Dungeon Runner

Breaking Step, Chapter 06

Tibs froze as he stepped into the office.

The summons to Harry's office—now he knew why the guard as referred to the man as commander, instead of by his name—had been expected.

While Tibs didn't have many Runners to patrol Merchant Row, he ensured the patrols happened, which had led to altercations with the guards assigned there and those rogues ending up in the cells. Tibs hadn't sought Harry to get them released, since there were no runs to be missed, and the stays in the cell were only a few days long, but he had expected the guard leader to summon him about it.

Except that it wasn't Harry sitting behind the desk. The man with the hard metal gray eyes fixed on Tibs looked older. Black hair, tied in a tail, streaked with gray and a short beard, also black and gray. His leather uniform had metal strips attached, which Tibs thought were more there as something to use with his essence, than to add protection.

The concentration of essence made the man weaker than Harry, but still in the range of Gamma adventurers.

"Where's Harry?" If not for the ice, Tibs would have demanded, or accused. Instead, he was simply annoyed the guard leader had delegated the delivery of the ultimatum to a subordinate. For all the problems they had, Tibs still deserved to be yelled at by the leader of the guards himself.

The silence stretched, the man unmoving. If he thought he could out-wait Tibs, he was in for a surprise.

"Not here," the man finally said in a flat tone. "He left."

"Left for where?" and when would he be back? Tibs wasn't interested in dealing with—

"I don't know. And it's not what should bother you. I'm in charge. And unlike him, I'm not going to humor this little game you're playing at."

"I don't play games."

"You and your friends are playing at being guards. That ends now."

Tibs snorted. "So you can betray us the way Harry and the guild did? You're welcome to what Harry protected. I'm keeping Merchant Row and the surrounding neighborhoods. If Harry didn't tell you what's mine, the guards will know."

"What's yours," the man said, his tone not changing, "is that room you pay for, the table in the inn that you've claimed, and the team you do your runs with. Tirania might indulge you, because she finds you useful, but I don't. You will tell your Runner friends to get off the street and let my patrols do their work. The alternative will be harsher than a day or two in the cells."

"Like what?" Tibs smirked. "Feed us to the dungeon? Leave us to fend for ourselves the next time someone tries to destroy my town? We survived Sebastian. There's nothing you can scare us with."

"My job isn't to scare you. My job is maintaining order. You're interfering with that."

"I'm a rogue. Braking rules is what I do."

"Breaking the rules comes with consequences."

Tibs shrugged. "Have fun catching me doing it."

The man raised an eyebrow, and Tibs sensed the essence that opened the door behind him. "I've already caught you. Take him to a cell."

"Sir?" the guard standing on the other side asked, surprised. She didn't have an element. "They're full, after that last bunch of arrests."

The guard leader smiled coldly. "I'm sure they'll be happy to make space for him. My understanding is they are here for him, after all."

"Sir, Runners are supposed to—" she stopped as the expression was shifted to her and turned colder.

"I'm not my predecessor," the man stated. "He abandoned his post. Left behind Runners who think they get to set the rules and guards who think that's fine. When they break the rules, that are treated like any other criminals. Throw him in a cell."