Thereafter Epilogue: Under New Management
The new leader of Nih-Ka's gang goes about securing support and planning for the future, but is there a snake in this gangster's paradise?
Days Later
Worship was scarcely populated this evening. Quiet days at Thereafter’s only nightclub happened once in a while. By complete random happenstance enough people would decide to stay out of trouble and get a night’s worth of good deep sleep at once that the carousing and festivities didn’t quite reach social critical mass. This suited Michael just fine. Granted, he had chosen a public space for this meeting for a reason, but it was always slightly awkward to discuss what would, anywhere but in Thereafter, be crimes in that particular type of shout-whispering one uses when trying to communicate privately in a noisy club.
Michael hadn’t been sleeping much himself. There was so much to do, and the planning required for the next couple of steps of his plan were the kind of things he could ruminate over practically forever. He was operating with a lot of unknowns, despite a solid source of intel, but given the circumstances, that would have to be expected.
The middle-aged man in the rich, heavy cloak of the College of Aurol approached the table with some hesitance. Michael could tell from his gait who he was, and how he was feeling. Bartholomew Thistlebarrow was flat footed and clearly more comfortable with teleporting than walking places, it was a subtle thing, but it gave his gait a bit of a drag and an almost imperceptible imbalance. Bartholomew had not used much magic since introducing himself by freezing Michael in time, and Michael made mental note to inquire on why this was at a later date. For now, though, this was a business discussion, and Michael’s business was not magic, however much he wished it was.
“Did you have any trouble getting here?” Michael asked. It was meant conversationally, but even as he said it he realized the impatience lodged in those words.
“Oh, no, not at all, many pardons Dayshadow,” Bartholomew said. “Do pardon the tardiness, you know us Thereafterians do not keep time as accurately as you Hero Folk do.”
“That’s what they say about us now, that we’re punctual?”
“Among other things, yes.”
Michael found himself grunting at that. His cellphone had been out of charge for quite a while now, but he supposed his rough sense of time was still pretty good. Life on earth, after all, was not kind to the habitually tardy.
After Michael felt enough time had passed to function as a dropping of the subject, he spoke again.
“Have you canvassed the lieutenants and top men as I asked?”
“Of course Dayshadow.” Bartholomew said while withdrawing a scrap of paper, or perhaps unusually thin papyrus. “All but one of the sycophant crowd are already on board, and one of the hardliners, imagine my surprise.”
“Which of them?”
“The Speardancer. Apparently you defeating Nih-Ka in combat is enough for her.”
“That is a mercy,” Michael said with a sigh. “I did not look forward to trying to get her onboard the rough way.”
“Oh Indeed. Lady Shieldbreaker is quite formidable even on her worst days.”
“Hm, ok,” Michael leaned his folded hands on his cane in contemplation. “The alleged neutral faction’s still staying on the fence I take it?”
“Just so. Couldn’t even get a comment out of them I’m afraid. We should dedicate some time to shoring up their support.
“No.”
“I beg your pardon, Dayshadow?”
“That will look like hesitation,” Michael said, sharing freely of his many ruminations on the subject. “We hold a meeting with the lieutenants and their second-in-command at our first opportunity. Officially it will be to declare that I claim the title of leader and speak on my future plans for the organization.”
“And unofficially,” Bartholomew mused, “I suppose you signal to the second-in-command crew that now is a good time to usurp any superiors of theirs that may object to this future.”
“If I do my job right, yes.”
It was, admittedly risky to promote ambitious power grabs in order to stabilize the organization, but Michael believed that he’d have to take some risks to get anywhere with this venture. He had come to think of it as a puzzle of some sort, one of those really complex locking mechanism ones. It was a cynical way to view people, even such morally suspect characters as he dealt with now, but it was perhaps better this way.
Another topic-dropping bout of silence later, it was Bartholomew that took the initiative.
“I have also inquired about the house of our…” Bartholomew cleared his throat, it was one of those things that probably wasn’t trying to imply something other than the topic making him nervous, but Michael made note of it all the same “former leader. Ownership is a tenacious thing in this town as you may know, but it is available if you want it.”
“No,” Michael had to stop himself from shouting. “I don’t want a soul connected to this organization living in that place. If it wasn’t such a waste of construction material I’d have the thing burned down.”
“Very well,” Bartholomew noted. “Then what do we do with it?”
