Downtown Druid

Dantes arrived back in his garden with a pocket full of gold jingling satisfyingly in his pocket. He moved to a small patch of clover in the back corner, and waved his hands so the clover would clear, revealing a patch of dirt. He morphed his left hand into a shovel and dug up the dirt, revealing a small chest. He opened the chest, which was filled with gold, silver, and copper pieces all neatly separated by wooden slats. He carefully placed his new gold into it, keeping a handful of pieces to just have on hand, then he sealed the chest, covered it with dirt, and willed the clover to slide over the patch again.

The money he got from the fence was a good start, but he had another entire chest full of jewelry he’d have to move eventually. If he brought too much to Steel too quickly he wouldn’t be able to move it, and he’d probably start asking questions Dantes didn’t want to answer. He sighed, taking a gold coin from his pocket and making it dance between his fingers. This was also a test. One he’d been experimenting with often as of late. He needed to determine how sensitive Godfrey’s ability to detect purchases was. He kept a rat watching Steel’s shop, as well as any others he’d visited, and if they were interfered with then he’d be able to narrow things down. So far though, either Godfrey hadn’t taken the bait, or his powers were limited.

Dantes considered how much coin he currently had. He had three separate stashes in his main garden, two in each of the others, some small stashes in abandoned buildings he hid in rafters and under floorboards. Each of those had a good mix of gold, silver, and copper, then he included the jewels and based how much of a value they would have based on what he just spoke with the fence about, then he added all the weed, gunpowder, and other assorted goods he’d assembled through various robberies, raids, and other skullduggery.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as a general estimate solidified in his mind. He was rich. Richer than he’d ever been before. Richer than any theft or blackmail had ever made him. He was richer than most minor nobility. He could buy a mansion in Midtown, or a shitshack in Uptown, not that he’d be able to as they were exclusive about purchasing property there. He had been so occupied with everything else he hadn’t taken the full stock of everything he’d acquired.

He took a breath. His first considerations for the money were, of course, whores, booze, clothes, and jewelry. He could be simple like that on occasion. Of course, after that initial craving was suppressed, he thought more deeply. He owed Vera and the girls, so the first order of business would be to use the money to build whatever it was she’d been thinking of when they’d last spoken. Then he’d need to use a large portion of the rest of it to rebuild things in midtown in his own image.

His mind moved through each step before he managed to reel it back in and focus. None of that mattered while Mondego was still alive. Dantes let out a breath and flicked the coin he’d been playing with into the air. He caught it, and pocketed it. He needed to start making his next moves.

There was a knock at the wooden barrier to his garden. Dantes’s head snapped to it, and he checked the other side of it through a rat’s eyes and saw a long tall figure wearing a black coat, black hat, and holding a black walking stick with an ivory handle.

Dantes drew his pistol, shifted into a bat, flew over the wooden barrier, shifted back to himself in the air, and landed with his pistol pointed at the man in black’s head.

“Turn around. Slowly.”