At the Three Billed Duck, Thuvalia slides into the chair Dayn holds for her as if it's second nature, although he's not entirely certain her fine-lady manners aren't more part of her sophisticated actress facade than something to which she herself is accustomed; he certainly finds the elegant air she maintains in public hard to reconcile with the squalor of the crowded and drafty wagon she has until recently been calling home.
In the tavern, she is playing demure, a far cry from the aggressive front she mounted against her former landlady in Lubbertown. She manages a brittle smile and a murmur of agreement to oysters and elven wine for Mistress Crispin. At Daynadrian's implication about the possible future benefits of his chosen entree, her eyes flash up to meet his for a moment, but she returns her gaze to the table again before he has time to try to read anything in them.
"Elven wine? We should have some; I'd be ashamed to say we couldn't accommodate a guest with a taste of home," Quinta Crispin replies to his inquiry. "Let me speak with my husband Alex; he's in charge of the bar."
As she retreats, Dayn opens the satchel Thuvalia said was Volo's and begins to unpack it. She leans forward across the table with interest. The top of the pack is only clothing: utilitarian and well-worn, nothing of any value. Beneath the layer of clothing is a money pouch; loosening its strings, Daynadrian finds 14 gold coins within.
"Malditos!" Thuvalia hisses, her eyes narrowing. "There should have been more than that. He was either losing at the tables without telling me or spending his money on that 'lady' of his."
Beneath the money pouch is a bulky package, folded up inside a square of canvas. Lifting up a corner of the rough cloth reveals an intricately-embroidered red fabric stitched with many brightly-colored threads. "His kapenia," Thuvalia says softly, seeming to forget her anger for a moment. "He would have wed in it -- and been buried. What do you suppose they did with his body? Threw it in the river for the fish to eat?" she asks bitterly, reaching out to flip over one of the folds in the scarf and admire the whorls and patterns.
As she does so, something small and white falls from between the layers of fabric to the floor. She reaches down to pick it up and then scowls, once again outraged. Crumpling it in her hand, she brings it to her nose and then holds it out furiously to Dayn. It appears to be a lady's handkerchief. "This is hers!" she spits angrily. "I know the perfume. That he put it in his kapenia and hid it beneath our mattress! He should be eaten by fish still alive!"
Malkith smiles back at Samaritha as he accepts the return of his scarf and coin. "I'm fine," he assures her, "It was stronger than I am used to, but a single sip isn't going to hurt me. I've had worse one the road whenever Dorio got it in his head to saiatu errezeta berri bat."
He stands staring at her for an awkward moment, hesitant to leave her company. Mentally pulling himself back to the here and now, he takes her hand in his and gives it a quick kiss. "I'll see you back at the Goblin."
With that, he turns and walks off in the direction of the Free-Coin District, hoping to meet up with the rest of Saul's new recruits.
Emerging from his room later in the afternoon, Phillip looks a little pale but is once again composed. After seeking the kitchen to test the potency of the coffee he purchased - he enjoys a quiet mug before making ready to head out just before evening begins to fall.
Samaritha smiles and waves goodbye to Malkith before turning and heading into the midday bustle of Leeward District. Malkith moves in the opposite direction, toward the river. He can see the buildings of Free-Coin District to the northwest past Maskyr's Island but has to move south to the ferry to find a place to cross. The ferryman Grimas has his cottage door propped open to let in whatever breath of air might limp by this hot afternoon and is sitting in a chair in the doorway, his legs propped up and a pipe in his mouth. As the Harrower approaches, he gets up to meet him. "Cross the river, mate?"
Anya gives your chest a light push, and you fall back on the nearest of the beds. "All right, half-elf," she says, straddling you as she fastens the manacles to your wrists and then around one of the bars of the headboard, "let's see what you're made of."
Some time later, you've utterly failed to withhold vital information about Queen Abrogail's supply routes and troop movements from the interrogator for the rebel forces but just can't bring yourself to feel too badly about it. Anya takes a light summer dress from the clothes rod and slips it over her head before fishing a brush from one of the chests. She sits down next to you on the bed as she runs it through her hair. "Had a good time, tiger," she smiles. "You know where to find me if you want another round. I've got to go on shift now for the afternoon."
