Living his best Villain life
How time flies. Ratcliff takes aim at Iatr and leans into his aristocratic privilege in a most unbecoming way. If he wasn't the law, he'd be charged with inciting a riot.
If you’re new to this substack, check out this post that includes a table of contents so you can start the story arcs at their beginning;
Or if you need a reminder on the last thing that happened to Ratcliff and co, here is a link to the previous chapter.
Living his best Villain life
Sheriff Ratcliff and Yunen entered the tanner’s home. Long shadows stretched across the floors as the sun disappeared behind the walls of the city. The home had a cold and unwelcoming feel to it, and Ratcliff immediately noticed the glowering statues of Thor the protector and Váli the vengeful, flanking the central hallway. [1]
1 - Statues were often made to embody a particular aspect or domain of each god, making it easier to call upon their favour in the ‘correct’ way. These statues were popular choices amongst the traditional worshippers of the Aesir - when those worshippers were jealous and possessive men interested in protecting their belongings.
He eyed the statues as he walked in, the flickering light of twilight caused the painted eyes of the statues to seem more alive. They watched him and emanated a clear message of “stay away or there will be consequences.” Ratcliff, who wasn’t a devout Aesirian, ignored the statues as superstitious nonsense and walked inside with purpose. He heard Yunen behind him mutter a brief prayer to Thor as they followed Jake further inside the home.
Tessa “Bracken” was a slender woman in her late thirties. Ratcliff mused that she was likely an age near his own, but starvation and a life of suffering had put strain on her body that Ratcliff had been spared. She was in a worn dress, repaired enough times to be unrecognisable from whatever it had looked like when first sewn. Any colour of origin had been washed out through repetition and time.
The Bracken household was a narrow townhome in a busy craftsman’s street, utilitarian in its decor, with most of it’s space dedicated to the workshop and the living quarters. It wasn’t well built to accommodate its current residents, much less provide space for guests. Ratcliff, Tessa and Jake sat around a kitchen table big enough for five, while one of Tessa’s daughters, a young woman around the age of 15, continued to make supper as her mother turned to face Ratcliff. Yunen stood by the kitchen door with casual attention.
“I always said Iatr was going to bring trouble to this house - I told you!” Jake said darkly to his wife, who flinched in response and closed her eyes while pain rippled across her face.
“You did,” she said quietly. Her voice was cracked and miserable. There was a worn resignation in her tone, as though she’d been expecting this day for a long, long time.
“Madam,” Sheriff Ratcliff began, only to be cut off by Jake’s guffaw. He looked at Jake with disapproval, who smirked in response.
“What, she ain’t no highborn, nor is she one of those fancy brothel whores,” Jake said as if these points were matter of fact.[2]
2 - Which they were, but he -was- being an asshole about it.
“Indeed,” Ratcliff said, unimpressed. He turned back to Tessa, “Madam. You are Tessa Iatrdottir from Palinterra?”
“Was,” Jake said. Ratcliff said nothing and kept his gaze on Tessa. She flinched at Jake’s tone, and wouldn’t meet Ratcliff’s eyes.
“I was,” she said simply after a moment of silence.
“And Iatr Pieterson, currently living on the street as a cutpurse, con artist and snatcher, is your son?” Ratcliff continued his enquiry. Jake laughed at this statement, taking a clear and perverse pleasure out of hearing Iatr described as such. Tessa’s face remained neutral as she nodded.
“Lydia and Beatrix are your daughters?” Ratcliff asked.
At the mention of her daughter’s names, Tessa’s poise crumpled, and she slumped in her chair and started to cry. The young woman at the stove shot Ratcliff a glare before going back to tending the food preparations.
“Aw, now you’ve done it,” Jake said gruffly. “Tessa’s never gotten over Beatrix’s death. She’ll be like this for days now.” Ratcliff thought the man sounded annoyed.
“How did Beatrix die?” Sheriff Ratcliff asked, and looked at the man. Jake looked back defiantly.
“Was an accident. Ran out into the street like an idiot and got herself killed. Trampled by a merchant’s cart. Iatr blamed me, stole my tools and set fire to my workshop. Don’t know how it’s my fault she didn’t look both ways before running into the street like a dumb country girl,” Jake said, his arms crossed and his expression disdainful.
“Adjusting to life in Rundell city was a challenge for many from the outlying cities and countryside. Many refugees made difficult decisions when they arrived and were taken advantage of by exploitative locals,” Sheriff Rundell said neutrally, “I take it that Robert and Brithon are yours from a previous marriage?”