“Get someone with some experience in construction in there, see if you can convert it into four apartments, or two, I don’t care. Get someone out of those dreadful stack houses- and into the apartments. No charge, no debt, don’t even mention my name.”
“I see…” Bartholomew didn’t quite get it. Michael wasn’t sure he got it himself. He would not live in that house, not if he lived a million years. For reasons that were related but not identical, he didn’t want any of his underlings living there either. It felt like it gave them a claim on Nih-Ka’s prestige if not his title. This was one of the aspects of his plan that felt a bit off to Michael, but all the same, he had a plan. “And the… possessions in said house? Excess furniture and the like?”
“Anything that can improve a public space or service goes to that,” Michael felt like he was reading from a list moreso than speaking at this point. “Here you can mention my name but don’t make a big deal out of it. Anything that can’t be used for that is to be divvied up between Lieutenants and their closest underlings, and I don’t want any fighting over the best stuff. Keep it civil or lose your share.” This of course, did not mean there wouldn’t be enmity, it was just important to not have two nobodies squabbling over an ashtray triggering anything larger and more destructive.
“Very well Dayshadow, but before we conclude today,” As he spoke, Bartholomew reached under the table and for a split second, Michael could have sworn he reached for a concealed gun or something similar. Why someone who mastered magic, the assumed base language of the universe would even need a gun, he was sure he didn’t know, but paranoia seldom listened to reason. After all why would it, it was older, faster, and had an unilateral power that reason simply lacked.
Bartholomew finished the movement as he pulled a long box made out of black wood, if it had been on earth Michael would’ve guessed ebony, from under the table. Michael had not seen him arrive with it, but Bartholomew had a knack for extra-spatial storage, so it wasn’t that great of a shock.
“A small gift from me and those of us who have already sworn our allegiance.” Bartholomew said as he laid down the box in front of Michael, as if presenting a warlord with a tool of his office.
Michael opened up the box to find a cane in a similar dark wood, it’s grip covered in embroidered leather. From what he could see, the embroidery was of a wolf or a similar canid.
“That’s very kind, Bartholomew, thank you.” Michael said as he gripped the cane under the handle and lifted it up.
“It is, much like you Dayshadow, not all that it appears to be,” Bartholomew said, and Michael couldn’t help but notice a giddiness the wizard didn’t normally show. Perhaps the mere act of holding on to secrets and knowledge delighted the man on a base level. “Press the wood knot just before it bends, and you’ll see what kind of help it could be.”
Now that Bartholomew pointed it out, the lone wood knot seemed slightly out of place in the otherwise flawless grain of the wood, but Michael doubted he’d ever notice if nobody had pointed it out first. As Michael pressed his thumb against the knot, it gave with a slight, but perceptible click, and the lower 3/4ths of the cane came loose. Michael pulled on the handle-part and thus unsheathed a thin, flat blade of a sword from its stealthy sheath. The blade itself reminded Michael of one of those high-flying martial arts movies he had seen a long time ago, but there was something distinctly alien to it. After looking at it for a spell, the best suggestion Michael could come up with for it was that the sword reminded him of obsidian in some vague way.
“Huh, this isn’t normal steel I take it?” Michael asked at last.
“Good eye Dayshadow, that is noxsteel from the forges of night. It’s very similar to steel, but it absorbs a small amount of light. It’s hardly noticeable in a regularly lit environment or even this dim place, but I’m told it’s quite a sight to behold by starlight, or perhaps not behold is the most correct word.”
“I see,” Michael said, absentmindedly testing the balance of the blade. It was different from the short sword he was used to, but he figured it could pierce just fine, and probably slice open jugulars from outside knife range if the situation called for it. “An assassin’s weapon.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s a trick. Slightly harder to fight with than a regular weapon, but unusual in a way that aids the wielder in single combat. Perfect for ambushes, or assassinations.”
Michael could see the beads of sweat forming on Bartholomew’s forehead. He hadn’t intended to upset him per se, but he was in the process of determining to which degree he could trust Bartholomew at all, so it wasn’t entirely by accident either. After all, it was clear that Eltern was the main brain behind the Sword of Lakes Caper, but Bartholomew sure had played his part to ensure it ended like it did. He was perhaps not an active participant but merely an opportunist deciding to shake up the organization for some goal as of yet unstated, or perhaps he had genuine concerns about Nih-Ka’s rule. It was also possible, Michael had to concede, that Bartholomew was nothing less and nothing more than the man he portrayed himself to be, the middle-manager with no ambitions, the yes man. Michael was, however, not content to gamble his life and the future of Thereafter on that. And so, he watched Bartholomew squirm for an aeon-long second before laughing.