She gets up and retrieves the key from the table next to your weapons and armor, then grins at you a little wickedly as she holds it up between two fingers. "I'll drop this with Lexy. It's her turn now. Don't worry; she should be home before long."
The Sargavan Red you purchased seems to be all the proprietor claimed it to be. After a few sips of the potent brew, your head is clear, the last tendrils of the dreamworld shaken from your mind, your strange emotions all but forgotten in the full light of day. While it is at least as strong as Larur's morning concoction, it has none of the bitter acidic taste of the dwarf's recipe.
From its movement, you guess it has been slightly less than half an hour before you hear quick footsteps on the staircase; they get louder as they approach before they stop on the landing outside the door. You hear a key being turned, and then the door creaks open slowly. "Braddon?" Lexy calls, peeking in cautiously. "Oh, there you are." She closes the door behind her and then crosses the loft quickly, fishing your key out of her pocket. "I can't believe she left you locked up like that. She's crazy!" she says with an exasperated smile, sitting next to you on the bed and unlocking the manacles to release you.
"It was a risk I was prepared to take. The torture was... exquisite. I am a broken man," he smiles.
"I regret nothing."
His eyes wander over Lexy for a moment. "Maybe not that broken," he winks.
He takes the keys and manacles and returns them to his backpack. "I've never worn the manacles before. I should probably learn how to get out of them. Though that would be kind of embarrassing if I got caught practising on my own. Fortunately, Anya has invited me back again. Crazy is okay. I like crazy. Not all the time, of course. But I think we're all a little crazy. How are you crazy? Or are you the sensible one who has to keep looking out for her?"
Braddon sits down on the bed next to Lexy and concentrates on keeping his hands to himself.
However a few more careful breaths allow him to convince his wakened mind that it must have been exhaustion after the exertions of the previous day and this... though he cannot shake the feeling of being watched. He almost leaves the room without the statue, but finds himself turning back from the door and instinctively scooping it back into his pocket before he emerges in search of hot water and a coffee maker.
As Thuvalia's voice is raised in anger, the proprietor of the Three-Billed Duck approaches the table a bit hesitantly. "Don't mean to intrude," Alex Crispin says, carrying two glasses and a rather dusty bottle to the table, "but elven wine, if it please you. We don't get much call for it. Not that there's anything wrong with it," he hastens to add, shooting an apologetic look at Dayn. "We just don't get many true connoisseurs in here."
Pulling the cork, he leaves the wine on the table. Dayn examines the label, written in Elven, and sees that it was bottled in Greengold, a vintage made for export and, as such, slightly inferior to the wines sold within Kyonin itself. The vintage is 4680 AR, a year Daynadrian remembers well; news of an earthquake in Korvosa, far to the south, had come to Crying Leaf. He is on the verge of asking Thuvalia if she remembers it when he realizes that she couldn't even have been born until several years after the event.
As the Harrower approaches, he gets up to meet him. "Cross the river, mate?"
Upon hearing Malkith's destination, the ferryman punts his boat upstream; the journey takes more time and muscle and a few more coppers for the fare than a straight crossing, but it ends at a short pier on the western bank of the Velashu directly across from the southern tip of Maskyr's Island. "This route keeps me busy once the sun goes down," Grimas says as he makes the boat steady, "but you won't find much activity here in daylight."
Indeed, the district seems largely deserted as Malkith strolls north into the heart of Free-Coin, the front doors of the large casinos closed and locked; from his experience at the Gold Goblin yesterday, however, he presumes that there are workers present somewhere behind the scenes getting ready for the evening rush. Apart from the three large casinos, all of which dwarf the Gold Goblin in both size and elegance, several smaller buildings line the road: a few restaurants and taverns, a pawnshop, and, he notes with some amusement, a wedding chapel. Most of these are also closed until sunset, but he spies a kiosk selling sandwiches which seems to be open for business. The sight reminds him that he has had nothing but a sip of very strong liquor since breakfast and it's now past noon.