Jake nodded, “Yea. Them’s my boys. Good kids, not like that Iatr. Do what they’re told.”
“And the two of you have never had children together?” Sheriff asked.
Jake shook his head, “Naw we tried for a bit, but it’s costly to raise kids today. Realised that three was plenty.”
“Three?” Sheriff asked.
“Iatr ain’t welcome back. He’s trouble, and if I see him, I’ll probably kill him,” Jake said.
Sheriff Ratcliff exchanged a look with Yunen and said, “Well lets hope you don’t then, because that would be murder, and against the law of the land. Even if Iatr is, as you say, trouble.”
Tessa looked up at these words, her face full of confused hope.
Jake seemed to realise who he was talking to and what he was saying, and sputtered, “It was a figure of speech, My Lord.”
Nialh walked in, his size making the crowded kitchen feel vastly more crowded. “Watchman Nialh, could you escort Jake to his workshop and interview him and his sons for any knowledge they may have of Iatr’s whereabouts?” Sheriff Ratcliff said, staring at Jake with an expression that said ‘try and object and see where that gets you.’
The man’s face reddened, “My Lord, I don’t see why…” but Nialh, who was Jake’s size and a quarter more, lumbered up to the man and gestured for him to accompany him to the back. Jake’s face scrunched up in outrage, but he got up muttering, “None of us know anything about that rat.”
The two men exited the kitchen, heading to the back of the house. Ratcliff turned to face Tessa, who was looking in the direction of her departing husband, an expression of dread on her face.
He also noticed Lydia, still working at the stove, looking after Jake but with more loathing. Lydia noticed Ratcliff’s gaze, and looked at him defiantly. He could see in her features that this was definitely Iatr’s sister. He cooly met her gaze, until she looked away and returned to her duties.
“May I call you Tessa, Mrs. Bracken?” Sheriff Ratcliff asked in his most gentlemanly tone. She looked up at him, her body still tense, and nodded.
“When was the last time you saw your son?” he went on. Keeping an eye on both Tessa and her daughter as he asked the question.
“I’m not sure, my lord. I think I saw him several months ago when I was at the market, but I couldn’t catch up to him and he disappeared,” she said sadly, her eyes falling to the table as her attention drifted away into memory.
“Have you spoken with him in the last two years?”
“Aye… a bit over a year ago. He snuck into our back yard while I was doing laundry.”
Ratcliff could see she stiffened at the memory, and decided to press.
“What did the two of you talk about?”
She pursed her lips, looking angry and terrified. “Oh… He was angry with Jake. Accused him of looking the other way when Robert tried touching Beatrice in a way brothers shouldn’t. That Jake threatened to strike Beatrice when she complained to him…” she trailed off, closing her eyes as the pain of the memory overwhelmed her. Her hands fidgeted on the table, clutching her hands together like she could crush her feelings between them.
Sheriff Ratcliff wondered how many boys like Iatr were out on the streets with stories just like this one. He suspected that the number was larger than many people would feel comfortable with knowing.
He sat in the uncomfortable silence, waiting for Tessa to compose herself, or share additional information with him so as to distract herself from her own discomfort. Lydia chopped the vegetables with greater force than necessary. He stared at the ring on his right hand as he waited, eyes tracing over the old runes. He wondered, not for the first time, what they meant.
This was not a happy home.
Which was roughly what he’d expected.
“Was there anything else he said?” Ratcliff asked, after he came to the realisation that Tessa had completely checked out of this reality and was in her own world.
She looked up at him, blinking. Her eyes were red, but she gave a half hearted smile. “He spun some story about how he was going to become a big time smuggler, and come rescue Lydia and I from Jake. It was sweet, I suppose. If criminal.”
“Do you… need rescuing from Jake?” Ratcliff asked, his right eyebrow rose from the revelation. It fit with the rebellious character he’d seen from Iatr so far. Problems with authority. Bold overconfidence… well, bold confidence. Ratcliff couldn’t deny Iatr and Klem had cut an unusually large swath of mayhem despite being so young. Audacity, confidence, and a string of successes. But still young.
The question seemed to catch Tessa off guard, and Lydia too. The furious chopping stopped, and the daughter looked back with such a fierce stare that told Ratcliff; yes, these two did need rescuing. He sighed inwardly.
