Moore's stand was in the northeastern corner of Novigrad's marketplace, but all the baskets were strewn across the floor. The okras, turnips, and potatoes rolled everywhere, making a mess out of the ground.
A mousey man was crouched before the stand, violently chomping down on a succulent radish. "Susie, we're generous enough to give you a one-day extension on the fees. Either you pay us what you owe, or else."
A pasty woman was curling up in the corner. She looked terrified, but the woman tried to calm her crying baby anyway.
"I think I need to make this clear. You know, my brothers get really fidgety and angry when they don't get what they are owed. And they get really violent. They might… Oh I don't know, hurt that little baby of yours. You don't want that to happen, do you?"
"You've taken all we have, Vincent. We don't even have one copper left." The woman looked at him carefully. She pleaded, "Please, have mercy on us. We need to make a living too…"
There wasn't anyone in the vicinity of the stand. The sellers and people stayed away from trouble. There would be some curious souls who tried to get a better look, but the thugs would just shoot them a glare, and they'd leave right away. Even the guards who were supposed to keep the peace were staying away as well.
"What about the money you make?"
"We just opened up for business. We haven't even made a single copper. Nobody's going to buy anything from us after what you did to us. We haven't sold anything."
One of the thugs rubbed his hands together and exchanged a look with his companions. "Then don't ever come back again!" He kicked a basket toward the woman, and the baby cried even louder. "The marketplace is Wiley's turf. If you can't pay up, you can't do any business here. Pack up your stuff and get outta here. Do it yourself, or we'll help with it."
The woman broke down into tears. She was out of options. She tried to ask the crowd for help, but most of them were apathetic. A few of them sympathized with them, while some laughed at their misfortune. None helped.
"Please, stop. Have mercy," an old, raspy voice said. Moore had come back to his stand. He sighed. His wife and son were in pain, but he couldn't do anything about it. The old man clenched his fists for a moment, and he loosened them up.
He wanted to sacrifice himself and drag those thugs down with him, but then he realized his impulsive action would bring an even worse disaster on his family.
These thugs belonged to one of the four gangs in Novigrad, and their boss was the legendary Alonso Wiley. He was a cruel man who had taken the lives of many. If Moore were to retaliate, by the next day, his family would suffer the repercussions of his actions. They might have their limbs cut off and their bodies stuffed into sacks just to get thrown into a watery grave.
"You're late, Moore. Where have you been, the Spear's Pit? Dumped your wife and kid for some prostitutes? They might run away with some other man, you know?" A bald, scarred thug patted Moore's cheeks.
The old man's face burned, and he stared down at the ground. "I-I went to make some money, Vincent." Moore forced a smile and took his pouch out. It pained him to do so, but he handed the man one crown.
"Do you think I'm a fool, Moore?" Vincent snatched his pouch and rummaged through it only to find another lonesome crown. "You only made two crowns the whole morning? The tribute's ten crowns, you old fool! This isn't even half of it!"
"But that's all we have." Moore held his hands out. "We've only moved here for less than a year, and we know nobody in Novigrad. I-I couldn't make that much money in such a short time. If you need more, then please, give me two more days. Once we sell off all the vegetables we have, we'll have enough to pay you."
Moore was almost on his knees at this point. "Please, take the crowns if you want. It's a gift."
One muscular thug shook his head and gave Moore a sidelong look. "Are you blind, you old git? There's three of us here. Two crowns ain't even enough for meat and wine. Either you pay up right now…" The man clenched Moore's cheeks and stretched them as far as he could. They swelled up eventually, and he slapped Moore, almost making him tuble. "Or you take your family and scram!"
Moore hung his head low, not saying anything.
"Daniel, how many times must I have to tell you? Don't abuse the elderly. You kill him and the boss is gonna have to clean up after you." The mousey men sneered. "You're in a predicament, Moore. But you're a good man, and I'll give you a tip on money making. It's on the house."
He looked at the baby the woman was holding in her arms, and he smirked. "The King of Beggars is hiring people for his 'beggars troop.' He takes in everyone: the homeless, the crippled, even children. Your kid's adorable. Whip him into shape, and he could make money off those women who love children far too much for their own good. Why don't you sell your kid to him?"
