Chapter 12: Smoke and Silk
983 AN
Sep 13
---
[POV: Margot]
Margot's lounge glowed with quiet luxury. Velvet drapes, golden light, soft jazz from a phonograph. A bubble of elegance floating above the filth of Zaun.
But even bubbles pop.
Down below, one of her girls turned away a client too loud and too poor. Margot sipped her wine and tried not to frown. The younger girls were talking lately—about her. About bricklaying and pay ledgers and clean stalls where no one touched you without consent.
She hated how tempting it sounded. Even to her.
The door behind her creaked open without a knock.
Smeech entered like rot—loud, worn, impossible to ignore. Coat open, shirt rumpled, scarred hands swinging like he owned the room.
"Didn't expect a welcome," he said, flopping into a chair. "Nice place. New carpet?"
Margot didn't look at him. "Your boots are still wet. Don't wipe them on it."
He chuckled, stretched out. "You always had taste, even when we were all broke and stabbing each other over crates."
"You came to reminisce?" she asked.
He leaned forward. "Nah. I came to talk about our mutual headache. The girl with the tower."
Margot's jaw tightened. "Ashryn."
"Yeah. Thought I'd kill her early. Now I'm thinking I should've sent the whole block."
Margot finally turned. "And now you want help?"
Smeech shrugged. "You and me, we hold more ground together than she does. For now."
Margot tilted her glass. "Funny. You didn't say that before she took out Finn, Renni, and Strath."
"She's got momentum," he admitted. "But she's still green. Push her from both ends, stretch her too far, and she'll snap."
Margot studied him. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Cael, would it?"
Smeech's mouth twisted. "You know I liked that kid. Good trigger, kept his mouth shut. Now he's shining boots for her like she's some messiah."
"She offered him something better."
Smeech spat on the floor. "Better than loyalty?"
"Better than dying under you," Margot said. "Ashryn gives people jobs. Purpose. Names instead of numbers. My girls talk—men who used to beg loans now lay bricks for her tower. Women who sold themselves now run clean stalls under her banner. That's bad for both of us."
Smeech stood. "That's why we stop it before it spreads."
Margot's voice dropped. "She's not spreading. She's replacing us."
He paused at the door.
"Then let's remind Zaun what happens to little girls who play queen."
---
[POV: Smeech]
Outside, the streets coiled in pipes and shadow. The brothel lights glowed behind him, but they didn't warm.
Smeech lit a smoke, watched it burn. His lungs rasped like wet iron.
He remembered when people feared names like his. Now they whispered about Ashryn like she was a rising god. A girl who walked into a pit and came out crowned.
"Damn city's getting soft," he muttered.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't softness. It was change. And it was leaving him behind.
---
[POV: Ashryn]
Ashryn sat backward on a chair, munching on a strip of tough jerky while Lynne rattled off updates from her datapad. Cael leaned nearby, rifle half-disassembled, while Viktor scribbled adjustments on converter blueprints.
"You ever wonder what Smeech's breath smells like?" Ash asked.
Cael blinked. "What?"
"Like, do you think it's just… iron filings and despair?"
Lynne sighed. "Can we focus?"
Ashryn grinned. "Sure. Just saying, if he ever breathes near me again, I might pass out."
Lynne didn't look up. "He met with Margot. Quietly. No guards. No obvious trail."
"They shook hands?" Ashryn asked.
"Maybe. And Margot's been pressuring smaller crews around her perimeter—threats, debt forgiveness, offers of neutrality."
Ash swung the chair around, serious now.
"They're trying to box us in."
"Or peel people off," Lynne added. "We've flagged two lieutenants who used to run with Margot. They've been hesitating."
Viktor glanced up. "Do we need to act?"
"Not yet," Ashryn said. "Let them think we're busy. They'll get cocky."
Cael spoke up for the first time. "Smeech doesn't get bold unless he smells blood. He thinks you're overextended."
Ash gave him a look. "Still bitter?"
Cael didn't flinch. "He used to own everything I knew."
"Now?"
Cael met her eyes. "Now I know better."
Ash grinned. "That's why you're here."
She pointed to the map pinned to the wall.
"We let them lean in. Let 'em stretch. Then we cut the rope."
---
Cael lowered the map pin and nodded toward the board. "Strath's old warehouses are up and running again. We've got three crews rotating shifts—clean processing only. No skag, no counterfeit, no burnmetal."
Ashryn grinned. "So we're making honest coin in Zaun. Gotta say, I didn't have 'legal industry tycoon' on my bingo card."
Lynne tapped her datapad. "Renni's holding cages have been repurposed into barracks. Some of the pit kids already signed up for training under Callum."
Ashryn blinked, mouth half-full of jerky. "Wait, really? They're not terrified of him?"
"He's grumpy," Cael said, "but they like that he doesn't lie to them."
Ash chewed slowly, her voice softening. "Good. They've had enough liars."
She leaned back in the chair, gaze distant for a moment. "If anyone can teach 'em how to stand, it's him. And they'll listen—because he made it out, just like they want to."
Viktor looked up. "We've also cleared Finn's old guildhouse. Callum's reorganizing it into a formal merc post. Said something about 'contracts with class' and a place where strength gets you respect without needing to slit throats every other hour."
Ashryn let out a low whistle. "Damn. I like that. He always did have a poetic streak under all that brooding."
Lynne arched a brow. "You trust him with that much control?"
Ash chuckled. "Nah. But I trust what he wants. And right now? He wants something that lasts."
A soft beep chimed from Lynne's datapad.
"Another message," she said. "It's from the Tannin-block crew. One of the converters shorted out near the lower slums. Water's gone brown again."
Ashryn stood, stretching. "Alright. Viktor, draft them a fix. Cael, send two lookouts just in case someone gets cute. We show up, we fix it fast, and we let them see it with their own eyes."
She turned, flashing a grin as she grabbed her coat from the back of the chair.
"Let 'em know the new way works. And that it gives a damn."
---