“No… my lord. Jake… is a hard man but he keeps a roof over our heads and food on our plates. Iatr and he never got along, and Iatr has always had problems with authority since his father died in the war,” Tessa’s voice tried to sound confident, but it was the confidence of repetition, not of true feeling. She was convincing herself as much as she was trying to convince him.
“Of course. Jake seems like a… hardy craftsman,” Ratcliff said, “I’m sure he’s an upstanding husband and father.” He kept his gaze on Tessa, but was watching Lydia’s reactions through his periphery. The young woman turned back to the stove with a clear look of disgust on her face.
“Iatr was right about them,” the young woman spat in a low tone of voice, only loud enough to be heard.
Tessa’s face hardened and she turned back to Lydia, “Don’t be ungrateful. We’d have starved if it weren’t for Jake.” Lydia didn’t bother to respond and kept working at the food.
Tessa looked back at Ratcliff apologetically, “I’m sorry my Lord. Things have been tense around here since Lord Marshall Vygore increased the levies on the tanner’s guild. Leather has become very expensive, and the army doesn’t compensate Jake enough. He says we’re losing money on every piece we send to the war.”[3]
3 - Sheriff Ratcliff was well aware of the “levy” and its implications. He was also aware that Lord Marshall Vygore was underpaying the craftsmen he was levying goods from. He was ALSO aware that Lord Tehasrôh had cornered the city’s leather supply chain a half year ago, diverting materials away from the market and driving up prices.
Now that the guild was required by law to supply more armour to the army or face crippling penalties… Lord Tehasrôh was finally selling his leather. At inflated prices. Given that the two of them were old family friends, Ratcliff suspected the two were colluding to cripple the leather workers guild.
He had them under investigation.
Ratcliff waved his hand dismissively. “Things have been difficult for many people in the capital. It is a hard time for all of us, with the ongoing war and rise in criminal activity. Speaking of which…” He fixed her with a hard stare. She suddenly looked nervous again with this change in tone.
“Lydia, is it?” He said, changing his gaze to the young woman, who stiffened at the sound of her name. “When was the last time you saw Iatr?”
She looked back at him, her gaze as hard and defiant as the one he remembered on Iatr’s face. “I haven’t seen him since he ran out that door two years ago,” she said, and practically spat the words out. She stared at him, as if daring him to object.
Ratcliff smiled placidly, “Of course. Why would Iatr want to come speak to his only living sister after fleeing the oppression of the man he accused of killing his other sister. The one he claims he’s going to come rescue when he hits the big time.” Lydia’s defiant face remained, but he could see she was suppressing her own anxiety at being confronted so directly.
Tessa looked from Ratcliff to Lydia, and frowned, “Lydia… has Iatr come to see you?”
Lydia shot her a disgusted look, “What, you’ll take his side? The *law man* who is hunting Iatr? Probably to arrest him? For what… stealing from rich merchants and abusive craftsmen? You’ll just do whatever a man tells you to do won’t you.” And then Lydia actually did spit on the ground. Tessa looked horrified and embarrassed at her daughter’s display of disrespect and derision.
Ratcliff, on the other hand, was impressed. But things were getting out of hand, and he was going to have to act soon.
He got up from the table and Tessa looked at him with a startled expression, her eyes now brimming with tears. “A moment, Madam. I need to confer with my colleagues.” She nodded, and looked back at Lydia with anguish. Lydia crossed her arms and looked furious and unrepentant at her mother.
Ratcliff walked out of the room and Yunen quickly followed him out to the front of the house.
“That’s some intense family drama you’ve stirred up there, Sir. If my read on this is right, we haven’t learned much of anything, and there’s a good chance that one or both of them is going to get beaten by Jake soon as we leave,” Yunen said uncomfortably once they were out of easy earshot.
Ratcliff waved to the other two guards that were on the other side of the street. They came trotting over.
“I suspect you’re right, Watchman Yunen. Which is why neither of them will be here after we’ve left,” he said confidently. Young looked at him with a confused expression.
“We can’t arrest them can we?” he asked and sounded worried.
“That is exactly what we’re going to do,” Ratcliff replied, with a darkly amused tone.
“We’re going to arrest two women… a respected leather guildsman’s wife and step daughter… while everyone on the street is at home for supper?” Yunen said, in an incredulous tone.
The two Watchmen walking up caught the tail end of the conversation and exchanged concerned looks.
“You… uh… trying to start a riot, Sir?” Yunen said carefully.
Ratcliff only smiled.