Enjoying the invigorating effects of the Sargavan coffee, Phillip strolls to the kitchen door to look out over the work going on in the casino proper. All of the old red carpet has been pulled up now and lies in great heaps against the walls like shed fur or discarded snakeskin. People he assumes are working for the carpetseller are stretching long strings across the room, taking measurements. The large double doors to the front veranda are propped open, letting in the afternoon sunlight; remembering the western ridge, he knows it cannot be too long before Riddleport's early sunset while the summer evening still lingers outside the valley. As he is finishing his mug and wondering how long it will take him to get to the Watercress, a Small but willowy figure appears at the top of the steps in the doorway and peers in at the mess. "I have an appointment with Saul Vankaskerkin," a rather imperious female voice announces, and the personage to whom the voice belongs stands waiting on the threshold for someone to direct her through the renovations.
Malkith offers few words as he travels upstream, his thoughts busy reliving the events of the morning. He drops the expected coin into Grimas' waiting hand. With a nod and a smile, he climbs ashore and heads into the thick of the Free-Coin District.
As he investigates the location of the casinos, his stomach gently prods him for food. The prodding becomes more insistent as he spies a sandwich kiosk. As Malkith exchanges a few more coin for his lunch, he strikes up a conversation with the vendor, "Pretty quiet around here. Is there any excitement around here while the sun still shines? Or will I have to wait until this evening, when I can spend my gold at the House of Nabin?"
"Well, I only just started last night. Until then I was running off to Riddleport like you. I got into some trouble with some bounty hunters in Cheliax. What were you running from? And why does your father think there are nice, respectable inns here?"
"Anyway, currently we're investigating the botched robbery last night. Apparently the robbers were the Scar Knee gang or something. But with Oliver Bott sniffing around, drugging young girls and taking advantage of them, we're curious to know how he's involved and if he's got Shorafa's approval. How would I go about making a complaint to her?"
"And what does one do when working for Shorafa? Anya thought I'd be a popular exotic, but I don't do timetables or take instructions well. I'm not exactly subtle either." Braddon smiles and leans in to kiss Lexy.
Phil eyes the small one up and down as he finishes his cup of coffee in one slug before rising with words. Figuring there was no reason yet to present as anything more than a servant "Of course, might I know your name so that I can announce you above?" moving to stand before the lady and giving a short bow before beckoning her to follow him.
The silhouette in the doorway of the Gold Goblin is too slim and angular to be a halfling; Phil is unsurprised to find the visitor a female gnome. Intricate gold-wire and gemstone bracelets crawl up her arms almost to the shoulders, and multiple mismatched earrings adorn piercings around the edges of her ears. "Ambrosia Kemplefae," she replies rather formally. "Mr. Vankaskerkin asked me to drop by in my professional capacity at my convenience." She is carrying a scuffed black leather satchel in one hand.
"Want your feet rubbed?" offers Braddon.
"Oh, gods, yes." She props her feet up on your knee before you can change your mind. "Those strappy shoes are pretty, but they're so uncomfortable."
"What were you running from? And why does your father think there are nice, respectable inns here?"
"Well, no one we know has ever been here, for one, to have told him any different," she giggles. "I write him a letter every few months to tell him all about how I'm making beds and sweeping floors and dusting furniture. We weren't running from anything really. Anya heard there was a temple of Calistria here, and she talked me into coming along. Said it would be glamorous and exciting." She shrugs, an awkward gesture while lying prone on a stack of pillows. "Which it kind of is."
"But with Oliver Bott sniffing around, drugging young girls and taking advantage of them, we're curious to know how he's involved and if he's got Shorafa's approval. How would I go about making a complaint to her?"
A frown passes over her face. "If Oliver was really doing that... you should just go into the temple and ask whoever's at the front desk for an audience with Shorafa to discuss one of her men's behavior. I mean, unless it's Oliver at the desk. Then I would just come back later."
"And what does one do when working for Shorafa? Anya thought I'd be a popular exotic, but I don't do timetables or take instructions well. I'm not exactly subtle either." Braddon smiles and leans in to kiss Lexy.
"Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't propositioned you already. Everyone with mixed blood who comes to town, she extends a standing invitation if they're ever looking for a job. Except the half-orcs. She doesn't want to step on Boss Croat's toes. What you do.... What you're doing now is nice," she smiles and hooks an arm around the back of your neck just before your lips meet hers.