The muscular thug added, "We can help you with it if you don't want to dirty your hands."
"And your wife can work at Spear's Pit too. Or any brothels, really." The bald thug looked at the woman. "She's not young anymore, but she's still good-looking. Skin's still smooth. Some rich guy would probably take her."
Moore looked horrified, and Susie blanched. He expects me to sell my son to the King of Beggars? He'd grow up to be a thief or some crippled child beggar. And I can't sell my wife to the Spear's Pit. I'm no animal! But these thugs don't seem to be joking. Moore was sure these evil men would do anything for money. "Can't we talk this out, gentlemen?"
"Don't push your luck, old man," Vincent hissed. "Do as we say, and nobody gets hurt."
Moore was silent. Just when the thugs were about to lose their patience, he blurted, "Gentlemen, you demand payment from us twice every month, but only once from the other stands." He sounded really grim and solemn. "We never said a thing about that. It's been going on for six months. Is that still not enough?"
"You're bringing that up again? Do you want to die?" Vincent flew into a rage and sent Moore tumbling down with a kick. The crowd gasped, but he ignored them. "Let me tell you something, Moore. Cleaver's gonna take over this marketplace soon, so we're gonna have to squeeze every crown we can from you before that happens. And six months isn't enough to clear your debt. The witchers broke every single rule we have to protect you two. Caused a lot of harm to my brothers."
Vincent was growling at them, but the memories only brought him fear and hatred. He touched his left knee. No matter how much he tried, he could never forget how those Vipers defeated more than twenty of them in mere moments, and none of them could even put on a fight.
The witchers slashed his knee with their swords, and it left… complications. He almost couldn't walk upright whenever it was raining. Wiley was in a turf war against Cleaver back then. He had no time to deal with the witchers, so they had to suffer the consequences themselves, and Wiley was embarrassed. That was why Vincent went down hard on Moore and his family. Wiley loved torturing his victims until they lost their minds.
"The witchers aren't here. You don't get to talk terms with me." Vincent raised his voice. "Unless you can call them here again. Do it! Do it, you old fool!" He slapped Moore. "Those mutants are emotionless bastards. They probably forgot all about you. Give up!"
"Please, stop!" Susie screamed, and the baby cried. The thugs cackled with delight.
"Oh, that reminds me. They say you have another son. He's a mercenary, isn't he?"
Moore bit through his lip and struggled to get up, but Vincent stomped on his back, keeping him down. He laughed. "Not bad. My brothers will give him a warm welcome when he comes to Novigrad. He can help you with most of the debt. Let's see… He'll have to work…"
The man pretended to count his fingers, and he announced, "His whole life!" The man laughed. "Your son will be the great Alonso's slave his whole life!"
"And you'll be long dead, scum!" someone growled coldly. It sent a chill up Vincent's spine.
The thug stiffened up like a rat who was in the sights of an eagle. He could feel a terrifying air of animosity crashing down on him. He was still smirking, but the man couldn't even make a sound or move a muscle.
And then a searing pain rained down from the top of his head. He felt a great force pulling his hair, and he was lifted into the air. Someone tossed him back, and everything turned blurry. With a sickening crunch, he fell back down.
"Who are you? Unhand me!" He let out a guttural scream of agony. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his companions getting dragged away from the marketplace by a muscular silhouette in a grey hooded cloak.
They took big strides and ran like the wind. When he looked up, he was met with a pair of amber, feline eyes. "Mutants? You're a witcher!" He let out another scream of terror, but before long, they were dragged into the dark alleyway outside the marketplace.
***
Moore felt a weight getting lifted off his back, literally. The pain eventually went away, and he opened his eyes. The old man was greeted by a familiar face, though his eyes were feline. And he was more grown-up and handsome than Moore remembered. He coughed. "R-Roy? Is that you?" He was in disbelief.
"Sorry for the wait, Dad, Mom." The young witcher pulled his hood off and hugged his father. He took him to Susie, who was shivering and almost in tears. And then he hugged her. "I'm here. You don't have to worry anymore. Nobody will hurt you ever again." His eyes glinted icily. "Not even an emperor."
***
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