The wrinkled man seemed to raise a brow as Nyx applied her makeup, and dispassionately adds, “Now now, that’s not makeup.” he said, swishing around his flask when the tall man looked back at him.
The tall man scoffs and lets out a hearty laugh. “And here I thought that you must not be from around here with all that moral outrage.” The tall man moves up to Nyx and waves for his underlings to step back. The underlings step back a few feet, but remain nearby. “And you’re on your high horse looking down at me. Is deception that much more moral than taking a few coin off some passerby? Careful on that high horse, it’ll hurt when you get thrown off.”
Nyx gives the man a casual shrug at his question, trying to not appear bothered that the wrinkled man seemed to spot her quick movements. "You and your men were, and still are, threatening me. I think that entitles me toward a little deception...so yes, I do feel comfortable on that high horse. "
"It takes three of you, armed with blades to shake down one unarmed female, at night, without no-one else around. That tells me all I need to know about you. Leave me alone."
“All we did first was invite you to watch a fight. You were lying well before we started shaking you down." The tall man retorted, before continuing "Besides, only a total sucker is out this late past curfew and truly helpless. I can't help it if a mark just wanders into us, it’s the tax of poor life choices. I paid it growing up, that's just how it's always been." The man let out a hollow chuckle and then a deep sigh. “This is isn’t even enjoyable anymore. I’ve got a fight to get to, let’s get going, guys.”
One of the underlings takes his mostly empty bottle of beer and throws it to the ground near Nyx’s feet. The tall man steps to the other side of the street, and the underlings flock to him. The wrinkled man took another swig of his flask before slowly pushing off the wall on which he was leaning and sauntering after the group.
Nyx glances at the tall man, a little surprised and confused. Moments ago they had all been spoiling for a fight, trying to intimidate her into giving them coin, and yet now they were backing away, somehow not interested.
Considering the man had considered her an easy mark, she wondered how the turnaround had happened.
Part of Nyx was interested in learning the location of the Fight Club. It would certainly be a useful place for her to visit in the future, especially to see who was involved as part of it. Unfortunately, the mission for Pauline was time sensitive, and Nyx only had some much time to put her mini plan into practice.
After a moments consideration, Nyx calculated that it would be unlikely to look an appealing target by heading towards the fight club with the group of men. Not only would it be unpredictable to learn if guards were nearby, it would be harder to run into the sort of encounter she was currently looking for.
So she lets the men go, and heads deeper into the darkness, looking for trouble.
After another hour or so of wandering the avenues south of the Kantele, Nyx does spot a few guards on patrol from afar, but can’t seem to run afoul of any more troublemakers. As the hour gets later and later, the choice to return to a warm bed or continue to look for trouble becomes clear.
Wandering the streets of Sud Rivière in the very late hours of the night is a hair-raising experience. Even the main thoroughfares are sparsely lit, and dark alleys stretch the limits of the sight granted by Nyx’s elven heritage. The silence is often broken by distant crashes, and the occasional chitter of nocturnal pests.
Mere hours from sunrise, as the proposition of an encounter begins to seem bleak, Nyx spots a bright lantern light appear from an alley just a couple blocks away. The light quickly becomes dim, and is swiftly followed by the emergence of a pair of dark figures. The first is tall and broad-shouldered, the other small: a child or a halfling. Both of them are wearing a large hoods and appear to have weapons on their belts.
From a safe distance, you observe the pair as they stand silently by the light of a hooded lantern, just a step from a dark alley onto a main roads that goes ease/west. They stand still, whispering to one another, the shorter one appears to be marking a sheet of paper while the larger one lights his work.
Nyx observes for a moment, drinking an extract of Heightened Awareness, in preparation for possible combat, as well as her extract of Acute Senses. As she does so, she listens carefully to see if she could eavesdrop on if the two people were saying anything.
Nyx’s alchemically augmented senses are able to observe the distant figures two hundred feet away with great acuity. Underneath the hood, she is able to make out a greyish color. It is only with more careful study that she is able to make out the grey veil of Gardeners.
