Antony crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. The large tavern bustled with activity around the table he was sitting at, though Nyala gave a cold glare at any who tried to cut too close to him. Across sat the corpulent Sir Oswald Hampton, guildmaster and trader of ill repute, with three of his hired thugs. He was currently examining an ancient agate brooch Antony had acquired in his travels, even though it had already been verified as legitimate by Sir Oswald's own antiquitarian before the meeting. When Antony had requested a meeting on neutral grounds, Sir Oswald was just a touch too quick to suggest this tavern, and for once Antony was not annoyed by the lioness woman's protectiveness as Nyala sternly pushed away a patron who tried to requisition a spare seat from their table.
Shiva, meanwhile, was terrorizing the bartender as she demanded another pint of beer. While Antony would usually be irritated at her shirking her duties, today it wasn't such an issue—better for Shiva to be distracted than insult Sir Oswald if the latter proved rude. The tigress woman laughed raucously as she obtained her desired fourth pint and began to drink deeply, settling down on a bar stool that had been hastily vacated by its previous owner. Her striped orange and black tail swished as she aggressively elbowed another patron while telling some joke or another.
"Not sure about this one's authenticity," Sir Oswald spoke up, bringing Antony's mind back into focus.
"Your expert seemed quite sure of its quality," Antony said evenly. He saw Nyala shift slightly out of the corner of his right eye.
"I'm something of an expert myself," Sir Oswald continued softly, placing the brooch down on the table. He glowered at Antony darkly, watery green eyes peering out from the shadows on his pudgy face. "I don't like being taken for a fool."
Antony made a barely perceptible gesture his right hand as he spoke, saying "Sir Oswald, no one is being fooled here. Why don't we find someone else who can appraise the brooch's value and reach an agreement?"
"I don't believe that will be necessary," Sir Oswald said with no small degree of smugness as he relaxed back in his chair. That appearing to be their que, his thugs rose menacingly.
Nyala, however, was far swifter. As the nearest man rose she struck out and sent him sprawling as a single powerful kick dislocated his jaw and sent teeth flying. The second thug on Sir Oswald's left fared slightly better, as he was able to draw his blackjack before Nyala was upon him. He swung at Nyala, who effortlessly caught the weapon midair and wrenched it out of the man's grasp, who was able to take one terrified step back before Nyala seized him, lifted him over her head as if he was weightless, and gave a howl of anger while sending him crashing down onto the stone floor.
The final man could have fared much better, for he had also drawn his weapon—a shortsword—and was advancing upon Nyala with his blade ready to sink into her side. However, he had forgotten about Shiva, much to his detriment as the tigress stood up from her barstool and quickly seized it as her weapon. Spinning around with a cruel laugh, she splintered the wooden stool across the man's head and sent him lying senseless upon the floor with his fellows.
Sir Oswald's expression turned from satisfied conceit to abject horror in moments, and when he tried to rise from his chair Shiva gripped the top of his head as easily as one might an apple and slammed it down onto the table, spilling a flagon of ale in the process. His thin spectacles clattered to the table and he put his hands up meekly in surrender.
"Shiva, get his purse," Antony said as he stood up from the table.
"With pleasure, boss," she said with a grin as she snatched the heavy pouch off of his waist.
She gave it a satisfied bounce in her hand before tossing it to Antony, who noted with no little satisfaction that it was rather more full than the expected payment. The tavern was quiet now, and several 'patrons' had also drawn weapons at the commotion. Nyala, however, had beat them to it once again, and was now standing over her defeated foes with her own blade gripped tightly in her right hand. While just a bastard sword to her, to a man of average stature it easily would've been the equal to a two-handed longsword. The sight was more than enough to cow anyone else Sir Oswald may have bet upon for 'insurance'.
"Good doing business with you, Sir," Antony said politely as he tucked the purse away and signaled for Shiva and Nyala to follow.
"Should we take the brooch, Antony?" Nyala asked softly, her battle-rage past.
Antony stopped for a moment, thinking, before finally answering "no. He paid for it, after all."
Shiva laughed again as they followed him out of the tavern, stooping slightly at the entrance. Sir Oswald was left wiping ale from the side of his face and retrieving his spectacles, face crimson with humiliation and fury.