The sandwich vendor in Free-Coin is a heavyset woman some years shy of middle age. It's not clear whether she dislikes Varisians (or men, or Varisian men) in particular or merely has a grudge against life in general, but she seems disinclined to extend the conversation with Malkith. "We open in the afternoon for deliverymen to the casinos who have an empty stomach and coin to spend. If you're looking for excitement, I suggest you try the Calistrian temple, or the wharves." She glares him away from the counter, as if there were a long line of hungry people waiting behind him instead of an empty street. The sandwich proves quite tasty, however.
Tendal having reassured him that Liry was on her way, Grimas leans on his pole and waits for her to appear. After just a few moments, she does, hurrying up the road with her cage in one hand, its bent and broken bars seemingly repaired. "You're not telling stories on me, are you, Grimas?" she asks, handing him the cage to stow before she steps down onto the ferry. "We had some wild times before we got so responsible," she grins at Tendal, "him settling down and me working every night."
Phillip leads Miss Kamplefae through the detritus of the de-carpeted casino floor and up to Saul's office. Upon arrival he either knocks or goes to the open door to see if Saul is at home. No question had been asked of him nor name requested, so he contented himself with being an errand boy only.
"Should make a good first impression. Gods, you smell good."
Eventually, Braddon begrudgingly extricates himself and collects all his gear. He turns to Lexy before leaving and glides a finger along her jaw. "Thanks for a magnificent afternoon. I'm actually staying in the Gold Goblin, so if you need muscle or another foot rub or even to chat, feel free to drop by. I hope to see you again soon."
Tendal looks back and forth between the two of them for a moment, then looks up and down the bank of the river.
He smiles momentarily, then shrugs as Grimas pushes off from the shore and begins to work his way across the river.
"Actually I wasn't asking Grimas anything but trying to figure out if he would be interested in investing in a toll bridge. Since a bridge will impact the ferrymen the most, it makes sense to get them to participate."
"Whatever happened in the past, I will have no part of unless you want me to, so don't worry about it."
"More importantly, I see you were successful." Tendal says, nodding his head towards the cage.
"Actually I wasn't asking Grimas anything but trying to figure out if he would be interested in investing in a toll bridge. Since a bridge will impact the ferrymen the most, it makes sense to get them to participate."
"A toll bridge?!" Grimas seems stunned by the prospect. "You'd have to get approval from the Overlord for that. I operate the ferry on an exclusive license from Maskyr's Island. I have an irrevocable contract, as long as I want the job."
"So you get an exclusive license to operate the toll bridge instead," Liry reasons cheerfully. "It'd be a lot less work than punting back and forth all day. Of course, too much sitting around and that barrel chest of yours will go to blubber." She flicks a teasing finger at the ferryman's pectoral region.
"More importantly, I see you were successful." Tendal says, nodding his head towards the cage.
"That miser Quint Drovenge charges an arm and a leg for a rush job like that," she complains, "but I talked the money for repairs out of Stumpy last night so it's no skin off my nose. You tell your boss if he wants me and Dungo at his casino again, I expect better security to protect us from riots. Maybe some sort of deposit to ward against further damage."
Phillip leads the gnome upstairs to Saul's office. At his knock, the Varisian bodyguard answers the door once again.
"Who is it, Bojasc? Oh, Phil ... and Miss Kemplefae!" Saul jumps up from behind his desk at the sight of the gnome and crosses to the doorway to take her hand. "Very much appreciate you coming all the way over here; a matter of some delicacy, you know. I see you've met my associate, Master Phillip Hargreaves?" The gnome gives him a somewhat chilly nod. "Miss Kemplefae's going to be assisting us with returning lost property from our grand opening last night," Saul winks at the halfling, and Phil understands that he's referring to the stolen jewelry. "A young man from Magnimar, one of Orik's friends, you know, Mr. Deverin, suggested that we would be well advised to prepare an accurate account of exactly what we have, to make sure that it all gets back to its rightful owners. Anything you need, madam, while you're working? Some refreshment?"
Back on the street, Braddon joins the pedestrians, the foot traffic getting a bit heavy now that the end of the work day is imminent. Shopkeepers are moving display bins back inside their shops in preparation for locking up for the evening, and food vendors are offering heavy discounts on their remaining wares. As he moves with the crowd, he hears a voice calling out from behind him.
"Braddon? Braddon!" He turns to see Samaritha jogging a bit as she pushes through the traffic. She smiles as she catches up with him. "Got the horns and tails," she pats her satchel, "and I even had a bite to eat with Drulia and the girls. What about you? Are you headed back to the Goblin?"
