"Boss Croat's organization is supposed to be reliable," she admits slowly. "Everyone in Leeward does business with them, and I haven't heard any complaints. Should I tell them about your friend being in there with the man and the child and the woman covered with blood?"
Gristav, Braddon, and Snake depart the Gold Goblin not long after Phil and Ethel. They also direct their steps toward the Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar. As they approach the small shop, a mere footnote between the grandiose Mystery of the Gate and Cleg Zincher's even more imposing arena, they spy two Small figures on the street ahead of them: Phil and Ethel.
"Do we catch them up? No, they deserve their space. They are a comely couple, aren't they? If one squints, and... pretends it's perspective. I suppose, that's a perspective, of a different sort. Then, one might do without the squint." Gristav smiles brightly at his companions.
"You know, that vendor, he might not know we've any link. Let's enter separately. If they enter..."
As the trio watch, the Small figures of Phil and Ethel move away from the shop toward the east.
Rolling his eyes, "No, we don't catch up to them. We've got our own work cut out for us. Let's just keep to the task at hand."
"Fair enough."
Braddon makes his way round to the door and knocks.
"Who should we say sent us?"
"Should I tell them about your friend being in there with the man and the child and the woman covered with blood?"
Speaking cautiously Phillip replies "I wouldn't volunteer that... I don't think there was enough blood or chaos for them to be responsible. But speak plainly and honestly, the truth of the situation will ring out."
From the Bazaar Phil wends his way towards Boss Croat's compound - though keeps his eyes open for any half-orcs who are clearly part of the clannish organization. Luca intimated that any one of them would be able to be guide to the others.
"Fair enough."
Braddon makes his way round to the door and knocks.
"Who should we say sent us?"
"I've been before. I brought myself. And you.", Gristav answers. "But usually, it's open... Ah! Of course, the day of rest. Well, we'll wait some minutes, and see if we've disturbed him. And not try any harder, I think, to do so."
"Should we be welcomed, Mister Kane, do look it all over. Something may ring a bell."
"Should we be welcomed, Mister Kane, do look it all over. Something may ring a bell."
"You can bet on it," he says, glancing to his left and right out of habit.
Phil and Ethel continue on to the northeast, cutting through Leeward Common. Like the other businesses in town this morning, the market seems to be getting off to a slow start: the farmers' wagons have arrived, but few of the stalls are yet set up and stocked, nor are there many shoppers waiting impatiently.
The pair take the northern road leading out of the Common and pass the Three-Billed Duck, which seems to be alone in the neighborhood both in being open and in doing a fairly brisk business.
Ethel glances to the right side of the street, where the boarding house in which the girls shared the low-ceilinged attic flat stands. "I wonder how Almah and Maddy are holding up," she muses, a little guiltily. "Should we stop to see them?"
Braddon knocks at the door of the small shop, standing beneath a painted wooden placard bearing the moniker 'Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar': impossibly blue waves lap at the bottom corner of the words, and a brightly-colored ship peeks over the horizon of the oversized 'B' of Bazaar. Freshly-washed windows of multiple hand-sized panes of glass on either side of the door display eclectic wares: glass and wooden windchimes, brightly-enameled pottery, necklaces of knotted cord and hand-painted beads, hammered copper bracelets and earrings, tiny stone idols, small carved chests, and gewgaws and knick-knacks of all kinds.
The clutter in the windows means that it is difficult to get a clear view of anything in the back of the shop, but after waiting a while, Braddon hears the sound of footsteps. A moment later, a Keleshite man with a neatly trimmed beard peers through the front window. His gaze passes over Braddon and Snake coolly, but a spark of recognition lights his dark eyes when they land on Gristav.
He unlocks the door with no appearance of haste. "You are shopping early this morning," he observes, opening the door and setting a silver chime above it jingling. "I trust your need is urgent and your pursestrings loose?"
...a spark of recognition lights his dark eyes when they land on Gristav.
He unlocks the door with no appearance of haste. "You are shopping early this morning," he observes, opening the door and setting a silver chime above it jingling. "I trust your need is urgent and your pursestrings loose?"
Gristav enters with no appearance of haste. "Yes, I apologize for the hour, or rather, the day. The road has taught me little respect for either, though you have taught me some for yourself. Accordingly, I've brought these gentlemen, Misters Hart and Kane, to make the acquaintance of your person and shoppe, on the occasion of my needing to leave here neither heavier nor lighter- Well, not unduly lighter- , but wiser. Might we leave them to their browsing while we discuss the matter?"