***
Antony's cart had been left around the corner unguarded; there was no goods within to steal, and the great stubborn brute of a draft horse who pulled the cart (named Lez) wouldn't march for anyone save Antony or, more recently, Shiva and Nyala. He climbed up onto the bench in front as Shiva and Nyala climbed in back, making the cart sway slightly from their weight. Lez required no prompting, simply beginning to saunter forward immediately after Antony took the reins. After the unpleasantness of the deal Antony would've rather switched the tavern he was staying at, but he had already payed for the rooms, and moreover it was one of the few within Kolberg's city walls that had a stable large enough to accommodate Lez and his wagon.
After about twenty minutes of weaving through chaotic, crowded streets the trio arrived at their lodging for the evening: The Silver Strings, a tavern of some repute for its frequent visits by Kolberg's minstrels. It was not Antony's first choice—it was expensive, loud, and crowded—but as stated before he had been left with few other options. After turning Lez and his wagon over to the stable boy, Antony stopped Shiva and Nyala before they went inside.
"I'm going to visit the market and see what I can get to trade with our newfound wealth," he started, "with luck we can leave here soon with a full wagon on our way to greener pastures. You two can stay here, I'm not looking to intimidate anyone into a better deal today. Stay out of trouble."
Shiva shrugged and walked inside the tavern, though Nyala was not so easily dismissed. "You're certain you'll be fine alone?" she asked, muscular arms crossed upon her chest.
"I'll be fine," Antony said with a wave of his hand. "What I really need is for you to keep Shiva out of trouble. This isn't the kind of tavern where we can cause a ruckus and not expect any consequences."
Nyala met Antony's gaze for a few more moments before giving a curt nod and following Shiva inside. While her demeanor remained cold, Antony could tell from the impatient swish of her tail that she was annoyed.
And let her be, Antony thought to himself as he turned down the street and pulled his brown, patched cloak closer as proof against the autumn wind. He had taken care of himself fine before their paths had crossed; in fact, better than fine when they had met.
Antony shook his head at the memory, a wry smile on his face as he made his way to the market before any of the wholesellers closed for the evening. Shiva and Nyala had been outlaws before, and had taken Antony and his goods hostage on a backroad as he ferried tools from the city to the surrounding villages. Shiva continued drinking late into the night after Nyala had fallen asleep, and it had taken relatively little goading in Shiva's drunkenness for her to release Antony from his binds and compete with her in a drinking contest.
To Shiva's credit, she had still almost beaten Antony despite having started hours before. However, in the end the tigress was still lying unconscious in front of the firepit, allowing Antony to regain access to his baggage and free one of his pistols. Nyala had then been prodded awake, finding herself staring down the barrel of a considerably unsteady by still dangerous loaded wheellock as Antony drunkenly slurred out a proposition: Nobody needed to die, and everyone could make much more of a profit if the two women made a quick career change and worked for him. Nyala agreed after a few moments' consideration—she always had been the smart one.
***
The shadows of dusk were growing long in Kolberg as Antony made his way back to The Silver Strings. The night was growing colder and Antony wanted to make sure Shiva had stayed out of trouble, and as such he hurried through the thin, darkened streets. He heard the men following behind him even before they called out, and his right hand drifted down and slowly parted his brown cloak, the faint gleam of steel visible in the moonlight for but a moment.
"You've got something of mine," came the calm, deep voice from the darkness.
"Sir Oswald," Antony said as he turned around. The fat guildmaster glared at him from the darkness, moonlight glinting off of his spectacles as the two thugs he had brought with him loomed in the darkness on either flank. "I do believe our business was concluded."
"Don't play coy with me, boy," Oswald said softly, his voice thick with menace, "you think you can come into my city, humiliate me on my own turf? I'll—"
"I'll do what I need to do to not get robbed," Antony snapped back angrily. Sir Oswald's goons took a step forward, making him put up a hand.
"Let's cut right to it then, shall we?" Sir Oswald said silkily. "I don't see either of those overgrown amazons with you now, but I'm feeling generous. Why don't you pay me back what you've taken, plus a little extra for the lumps you gave my boys earlier? We can both forget all about this and go on our merry way."
"Afraid I've spent it all already," Antony said coldly. "A merchant shouldn't keep too much of his assets liquid when there's a profit to be made. You understand."
