Completed Guild of Red, Guild of Gold

[Gerra]

“Bring them to me, Grozkalla. Alive and unspoilt.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Three days later, the Sereti Ogre came back to Gerra’s dungeon beneath the ziggurat in Annuakat, dragging a man in each hand.

After the cell doors squealed shut it was a few hours before torchlight illuminated the dark prison cells accompanied by the third of heavy footfalls.

Gerra peered into the cell.

“Hello, I hope my Talon was not too rough with you. Let me make this very simple, I know that you know the Red Guild. I want the Red Guild to perform a... recovery service for me. In return, I will pay them. Now, I’m going to let you both go, but I expect one of you to have arranged a meeting with the Red Guild by tomorrow evening, or Grozkalla will bring you back here. And this time I won’t ask him to bring you both back in one piece.”

 

[Red Guild]

Normally kidnapping members of the Guild would carry certain consequences. Indeed, several head hunters were dispatched to rectify the situation, many of whom did not come back. So the Guild hired several more, only to re-discover their missing associates shortly after.

The Red Guild was a fractious little band, but the heads of the two Guildhalls in the Emperor's capitol city were more than willing to prostrate themselves before his marvelous throne. There were doubtlessly threats exchanged the day before - barking and hissing and bartering over who should appear before the Great Djinn.

Clearly no agreement had been reached, as both were present.

A towering (but not so towering as to overshadow his Djinn-ness, of course) Maedar was the first to speak.

He wore only a rough-spun cloth toga, fraying at the edges, but flatteringly rendering his muscular torso, which was adorned with swirling black tattoos in many intricate patterns. His eyes were like a snake's, and his ears ended in short points.

He fell to his knees, arms stretched before him, but even from such a position his thundering voice carried quite nicely. "Oh, Great Djinn of Rhaqoum, I am Guildmaster Lugh, here to answer your summons."

Next to Lugh was an overweight Boarfolk, richly dressed in fine silk robes and adorned with all manner of jewelry - even his tusks were capped with gold. Sapphires must have been his favorite, but it did little to bring out his eyes, like he wanted, which were as glassy and lifeless. As if he were a victim of taxidermy.

They watered precariously, even as he sunk down in imitation of Lugh. "And I am Guildmaster Gaso, almighty Emperor, Sultan of Annuakat... Here to serve you most earnestly."

Both creatures remained as they were, silently begging to be let up.

 

[Gerra]

“Rise,” rumbled the Djinn, waving a hand from where he sat upon a throne of purple marble.


It was a clear day on the Baal-Duru delta and from where they all were atop the open-hair plaza at the peak of the palace ziggurat they could see clear across the Gulf of Annuak to the island that lay beyond, where the city Tyria rose, famed for her dyes formed from snails that lived only upon the island.


A city who had for many weeks withstood Gerra’s demand for its capitulation with clever excuses. It would need to be dealt with eventually, but for now Gerra simply appreciated the beauty of the sister city to Annuakat while contemplating how best to deal with creatures who clearly thought servile flattery would lead to heavier purses.


One of them resembled nothing more than a walking pig and he could not recall having ever encountered such a being before. The other had the aspect of a warrior, but he too had prostrated himself. Honor here took different shape and form than in the Allir Reach or even the Cortosi Coast. He reminded himself that he must be conscious of this and fight against the disgust curling his lips.


Four masked sand elves, hands on their scimitars, stood at the four corners of the pavilion sheltering the throne from the Kaliti sun.


Gerra regarded the two charlatans for a moment, then continued to speak.


“Have you heard of the Ten Rings of Amon-Thun? I don’t suppose you have. Even scholars struggle to find vague mentions of them in the histories. Yet, here I sit, with two of the ten rings in one of my vaults. Thus I know that they are more than mere legend. My viziers tell me that the others are likely buried with their creator in the midst of the Forgotten City. The legends say he was the greatest and most powerful of all the pharaohs.”


The half-giant looked away, staring down upon the thriving city of Annuakat. His city.


“I am… preoccupied with other matters and cannot make the trek to the city personally. But I am told that your Red Guild is most adept at acquiring rare and precious items. Does your organization have the capacity to accomplish a retrieval of the eight remaining rings?”

 

[Red Guild]

The greatest and most powerful of all the pharaohs? Then what was that thing that assaulted Ragash with a legion of undead? If that were a mere runt of the ancient litter, then the whole of Amol-Kalit was in quite the trouble, indeed.