She can hear their words, but it takes her a moment to understand their words. They’re speaking in Undercommon, though it’s somewhat altered from the more understood tongue. She is able to pick out several words “Here?... Left or Right here?... What about *unintelligible* The Gardeners are also making several hand symbols whose exact meaning Nyx is unable to make out.
The Gardeners then head west down the main road, towards the Farmer’s Gate.
Nyx's breath hitches slightly at the sight of the Grey Gardeners, and she takes almost an involuntary step forward. Then she takes a moment to gather her thoughts, and lets her mind kick in and think of the possibilities.
The Gardeners themselves were disguises, and therefore not freely visible. Nyx decided that if she was stopped, or asked what she was doing, she could at least feign ignorance. With her supernatural hearing and visions, she follows the Gardeners at a quick pace, trying to stay hidden as she trails their path casually, trying to listen in on more of the conversation.
Nyx attempts to keep a safe distance but also trying to be within earshot so that she could hear what was being said.
It’s not long before the Gardeners turn to walk west down the main cobblestone road, giving Nyx an opportunity to creep quietly along and still close the distance between herself and the mysterious judicars. The pair, who came upon the road from the north side, walk along and check each alley on the southern side of the main street, allowing Nyx to cross and gain even more ground.
Cautious to not draw too close, Nyx finds a spot across the street and half a block away from where the pair stops.
“Tae nih chea mneak der ryyte?” the tall Gardener asks in their version of Undercommon.
“Khnhom chuecheak dauchneh,” answers the smaller one holding the paper. “Yeung min ach meanolotthopheap tralb mokvinh knongamlongpel pitabrakd dauchneh yeung trauv brakd tha la.”
“Taoh tow meul,” the man holds the lantern up, pulling back the hood to light the alley they’re facing. The two Gardeners exchange some strange hand signals, and venture into the southern alley.
“Is this the one?”
“I believe so. We can’t afford to be backtracking during the real thing, so we’d better be sure.”
“Let’s go and see.”
Nyx follows, still attempting to stick close to the shadows, predicting that the Gardeners would be planning the route in anticipation of the transfer, and wanting to pick up what information she could.
The Gardeners head down the nearby alley they were pointing to. The alley is narrow, with the Gardeners switching from walking side-by-side to single file. There appears to be no light source in the alley before the Gardeners enter, and as they walk through, they stop speaking again.
Nyx creeps a little closer, staying within 40 feet but no closer, attempting to push her luck.
Nyx creeps up to the Gardeners, able to hear her own heart pounding through her chest with her heightened senses.
The shorter Gardner whips his head back briefly, looking around behind him. The taller Gardener asks, “Tae vea kuchea avei?”
“Khnhom kitthea khnhom banlyy aveimuoy bonte vea trauvte chea kar sr meul sramei robsakhnhom. Taoh yeung ttuol ban nih cheamuoy khnhom trauvkar kar keng muoychamnuon.”, the short one replies.
After taking one quick look back, the Gardeners continue through the alley, crossing some other parts of Sud Riviere that are often considered unremarkable, including several back alleys Nyx would never have guessed existed. Every couple turns, the Gardeners stop, look around, pointing to part of a landmark, then quickly jotting something down before continuing.
After tailing the Gardeners for 30 minutes, they begin to approach a well-lit street. Nyx recognizes the street as La Rue De Pain, the main thoroughfare through Sud Riviere to the Farmer’s Gate. Looking around, she sees no further cover and knows the street remains lit and has regular patrolling, even at night.
“What is it?”
“I thought I heard something, but it must be my imagination. Let’s get this over with, I need some sleep.”
Nyx lets the Gardeners walk on ahead, and then leans against the side of the alley wall, not caring at the dirt that would ruin her outfit. Her face white, and limbs trembling, Nyx takes a few moments to get herself under control and her trademark calm, before gathering herself and attempting to make it back to the Melody, where she promptly rests.
10 Gozran, 4718 AR; Toilday
Nyx makes her way back the Melody as the sun rises over La Porte d'Azlanti. Making her way back, fatigued from both her adrenaline leaving her and her lack of sleep, Nyx quickly addresses any remaining tasks she has before trying to catch whatever sleep she can muster before works starts in a few hours.