"Pity," Sir Oswald said smugly as he waved his hand forward, both of his thugs leaping into action as they rushed Antony.
In a flash Antony's right hand darted down to his waist and rushed back up, a long flash of silver following. The sidesword slashed deep into the man on the right's arm as he reached for Antony, making him shriek in pain as a flash of scarlet sprayed across the grayscale alleyway. As Antony withdrew his left hand from his cloak the thug on his left grabbed at his arm and jerked it downwards, attempting to wrestle the pistol Antony had just drawn out of his grasp. Antony squeezed the trigger as he attempted to wrest his arm free, sending the round shot crashing through the man's thigh. He jerked back in pain, his scream lost in the thunder of the pistol's report and the immediate startled howling of two nearby dogs. With a violent jerk Antony freed his arm and lunged forward with his right, his sidesword piercing the thug's chest and sending his hot blood spattering across Antony's right arm.
Sir Oswald stepped back, his confidence shattered for the second time today as Antony met his gaze. He backed up a few steps, heart pounding and sweat beginning to bead heavily upon his pudgy face despite the cold air. Antony stepped forward aggressively, replacing his spent pistol back in its chest brace and replacing it with its twin, which was promptly leveled at Sir Oswald.
"Don't move," Antony ordered coldly. His breathing was elevated but even as he stepped over the first man he had wounded, who was still clutching at the massive red wound running down the inside of his arm as his lifeblood oozed out into the muddy alley. The second man lay motionless, a dark pool rapidly beginning to appear beneath his form.
"Please," Sir Oswald begged quietly, his arms up as his legs shook.
"Once was business," Antony intoned in a heavy voice, "twice is personal."
"Spare me, please," Sir Oswald continued, "I can pay you."
"I am going to leave this city, Oswald," Antony said, "and you are going to let my guards and I go."
"Yes," Sir Oswald nodded, "yes, yes of course!"
Antony didn't believe even for a moment that Sir Oswald would hold his end of the bargain, but shooting him here in this alleyway would be a practical death warrant for him. Sir Oswald was a powerful man, and it wasn't just overconfidence that led him to try and ambush Antony here with only two men—the corpulent guildmaster could be ended here and now, but his associates would hunt Antony down if he dared to strike the fat bastard down. The law would be against Antony as well; even now the watch could be on their way, drawn by the sound of Antony's pistol.
"Farewell, then," Antony said as he stepped back into the shadows, "if we meet again, I will not be as merciful."
Sir Oswald was left standing there, defeated again. His look of fear faded away to a twisted grimace as he looked down at the wounded man panting on the ground in front of him. He did not suffer defeat nor fools easily, and now Antony had been well and truly right—before had just been business. Now, things were much more personal.
"Stop whining and pick yourself up, Oliver," Sir Oswald scowled, "we've business to take care of."
***
Antony dashed through the darkened streets on his way back to The Silver Strings. When he finally reached the main street and jogged to his destination, he let out an angry sigh as he noticed the large crowd in front of the tavern curiously peering in through the windows. Slowing to a walk, he pushed his way through the crowd, the curious passers-by quickly giving him room as the significant dried blood that stained his right side came into the light. Even before he entered, Antony had a good idea of what he'd find.
"Shiva."
Antony put his hand to his forehead as he surveyed the scene. At least one broken table, a smashed mandolin and a split flute, broken chairs aplenty, a few unconscious patrons and, in the middle of it all, Shiva slumped on the floor with Nyala standing over her. Nyala noticed Antony enter, the massive lioness casually loping over to him at the same time as the taverns furious owner rushing out from behind the bar.
"You! You've a lot of nerve leaving these, these... beasts here!" The middle aged man stammered in apoplectic fury, his bald head bright red and his walrus-like mustache bristling.
"What happened, Nyala?" Antony asked.
"One of the bards groped Shiva's ass. His friends tried to defend him after Shiva made her displeasure clear. We dissuaded them," Nyala said simply.
"Her displeasure!" The barman roared, "half of the bloody dining room's destroyed, you goddamn mongrel of a woman! That striped bitch you've been standing over drank all of our good vodka to boot!"
Though Nyala's face remained impassive, her ears flattened angrily, and Antony moved to defuse the situation before a second bar broke out.
"I understand you have been inconvenienced—" Antony started.
