After discussing a few of the finer details of the new arrangement, Mimosa and I were about to leave when Gin called out.
“Wait, there’s one more thing I wanted to ask you, Allen. You seem to know quite a bit about this side of town—have you heard anything about this group of kids calling themself Mad Dog? They’ve been causing a lot of trouble for us lately, and I’ve got no idea why.”
Never heard of them—or so I wanted to respond, but Gin’s gray eyes were piercing into me, and I somehow knew I wasn’t going to get away with the lie. They reminded me vividly of another pair of eyes I’d gazed into recently, though they’d been blue rather than gray, and had belonged to someone from a very different rung of society.
I sighed. “I can’t say I really know what their purpose is. I don’t know much about their leader, Piggy—I mean, Benza—either, but he’s not a bad sort, and he’s got guts. That’s my impression of him,” I said, before adding, “He’s probably the most uncivilized bastard you’ll ever meet, though,” for good measure.
Gin smiled. “I see... To be honest, I’ve been at a bit of a loss deciding how to deal with them. They’re nowhere near strong enough to be a threat to us, but if there was any chance they were in league with the Lotzes, it would be dangerous to keep letting them run wild... Thanks, Allen. You’ve given me something to think about.”
I nodded in response, and with that, Mimosa and I took our leave.
✦ ✦ ✦
Osa had just led Mimosa and Allen from the room.
“What were you thinking, Boss?” Shuri asked as soon as Osa had shut the door. “I know you, of all people, couldn’t have been trying to curry favor with Allen Rovene... If word gets out that you were personally asking around about Mad Dog, people will take it as the Red Dragon Syndicate acknowledging their strength. You’re the one who’s always going on about how those in positions of authority can never speak carelessly...” she trailed off, unable to keep the edge of quiet disapproval from her voice.
Gin smiled wryly. “You’re not wrong, Shuri—but I wouldn’t worry too much. The kid won’t speak a word of what we discussed here to anyone. Neither will Mimosa. They weren’t the unreliable sort. And you’re not planning to tell anyone about Allen’s visit either, are you? No, this will stay between us. As for Mad Dog... Well, I just wanted to see how the kid would respond.” He grinned in a way that was almost cheeky.
Shuri smiled despite herself. “I get wanting to test the boy’s judgment, but asking a Royal Academy student ‘What do you think of Mad Dog?’ isn’t really the way to go about it, you know? The kid doesn’t live in our world, Boss—and sure enough, he just came up with some random crap about their notorious troublemaker of a leader having a heart of gold or whatever. Doesn’t the fact that he couldn’t just admit he didn’t know only prove he’s still just a kid?”
Chuckling, Gin shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to trust him at his word, but Allen acknowledged that Benza kid’s potential. I’d say it’ll be worth our while to give him a shot. Do me a favor, and try looking at Mad Dog as a group of explorers with determination and resolve instead of a bunch of kids playing in an adult’s world. You never know—they could be just what we need at a time like this.”
Shuri looked appalled. “You’ve gotta be screwing with me, Boss... I know Allen Rovene’s meant to be a great judge of character or whatever, but he’s just a twelve-year-old kid! He might be able to pick out a few golden eggs back at that academy of his, but surely you’re not trusting his judgment when it comes to a gang of orphans from the slums? He doesn’t know anything about our world—” It was at that point she noticed the sharpness in Gin’s eyes and cut herself off mid-sentence. “I... Understood, Boss. But if you’re serious about this, I’m not gonna go easy on Mad Dog anymore. If you want me to whip them into shape, I’m doing it my way.”
Gin nodded, grinning. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Shuri. Give ’em everything you’ve got.”
Shuri looked at Gin again, taking in his abnormally good mood, and realized he obviously knew something about Allen Rovene that she did not. It was almost as though her boss already held the famous boy in high regard, and today’s encounter had merely turned that regard into concrete respect. Of course, it was incredibly unlikely the two had ever crossed paths before, but given Gin’s connections across Runerelia, it wasn’t too far-fetched to assume he’d come across some information most people hadn’t.
What, though? She wanted to ask, but Shuri wasn’t foolish enough to press for answers, not when her boss had clearly made up his mind. As always, Gin would share any information necessary if, and only if, it was needed. If there was something he wasn’t telling her, it was something she was better off not knowing. Shuri had no doubts as to Gin’s trust in her, but sharing everything—even with his right-hand woman—wasn’t something a leader of his caliber would do. Those who needed to know something would learn it, but only when the time came—that was the best way to protect yourself and others on their side of society.
“The kid gave us a good lead, free of charge. We’d be doing ourselves a disservice not to take advantage of it,” Gin added, his gray eyes sparkling with unusual glee.
✦ ✦ ✦
A new year had begun in Yugria, and nobles across the kingdom began preparing for the winter social season, the start of which was marked by a certain event. Every year, Yugria’s nine marquesses would converge in Runerelia under one roof for what was, ostensibly, a simple breakfast gathering. After visiting the Royal Palace to extend their well-wishes to the royal family and the dukes, the marquesses would gather on the first weekend of the year for the aforementioned breakfast gathering, kicking off the whirlwind of tea parties, formal dinners, and other engagements that made up the social season. Although it was referred to as the winter season, in reality these social events would continue until (and through) the spring season, which coincided with the Royal Academy’s entrance examinations.
Despite its significance, the breakfast gathering was a brief event—approximately an hour long—and had no formal agenda. To an outsider, it would seem like the marquesses were merely mingling, exchanging light conversation and polite greetings.
They’d be wrong, of course. No self-respecting athlete would approach the first tournament of the year with anything less than absolute determination, and the marquesses were shrewd competitors.
Almost as though by prior arrangement, the marquesses arrived at the Runemarquise Hotel—the location of this year’s breakfast gathering—at a uniform five minutes prior to the scheduled start time of 7 a.m., impeccably clad in both their finest formal attire and an almost palpable sense of confidence. After being shown into the somewhat snug private dining room, they exchanged the usual polite greetings in sharp, crisp voices that belied their median age, and offered one another covertly crushing handshakes.
Then came the meal. Of course, none among their circle were ill-mannered enough to decline to eat on account of a lack of sleep (or an abundance of alcohol) the previous night, as one frequently saw at gatherings of the lesser nobility. The meal in itself was an indispensable part of the deceptively informal event, and the marquesses fulfilled their obligations with well-mannered gusto. The meal was something of a warm-up for the main event, and as with most professional sports, it would be considered the height of rudeness to skip one’s warm-up while your opponent gave it their all.
Once the last plates had been removed, the discussions began. As one would expect from a gathering of some of Yugria’s most important figures, the topics covered at these breakfasts were rather diverse. Normally, with many other important subjects to broach, talk of something as simple as their children’s educational success was, understandably, one of the rarer points of discussion.
Normally, that was.