There is a knock on Nyx’s door in the morning. She can hear Sabine’s concerned voice, “Madam, I let you sleep in, but it’s later than usual. Shall I leave you?”
Its 9AM when Nyx Nyx wakes herself, from Sabine's knock on the door. "Sabine, my apologies for the uncharacteristic lateness. You can leave me, but I'll be out shortly in a few minutes when I'm presentable. I'll join you in a moment for a debriefing as to what happened in the Melody yesterday evening / night while I was out"
With that, Nyx rolls out of bed, ensuring that she is presentable and dressed once again. She spends a few more minutes on her hair and makeup, before heading out of her room, keen to speak with Sabine for a quick update.
Sabine leaves Nyx’s door when she hears Nyx stir. After Nyx completes her morning routine, she finds Sabine in the office. She has a scrap of paper that appears to be an ad hoc ledger with some notes scribbled on it.
“Moondays are always quite slow. We had some of the regulars for the day, but it was slower than usual. I think all the Milanite buzz during the day made some clients anxious. Still, here’s an accounting of the evening,” Sabine says as she slides over a list of clients, their time of arrival, duration of stay, and gold charged. Only Marceline and Crystal had clients last night.
“Most of us simply continued our crafts and enjoyed the quiet evening,” Sabine added, finishing her debrief.`“Personally, I’ve been enjoying working on the next statue in the series. I’d been putting Desna off, but I think it’s her time. If you’d like to have a look at my sketches when you have a moment, I’d be most appreciative.”
Nyx gazes at the list, trying to find out the clients that might be the most influential or significant. The most important clients were exceptionally tough to manage, but on the other hand, always offered unmatched opportunities either in the present or future.
"I'll be happy to look into your sketches sometimes, possibly this afternoon or evening provided we can spare the time" Nyx responds, quietly pleased that Sabine feels comfortable enough asking for her opinion on one of her famous sculptures. Nyx didn't have a huge amount of experience in the area, but certainly knew a little about artwork, and was confident that she could help provide some insight.
Nyx begins a mid-morning stroll through La Lumiere Rouge under a cloudy sky. Nyx hasn’t given much thought to the Isarn underground, but now she was intent on finding a way to navigate the system below the city, or at least figuring out how it was done.
Most major streets in the city were lined on at least one side with tiny grates that vermin might be able to slip through, and Nyx has certainly seen more than a few that might be big enough for a human to climb through, if not for the iron grates set into the street itself. One of those would certainly take time, muscles, and perhaps some heavier equipment to get into.
There were certainly access points about. Nyx had a hunch about one in the Moulin Bleu, but enough places there were off limits to leave her guessing. Certainly the Caydogs knew somewhere to go, and it was likely the Vice did as well. Nyx even recalls some small grates on her trip to Maison Delon, but that might not be the best place for her to go digging about.
The streets of Vielle Ville were old enough for infrastructure to be built underneath, although it occurs to her that underground travel from one side of the Kantele to the other would be complicated to construct.
She knew how to get to the Cerulean Sanctum, and the entrance below the furniture store in the northeastern Theater Quarter had led deeper into the sewers; Le Voile had given warning not to get lost. Emilien had shown her a grate he’d found as well, somewhere near the western borders of the Theater and Foreign Quarters.
Nyx could either navigate from an access point she knew already, or try and discover a new one, though it would be time consuming to track down another entrance on her own.
Nyx decides to check with her Vice spotters, for more information. She didn't think that it would be wise prodding into the sewers without a map or guidance and she wasn't the best equipped for a scouting mission. Had her extracts been available to her, Nyx might have considered the risk of exploring on her own, but due to the current circumstances, Nyx decides that its worth speaking to the Vice. The agents would know where to enter, and possibly some of the passages. They might even know about the Fight Club some citizens already knew about. Nyx knew that her inquiry would most likely get back to the Vice bosses, but she didn't consider it much of a concern - her inquiry was more interest based rather than something she desperately needed and she therefore didn't see the harm.