Lexy has lightly dozed off in your arms by the time you finally climb out of bed.
Naawww... :-)
Braddon is warily eyeing a discounted hunk of greasy meat and wondering what animal it may have come from, when he hears Samaritha. His face lights up when he sees her, then he suddenly looks around guiltily. He shrugs and is all smiles again by the time she reaches him.
"Hey Sam... or do you prefer Samaritha? Which one was Drulia? Have I met her? I was just on my way back to the Goblin and would love such... your lovely company," he stammers a little.
"So, Oliver Bott abducted some poor girl and dumped her in the guest room overnight, then went back and looted her place. I took her back to her father. Arnando? No... Anton. Anton Mescher. Yeah. So then I headed to the temple, found those girls and got me some horns and tail," he smirks.
"They really have a thing for half-elves. I assume you got the same spiel. Exotic. Always welcome. Come work for Shorafa. I told them I was already taken." He winks at Samaritha, stops babbling and eyes the piece of meat again.
Having been restricted from the enjoyment of packing away the jewelry by Larur, Phillip saw no reason to remain to watch the gnome poring over it. With a smile and nod he asked with crisp subservience "Anything else you need me for Saul?"
"No, thank you, Phillip," Saul replies. "Going to leave Miss Kemplefae to it myself in a moment; I'm sure she'll work more quickly without distractions." Bojasc stares the halfling out the door before he shuts it, as Saul is escorting the gnome over toward his desk.
Arriving on the east side of the Velashu River, Tendal accompanies Liry back to her home, a large apartment building on the south side of Leeward Common. She pauses at the door rather awkwardly. "I'd ask you up, but I've got to wrangle Dungo out of that wine crate and get ready for work. Maybe next time you have an afternoon free, I could show you around my flat...?"
"Hey Sam... or do you prefer Samaritha? Which one was Drulia? Have I met her?"
"No one's ever called me Sam before," she admits with a smile, "but I don't mind it. I don't recall if you met Drulia. She was one of the local girls working in the kitchen with me. We didn't get along at first, but after everything we went through last night ... I don't know if I'd exactly say we're friends, but I think we at least respect each other now."
"So, Oliver Bott abducted some poor girl and dumped her in the guest room overnight, then went back and looted her place. I took her back to her father. Arnando? No... Anton. Anton Mescher. Yeah."
"Anton Mescher?" she asks incredulously. "You mean General Mescher? The head of the Gendarmes?"
"They really have a thing for half-elves. I assume you got the same spiel. Exotic. Always welcome. Come work for Shorafa. I told them I was already taken."
Samaritha cringes and blushes bright red. "You won't tell the others, will you?" she half-whispers in embarrassment. "About Shorafa's offer?"
Duly excused from Saul's office, Phil takes his leave and sets back out into Riddleport proper. On a whim he takes a quick circuit of the casino and tries to mentally place Bojasc's room and how one might approach it from outside, as well as whether there was any visible sign on the dome that it could be breached from without...
Satisfied, he takes off into the streets with an aim to swing past the Arena to chance an encounter with Akron before moving on to what he hoped would be a mixture of business and pleasure at the Watercress.
Tendal takes Liry's hand and makes a small bow over it. "I am certain it will be my pleasure to visit you again." he says smiling. Tendal turns and makes his exit, heading back down the street towards the Golden Goblin.
Weaving past a cart laden with potatoes, Tendal realizes how hungry he is after walking all over the west side of the city. I certainly hope that there is some supper prepared...I could eat a whole cow right now.
Phil slips out the back door of the Gold Goblin and meanders down the alley behind it, peering up at the second floor windows. Those belonging to Bojasc's room appear to be directly above the kitchen and accessible only up the sheer stone wall. The southernmost west-facing window ought to correspond to Saul's bedroom, and two more windows to the south overlook the roof of the single-story southern wing; as the far southern wall of the Goblin is overgrown with ivy, those windows would be the simplest mode of accessing the second story from the outside.
He attempts to locate any vulnerable seams in the brass dome, but the distance, the awkward angle from groundlevel, and the reflected gleam of the sun from the west make it impossible to determine if there are any weak points. It occurs to Phillip that it ought to be a simpler matter to enter the secret catwalks during the day and look for any telltale cracks of light from within.