“Have you heard of Lord Whaelhen’s Law?” Ratcliff asked the three Brackens once he was back in the kitchen, this time with all four of his constables crowding the room. If things had been tense and overcrowded before, now they’d reached a boiling point. [4]
4 - A tradition had formed years earlier known as “Debts of the Damned” that caused mayhem in the Rundellian financial markets. Soldiers, expecting to die, took out extravagant loans claiming they would repay with their wages over time. The responsible soldiers gave this money to their families. The less responsible soldiers took out these loans with no intent to repay - and in some truly spectacular cases - the money was consumed in drink and whoring before the soldier had left the city. “Why not go out with several bangs if I’m going to die anyways,” was the common excuse for this brand of fiscal impropriety and civic rebellion.
The dishonourable soldiers took the loans and fled the country.
Lord Whaelhen was a notorious nobleman who had business dealings with many bankers and money lenders across the country. To combat the problem these loans had created, he sponsored a law that gave the money lenders the right to pass along debts to the immediate blood relatives of any debtor, with the right to take those relatives into indentured servitude if they weren’t able to pay the debt in full. Many toiling in the quarries were such surprised relatives of bad debtors.
The Sheriff at the time, Sir Cecil Graves, spotting a golden opportunity, agreed to champion the bill if it was expanded to include any debtors to the crown. Which often includes accused criminals who are responsible for damages done to property that the crown is responsible for compensation for.
Like Iatr and Klem.
Oddly, this predatory law only marginally reduced the number of Debts of the Damned.
However, it DID result in a significant increase in the supply of quarried stone.
“Now see here,” Jake spat in anger, rising from the kitchen table. “The 995 amendment to Whaelhen’s law clearly states that step-children’s debts cannot be held against the family if the step-child is not a member of that house at the time! Iatr is on his own! You can’t take any of my money!” He was yelling by the time he finished. Ratcliff waited for Jake to finish speaking, then gestured to Nialh, who put a ham-fisted paw on Jake’s shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. Jake looked astonished as he involuntarily sat back down.
“You are an educated man I see. Yes that is true, I cannot collect Iatr’s debts FROM YOU. Jake Bracken,” Sheriff Ratcliff said, his tone one of steel. His eyes fixed on Tessa, “However, I can collect those debts from his mother, Tessa, and sister, Lydia, regardless of their membership in this house.”
Tessa broke down in tears, and Lydia looked at him with daggers in her eyes.
Jake sputtered, “What? That’s not how the law works! They don’t have any money. It’s mine!” He tried to rise, but Nialh kept his hand on him.
Yunen and the other two came around the table and gestured for the two women to come with them.
“Indeed they do not. I would imagine you aren’t the type of husband to give either of them any money of their own to manage. So I have no choice but to take them into custody and assign them to a work camp to pay off Iatr’s debts to the crown, until we are able to apprehend him to pay for his own debts,” Sheriff Ratcliff said.
“You’re a monster,” Lydia said, fury in her eyes, and spat on him.
Ratcliff was surprised at how good her aim was.
It was when they got to the streets that things really spiralled. Jake, a man who wasn’t known for his skills of emotional self-regulation, had rallied his two sons to rescue his wife and step daughter from the villainy of Sheriff Ratcliff. Watchmen Wode and Joffry, escorting the two women to the Watchmen’s carriage [5], were too busy to deal with the arrival of the many interested neighbours.
5 - Which is an odd name for a semi-armoured cart used for transporting watchmen and prisoners. It implies a greater sense of hospitality than it’s utilitarian nature provided.
Like most things the city watch owned, it had a very worn look about it, and it’s squeaky wheel had lost any hope of being greased and was now only squeaking out of habit.
“The Sheriff is kidnapping my wife! It’s against the law! This is blatant oppression! The guild will hear of this!” Jake yelled, his sanity clearly beginning to slip in his furious attempt to take back possession of his wife. Nialh was holding him back, but Jake’s anger was making him stronger and more reckless.
It was clear that there was going to be violence.
Robert and Brithon, two sturdy lads in their mid teens, had squared off with Yunen, who had his truncheon out and was pointing it at them menacingly. “Careful now boys, you don’t want to earn a reputation with the watch for making trouble,” he said to them. They were both smaller than him, but not by much.
“What’s going on here, Jake?” A large man with dark brown hair and many scars, carrying a large mallet in one hand was walking up with his own son in tow.
“The Sheriff is kidnapping my wife!” Jake spat. And in a surprisingly quick motion, he pulled a knife out from his belt and thrust it at Nialh. The watchman stumbled back and fell against the fence at the front of the yard.