She heads towards Jean-Paul and Alana, flashing a quick smile as she does so. "Greetings. I had a minor thought and I wondered if, with your experience in the Vice and roaming the city, either of you might be able to help. You see, I heard about a fight club somewhere underground within the city, but such things are difficult to locate. Have either of you heard about this fight club, or even point me in the right direction? I'm not one for fighting myself, but I'm always on the lookout for more leisure activities, and perhaps the flight club is a bit of a spectator sport."
The Vice spotters were only really subtle to those just passing through an area, anyone familiar with an area would recognize the Vice agents from their regular patterns. Of course, the Vice’s eyes and ears extend beyond the spotters, who ultimately serve as much as contacts for those with business as they do information gatherers. Nyx finds Jean-Paul exactly where she expected him, at Dix Belles, a small cafe right on La Lumière Rouge’s main thoroughfare. As the head of the team, he was almost always at the cafe during business hours, a sort of field command for the spotters in the area.
Alana, it appears, has the day off.
When Nyx asks Jean-Paul about the fight club, he makes an exaggerated show of surprise. “You, Madame Nyx, are interested in the Arena? I would not have guessed.” His small joke over, Jean-Paul switches to a more serious tone, “Of course I can point you there. Are you looking for new muscle, or is this just pleasure?”
He pushes the chair out at his table, inviting you to sit. As he does, he flits his hand in the air. At a nearby table, an unremarkable young man, no more than fifteen, jumps to his feet and begins walking down the street. Jean-Paul leans in, putting on a more cautious tone. “Now, it’s important to note that the Vice’s presence in the Arena is by invitation only, and we merely serve as bookies, so be wary of the rougher crowd. Spectators get drunk, and loud, and place their bets, but it’s rare the crowd devolves to violence. Last time that happened it was… costly… for all parties.”
“If you’d like, I could arrange for someone to escort you there when you wish to go. There are fights every Mooday and Fireday, with Moonday usually being more up-and-comers usually with only one noteworthy appearance. Fireday has the bigger crowd and stronger fighters. They can meet you here, or the Melody, or wherever you like madame, after curfew of course.”
“When would you like to go, Madame?” Jean-Paul kindly asks, prompting for his tip if there are no other questions.
Nyx sits for a moment, straight-backed at the offered chair, giving the unremarkable young man a quick once over but otherwise making no further comment in his direction.
"Its probably business more than pleasure Jean-Paul. The Melody does well enough, but I'm always on the lookout for new business opportunities" Nyx remarks simply. She knew that most of her comments would probably be repeated back towards Jean-Paul's boss so she was careful on how she worded her responses choosing to give only the information she felt comfortable giving to the Vice superiors.
"I'd prefer to avoid requiring an escort...but perhaps that cannot be helped on this particular occasion. If you insist on one, then perhaps someone could take me on Fireday, maybe picking me up from the Melody if possible?" she answers, slipping him 3 gp as a tip, slightly overpaying him, because she had a further question to ask.
"Just out of curiosity, what was the circumstances behind the last time the crowd got violent, and why was it so costly?" she asks lightly
Jean-Paul gives Nyx a good look up and down as she finishes speaking.
Jean-Paul chuckles, “It was quite the crazy night, I remember. There were several fights on the dockets, and much of the crowd was very excited. There was a simple altercation somewhere in the crowd spilled out and ultimately became an all out brawl. It’s not exactly great to have your crowd get into fights, as you can imagine. Normally, we’d not worry to much about that, but let’s just say that good bookie is hard to find. I assure you though madame, this was all several years ago and there are much better precautions these days.”
Jean-Paul deftly palms the coins in an effortless move that could easily by missed by someone less attentive than Nyx. “Fireday sounds fine Madam, your escort will be there at 9:30.”
Nyx turns her attention, to attempting to create and build valid sources. She wanted friends, so that she could do favors for them, and so they could do favors for her, when required. She had already met Stephen, but didn't know much about him, and therefore wanted to learn all she could about the man, so she could understand what he liked, and perhaps what he hated, his strengths, weaknesses, anything she could think to use to gain influence over him.
She gathers this information disguised, purely to avoid tipping him off that she was making inquiries about him.