Circling back around the building, Phil is heading east toward Zincher's arena when he spies Tendal coming toward him. The Magnimarian dandy, in turn, notes that his path is about to cross that of the enigmatic halfling Saul hired, apparently heading into Leeward District.
Phillip continues to walk past the taller one with the nonchalant distance of an acquaintance who is waiting to see if the other acknowledges his presence first... or does not see fit to meet his gaze. A simple nod or wave would be met with the same gesture given freely and without reservation. If words are said then Phillip would cease his forward motion to reply, but if words are reserved then his legs would continue with his perambulatory procession Leeward.
"Anton Mescher?" she asks incredulously. "You mean General Mescher? The head of the Gendarmes?"
"Probably. The girl seemed to think her father was important and would exact bloody revenge on anyone who messed with her. I convinced her it was all Oliver Bott's doing. Seemed like a lot of trouble just to flog her birthday necklace."
"They really have a thing for half-elves. I assume you got the same spiel. Exotic. Always welcome. Come work for Shorafa. I told them I was already taken."Samaritha cringes and blushes bright red. "You won't tell the others, will you?" she half-whispers in embarrassment. "About Shorafa's offer?"
"What's to tell? You're devastatingly beautiful, amazingly smart, and would put Shorafa's girls to shame. Of course she wants you. The others don't need me to say anything to work that out." Braddon smiles and buys the discount meat.
He starts walking back to the Gold Goblin with Samaritha before a thought strikes him."When were you talking to them?"
Not dissuaded by the sandwich vendor's rudeness, Malkith decides to do a little investigating of his own, focusing on the House of Nabin, the casino Filsha Peschki told him Volo most often frequented. The grand entrance was at the rear of an open-air rotunda, the roof of which is supported by massive stone columns, but these doors are locked tight. Remembering how they gained entrance to the Gold Goblin yesterday, he walks around the long building looking for a service entrance.
At the northeastern corner, he finds what he is looking for: a well-worn path leading to a much more humble set of doors. The security here is much better than the porous situation at the Gold Goblin, however; these doors are also locked. Malkith finds a convenient rock to sit on and eat his sandwich while he waits for employees to come and go. While none of them are overly friendly, by questioning the cleaning staff and delivery men who come and go, he is able to learn a little about the district and its businesses.
The Watercress was the first of the three casinos to open, and as such, it's viewed as a little dowdy and out of fashion now. It was renovated from an empty warehouse rather than constructed specifically for its purpose, and while it's considered shabby now, its success at the time was enough to convince the Overlord to move ahead with construction of the other two.
The Dragon's Hoard is the biggest draw of the three; it specializes in simple games of chance and has the lowest antes. The House of Nabin offers more games of skill and is seen as the most elite casino. Its patrons are more wealthy and fashionable, and the ambiance more sophisticated. Asking specifically about Varisian clientele, Malkith is told that a man like himself would find it difficult to gain admittance to the House of Nabin -- unless he were part of the entourage of a regular patron.
He starts walking back to the Gold Goblin with Samaritha before a thought strikes him.
"When were you talking to them?"
"To ... Shorafa?" Samaritha questions uncertainly. "It wasn't more than a day or two after I got here that she sent someone to invite me in. Of course, then I believed I'd be getting into the Cypherlodge right away so I turned her down -- politely, of course. But then, when the weeks went by and my money started to run out, I'd walk by there, and one of them would come up to remind me that her offer was still good. After a while, they wouldn't even have to say anything; they'd just look at me, and I'd know they knew I was still out of work and getting desperate. The last week or so, I've been avoiding that whole part of town. I guess I knew how close I was getting to accepting her offer and was trying to put it off as long as possible," she concludes, shamefaced.
As he moves past a wagon loaded with coal, Tendal spots a face that looks familiar, the halfling from the Golden Goblin. Seeing him moving up the street, Tendal calls out.
"Good day! Phillip, was it? How has your day been?" he asks, pleasantly.
Phillip hides his slight displeasure with a left hand run through his hair and smoothing his mustache before responding to Tendal with a slight shrug "It has consisted of a morning and afternoon split by a pleasant diversion over lunch... and yours?"