Not that it was any concern of the Red Guild. Not until the undead came scratching at the walls of Annuakat.

Again.

Gaso wiped a watery eye with his hand, but finished the motion with a deft and elegant gesture. "But of course, your most august highness. It would be a great honor to act in service of the realm - in any capacity!"

"Your majesty, I second Guildmaster Gaso's, eh, enthusiasm," Lugh intoned, massaging the knuckles of one hand with the other, "The Red Guild can - will - fetch those rings for you."

 

[Gerra]

Acquiring their compliance was quite a bit easier than expected, which strangely did not inspire confidence.

"Good. Are the resources you have sufficient to complete the task?"

 

[Red Guild]

There was a moment there that seemed to drag on for eternity as Lugh and Gaso stared at one another out the corner of their eyes, mentally drawing straws to see who would be the one to ask The Great Djinn for the necessary boons. The Great Djinn, mind you.

This was substantially different than what they usually did, shaking down the usual petty sheikhs and sultans who measured their territory by how far you could fling a stone.

Whatever accord Lugh and Gaso came to, it was clearly contentious.

"Your grace-"

"Most revered Emperor," interrupted Gaso, wiping away his other eye before bowing deeply, "It is with great humility and the utmost respect that I must petition you for the money necessary to pay our most skilled treasure hunters - and secure the necessary supplies."

Lugh chewed the inside of his cheek while waiting for Gaso to finish, then said, "And a guide to see us through the, eh, wastes, your grace."

The Maedar also bowed, stiffly, awkwardly, and not quite as deeply.

There was an air between these two Guildmasters now that implied an argument would take place as soon as they were beyond the sight of Amol-Kalit's Emperor.

 

[Gerra]

A brow lofted imperiously.

"Of course. You will be well compensated commensurate with what you accomplish. I believe ten thousand pieces of silver should suffice for now. You will need camels and pack lizards of course. And something to keep away the spirits, I would imagine. The dead do not rest easy in the Forgotten City."

He stroked his chin in thought.

"For a guide, I will send Ibn Batta of Al-Dushar. He has traveled the northern sands for many decades as a guide for spice caravans. Perhaps he and the tribe of Al-Dushar will even permit you to see fabled Rhaqoum."

A twitched at the corner of the sovereign's mouth.

"It's enough to make me wish I was accompanying you. Is there anything else?"

 

[Red Guild]

For the briefest, most fleeting of seconds, Gaso's mouth cracked open, and his tongue lolled out - as if to taste the air that carried that magic phrase: ten thousand pieces of silver. Lugh's face split into a smile, exposing two rows of uncomfortably sharp teeth, stained yellow. It looked like a festering wound.

But it was only for a moment. Then they were consummate professionals once more, bowing deeply to the Djinn-Most-High.

"You honor us immeasurably with these boons, your highness," Gaso said, both eyes now watering uncontrollably. "We shall prepare the expedition with great speed and furious devotion! The Rings will most assuredly be yours, most assuredly indeed."

Lugh nodded fervently, the tattoos along his thick neck appearing to writhe. "Nothing else, your grace, nothing else at, eh, all."

 

[Gerra]

“Ah, one other matter...“

Gerra steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of the purple marble throne.

“One of the rings in my possession was stolen. My magicians have divined that the thief was a pirate captain named Zufar el Hassan. Bring him to me alive, if possible, but recovery of the ring is paramount.”

He waved a hand, dismissing them from the top of the ziggurat. It was a long ten thousand stairs back down.

“That will be all.”

 

[Red Guild]

Something had already been stolen from the Great Djinn? Fascinating that the Emperor could not keep his own treasure vaults safe. Fortunately there was nothing the Red Guild would ever do with such information. Nothing at all. As they were a perfectly legitimate enterprise, and perfectly legitimate enterprises did not need to concern themselves with the security lapses of sovereign rulers.

Gaso teetered, shaking his head in outrage, "We shall ensure he pays for this unseemly transgression, Great Djinn. The ring and its thief shall be brought to you for judgement, I assure it."

"Eh, yes, your highness," Lugh nodded, bowing again for no apparent reason other than 'just to be sure.' "We'll have him bagged and dragged in no time."

With this matter settled, the Guildmasters shrunk from Gerra's presence until they were back outside. It was only when they were free of the palace and within the private confines of a high-profile brothel did they begin to snap at one another, bickering and cajoling as any decent undesirables would.