On the edge of La Lumiere Rouge, Nyx takes a moment in the shade of an alleyway to prepare a few scarves for easy access, wipes off a bit of makeup, and ties back her hair. Closing her coat, she takes on a passable look as a page. With a blank scrap of paper in her hand, the homely messenger girl arrives on the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of Isarn’s great hall of justice: The Monolith.
Twice as tall or more than any other spire in the city, a harsh angular structure of ebon stone towered over Isarn’s skyline. The building obtruded the joie de vivre of the old city’s classic architectural stylings with harsh, brutish simplicity. Between the beastly black obelisk and a fence of black chain hanging from black posts grows a verdant row of purple irises, reaching skyward for more precious morning sunbeams.
The guards at the door don’t entertain any questions, but another pair on what Nyx assumes is Stephan’s path to and from the Bastion prove much more helpful. They don’t know Stephan by name, but understand Nyx’s description of the man. Stephan walks past the front iris garden each day he goes to work, and often passes that way again when he heads to the Bastion for lunch. After a quick lie about other important deliveries, and the guards volunteer some directions towards Stephan’s residence. Within minutes, you confirm the tenement where the lecherous clerk resides, and get an apartment number.
Nyx finds a stack of barrels to do a serious costume change. Dressed as a human barmaid, auburn haired and dotted with freckles, it’s no time at all before Nyx spots a lone washerwoman with a heavy basket leaving Stephan’s building.
----
“That bastard, he spends all his damn money at tha Bastion,” finally, as the half-till noon bell sounds, old Gerty gets to Stephan. She pulls a set of hefty bloomers out of the lye bucket, holding them high as you swap out the bucket for another.
Gerty was a large bawdy woman who’d raise five children, all boys, through eleven councils. She was so proud to have one of them was still alive. She’d spoken end over end on how they were born, and how they each died. Her husband lived, she insisted, ”...scrapping about the Dread Dungeons, trying ta get home to his family.” For four gold pieces, a little kindness, and a couple hours of honest, grimey work, Nyx has spun Gerty up like a top, and she was about to spill.
“It was probably six months after that Stephan moved in that I heard the woman pounding on his door in the middle of the night, with that poor little girl. It’s not safe for them to be out after dark, but what’re they supposed to do? They’re starvin’! We all are!” the women around the other vats nodded in agreement.
“That’s no excuse, I say. I raised five boys over eleven councils,” Gerty repeated the phrase for the fifth time Gerty since you met her. “He’s gotta do right by that woman, and his girl. Instead, he’s takin’ care of those professional girls. Three times a week, I hear, sometimes Four! Always at the Bastion too, he owes too much at other places.
”He tries to act rich too, but I caught him one mornin’ with those bottles of cheap red from Noir de la Cible. I just KNOW that he’s pouring that swill into those fancy bottles he has.”
As Gerty finally moves on to the next neighbor, Nyx packed up the few garments she’d brought with her, gracefully executes the polite exit she’d been planning since they had arrived. Lavabo en Perle of Nord Riviere was full of useless gossip, but it seemed a few shiny pennies had turned up in the wash.”
Nyx is privately thrilled with the information she has managed to gain,just off a mere two hours work. Knowledge of Stephan's apartment would be exceptionally useful. Now that she knew what he looked like, and where he lived, Nyx was quite capable of masquerading herself as Stephan if she wished, provided she found access to something that would gain her access past his (no doubt) locked door.
Still, Nyx wasn't interested in breaking and entering today. She could approach the man at her leisure, as she knew where he frequented, as well as when. She toys with the idea of disguising herself as someone else to gain entry into the Bastion, but discounts the idea as impractical. Viera Lalande wasn't stupid, she would know her regulars well and Nyx doubted a part brothel would attract a strong female drinking presence.
Gerty had mentioned two strong rumors of note though. Firstly, was the apparent women and child that had knocked on his door, and secondly, the man had an eye for the finer things in life, but his eyes were bigger than his stomach, and it looked like he had debts somewhere. Nyx was most interested in this later fact, as it represented leverage.
Wanting to investigate further, and perhaps check to see if Stephen already had a master or mistress who has feeding his habits, Nyx decides to stop by the House of Joy, and perhaps even check with her Vice spotters just in case they knew anything relevant about Stephen.
