Swiss Arms-Chapter 144

Swiss Arms-Chapter 144

Swiss Arms
Chapter 144
-VB-
Anton Luhr
"... So we have proof that it's them?" Anton asked his partner in cri… well, not in crime but in law. Because they were currently working under the count's direction, and that sort of made them like the local syndics, didn't it?
"Yes, it's them," Andrea Terrena grumbled. "They were talking real loud and proud in the bar. They even gave me a receipt for the purchase I made." A pause. "Which is not my money but the money given to me by the count, so I'm not actually buying anything but merely collecting evidence. I had no hand in this smuggling operation."
"I know that, you know that, and the count knows that," he grunted back at the former smuggler. "And both of us were there when the count decided to be honest."
Both of them shuddered.
The feeling of their bones itching, their hearts pounding, the sound of wood crunching under a hand that
merely pressed down
on it, and the utter
wrath
that perfused the count's voice…
It took them almost half a year but they now had everyone involved in the porcelain smuggling.
And now, Anton was worried. Aside from the fact that the families of these smugglers will be unhappy with him, he was going to be looked at by a lot of the locals with scorn. Or would he? He wasn't sure. Would the locals' loyalty to the count be greater than the punishment
many
of their people will receive for smuggling?
He didn't know. He just had to pray that after the smugglers got their due justice, nothing would happen.
"So we are ready to round them all up."
"We are."
"Good. Then we get the rangers and move in tonight when they think they are safe."
"What about the smugglers' bases outside of the city?"
"... We'll have to hit them quickly afterwards, if that's what the count wants."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"... Why do we say okay?"
"It's something people around here say that they are good. Or fine. Or alright. I think people say it instead of good ("
gut
") because the count says it."
"Good is easier."
"Yeah, but it doesn't exactly… encompass everything, you know?"
"Maybe."
"..."
"..."
"... I'm not going to get the rangers. They are scary."
"Ugh, you coward."
"Have you seen what they do to bones and meat? They are crazy!"
"Of course, they are crazy! Have you seen how much they get paid by the count?!"
"... How much?"
Scribble scribble. Slide.
"... Oh my."
"Yes."
"... If I was only a decade younger, then I would be throwing myself into that just for the pay alone."
"They also get paid time off."
"... They get paid while not working?"
"The ranger captain told me that the count considers it a 'benefit' of the job. The count also takes care of the medical stuff for the rangers and their family. Like better food when someone can verify that they are sick, which is simple as walking up to the ranger infirmary and getting a glass rod with colored alcohol inside stuck into your mouth to check how hot you are."
"... But you can just use the back of your hand."
"Ask the ranger captain why the count does the things he does."
"... Would he even know?"
"Probably not."
---
The biggest smuggling ring involved two porcelain workshops. Other porcelain workshops also had their own share of smuggled goods here and there, but most of those involved either stolen goods or one or two porcelain dishes given to family friends without consulting the count, who
owned
the porcelain workshops.
The count did not care about little mistakes like that. In fact, he had a word with all of the people, and surprisingly, it did not involve whips and executions despite the fact that giving away porcelain dishes to other people was an act of stealing because the materials used to make the porcelain were the count's, the count
paid
the workers to make the porcelain, and, well, the count owned the workshop, its equipment, and the trade.
The count was generous.
What he wasn't, however, was a doormat.
The two porcelain workshops that did the majority of the smuggling, which was forty-eight or nine out of fifty cases, did so with the full knowledge that what they were doing was stealing from the count. Because what else could be theft if not embezzling goods worth hundreds of silver pfennigs?
Each
? And they smuggled out a full tenth to a
fifth
of every production run?
They actively undermined the count's finances and the stability of his fiefdom.
Though they may not see it that way, their actions were an attack upon the count.
Worse, these porcelain were what paid for the defense of not just Fluelaberg-Rheintal but also half of the Compact. These smugglers were jeopardizing the entire confederation.
People and their entire families have been executed for less.
Villages have been burned for less.
Wars have been started for less
.
In fact, the count ended a war last year specifically because of a similar issue, if from a different angle.
"The count said the products don't matter," the ranger in charge of the operation said to Anton. He had a thick hood and cloak on along with a mask to cover his lower face. "He wants
all
of these bastards caught to be shown in the public square." Then he paused. "You know which ones are involved, yes?"
"Yes. It's everyone in both of the workshops. Either they are actively partaking in it or got silenced with the silver."
The ranger grunted. "Guess I won't feel bad for any of them if they accidentally die then," he said. He turned to the other rangers.
