It was an overcast day, Lerran noticed, when he finally left his apartment that morning. The sky couldn’t make up its mind, to rain or not to. Lerran wore his freshly cleaned red jacket, with a belt and scabbard over top of it. At his waist, he sheathed his real sword, though he prayed he would not need to spill blood this day.
Lerran smiled when he saw his wife. Tassina, wife of Lerran, wore a darker red, with gold trims and the pattern of an eye embroidered across the middle of her back. She turned around for him, smiling, an showed him the knife strapped inside her small boot.
With her arm on his, Lerran strode out of his quarters to face whatever storm the sky might unleash. Their quarters in the main building were opposite Gharo’s, thankfully, and they descended the steps at the end of their hall without running into a single guard. They saw soldiers out of the windows before they entered courtyard; Captain Isar had twenty guards at the ready, his entire troop. A rain drop landed on Lerran’s shoulder, and he wiped it away, instead of looking at Isar directly.
“We’ve a skeleton crew inside, sir,” Isar said. “Bribed or loyal.”
“And my father?” Lerran asked, looking at the soldier. Captain Isar had a scar on his chin from a bar fight, but his thick black hair was bound behind his head and he looked ready for action. His friendship with Tass had only been a building block for convincing him of Lerran’s aptitude to run the Family. Many of the parties involved in this organization had started doubting Gharo’s leadership over the last few years.
“Gharo is still in his office, as far as we’ve seen. We’ve half an hour before his usual lunch break. No guests presently,” Isar said. “Are you ready?”
“Where are my sisters?” Lerran asked. Eseveer would be at her desk outside Gharo’s office, of course.
Isar nodded back up at the house. Lerran had walked past Yarua and Gadra, who spoke quietly to each other a few paces beside the door. Leaving Tass, Lerran vaulted up those steps to the rock shingled porch. “Girls,” he said, with a nervous smile. “Ready?”
“Of course,” Yarua replied. She had a sword at her waist too, he realized, while Gadra stuck to a dagger.
“Isar,” Lerran called.
“Split!” barked the captain, and his men formed two groups of ten. One followed him toward the building. The soldiers wore chainmail, but their boots were leather and they weren’t terribly noisy as they climbed the steps to the front door again. The one guard on duty nodded to Lerran as he led the soldiers inside.
“What about Aunt Mara?” asked Gadra.
Lerran frowned. “She decided going with us would jeopardize our authority. She is still on our side though.”
Tass put her arm inside of his again. She was shaking a little, and he met her eyes. They shared a brief smile, as they led the small troop up the stairs to the north wing of the mansion. They passed portraits of Gharo’s siblings, and Lerran’s siblings, and a full work of Lerran’s late mother. She had died several years after Ren’s birth.
Eseveer stood up as they reached her desk, and she joined her sisters behind Lerran. Two of Gharo’s personal guards stood outside of his office, and they tensed as soon as they realized how many people had filed into Eseveer’s corridor. “Important business,” Lerran told them, with a smile, as he brushed past, into Gharo’s office; the troop made sure that those two didn’t follow them in, though no blades were drawn yet.
Gharo sat at his desk, his bald head tilted at his paperwork, though his eyes rose as he saw Lerran and the troop enter. Kavad, his bodyguard, was already at attention, his eyes probing Lerran’s cautiously. The old man stood up from his desk, with a sigh. He opened his mouth, but Lerran spoke first.
“I’m taking over the Family, Father,” Lerran said, calmly. Kavad put a hand on his sword. Tass was waiting a step behind him; this was between Gharo and him only. Lerran prayed it stayed that way. “You’re welcome to stay, but this is now my office.”
Gharo blinked, banishing a quick smile that played across his wrinkled face. He walked around the front of his desk, eyeing Lerran. Then he turned to Captain Isar, the next closest person to him. “Captain,” he said. “I pay you. Is this about money? I can pay you more.”
Isar replied sternly, completely collected. “The Family pays me, so Lerran will too.” He did not say sir.
Gharo stepped even closer to the Captain, his cheek beside Isar’s cheek and whispered something Lerran could not hear. There was the slightest flush to Isar’s face, as Gharo leaned back with a smile.
Isar glanced at Lerran, and for one moment, Lerran wondered if he would be betrayed. Then Isar spoke. “He threatened to harm my family, sir.”
Lerran sighed. The old man was a mobster, nothing more. Even his Lo Mallago plans were a ploy for greed. He had no care for loyalty and no respect. No class. Threatened Isar was a slippery slope to violence; knowing Gharo, that was unavoidable now. “Well, Father, are you sure you want to play it this way?”
Gharo blinked at him, an unveiled sneer twisting his mouth.
Lerran shook his head. “Isar, what would you do if someone else threatened your family?”
