AN: I felt inspired and wrote this second chapter. My next chapter will be next week on Friday. I hope you all read, review, and enjoy.
Pagliacci-11.
Chapter 2
It was just approaching morning as the sleek black hull of the ship slipped into its moorings. Lothar disembarked with his men, and seeing his port once more; he gave a hearty laugh. The port was rich with all manner of stolen goods from Gotham to Atlantic City. The other vessels he'd sent out had retuned some time ago, and had it not been for Terry's involvement, he would have been on time, the same as the other leaders. But, all in all, it was a fantastic haul for Lothar and his crew.
As the men brought the crates into port, Lothar headed towards the main hall, the Hall of the Revered. As he approached, his shield-maiden, Brynja, stepped forward, "You're late, my love. The others have already begun the council meeting."
"I was delayed. The watcher of the town of rats proved far more—intriguing than the brothers' reports would lead you to believe. Also, before we moved on the harbor, we made a note of the city's waterways. It'd be swift work to make the most of those waterways for far more discreet dealings, but that is for another time. Excuse me while I deal with our brothers and sisters."
Lothar entered the great hall, and he saw the proud chiefs of the clans that joined to make their organization. One of them, a great tree of a man with a fiery red beard, stood and raised his horn, "Lothar the Lackluster! What?! Did the flying rat give you trouble?"
The men and women with him burst into thunderous laughter as Lothar was made to undergo the hazing. He knew far more than the arrogant blowhards who were before him, but he'd made way for them to get the bulk of what they needed. He said nothing to this assault on his character and, taking his axe, laid it against the wall.
The tall, red-bearded man said, "Oye, so what was the major issue today, Lothar? We saw you on the news as we finished our work in the north. Do you not know what subtlety is?"
Again, Lothar was the subject of the mirth of the merry din, and again, he said nothing, knowing full well the importance of his role to the success of the clan overall. He slammed his hand twice, and a beer wench came to him and filled his silver stein.
"Aye, you be brave and important, we all know, Eoferth!" Roared a grizzled old fellow with silvery hair, the last portions of blonde clinging desperately to his mane, "But if memory recalls, Lothar took the role of the lamb, willingly! You had to be begged and implored to fall on your sword!"
The crowd then turned on Eoferth and scornfully laughed at him, a smaller, more ragged man saying, "Aye, he had to be plied with two young maidens and a higher seat!"
The old man stood and raised his gilded ale-horn to Lothar, "You took your licks well, lad and you're a grand man in a fight, despite what old Eoferth says. Give our dear brother his due! He served as the lamb so that we may be fat and contented, filled with rich meat and refined wine! Hail Lothar, Keeper of Drasnir!"
The men all grabbed their steins and horns and said, "All hail!"
A horn was sounded and the feasting and dancing began. Lothar rested, for he had taken his own fair lick from Terry's Batarang. The wound he'd treated with a salve, but it still hurt him like hell. As he drank his wine and ate, Lothar's eyes burned with anger towards the fire-headed Eoferth. Eoferth had always looked down on him. Even when he'd outperformed him, back in the day when both worked for Powers during the family's maneuvering to take over Wayne Industries, Eoferth still had the last laugh in that world. He was always loved as a company man, a brown-noser through and through.
Ah, it was fine, Lothar supposed. After all, he'd been the first to start this merry band of raiders years ago with the help of the old man who'd toasted him, Siegfried. Siegfried had yearned himself for a return to more ancient traditions. Traditions in which men and women seized destiny by the horns and carved their own path by sweet words and a bloodied axe when words were of no avail.
Siegfried was once the proud owner of a biofuel company; however, he was nearly sunk by the likes of Powers when Powers began to buy up all manner of competition to form an unofficial monopoly as the giants of the past had done. If Siegfried wouldn't yield to Powers's money, then it would be through Inque or some other gruesome creature using espionage and sabotage to impact the physical output of the company overall. However, Siegfried saw this coming and had time enough to act due to his connection with Lothar, or as he was known in the civilian world, Ian Trent. Lothar was trying to get onto the board through his merit, and Siegfried saw this through Lothar's dedication first to Wayne Industries and then Powers during their brief Pax Romana.
Siegfried took note of all that Lothar had done for the name of both companies. When he'd conducted his own sabotage against Powers as a stalling tactic, he found that Lothar's father and grandfather had worked for Bruce Wayne. Still, their accolades meant nothing compared to the millions that their innovations made for Wayne Industries. It pained Siegfried to see Ian falling into nearly the same trap as his forebears, and so, one night, he had Lothar approached by his own specialist. Lothar was offered a deal: Infiltrate Derek Powers's office, send the contracts to the saboteurs that were hidden in the CEO computers under luncheons, and when Siegfried's company, Elysian Fields, officially folded, he would have a position of leadership under a system which was a true meritocracy as opposed to the sham that Wayne and Powers embodied.