Nyx arrives back in La Lumière Rouge as the noonday bells ring out across the city. Making her way swiftly to the House of Joy, she's greeted once again by Fleur Mencher, the same laypriestess who had assisted her on Moonday. She greets the young madame politely, though she bristles as Nyx again asks to speak to Madame Lacroix.
"I apologize Ms. Illisha," she bows in deference. "The high priestess has a plethora of other matters on her schedule this week. I am more than happy to set up an appointment for you. I should be able to find some time before Gozran ends." Fetching the ledger, Nyx is able to set up her appointment during the week of 22 Gozran, but no sooner.
Nyx nods smoothly, a trifle irritated but, the news was not entirely unexpected. She knew that the high priestess would be exceptionally busy and couldn't afford to drop her schedule each time Nyx needed something. Nyx reflected that she needed to show problem solving, so that the Madame did not get the impression that she had to run to someone else for help, like a small child.
"I completely understand, and I'll take the first available appointment on offer, during that week if possible" she responds politely, before hesitating slightly.
"Actually, I do have some information that I feel that the high priestess should at least be aware of. It would be preferable to discuss in person, but I feel that the notification need not be. Is there a way I could leave her a written note, or verbal message?"
The cleric we last discussed has made abrupt contact requesting aid. I will handle the situation accordingly. I'm always contactable should the Court wish to keep in touch. Nyx.
Nyx leaves the Court shortly after, heading towards her Vice spotters again, discreetly meeting with Alana for a change of pace. Sliding a few gold pieces across, Nyx gives her a quick description of Stephen.
"This man currently works within the Monolith, as a justice clerk. I have heard rumors that the man doesn't pay his debts, perhaps at particular brothels. Apparently, he hasn't needed to pay said debts at these locations, and I'm mostly checking the rumors authenticity, and perhaps learning a little bit more about his unique situation. As he is a repeat offender's clerk, he might already be known to the Vice, and may have crossed paths before. He might even have debts with the Vice himself. Any information you could get would be appreciated."
"Madame Illisha, what a pleasant surprise!" Jean-Paul offers another pleasant greeting. "The gods must be smiling upon us, to see you twice in one day."
Dix Belles is busier at the noon hour as many folks have stopped by for a meager luncheon. Alana, who was nowhere to be seen on your first visit, now sits with Jean-Paul and enjoys a fresh cup of coffee. They both stand as Nyx approaches, Alana smiling warmly. Jean-Paul politely pulls out a chair for Nyx to sit and make her second Wealday request.
"A clerk at the Hall of Justice? Alana's face sours as soon as Nyx describes who she'd like more a profile on. She takes a strand of her dark hair and twists it nervously between her fingers. "Investigating some guards? That's one thing, but the Monolith is a different story."
"I agree," Jean-Paul agrees with a concerned expression, rubbing his chin. "That's not to say it can't be done. We can perform some initial investigation, and if he's not heavily guarded, we can prepare a dossier on his private affairs. It'll be a hundred gold if you want to proceed, and if you need anything about his work within the Monolith, be prepared to pay triple."
"Maybe more," Alana adds. The pair look at you, confirming whether or not you wish to proceed.
"Ah, I think you misunderstand." Nyx replies smoothly. "I don't need for you to build a profile for him, that would be nice, I admit, but such a thing is risky, what I was merely checking on, was whether that man had had particular dealings, or perhaps a prior history with the Vice himself. I imagine that this would be relatively easy to check?" she ask carefully.
Alana gives a pensive, look. Her cheeks turn bright red as she looks around for a waiter, although you get the feeling she's simply avoiding eye contact with Nyx.
"Madame," Jean-Paul scoots his chair in a bit closer to speak. The veil of his politeness seems so very thin all of a sudden "The services we offer such as this cannot be purchased or priced piece by piece. If you would like information on this man, it will be one hundred twenty gold to start, and we will deliver his personal dossier." He lifts his hand out to Nyx, suddenly expectant that the deal is now done and he is owed.