The leader of the Family was trembling with anger. “Have my seat, son,” he murmured, gently. He started to walk past Lerran and his sisters, heading through the troop of guards for the exit of the room. Kavad followed without question, until Gharo turned back. Lerran and Isar, standing side-by-side, watched him deliver his words. “Isar, I apologize for my distasteful words.”
Without another word, Gharo marched toward the door.
“Wait!” Lerran called out. The guards nearest the door closed their formation and Gharo paused, looking back at the troop. His bodyguard, Kavad, gripped his blade with white knuckles. He had known this day was coming, and grown to fear it. Lerran glanced at Isar again. “Well, what would you do to someone who made such a threat?”
This was not rehearsed, and Isar flushed with blood before he replied, “I-I would…” Then he pulled himself together. “I would kill someone if they posed a danger to my wife.”
Lerran nodded to Isar, and smiled. Gharo could only blame his own bullheadedness. Lerran looked back at his father, and then ordered his guard captain, “Then do it.”
Chaos unfolded, as Kavad’s blade rasped free and clanged off the nearest soldier’s armour. There wasn’t enough space for a true fight, so a brawl broke out. Gharo’s own sword clipped the foot of another guard, while Isar’s men struggled to keep the two other loyal guards in the hall out of the erupting office.
Lerran and Isar pulled out their blades and followed the soldiers inward.
“Move!” Gharo blurted, shoving Kavad forward. The man earned a slash from a guardsman’s dagger, and was forced to stumble to the right in order to avoid a serious injury. But that put him closer to Lerran.
Their first clash rang across the din, sword on sword. Kavad cursed, and stumbled backward. Gharo was thrusting his way toward the door, slashing left and right. Blood soon sprayed the walls, but there were no bodies on the ground yet.
Kavad hacked at Lerran with another move. Then Isar shoved his blade forward, sawing across Kavad’s sword arm. Bone visible, amongst a brief spray of red, the man dropped his sword and stumbled back. Gharo grabbed him by the collar and hauled; the two collapsed into the hallway, and his loyal guards, battered from their own fight, slammed shut the doors of the office.
Lerran, his sisters and his wife, and all Isar’s guards, were trapped inside. They heard Gharo shout, “Keep those doors closed” and then his heavy stride across the floor. Lerran had seen him sustain a few nicks and a good blow to the face during that fight; his father would be battered, but still thinking like Gharo did. Vengeance, force, hate. He had to act quickly.
“What’s outside the windows?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Tass replied.
Lerran looked around. “Guards, the desk. Batter the doors down.” There were only two men trying to keep them shut—Kavad would be useless, maybe even dead, already. Lerran picked up one side of the desk. The Gharo estate was quickly falling into anarchy; he had to make sure their empire did not follow.
They hauled Gharo’s desk to the door and proceeded to strike it. The first blow knocked the double doors open a few inches, the second a few feet. By the time their third swing hammered into the splintering wooden panels, the guards on the other side were drawing their swords in panic. Lerran stumbled over Kavad’s body, which they’d been using to keep the door closed, and barely ducked under a machete because of it. One of the two opponents tried to ready a second slash, but Lerran bodily slammed the man against the opposing wall as his men dropped the desk and dove into the small fray. Stunned by the cold stone bricks, the guard lulled against Lerran’s strength; then the rebel’s sword gouged up, under his bronze chainmail. Warm blood covered Lerran’s hand as he finished off the guard.
With all three of the guards confirmed dead, Isar and his troop followed Lerran down the hall. His father would choose the most direct route, he knew, not a side path. He was reckless. As always.
They descended the staircase in a storm of boots, finding two wounded guards there. Gharo had made it through the front door. If he reached the barracks, he might be able to find more loyal guards to ready his defence.
Lerran dashed across the porch and into the courtyard. A few dead guards littered the cobblestones, but he paused when he saw the remainder of Isar’s troop looking around idly. “He went over the wall,” one of them said. We sent a few into the streets of the city to find him, but he made it over… sir.”
“Over?” gasped Lerran, wiping blood off his hand at last.
“He jumped onto the stable, and vaulted the wall,” the guard repeated. “He’s gone, sir.”
Lerran sighed. “On his own?” He rested his hands on his knees. He was in shape, but the stress was wearing him out quicker than he expected. Should he pursue?
“On his own. And he looked pretty battered up,” the guard explained. Isar commended them for their efforts to stop Gharo, while Lerran considered his options. He was the only one left in charge now. Gharo had fled.
“He’s no longer in charge,” Lerran declared officially. “I am.”
Tass put her arm around her shoulder. “Wife of Lerran,” she said with a smile. Gadra, Yarua, and Eseveer strode out onto the porch a minute later. “And Sisters of Lerran…” Through the sweat and blood, Lerran managed a smile.