As Lothar found out, Siegfried was better than his word. Because the moment Elysian Fields was rebounded as The Marauder Company, Lothar and several others had been at the summit dictating just what Marauder would be. In many ways, Lothar helped shape the future of the company into what it was today, a company with two faces. One face was a private military contractor who helped the rich secure and corner select markets by driving up scarcity. The other face was a raiding party of some of the very same men and women, who would rob their former employer under the guise of an old-world raid if they were cheated. They would go on the warpath, killing staff and supporters, raiding technology secrets, and reselling those same secrets to the highest bidder among rival companies.
Marauder had the best of both worlds; brutality and modern efficiency served as their official arm of taxation to the federal governments and the old way of pillage to avenge themselves on oily ticks of people who proved just a bit too greedy. However, as an insurance policy, they had their source of distinction that only the old world could give. Everything in their war chest was as analog as one could get forging the group's axes, arrows, and crossbow bolts. Entire forges were made but concealed in the industrial sectors of major cities like Gotham and Metropolis, and they made passive income through selling to medieval and renaissance enthusiasts.
However, the lifeblood of Marauder was still very much its biofuels. They kept their secret formulas close to their chest, as was Siegfried's command. Through back-alley deals with the more belligerent of dictators, Siegfried set up shop in select countries worldwide. He covered his production under the blanket of communal farming, utilizing the slave labor of his affiliated nations. Every nation had a distinct and palpable niche market for his biofuel, and slave labor is what ran this exclusivity. In time, after scouting select workers for their specialties before internment, Siegfried would smuggle them out of the nations and train them to be part of his official operations. To this end, he established the major clans of Maurader's raiding parties, Cho; Takashiro; Watanabe; Kensington; Meyer; Heringsdötir; Ram; Diwakar; and Narayanan from the nations of China; Japan; England, Germany, Sweden, and Punjab, respectively.
Lothar saw the representatives of each clan, and he knew many of them well and got along famously with some of them. But for all their contention with each other, many often asked Lothar why Eoferth was even here. It was more complicated than Lothar was willing to admit. During his last transmission to Siegfried, to secure his place, he was discovered by the massive red-haired toady. He was blackmailed into forced compliance. Fortunately, he had a bug open so that Siegfried heard the terms of the extortion, so even though Eoferth was ahead now, it was only by a fraction of a margin. If anything, Lothar had the last laugh as Eoferth had to break his body repeatedly through hard labor before he could be acknowledged as a leader.
Still, even here in Marauder, there was in-office politics as much as Lothar wished there wouldn't be, and, in many ways, he was glad that Siegfried had given them license to settle disputes in the old way. Not through grand speeches, but feats of strength or tolerance. It was a much simpler form of H.R., and all were happy for it as it was far more in the hands of fate than anything else.
Siegfried ranged up beside Lothar, and he said, "You did very well, my boy. It takes stones to be the sacrificial lamb more than once. Come to my hut after the feast. I have something for you as a gift from your friends and me." He patted Lothar on the shoulder and joined in the dancing of the great hall.
Lothar was very much pleased, and he looked at his gorgeous axe leaning against the wall; he was proud of her; Elise was her name, and he'd forged her himself a few years back. She was light, her head was heavy in the proper application of force, and she'd saved his hide many a time. All of Marauder had their weapons of which they were proud and this little inlet the cove of their own; it was their home. They were away from people, away from the modern world for the most part. The most they ever were exposed was in their mandatory shifts for the first face of the company. Apart from that, many of them were here perfecting their side jobs. Those side jobs, be they brewer, tanner, cobbler, smith, folk musician, and more, made their products the talk of many. The warriors of Marauder felt peace and community here where all did their part as best they could, and even then, they were aided by their friends.
Lothar took a swig from his stein and headed out of the hall. He walked down to the docks, where many were still unpacking the longships. All kinds of technology were in the boats: televisions, state-of-the-art surround sounds, components ranging from common to deluxe for computers; standard money caches; designer clothes for more official business work; come cooking crafts and accouterments; the boats were like ever-constant supercenters of convenience stores. Whatever wasn't won at auction was sold on the market through the off-site vendor to people around the world.
Lothar chuckled to himself and on the sand, listening to the sounds of the surf. Soon, he could hear the second strike of the main bell; the feast was near done, and so he headed to Siegfried's house. He knocked three times, and eventually, the old man showed his face.
"Come in, come in, dear boy."
Lothar entered in and was met by his friends, the leaders of clans Takashiro, Heringsdötir, and Diwakar. Siegfried bade him rest and to make himself comfortable, and soon he came out with a beautiful fur covering. It was made of the finest timber wolf pelt Lothar had ever seen. Siegfried smiled and he handed the pelt to Lothar. The texture was breathtakingly soft, and it had a glorious silvery sheen in the light.