It was in the dead of the night, and half of the rangers had been deployed to catch the rat bastards. Anton was with the group who will ambush the smugglers as they try to load up on the goods in the dead of the night.
The ranger leader in charge gestured sharply with his hands and moved. The other rangers followed him, moving silently in the night.
In fact, with the dark cloak they were given and their silent movement, Anton lost sight of them no more than ten "seconds" after they disappeared.
A shiver ran up his spine.
'Never get on the count's bad side,' he made a note for himself. 'I will
never
see these rangers coming for me.' The count himself, despite his young age, was terrifying enough. The rangers were a whole different kind of terror.
Then a door smashed open down the street.
Shouts rang out.
Screams.
The drawing of steel.
Fighting
.
The sound of intense sword-on-sword fighting began to wake the neighborhood up, and by the time the rangers were done arresting all of the smugglers and their cooperators, the entire neighborhood had woken up.
Anton gulped.
"What's going on here?!" an old man wearing thick clothes for winter nighttime shouted as he stepped up from a gathering crowd in their nightwears. Or lack thereof for some people listening in from windows higher up from the narrow street.
The ranger leader, still cloaked in dark cloak, stepped up and pulled his face cover and hood down.
"Noah?!" the old man shouted abruptly in surprise.
Whatever growing mood had been in the crowd, it changed abruptly when the old man walked up to the ranger leader. "W-What are you and your ranger boys doing? That's the count's workshop!"
"We know," Noah the ranger grunted. "All of the workers here are being arrested with evidence for smuggling."
The crowd, now fifty something big, stilled in a street that was barely ten feet wide.
"...What?" the old man looked shocked.
Noah gestured to Anton.
'You didn't have to point me out!' Anton thought with some venom before he sighed and stepped forward a few steps to distinguish himself from the crowd, who moved out of the way. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I am …
Syndic
Anton Luhr, and I have been working for the count for the past six months to catch these smugglers. We are to take them to the count's dungeon. I am sure that the count will have a word for everyone tomorrow morning or the day after."
The old man looked troubled. "A-Are you sure these people … smuggled the count's goods? They've been working here for a long time."
"Yes," Anton nodded as he looked around the crowd, some of whom were behind him in this narrow street. "I've seen the ledgers, the missing porcelain, and even have several of the boxes used by these smugglers to ferry their goods out."
The crowd slowly turned towards the smugglers, who have been forced to kneel with their hands bound behind them and rangers standing over them with short swords.
Then a rock flew.
Anton flinched… before realizing that the rock hadn't been aimed at him but the smugglers!
"You ungrateful sons of bitches!" someone shouted as another rock flew.
"You would've gotten us all killed, fuckers!" someone else roared.
"Whoresons!" someone else shouted and the crowd looked like they were about to rush the smugglers and tear them apart.
"STOP!" Noah roared, and the crowd reeled back in shock. Even Anton almost stepped back and he was a good dozen yards from where the smugglers and the rangers were. "The
count
will deal with them as he sees fit. I understand you are angry, but if you take justice into your hands, then you are circumventing the count's authority!"
That made the people hesitate… before some of them looked at the shortswords glimmering in the moonlight and torchlight and stepped back.
"Dad," Noah spoke up after a while when it looked like no one else was going to try anything. "Get the people back home. We got this."
"Good. Yes, you have it," the old man muttered. "You all heard my son! Go back home and sleep! The count's on top of his game if he found these whoresons and aren't blaming us for smuggled goods."
A few families looked nervous but everyone eventually scattered. The old man stayed a bit longer and Anton walked up to the rangers. He still looked hesitant.
"What… do you reckon will happen to them, son?" he asked Noah.
Noah took a deep breath in and let it out. "Da, the amount of money these rats didn't pay are in the tens of thousands of silver pfennigs. They're not getting off lightly. If ever."
"... But they're neighbors. We know them. We ate with them."
Anton fidgeted.
"I know, da," Noah grimaced as he slipped even more into what had to be his usual dialect. "I'm… I led this arrest. Imma go and beg the count to not punish their families. It's the least I could do."
"Do you think he will, ranger?" Anton asked.
"If I know the count, then no," Noah grunted. "Been here in Fluelaberg since we ran here during the Unruly Year. The count's not the type to go after people who haven't done anything. But if they worked with their dads and brothers to hide the money…?"
He didn't need to say anymore.
"Let's pray that the count will limit the punishment to the rats," Anton whispered.
Tens of thousands of silvers.
Villages have been burned and all of their inhabitants, guilty and innocent, slaughtered to the last babe for less.

Chapter 144