...
"There is a dwarf of some shade, dwelling in Rotgut, and I'd rather not knock on every door, nor splash ripples in a pond where the fish might startle into biting. I expect, you might direct me. My business with him would be two-fold, the one more urgent than the other, the least only mentioned as I shouldn't wish to seem to have been concealing. I've a surplus of alchemical equipments and supplies of clear provenance but dubious purpose, and thought he might make safe disposal or use of them, I don't much care which. That's the lesser matter. The greater, which brings me to your door, on a rest day, devolves from his dwarven nature, and I'd rather not speak much more to details thereof. If I might avoid it."
The interior of the store is not large -- it appears that only the front half of the building is used as a showroom, while the remainder presumably serves as a residence for the shopkeep -- but not an inch of it is wasted. Shelves, stands, and display cabinets delineate a circuit of open floor space designed to take the browser past a multitude of wares and a counter in the back corner. A barrel filled with sawdust-stuffed toy animals fashioned of bright patchwork fabric sits against a wall; in the back of the shop, a rainbow of scarves and shawls hangs through rings high on the wall; opposite this, near the sales counter, is a display of beaded jewelry. Looking around, Braddon and Snake suspect that one could find almost any item in the shop, as long as it is of both exotic appearance and limited utility.
Patting Ethel's hand for some cold comfort Phillip answers "After... first we put paid to the half-orc's concern, then can come comfort. We'll swing past and you can spend some time while I attend to some other preparations?"
As Gristav goes and talks to the man, Snake checks out some of the wares. He picks up a scarf and looks over at Braddon. "How does this guy stay in business? All he sells is crap." He places the scarf back, shaking his head at the sheer amount of stock of useless items.
"There is a dwarf of some shade, dwelling in Rotgut, and I'd rather not knock on every door, nor splash ripples in a pond where the fish might startle into biting. I expect, you might direct me. My business with him would be two-fold, the one more urgent than the other, the least only mentioned as I shouldn't wish to seem to have been concealing. I've a surplus of alchemical equipments and supplies of clear provenance but dubious purpose, and thought he might make safe disposal or use of them, I don't much care which. That's the lesser matter. The greater, which brings me to your door, on a rest day, devolves from his dwarven nature, and I'd rather not speak much more to details thereof. If I might avoid it."
Hassan's expression doesn't flicker. "Gundsric," he affirms. "Nearly as far south in Rotgut as you can go. A three-story building nestled in the shadow of the western ridge, beneath the sign of a snake coiled around a staff. I know him only by reputation, but if the price is fair, he may well be willing to relieve you of your surplus equipment."
"How does this guy stay in business? All he sells is crap." He places the scarf back, shaking his head at the sheer amount of stock of useless items.
"You're not wrong. Most of this stuff is only good for kindling. You'd have to be mad to... ooh, stuffed animals!"
Braddon's eyes light up as he starts lifting animals from the barrel and setting them aside as he digs deeper. Eventually, he finds a larger, soft, bright patchwork animal and thrusts it towards Hassan."How much is this? I'll take it!"
"There is a dwarf..."Hassan's expression doesn't flicker. "Gundsric," he affirms. "Nearly as far south in Rotgut as you can go. A three-story building nestled in the shadow of the western ridge, beneath the sign of a snake coiled around a staff. I know him only by reputation, but if the price is fair, he may well be willing to relieve you of your surplus equipment."
"You do not disappoint. Very well informed, for a man who seems not to leave his shop. I suppose I, a man afoot, must seem very dim indeed..."
...finds a larger, soft, bright patchwork animal and thrusts it towards Hassan.
"How much is this? I'll take it!"
"Or, perhaps not.", Gristav grins.
"You spoke of a reputation. Could you elaborate? The longer I'm here, the longer Braddon browses."
"See what else you might need, Braddon. Perhaps you can match, a certain shade of red?"
"You're not wrong. Most of this stuff is only good for kindling. You'd have to be mad to... ooh, stuffed animals!" Braddon's eyes light up as he starts lifting animals from the barrel and setting them aside as he digs deeper. Eventually, he finds a larger, soft, bright patchwork animal and thrusts it towards Hassan.
