Bear School Astartes

Chapter 1016 - 998: Control and Funding

Lann did not lower his voice much, so Francis could hear him clearly.

Immediately, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

The last time he sighed with relief was because he felt Lann wouldn’t just wipe them out in the blink of an eye without listening, at least there was an intention to communicate.

This time, however, it felt as if... they might actually have passed this life-or-death test.

"You think I’m talented?"

Francis said cautiously.

"So can I assume... you don’t intend to kill us right now?"

Lann didn’t answer him directly.

"Tell me first, if you hadn’t been discovered by Sketch on this thread of thought before, what would you have done next?"

Francis Bealan instantly made his mind race, he thought this was Lann testing him.

"I had already made a plan before."

He carefully chose his words, striving not to make any mistakes.

"Sketch was not a threat, and even the entire Mud Gang was no problem. Once I had this intelligence network set up, all news from Novigrad would pass through my hands."

"In this city where astronomical wealth flows daily through global trade, the profits from accurate information are immeasurable!"

"Information! Compared to crowns, information is the most valuable hard currency!"

"Within just a few months, the wealth I’ve accumulated would surpass that of the entire Mud Gang! This wealth would then be reinvested into the gang’s expansion and construction; Sketch is merely a skilled and ruthless killer."

"In the face of profit, what can a killer really do? Killing is nowhere as important as money and power, not even up until today..."

Francis carefully glanced at Lann.

"I had already recruited hundreds of beggars outside, yet I only gave Sketch a few dozen. I was planning to take him out by the end of the month."

"And after that?"

Lann tilted his head.

"After that... a gang that controls such immense informational wealth cannot remain obscure. Whether they want to or not, this gang will become an integral part of Novigrad’s social order."

As he spoke, Francis looked at the Demon Hunter with hopeful and determined eyes.

The implication was clear... this power could be in someone’s hands.

"You are ambitious, yet methodical and logical."

Lann crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don’t seem like a gang member; you look more like someone who should be sitting on the city council."

"The city council is full of puppets; anyone with a brain should understand that, sir."

Francis said with a bit of disdain.

"To effectively regulate and improve the city, one must grasp real power — power that is related to gangs, to the Eternal Fire, and not to the city council."

"Sounds like you’re actually a social reformer? That’s surprising."

Lann gave a playful compliment and then fell silent, contemplating something.

And due to his silence, the atmosphere inevitably turned heavy.

In situations like these, where an individual possesses overwhelming power, any of their emotional fluctuations or external expressions will affect the nerves of everyone else involved.

After a long while, the silence was broken.

"I can give you a chance, Francis. It’s rare for me to be willing to give a gang a chance, really."

Lann said, taking off his hood.

He let Francis see his face clearly and recognize it.

After removing his hood, Lann’s cat-like eyes met his gaze.

"But you should understand what I want, you’re a smart man, right?"

"Of course, Duke Lann."

Francis completely relaxed, standing up from his chair, and bowed to Lann.

"I definitely understand."

Between smart people, things don’t need to be stated too explicitly, because everyone understands internally.

Lann and Triss left.

In this courtyard that originally belonged to the Mud Gang, the only "armed forces" left were those brought in by Francis.

This place was theirs now.

Francis stood inside the deepest house of the courtyard, his nostrils filled with a strong stench of blood and rot.

The smell that emanates from an open wound after death is certainly not pleasant.

The fetid stench of internal organs, as well as the vile contents within them, were splattered out by Lann’s violent blows.

As if that terrifying violence still lingered there.

"I don’t think this blood will ever come off."

A subordinate mumbled as he scrubbed the wooden floor, having just stepped outside to vomit for two minutes before he could start working.

Francis pursed his lips, not saying much.

If his subordinate’s grumbling could bring even a slight peace to their frightened hearts, then let them grumble. It’s better than losing their minds out of fear.

Sketch’s body was now just half a face, and Francis no longer cared about this former boss at all.

They were never opponents on the same level; previously, Francis was only constrained because he had no initial capital to utilize.

Getting into the gang world requires money and resources to start, otherwise, how do you support your muscle?

If the pay for the henchmen doesn’t even surpass the profits of street vendors, who would be foolish enough to risk their lives for you?

And a gang has to support dozens of henchmen, meaning that even if nothing happens, a gang has to spend profits equivalent to the business of dozens of vendors daily.

Francis was confident in himself, but he still planned to take action against Sketch by the end of the month.

This was not only the estimated time Sketch had developed a killing intent against him, but also the time to earn profits for recruiting more manpower.

But now... none of that matters.

He directly became the leader of the Mud Gang because of the sudden intrusion of a highly violent force.

Now, he can control the entire gang according to his own plan.

"From now on, we won’t be called the Mud Gang, but the Dark Alley Gang. This courtyard will be called... let’s call it ’Rotting Forest.’ A forest where the decayed gather, suitable."