“No Sir” Nyx replies softly but firmly.”The price jumped 20 gold when I brought up him and the Vice. I’m not going to pay a price that changes within a matter of seconds and isn’t set, especially when what I am paying for is so...uncertain. It was an idle question, and your response tells me more than enough. Thank you for your time Jean-Paul, Alana”
Both agents of the Vice look spectacularly surprised at your response, and while Alana grins at the audacity, Jean-Paul is frustrated, but puts on his cool demeanor again.
"Very well, Madame," Jean-Paul offers after he's composed himself. "Whatever business you might have with this gentleman from the Monolith, it certainly sounds like someone might wish to exploit him, that would certainly be a shame."
The two spotters stand and give polite smiles and bows. The implication is clear however, the two are displeased, and there could be further repercussions from this exchange.
"As a clarification Jean-Paul, my sincere apologies for any slight you might feel. I understand information is at a premium and that that Vice offer the most at an affordable price. In the interests of transparency, know that I declined your generous offer not because I expect to locate a better option, but because I cannot commit to a price that does not remain steady. I have to ensure my courtesans are looked after, the building maintained, and, of course, the daily payments to the Court and Vice to ensure your valued services. Hopefully we can set a steady baseline, or a flat rate if we have this discussion in future, to prevent misunderstandings"
"I apologize for wasting your time Sir, Madame." Nyx finishes swiftly. She is wary of the Vice organisation, and while she doesn't entirely fear them, she wanted to mend the minor rift as quickly as possible
After Nyx speaks, the two Vice agents stand there in awkward silence.
Holding back his anger, Jean-Paul struggles to keep even one corner of his mouth turned up. As Nyx finishes her apology, he stands in utter silence. Slowly and deliberately, his eyes fall down to the coin pouch at Nyx's waist before meeting her eyes once again. Nyx's parting words seem to have done nothing to mend Jean-Paul's perceived insults. In typical Vice fashion, he is expecting an apology by way of coins.
Alana, who has been enjoying the humor in the air outside the exchange, suddenly gives a rare and peculiar look that is all to familiar to Nyx: inspiration. Alana's smile turns down as her eyes stretch skyward vacantly. Jean-Paul gives her a glance, and she immediately hides the expression once again.
Nyx smiles pleasantly, pretending that she hasn't noticed Jean-Paul's glance towards her coin pouch.
She doesn't think rewarding him for any perceived insults is the best method going forward - it just leads to expectations in future he can do the same and hold his hand out.
Nyx didn't want to positively reinforce his behavior, but she didn't want things to force a sour note either.
"Alana, I saw the spark of an idea behind those elegant eyelashes. Did you have a proposal to bring up, I'm welcoming of different positions" she smiles politely.
Nyx uses her Empathy ability to try and determine what Alana is thinking, but Alana shudders for a moment as she shrugs off the mental intrusion.
Jean-Paul scowls, and turns to Alana, his eyes daggers. Alana puts on stoic facade, but is frightened underneath it. The patio of Dix Belles falls utterly silent as Jean-Paul’s quiet anger seethes. Nyx can see Alana straining to maintain her determination against her boss’ cruel scrutiny.
“As you wish, our business is concluded, madame. Time to go.” Jean-Paul breaks the silence coldly, still staring down his subordinate. A dozen eyes of frozen patrons fall immediately upon Nyx. The patrons are frightened enough to flee, but are waiting for the situation to play out or diffuse.
Nyx doesn't want to leave Alana entirely on her own after the developments, but it was clear that Jean-Paul was furious. Still though, she was going to try anyway.
"My business with the Vice has indeed concluded, Jean-Paul, although perhaps we might still find the time to do more in future. I'm happy to take my leave"
Nyx swiftly stands, ready to go.
"That said, I had personal business with Alana anyway, and wanted to borrow her regardless of our conversation, purely for Melody business. One of my artists wanted to use her as a model, inspiration, muse, use whatever term you wish for her latest work. I was honestly unsure if the Vice would want an existing agent featured, so my artist wasn't planning on a straightforward portrait (although we planned for the unlikely possibility) but still wanted to use her face and body as a baseline. Alana would, of course, be paid for her trouble, as well as time spent and I'm sure the Vice would want some share of the proceeds of the sale if the work was sold. So, with your permission Jean-Paul, can I borrow her either now, or shortly?" Nyx asks carefully, making light of the request as best as she could.