“Nialh!” Yunen yelled, swinging his truncheon at the two Bracken Boys to keep them back.
Jake lunged, his features twisted in rage, the knife plunging towards Nialh’s guts.
But Sheriff Ratcliff had been waiting for something like this. He lifted his right hand tapping the golden ring on his index finger with his thumb and shouted, “विद्युत्पिञ्जर!”[6]
6 - Which to us would sound like “Vidyutpinjara.”
Not quite a sneeze, but close enough.
A ball of cracking blue-white lightning erupted from the ring, spinning in an expanding circle, visually like a spider’s web. Jake’s eyes turned away from Nialh, and stared in horror at the magic spell racing towards him. It collided at speed and threw him back against the wall of his own house. The spiralling threads of blue lightning stuck to the wall, pinning him against it as the energy of the spell coursed through his body. He screamed in pain.
“The Sheriff is a wizard!” yelled one of the neighbours in panic, and the watching crowd began to flee back inside their homes.[7]
7 - While everyone knew that the war against the Aes Sidhe would have been lost long ago if it weren’t for the ongoing participation of the Wizards of Rundell, no one really trusted them - in much the same manner as no one trusts a man they don’t know carrying a loaded AR-15 in public.
They could go off at any time.
And they are awfully smug about how much better armed they are than you.
The two Bracken boys started backing away from Yunen, looking in panic from their thrashing father to the Sheriff. The large man with the mallet, despite looking pained at the sight of his neighbour, lost his nerve and began backing away from the scene as well.
The spell ran its course and the cage of lightning disappeared, dropping an unconscious Jake to the ground. Ratcliff turned his back on the horrified stares of Watchmen Yunen, Nialh, Wode, Joffry and the remaining onlookers. Tessa looked to be in a dissociated daze, while Lydia was staring at Jake’s crumpled form with dark pleasure.
Yes. This should get back to Iatr, thought Ratcliff with a grim smile.
He wished he’d thought to wear his dark cloak with the embroidered red silk lining. That would really add to the atmosphere. And a cane. He’d need to buy a good ruby-topped cane. Something with presence.
Though he resisted the urge to cackle - that - would be overdoing it.
“I think it’s time we leave, don’t you?” he said aloud, feeling pleased with himself.
fin
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Editor’s Note;
It’s been a while since I published a story update - two months by my records. Oops.
My attention got dragged in many different directions. I won’t bother making any excuses, as life happens and in the last two months a lot of life happened. I never forgot about this newsletter, and definitely grappled with strong emotions around what I was doing and where it was going. I felt certain that I was going to keep going, and I’m happy to say here we are. Still going.
Hopefully you’re still reading.
The thing about very long term projects, particularly for those of us of the neurodivergent ADHD variety, is that it can be difficult to maintain steam in the absence of consistent rewards. That’s why it’s so much easier to get lost in social media spirals and video games than consistently depositing incremental advances on projects like a sub-stack stories or writing a book.
And I do have other, very distracting passions. Like hosting parties, contact improvisational dance, west coast swing, art carpentry, sword fighting and organizing men’s circles. It’s been a fun (and stressful) couple of months.
But I’ve got a book to write and some stories to tell. So it’s time to get back to work. Well this work. There has been other work. I’ll probably tell you about some of that soon.
I also need to switch art tools - Chat GPT’s Dall-E has had a… “significant decrease in output quality” over the last few months. It’s unfortunate but the AI Art was always a “would you like fries with that” kind of offering to my storytelling. I don’t want to burn too much time on a degrading tool that isn’t *my* chosen artform - that has always been the writing.
But I do like the pictures. I’m just frustrated by the lack of Lora-ability in CGPT and this a growing problem the further down a story arc I go. I did learn a bunch of new photoshop tricks to clean up the messes that Dall-E could never quite get right. Fixing the lighting issues is beyond me though, hence why Ratcliff’s head looks oddly… luminescent.
If I can figure out a decent replacement for it, you’ll see the results. For now, there will just need to be fewer images.
Robin George
P.S. - I’m always looking for feedback on my writing and suggestions for how to improve the experience of this newsletter. If you’ve got a moment to fill out this google form, I’d be greatly appreciative.
P.P.S. - Amy - I saw your feedback for the first time this week and… well. Shucks. I really appreciate that. I’ll do my best to have a book you can read soon.
Impressed!