"How much is this? I'll take it!"
Shaking his head and sighing, Snake moves along within the store, truly wondering if there is any thing in here that is even remotely interesting.
Braddon's eyes light up as he starts lifting animals from the barrel and setting them aside as he digs deeper. Eventually, he finds a larger, soft, bright patchwork animal and thrusts it towards Hassan.
"How much is this? I'll take it!"
The shop keeper's mien changes entirely as he turns to the half-elf, his face stretching into a wide grin and his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "These bright little animals were hand-crafted from mammoth wool by artisans in the Tusk Mountains. They have taken quite a journey to delight the eye of a discerning gentleman on the Varisian coast, no? Four silver coins."
"You do not disappoint. Very well informed, for a man who seems not to leave his shop.... You spoke of a reputation. Could you elaborate?"
Hassan rolls one shoulder in a non-committal shrug. "A man need not beard the dragon's den to know that few return alive. I know nothing of the dwarf ... only a general insinuation that one who deals with him ought to count his coins carefully and refuse any offer of refreshment. And it may be mere empty rumor. Who am I to say?"
Phillip and Ethel continue past her erstwhile home into the cleft of the eastern ridgeline of the city, where the buildings lining the street march straight up to the rocky escarpment and then stop. While not as dilapidated as the River District, this particular corner of the city seems less prosperous and decorative than the rest of Leeward: the flower boxes and freshly-painted shutters give way to bare brick walls and barred windows. Ethel unconsciously walks a little nearer to Phil.
Boss Croat's compound is unmistakeable: a triangular military-style complex surrounded by a high brick wall. North of it is only the rock scarp of the ridgeline; on the opposite side of several tons of solid stone must be Devil's Fork. As the pair approach, a trio of muscular half-orcs look up from the stoop of a brick box of a building. They are seated on old crates around a barrel on the top of which they're playing some kind of a dice game. They watch the halflings with mild curiosity.
Phillip keeps his left arm hooked to serve as an attachment point for Ethel's arm as he raises his right to the half-orcs. In an even and not overbright tone he calls "Good morning gentlemen... we've business with Bruno and Luca. Any chance you could point us in their direction?"
The shop keeper's mien changes entirely as he turns to the half-elf, his face stretching into a wide grin and his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "These bright little animals were hand-crafted from mammoth wool by artisans in the Tusk Mountains. They have taken quite a journey to delight the eye of a discerning gentleman on the Varisian coast, no? Four silver coins."
"How much is this? I'll take it!"
"They are a delight. And felt, no small bother to craft. Then the coloring, and of course, the imagination, to awaken the child in the viewer. Braddon, ask Mr. Kane to help choose another, or two, for the keyholder? We'll be close enough, to deliver that, later."
"You do not disappoint. Very well informed, for a man who seems not to leave his shop.... You spoke of a reputation. Could you elaborate?"Hassan rolls one shoulder in a non-committal shrug. "A man need not beard the dragon's den to know that few return alive. I know nothing of the dwarf ... only a general insinuation that one who deals with him ought to count his coins carefully and refuse any offer of refreshment. And it may be mere empty rumor. Who am I to say?"
"Who would I be, to listen?", Gristav plays. "Three poppets, two gold?", he asks more seriously, the coins suddenly in his hand.
"These bright little animals were hand-crafted from mammoth wool by artisans in the Tusk Mountains. They have taken quite a journey to delight the eye of a discerning gentleman on the Varisian coast, no? Four silver coins."
Braddon's smile vanishes immediately.
"FOUR!?! These boots only cost two. How dumb do you think I am? (Is that blood on the toe?) I'll give you one silver.""They are a delight. And felt, no small bother to craft. Then the coloring, and of course, the imagination, to awaken the child in the viewer. Braddon, ask Mr. Kane to help choose another, or two, for the keyholder? We'll be close enough, to deliver that, later."
Braddon holds the toy a little closer.
"The who? Find your own. This one is mine. It's for... someone."
"FOUR!?! These boots only cost two. How dumb do you think I am? (Is that blood on the toe?) I'll give you one silver."
"Ah, but the boots were fashioned here by a local craftsman," Hassan counters. "They cost him only the materials and the time to craft them. These small creations," he indicates the colorful animals, "have traveled from a remote mountain peak, high in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, skirted the dangers of the Hold of Belkzen, crossed the Storval Plateau, and come all the way here, nearly to the edge of the Steaming Sea. As with most lives, the value is not derived from the raw materials but from the journey they have taken." He grins enigmatically.