"This is your reward for falling on your sword to buy your brothers and sisters time." Siegfried said, "From this moment on, we wish to bestow upon you the highest honor we can give you." He reached into his pocket and took out a black sphere, roughly the size of a red plum. Siegfried continued, "This is reserved for the most daring of us, and so, it is given to you. Meet Amita; she is our reserve on the battlefield. A combat-oriented strategy computer and companion in the field. You are to attach this to Elise, and then your training with Amita will begin."
Lothar nodded, "Am I to go anywhere in particular to learn this?"
Siegfried nodded, "We have a training ground in Gotham. You are to go there in your civilian clothes. Keep Amita in your car with you and she will guide you there. But for right now, we want you to get a feel for her. Run your finger around the top ring."
Lothar did so, and the ring lit up a bright lilac, and soon a tiny contact lens came out.
Siegfried said, "Put the contact in, and you will not have to take it out again. It becomes part of the eye and a part of you."
Lothar took the contact and put it in. He winced at first due to a slight shock in his upper eye, but soon, he was fine. Suddenly, a holographic display came up, and all in the room were identified as Lothar shifted his gaze right to left. He was astounded.
"What is this?"
"Congratulations, brother." Takashiro replied, "You are now one of us. What you see is what we see all the time. It is a connection to Marauder's database across the world. You will see our parties, you'll see our targets, you'll see biometrics to find splicers and other metahumans; there's so much more that you'll have to learn. But as you learn, Amita will become more of you and you of her. It's a symbiotic relationship, and now, we have a true gift for you when you are ready."
Takashiro went into another room, and he handed Lothar another axe, the same size as Elise, but he saw the design was so much more beautiful. The axe-head was that of gold with emerald inlay, its end secured by the handle was in the shape of a skull. Lothar looked at Takashiro.
"It is yours, brother," the aged Japanese man replied, "your designation from this day forth is as a guardian of our family, and the powers that you will unlock with time will make you our finest protector. You battled the protector of the city of rats without fear or hesitation; you fought with honor, you fought with might. You and you alone are worthy of this axe; wear it with pride."
Lothar couldn't help but feel his eyes well up with tears of gratitude. He embraced his brothers before him and said, "I wish to train right away. Where is this place I am heading?"
Siegfried replied, "A dear friend's former place of business. You are to go there and talk to him; after you are done, you will progressively gain more and more knowledge of how to use your weapon and better utilize Amita." Siegfried pressed a button, and the destination showed up in Lothar's view. "As I said, go there in daylight, and you will be taught what you need to know for the time being."
Lothar nodded and headed out with his new axe, and he thought, "An A.I. named Amita. Hm, this seems interesting."
"I can assure you, Master Lothar, I am fascinating." A voice said, resounding in his head. He looked around himself and said after some hesitancy, "Amita?"
"Correct, Master Lothar. I am Amita and I will turn you into a man truly worthy of respect and honor. But first, you must begin to learn to walk before you learn to run. Tomorrow's training will be evidence of this. But, before we go, I need you to answer one question, a question per day, and your answer will be the foundation of our work and growth together."
"I think I see—okay—what's your question?"
"What is worse in your mind? The indomitable will, or the fearless man? Take your time before you answer. But I will need your answer before tomorrow's appointment."
"Quid pro quo, I tell you things, you tell me things." Lothar retorted.
"Very well, Dr. Lecter. What do you wish of me? Ask, and I will answer."
"Mmm, well-versed in classic cinema, are you? Alright. Are you a true A.I? Or are you an actual person?"
"Cinema is my passion, one of them. As for your question, what does it matter if you are made exemplary? Now, rest. I will need your answer before your test begins, and I'd prefer your answer to be thought out and not rushed. The last thing either of us wants is lackluster results to have the likes of a proud fool like Eoferth laud them over your head. Conversely, imagine if you could make his proud flapping jaw hang in awe for slaying a great beast that none would dare face."
"Are you promising me such a boon?" Lothar asked.
"I promise that if you work with me diligently, patiently, thoughtfully, and without mistrust—I will make you a legend to be greatly revered. That giggling sod will be as nothing before you. But you need to trust me."
"Trust a machine? Why should I trust a machine?"
There was silence a moment, and then came the response, "I am a tool to help you mold yourself into your greatest desire to suit your aspirations. To trust me means that you trust me to oversee your training to become what you most desire, whatever that may be. Do you trust the wisdom of your friends who gave me to you? I am here to help you, not hinder you. You must choose how best to utilize what I can offer."
Lothar took a breath; he knew deeply what he wanted to be recognized as his father and grandfather never were, to not have his legacy is veiled brilliance benefitting someone else forever. He hated that idea that as hard as his forefathers worked, they were benefitted so very little, if at all if he was honest. He took a sigh and then replied, "My fear, Amita, is the indomitable will that crushes without care. Is that a good enough answer?"
"Thank you, Lothar. Rest now. You have much to prepare for."