“I’m joking, Bartholomew. C’mon, I’m yanking your chain dude,” Michael chortled, briefly suffering from a most grievous surplus of merriment.
Bartholomew’s laughter was more out of relief than great humor. “Very good sir,” he said, and while his mask was impeccable, Michael was willing to bet his left ear that Bartholomew made note of this exchange. “You secure the sword once you sheathe it by twisting the handle just a little. It pulls back the spring that locks the blade in place when you’re out and about.”
“Impressive,” Michael said, and he had to exude no effort to make that feel genuine. “This is a very kind gift. Forward my thanks to the gift-givers.”
“Certainly, Dayshadow. You know I am your eyes and ears among the rabble.” Bartholomew’s tone was unusual. There was an implication to what he said. If Michael had to guess it was a reminder that while Michael was in charge for the time being, nothing useful would be accomplished without Bartholomew alive and cooperating. It wasn’t a threat, but it also wasn’t not a threat. Move, counter-move. Michael conceded the point with a nod.
“Don’t know what I’d do without you Bart. Now you go have some fun, whatever that means for you.”
“I shall study an ancient vellum, written by the Order of First Casters, I believe,”
“To each their own. Contact me as soon as you have that meeting arranged, OK? I’d ask for neutral ground…”
“But there’s no such thing in Thereafter, is there?”
Bartholomew left without waiting for an answer, leaving Michael alone in the sparsely populated night club at the end of the world. Michael felt the meeting went about as well as he could hope for, but the Big Scary Meeting was still on the horizon. This framing, Michael realized, also implied that his troubles were over once he had formally taken control of the organization, and nothing could be further from the truth. Once he had the reins of this multi-headed monster of crime and human depravity, the question of how to steer it would be next. He would need to compromise on what he believed was right or wrong, he knew that for sure, but how much of it, or how severe the compromise, he could not tell yet. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, make the outfit legit, but he could perhaps steer it in the direction of more constructive crime. It was a gamble he had to take, and if he ended up as just another Nih-Ka in the end, the status quo would have to do.
“Your coffee, Dayshadow,” The Bartender said as he put down the cup of coffee in front of Michael. He had ordered one for after his meeting with Bartholomew. “I am afraid, sir, that we are fresh out of real coffee, but this simulacra is first generation, and of a very good batch I’m told.”
“Very well, it’ll do,” Michael said. “Brew yourself a cup for your trouble, time permitting, hm?”
“Very well Dayshadow, thank you.” The bartender bowed before returning to his post. The man didn’t work for Michael in any technical sense, but seeing as Michael had taken over Nih-Ka’s personal stores with some help from Bartholomew, it was by Michael’s grace that this place could operate at all. It was the kind of respect-based barter system that lay at the heart of Nih-Ka’s whole organization, and while it was superior to money- or barter-based commerce in some respects, it also was incredibly vulnerable to corruption, the very corruption that had rocketed Michael up to the most popular man in town, much to his chagrin.
Michael mused over this over his cup of coffee, which despite its sterling lineage tasted like barely-over-average-quality gas station coffee. On one level, Michael realized it wasn’t the best cup of coffee he had ever had, but on the other, he had never felt so thankful for the light mania it induced before. The night was still young, and he still had planning to do.
Author’s Note: With this, we are finished with Thereafter book 1: The City After The End. It’s wild to me that I got here, and even wilder that I got here without missing out on a release day. Our time in Michael’s POV is over for now, but his story continues in the background of that which follows. Next up will be Voidhearts (working title) from the perspective of Alicia. I’m still outlining the thing, and so the thereafter releases will be on hiatus for the month of June. I hope to be back in the swing of things by July, but considering I’m going for three chapters per month (released on 1. 10. and 30.) I may need July to get everything in order as well. I will send out a mail about the new schedule as soon as I know for sure.
With all that housekeeping done, I want to thank you, the reader, for joining me on this first expedition to the chimeric streets of Thereafter. Writing is one of the things I do in part to keep my brain occupied, so I suspect I’d do it even if nary a soul read the thing, but it’s nice to know there are people out there who find my ideas and character interesting all the same.
Catch you all in book 2!
VSD