Gedymin remained silent, unfeeling, as he was frog-marched towards the wagon, staring at his feet, barely managing to put one in front of the other. Guilt, fear, anger, they all raced through his head as, with growing horror, he realised what fate now lay before him. Before his friends. Knowing what the next dawn would bring, dead filled him as the day all too quickly moved into night.