"Three poppets, two gold?", he asks more seriously, the coins suddenly in his hand.
"And your friend may take his, as well," the merchant agrees quickly, taking the coins and gesturing Gristav to the barrel to select three more of the toys.
"Good morning gentlemen... we've business with Bruno and Luca. Any chance you could point us in their direction?"
The half-orcs confer a moment. "Luca lives upstairs from me," one of them volunteers. "I'll see if he's there." He swings his leg around to unstraddle his crate-chair and saunters inside the building.
After a few minutes have elapsed, he returns with a grin and gives Phillip a nod. "Wait just a while longer. He'll be down."
Sure enough, after the sun has shifted a few degrees higher in the sky, Luca appears in the doorway, bleary-eyed, clearly just rousted out of bed. He sees Phillip, nods a little nervously; his eyes slide to Ethel and back to Phil.
With a slightly wry smirk that Phillip suppresses at first opportunity the halfling nods a greeting before adding "Morning... we've information pertaining to the affair of last night... can we speak?"
Luca nods, looks around a bit dimly as if a private office might be available somewhere along the street, then waves the pair to follow him as he strides down to the corner of the building and into the alley. A collection of crates and boxes is piled there in readiness. Luca sets one upright for himself, then turns two lengthwise to be more comfortable for the halflings. He nods them to have a seat as he straddles his own crate. "You find something out?" he asks.
Making sure to lead Ethel safely onto her seat before running a hand through his hair and sitting down, Phillip responds "Aye, possibly... maybe not definitively but worth adding to the pile." turning to Ethel and with kind eyes imploring "Tell Luca what you told me last night... about who wasn't happy with not being paid." following up with a sidelong look towards Luca to read his sub-vocal cues as he hears the news about the rat-catchers.
"FOUR!?! These boots only cost two. How dumb do you think I am? (Is that blood on the toe?) I'll give you one silver.""Ah, but the boots were fashioned here by a local craftsman," Hassan counters. "They cost him only the materials and the time to craft them. These small creations," he indicates the colorful animals, "have traveled from a remote mountain peak, high in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords, skirted the dangers of the Hold of Belkzen, crossed the Storval Plateau, and come all the way here, nearly to the edge of the Steaming Sea. As with most lives, the value is not derived from the raw materials but from the journey they have taken." He grins enigmatically.
"As men of journeys, surely we all can agree with that."
"Three poppets, two gold?", he asks more seriously, the coins suddenly in his hand."And your friend may take his, as well," the merchant agrees quickly, taking the coins and gesturing Gristav to the barrel to select three more of the toys.
Hesitantly half-stepping, as if regretting the prospect of rummage, Gristav asks, "Would you be amenable to the proposition of providing me a scrip for each? So you might know, that whoever presented such, did so on my account? You see, I'd rather rush off to Rotgut. I'd even be happy to return later for the scrip..."
Braddon looks suspiciously at Gristav and Hassan a moment before opening his backpack to stow the toy. He hesitates, sniffs and looks up at Hassan.
"Do you have any smelly stuff? Nice stuff? I got caught in that flood a few days ago, on Wealday."
He looks at the toy and the backpack.
"I want something girly."
Hesitantly half-stepping, as if regretting the prospect of rummage, Gristav asks, "Would you be amenable to the proposition of providing me a scrip for each? So you might know, that whoever presented such, did so on my account? You see, I'd rather rush off to Rotgut. I'd even be happy to return later for the scrip..."
Hassan quirks a dubious eyebrow ... but with two gold coins already in hand, he nods. "Now or later, as you wish. It would be the work of a moment to write out the tickets."
"Do you have any smelly stuff? Nice stuff? I got caught in that flood a few days ago, on Wealday."
He looks at the toy and the backpack.
"I want something girly."
"But of course, sir. This is a gift or for your own personal use?"
Making sure to lead Ethel safely onto her seat before running a hand through his hair and sitting down, Phillip responds "Aye, possibly... maybe not definitively but worth adding to the pile." turning to Ethel and with kind eyes imploring "Tell Luca what you told me last night... about who wasn't happy with not being paid." following up with a sidelong look towards Luca to read his sub-vocal cues as he hears the news about the rat-catchers.