His subordinates didn’t have any objections to the decision Francis made while muttering to himself.

Changing the leader and the name is also a sort of rule for a gang.

As long as it doesn’t hinder making money, even if called the Stinking Dog Shit Gang, it doesn’t matter.

Making money without considering consequences, breaking all taboos, even dismembering someone into a pile of pieces, that’s the gangster’s style.

"And you, Old Monk, my Old Friend."

After confirming the gang’s new name to himself, Francis turned around.

The old man who sold out his ideas to Sketch in exchange for a few crowns, a set of new clothes, and a gangster identity.

His luck was better than Marsh’s, the crossbow arrow had penetrated only his scapula back then, knocking him out with pain.

Now, he was pulled from the pile of corpses to face Francis.

"Mmm! Mmmm!"

Twisting his body, he stared desperately at Francis but couldn’t speak due to the cloth in his mouth.

Sweat streamed down from the pain, dried out, then a new layer came from fear facing Francis.

Wet, sticky.

Francis’s face, with folds of ferocity, showed no expression towards Old Monk who was aggressive towards him not long ago.

He was serious, calm, not much different from dealing with any corpse.

"Stop talking, Old Monk. You know I can’t let you go. You are a traitor, and if I don’t deal with a traitor, I can’t sit firmly as a leader."

An old beggar who through betrayal and framing had just started living a good life, whose eyes seemed to have a thousand words.

He struggled with everything he had, wanting to push the cloth out of his mouth with his tongue, then say a few words. Words that perhaps might save him, even if just delaying a little longer, he wanted to do that.

He didn’t want to die.

But Francis didn’t give him the chance.

He had no intention of listening to Old Monk say a single word.

"I just want you to know, buddy... this isn’t a personal grudge."

Francis’s left hand grabbed Old Monk’s wet hair tinged with sweat and blood, forcing him to reveal his neck.

His right hand skillfully pulled out his dagger, then stabbed it into the soft spot at the base of the neck with a ’thud.’

Decisive and clean, like slicing a fruit platter.

Blood oozed out from the gash at Old Monk’s neck like a baby spitting milk.

He soon died.

-----------------

Having received new information, and now the temporary crippled gang in Novigrad acting as a tentacle, Lann walked the streets of Novigrad with Triss once more.

"I need to find Dudu quickly. Clearly, someone has targeted him, this time his bankruptcy seems not simple. And I should be reaching the phase of massively mobilizing assets."

"Mobilizing assets?"

Triss seemed a bit unclear.

"Darling, if you want to control an organization, no matter what kind it is, the best method is to control its personnel department and cash flow."

The Demon Hunter patiently explained to the Female Warlock.

Characters like Warlock often attach themselves to a system, like the Royal Family, like academies, carrying out work, power struggles.

They don’t frequently create or control a system.

Thus, most Warlocks’ political views and management knowledge always seem unrealistic in Lann’s eyes, unable to land.

"I appreciate Francis, and hope he can use his ideas to shine in Novigrad. But if I have no control over the ’Intelligence Gang’ he’s going to create in the future, then our cooperation earlier is a joke."

"Cooperation without enforced supervision only leads to betrayal."

Lann stated calmly.

"In terms of personnel, I can’t manage it because Francis is the frontline operator in Novigrad. But if I don’t even manage the finances, that would be ridiculous."

"I will establish the rules, allowing this ’Intelligence Gang’ to profit through selling information, but cannot allow them to profit through commercial operations using the information."

"They will be ’neutral’ information vendors, and once they lose credibility and start personally involving themselves with their own information, no one will trust them, nor dare to trust them."

"On the other hand, if they don’t financially depend on me, why would they listen to me? Force is the guarantee of commercial activity, but in itself cannot push commercial progress and development. I need them to provide me with information."

Finally, Lann concluded.

"Anyway, my financial injection must be the main drive for this ’Intelligence Gang’ to operate, and this requires a sufficiently smart professional manager to manage my assets."

Although Triss didn’t have much experience in managing and controlling an organization, after the Hunting Marquis incident back in Vizima, she somehow mixed in the power circles of Temeria, thus she could understand it.

"The head of the Temple Guard of Eternal Fire..."

Lann muttered the new intel, lowered his head and asked Triss.

"Are you familiar with this kind of person?"

"Familiar? Are you kidding?" Triss moved her red hair hanging by the corner of her eye and looked at Lann in surprise.

"That’s Eternal Fire, oh my great and wise Duke! You’re really willing to let your lover, a witch, hover around them? Is it because I didn’t try hard enough in bed to please you? Oh, I’m heartbroken."

"No, Triss... forget I said anything."

The Demon Hunter who was stabbed by the Female Warlock smirked.