"Inconvenienced!" the barman spat incredulously.
"—which is why I am willing to offer you seventy-five gold pieces as compensation," Antony finished. Such a sum would more than pay for the property damage and Shiva's tab, and Antony could see the barman recoil slightly in surprise.
"And for all the business I lost tonight—" he started.
"Very well, I shall increase the sum to ninety gold pieces," Antony said dismissively. He watched the barman's face contort as he considered the offer. Even in an upper-crust tavern like The Silver Strings, an ale only cost a few coppers, and with the amount this weedy feline wrangler was offering him was enough that he may even make money on this little incident—a brawl now and then was good publicity, made the bluebloods feel as if they were actually living dangerously by visiting his establishment despite it being in one of the safest parts of Kolberg. Besides, the bards the cat women had beaten had been irritating him as well.
"Ninety pieces, eh?" the barman mused, "perhaps we could—"
"That is my offer, yes," Antony said coolly as he gave a wave of his right arm. The barman's eyes widened as he noticed the dark stains of red on Antony's hand and cloak, the red in his face suddenly draining as he was no longer blinded by fury.
"Ninety it is, then," he said as he turned and retreated back behind the relative safety of his bar counter.
"Nyala, bring Shiva up to her room while I pay the man," Antony commanded as he fished the now considerably lightened purse he had obtained earlier in the day from his cloak.
***
"So who'd you kill, boss?" Nyala asked as Antony walked upstairs to the tavern's rooms. She was leaning against his doorframe, her long blonde hair taken out of its tight bun for the first time today and trailing down her casual clothes.
"One of Oswald's goons, they tried to ambush me in an alleyway on my way back here. We should be out of here as soon as we can tomorrow morning; I made a bulk purchase of spirits to trade that should get delivered to our wagon at dawn. How's Shiva doing?" Antony said as he walked past Nyala and into his room, taking off his bloodstained cloak and throwing it to the side.
"She'll sleep it off and complain about the usual hangover next morning," Nyala said as she followed Antony inside, stooping at the doorframe. "You're taking attempted kidnapping or murder quite lightly, shouldn't you be more concerned that one of the most powerful men in Kolberg has it out for you now?"
Antony put up his hands in frustration, saying "what do you want me to do about it, Nyala? We expended all our funds finding that stupid fucking brooch, only for that obese windbag to try and cheat us out of it." He took of his blade and threw it down still in its sheathe upon the bed, adding "and with that bribe I had to pay the barman here after you and Shiva tore up the place, we're pretty fuckin' slim on our funds."
"We weren't the ones trying to find trouble that time," Nyala said coldly, her tail swishing in agitation.
"You could've at least handled it without destroying the barroom."
Nyala shrugged. Perhaps Antony was right there, but she had taken a certain joy in beating some feckless pretty boy into submission with his own mandolin that had come close to making it all worth it.
"Do you think Oswald is going to try and send men to attack us tonight?" she asked.
"Here in the tavern? I doubt it. He has a reputation to keep, and no matter how much I've annoyed him he doesn't want to risk being tied to a high-profile killing at a respectable establishment. Don't shit where you eat and all that," Antony explained as he removed the brace that held his two pistols from around his chest.
"What's the plan after we get the goods tomorrow?" the lion woman asked as she sat down on Antony's bed.
"Once we get the spirits, get the hell out and move on to Mellang as soon as we can," Antony replied after taking off his boots and sitting down next to her, dwarfed by the feline woman's muscular frame. "Mellang is a mining town, so we should be able to sell off our goods to local businesses at a healthy profit—laborers are always in need of a stiff drink."
Nyala sniffed in amusement. Shiva had enough sense not to drink the cargo on route, but could only imagine the contests she would be dying to participate in once they arrived. Nyala looked down at Antony next to her, feeling something in her chest when she saw her employer wipe his brow in fatigue and frustration. She was protective of the man, certainly, but lately there had been another feeling that was harder to rationalize.
"Antony?" she asked.
"Yeah?" he said as he looked back up into her crystal blue eyes.
Nyala was silent for a few moments before standing up and walking to the door. Her emotions were conflicted, and she felt as if she had to leave the room to try and make sense of them.
"I'll see you in the morning then, before we leave," Nyala said with a curt nod as she stood at the doorframe.