Ethel gives Phil a nervous glance before beginning with a stammer, "Well ... she wasn't paying the rat catchers. Not since she got the dog several months ago. She said it was bred to kill rats and it was cheaper to keep a dog than pay the rat catchers. And more sanitary, too, to have a dog in the shop than to have the collectors coming to her back door. They, uh, they didn't like that, but she refused to pay. Said she didn't need their services anymore."
Luca seems nonplused by the news. "She stiffed the ratcatchers? Why didn't you tell me this last night?" He turns mildly reproachful eyes on Phillip.
Hesitantly half-stepping, as if regretting the prospect of rummage, Gristav asks, "Would you be amenable to the proposition of providing me a scrip for each? So you might know, that whoever presented such, did so on my account? You see, I'd rather rush off to Rotgut. I'd even be happy to return later for the scrip..."Hassan quirks a dubious eyebrow ... but with two gold coins already in hand, he nods. "Now or later, as you wish. It would be the work of a moment to write out the tickets."
Gristav clearly wanted to be in motion, but when Braddon found more to speak on, he relented, waving to Hassan his assent to scrip, or tickets, or whatever, whenever...
Phillip shrugs his shoulders and honestly answers "Didn't come to mind until after I'd seen the scene and talked with Miss Braum... from what I've heard Ziphras doesn't sound like the sort that'd let things slide."
"But of course, sir. This is a gift or for your own personal use?"
"Well, the toy's a gift, but I don't want it smelling like my backpack. So the smelly stuff is for me, for my backpack, but it'll be okay if its girly because the gift is for her."
He glances at Snake and Gristav."I'll take what you suggest. We're in a rush," Braddon says apologetically.
He seems somewhat abashed after his previous outburst.
"Attar is to be worn directly on the naked flesh," Hassan corrects Braddon politely. "What the gentleman requires is a scent bag or a pomander; such are designed to be carried or worn and to bestow a general perfume to counteract any unfortunate noxiousness. I have an antique jeweled mithral pomander of Kyonin craftsmanship, very rare, very delicate ... but perhaps, being a man of action, you may prefer something more practical. I have a selection of Tien sachets, brought over the Crown of the World, easily tucked away in a satchel. Only two silver coins each."
Phillip shrugs his shoulders and honestly answers "Didn't come to mind until after I'd seen the scene and talked with Miss Braum... from what I've heard Ziphras doesn't sound like the sort that'd let things slide."
Luca nods slowly. "He'd need to send a message, for sure. Can't let other people get the idea in their heads they don't need to pay for the service provided. But look here: your friend, the one from last night, he's working for Ziphras." There's a question in his eyes if not in his inflection.
"Attar is to be worn directly on the naked flesh," Hassan corrects Braddon politely. "What the gentleman requires is a scent bag or a pomander; such are designed to be carried or worn and to bestow a general perfume to counteract any unfortunate noxiousness. I have an antique jeweled mithral pomander of Kyonin craftsmanship, very rare, very delicate ... but perhaps, being a man of action, you may prefer something more practical. I have a selection of Tien sachets, brought over the Crown of the World, easily tucked away in a satchel. Only two silver coins each."
"Would it be unfair to observe, the bag began its leather's life in the mephitic milieu of a typical tannery's stench? Like it's carrier, it needs a cleaning to be returned to a scent that speaks more of its purpose than its path. It seems a folly to turn to remedies carried half across the world, when works as familiar as oil-soap fall easily under every warrior's hand, and sound more true to the purpose; a cleaning, 'gainst a woeful bath."
After listening to FAR too much of the conversation, "Is there any chance you ladies can hurry this up? We don't have all day. If you all wanna spend time deciding between perfume and dolls, do it on your own time. We got work to do. I'll be outside." Snake then walks out the door and leans up against the edge of the building, waiting for the others.
"I can't really wash it here," Braddon explains to Gristav.
He turns back to the shopkeep and hands over four silver. "I'll take two satchel sachets."
He takes the items, gives them a quick sniff and dumps them in his backpack, placing the toy carefully on top of them.
"Thanks for your help, but I hear our mother calling."
With a grin and a wave he joins Snake outside.
"...as if in confirmation of the folly."