The crowd sits in tense silence as Nyx begins her request, but as she speaks Alana's name, Jean-Paul turns fiercely toward the madame.
Alana shrinks into her seat, waiting to see what happens.
With ferocity, Jean-Paul kicks over the table where the three of you had been sitting, the tiny setting tumbles comically in the air before crashing across the stone patio into other nearby tables and chairs. A middle-aged man having lunch with his wife take a spill.
"Our business is concluded, Madame," Jean-Paul uttered low and cold, with a steely gaze that pierces Nyx’s resolve.
Nyx simply gets up and leaves.
As Nyx moves briskly away from Dix Belles, the crowd erupts, fleeing the scene. When her adrenaline dies down she glances back to see Jean-Paul and Alana head to the interior of the cafe.
Nyx simply walks away.
Watching the front door of Dix Belles for a moment, Nyx watches as the patrons all leave, followed shortly by the shops own proprietor, who moves to start picking to the patio the Vice agents left in a heap.
Though the altercation drew the eyes of the square, without continuous crashing citizens quickly return to their own business.
Nyx is still fuming over Jean-Paul's antics, but leaves Dix Belles all the same. She toys with the idea of disguising herself and heading back, but discounts the idea as being far too risky. She could live without knowing the conversation.
Privately, Nyx wanted to bring the minor problem of Jean-Paul to heel, but she wasn't going to be doing that today at least so puts it to one side. Instead, she decides to head towards Talmandor's Doctrine. She debates whether she wants to change her outfit but decides that (on this occasion) there was little reason to pretend to be someone else. She knew that the Court would have little to no influence in Sud Rivière, but she still dresses like she normally would as Madame of the Melody, strikingly attractive but still professional.
Despite Sud Riviere’s greater issues with petty crime and Caydog activity, the path to Talmandor’s Doctrine followed one of Sud Riviere’s major thoroughfares. Along the avenue, Nyx noticed guards regularly, with no overt Caydog activity. The rest of the walk to the Doctrine remained uneventful, a welcome reprieve from the last night’s excitement following the Gardeners through the district.
Nyx finally arrived at Talmandor’s Doctrine, the sign hanging outside the tavern showed an avian Agathion standing proudly with his leg poised on a rock and pointing forwards.
Nyx enters the Doctrine from its right entrance, noting the a sign on the left doors that read Exit only, please use other door. Upon entering Nyx is struck by the layout of the place, as it is unlike any tavern she’d seen before. There are several tiered aisles of booths all surrounding a central stage in a semicircle. Each booth offered a measure of privacy, but all could look down to and watch the central stage. On the stage was a pair of long tables with large metal dishes over small flames. The tavern seemed to have but a few tables occupied at the time, though Nyx knew it still a bit early for the lunch rush to really kick off.
To Nyx’s right was a small host station, with a sign posted that read:
Open from eleven bells to half past six bells daily.
Lunch buffet available noon to first bell daily.
Kitchen closes at 4 bells on Wealday.
Seated at the station is a young halfling, barely of voting age, if that, by Nyx’s reckoning. The young boy took notice of Nyx and approached her, “Welcome to Talmandor’s Doctrine! I don’t believe we’ve seen you in here before. We’ve a lunch buffet from now ‘til the first bell, though you can always order normally. Shall I grab a menu?”
Nyx takes a moment to appraise the place, and deliberately attempts to look confused and uncertain. She found adopting such looks quickly encouraged helpful staff or patrons to spot anyone knew, and was relatively happy to see her old tricks still worked perfectly when a young halfling boy approached her more or less immediately.
"I'm Madame Illisha, you are quite right, I haven't been to Talmandor's Doctrine, its my first time actually. You wouldn't be able to tell me a little about how this place operates would you? I know that its a favorite haunt for the Parliament Party but well, thats really it, I have no idea who the regulars are, the movers or shakers, or really, any idea about even the seating arrangements here. Care to help me out, and I'll be absolutely happy to get involved in the lunch buffet and would love a menu."