"The last week or so, I've been avoiding that whole part of town. I guess I knew how close I was getting to accepting her offer and was trying to put it off as long as possible," she concludes, shamefaced.
Braddon shrugs. "I don't think it would be too bad a job. And if Shorafa wants you you could bargain for privileges. I was going to tell Saul to send someone to meet her. Apparently we can just request a meeting and complain to her about Oliver's behaviour. Dunno if it'll do anything. Maybe Mescher's guards will kill him first. We can hope."
Phillip hides his slight displeasure with a left hand run through his hair and smoothing his mustache before responding to Tendal with a slight shrug "It has consisted of a morning and afternoon split by a pleasant diversion over lunch... and yours?"
"A tour of the city. A review of prospects and a quick diversion to see the Cyphergate up close. Little more." Tendal says, tapping his cane on the packed earth of the road.
"Well, I don't mean to make you stand in dust of the street, I will take my leave. Good day Phillip." Tendal says, nodding once to Phillip before continuing on towards the Golden Goblin.
Tendal returns to the Gold Goblin to find the front doors propped wide open and the floor in an extreme state of disarray. The tables have been rolled into the queueing area in front of the cashier's cage, and the chairs are stacked in the atrium of the residential wing. The stained red carpet is piled up against the walls in tattered heaps, leaving the stone floor bare and dusty. It looks it will be at least two or three days before the casino floor is useable again.
Tendal makes his way through the area under renovation to the kitchen and is disappointed to find it empty. Hoping to find supper upstairs in the dining room in the owner's suite, he climbs the stairs and is rewarded by the sound of conversation and the aroma of food. Saul, Larur, and Bojasc are in the dining room, skewers of meat on a platter and an open bottle of wine on the table around which they are seated.
Braddon shrugs. "I don't think it would be too bad a job. And if Shorafa wants you you could bargain for privileges."
"You mean you'd ... for money?" she manages, looking a little shocked. "Just ... anyone who walked in with the right amount of coin?"
Phil takes his leave of Tendal and makes his way east to Zincher's arena. To his disappointment, the gates are still locked, and he can discern no activity within. Perhaps the gladiators have already finished their training for the day.
Tendal sweeps into the room in his usual fashion, moving over to the sideboard to grab a goblet before seating himself at the table and pouring himself a bit of wine.
"Evening sir." Tendal says drinking a bit of wine after giving Saul a little salute with his cup.
"Looks like the construction downstairs is proceeding apace."
"Evening, lad," Saul responds cheerfully. "Help yourself if you like, or have you dinner plans? The little gnome jeweler is in my office examining our 'lost property,' so we're here for the duration. No reason not to trust her isn't the same as reason to trust her. Larur went out and bought up a street vendor's remaining store to keep our bellies happy. How was the young lady, or are we being discreet?" he asks with a wink.
"Aye," Larur glowers in response to Tendal's remark about the construction. "The place is a right mess, but the carpet seller swears he'll have us good as new and ready to go before the weekend. Should have bought a nice steady black or brown, I said; would have shown less wear, but Saul insisted on more red."
"Opulence, Larur," Saul insists with an artistic wave of his hand. "Elegance. People want to gamble in a building that looks like the kind of place they'd like to live in if they win big, not something that looks like an office -- or a mine."
"And where does gold come from if not a mine, Saul Vankaskerkin?" the dwarf rasps back. "I know, I know; people like to think it comes from a velvet case in a fancy shop, not dug out of the ground by a filthy dwarf with a pick-ax."
"You mean you'd ... for money?" she manages, looking a little shocked. "Just ... anyone who walked in with the right amount of coin?"
"Well, I..." Braddon thinks for a second. A long second. "Not just anyone... I guess... so no. But if two people like each other then... even just a bit... but I guess you wouldn't need coin. But all jobs have stuff you don't like. Though I was never good at doing that stuff. So I guess, no. Not unless I could choose my clients. Do you think that'd be likely?" Braddon's brow remains furrowed.
Bouyed by his avoidance of an extended conversation with Tendal another time perhaps, but my mind is elsewhere tonight Phillip doesn't allow the closed gates of the arena to dampen that enthusiasm. He continues his walk towards his evening rendezvous - searching out a bakery or street vendor for a modest repast upon his walk. Nothing hearty or spicy, simple bread would suffice for the now.