Gristav makes a proper Tienish bow (with elven grin) to the proprietor, and follows his fellows out of the shop, heading toward Rotgut.
Corner of his mouth once more turned to mirth Phillip smiles and replies "Braddon a ratcatcher?... hardly, what ever gave you that impression?" before continuing with a slight wave of his hand "I can assure you that he's in the employ of another... Saul of the Gold Goblin."
Corner of his mouth once more turned to mirth Phillip smiles and replies "Braddon a ratcatcher?... hardly, what ever gave you that impression?"
Luca's expression grows stern and threatening. "He did. When I found him skulking in an alley, tampering with a rat trap."
As Luca's tone grows threatening, Phillip reacts instinctively in two manners. Firstly, a hand goes down to Ethel's leg to provide a warding and strengthening presence... and secondly all mirth and warmth fades from his tone and disposition. The halfling becomes pointed and businesslike in his response "Having not been present I cannot say what made you mistaken... but you were mistaken."
"If you forced me to guess I'd suspect you put words in his mouth and he failed to speak counter to them... he's not exactly at the razor's edge when it comes to wits." holding a silence for a few short moments to do nothing except let the air grow heavy and stale before continuing "Now we've come here freely, talked freely and shared all that is known. A choice is before you, and we could continue civilly down this road... or I could start taking offense." raising an eyebrow to put the answer and future flow of the conversation in Luca's court.
Braddon, Gristav, and Snake leave the Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar and head past Zincher's Arena before turning south. They pass the Gas Forges, where only a thin haze of smoke seeps from the tall chimneys, testament that even the dwarves are enjoying a day of relative rest. Past that, they enter Rotgut District, with its mix of decaying buildings inhabited by squatters and disreputable businesses, mostly pawn shops and liquor stores.
"Having not been present I cannot say what made you mistaken... but you were mistaken."
"If you forced me to guess I'd suspect you put words in his mouth and he failed to speak counter to them... he's not exactly at the razor's edge when it comes to wits." holding a silence for a few short moments to do nothing except let the air grow heavy and stale before continuing "Now we've come here freely, talked freely and shared all that is known. A choice is before you, and we could continue civilly down this road... or I could start taking offense."
"I was mistaken because your friend lied to me," Luca growls back. "Said he was a new recruit. If he's not working for Ziphras, what was he doing poking around back alleys while everyone's at the fights, asking questions about our patrol schedule? What business is it of Saul of the Gold Goblin how many men are on duty on a Fireday afternoon?"
------------------------------
Hassan directed Gristav to the extreme southwest of the city. The three men make their way through filthy, litter-strewn streets, a sharp contrast to the well-maintained neighborhoods of Leeward District. The southern end of Rotgut is a true cul-de-sac, a dead-end encircled by the rough rock walls of the ridge which ring Riddleport. On their right, the ancient stone of the Cyphergate gleams in the morning sun, but their destination is more than half in shadow. The dampness seems to increase as they go; the portion of the harbor that rose into Rotgut seems to have sloshed into this cavity and been trapped in fetid puddles that only stink more with the summer heat.
Following the merchant's directions, the trio goes as far south as they can, until the only road forward is a neglected footpath climbing steeply up the northern side of the ridge. They turn west through a spiderweb of narrow lanes between leaning rows of strake-sided buildings before they see the sign of snake-wrapped staff Hassan described hanging in front of a squat, lichen-slick structure. A rickety wooden stair climbs to a cramped stoop protruding from the upper floor and the only apparent door; the lower story is blank and featureless, and the windows on the upper story are sealed behind thick shutters. Apart from the weathered alchemist's sign, there are no signs of life or hospitality.
Hand steadying Ethel tensing slightly but Phillip retaining the most of his composure "You're under the impression that I know all of his ways and means - I do not. The reason he came last night was to provide proof that I was at the arena when the hag's neck was snapped... no more and no less. Any other business or questions you have are for him alone... I can speak of him but not for him."
Pausing a span to smooth out his mustache with his right hand he closes "Now, have you questions worth asking for the answers that I am capable of giving... or am I leaving?"
A rickety wooden stair climbs to a cramped stoop protruding from the upper floor and the only apparent door; the lower story is blank and featureless, and the windows on the upper story are sealed behind thick shutters. Apart from the weathered alchemist's sign, there are no signs of life or hospitality.
"Nice place."
Braddon knocks on the door and waits.