As you walk the streets of Almas, you find a curious note pinned to a lantern-post. The parchment of the note is tattered and faded, the paper yellowed with age and the black lettering tending more to gray… and yet it is still legible. Handwritten in a precise script, it reads:
Vaylen Trade Guild seeking dedicated and skilled persons for immediate employment. Applicants must be willing to travel. Recompense will be commensurate with risk… and pays double in death.
Seek out Maester Stephan in the Bank of House Vaylen, Mercantile District.
For your own reasons - be they desperate due to paucity of coin, or inscrutable due to a darker and more shadowed purpose - you are of a mind to answer the call. Making your way through the city you find it a hot summer's afternoon and the mood relatively subdued. Those with enough sense are hiding away indoors with a cold brew in hand or taking a siesta... but you retain your pace.
Soon enough the cobbled streets of the Mercantile District are beneath your feet and you find the aging facade of the Bank of the House Vaylen. The building is old and a long time has passed between applications of paint, but the structure is strong. A square and ugly building it fits the picture of a house of commerce and you enter. A severe middle aged male receptionist bedecked in a frilled shirt greets you curtly and a sneer forms on his face when you mention the parchment "Oh... I had thought we removed those bills months ago. But still, House Vaylen does not reneg upon compacts laid... Maester Stephan is a busy man, though he does have time to see you late this afternoon. Please wait through there... you will be called." and you are ushered through a dark corridor and into a dingy windowless room that has no furnishings apart from a flickering oil lantern and five cane chairs that you are not certain will hold your weight.
Shorga made sure Ursa was settled outside the squat, ugly building before entering, giving the horse the last of the oats and a good scratch behind her ear. Ensuring she had enough head to reach the pail of water he entered the building to a chilly reception. Shorga feels a hot flash of irritation at this sniveling, frilly, quill-dipper's sneering face. But instead of smashing the mans ugly face in, he pushes the anger down into his belly and lets it twist in his guts for now. "Thank you shir." he manages in a deep, toothy voice, as he's led into the gloomy room. Eyeballing the chairs, he turns to express concern they are too small to the receptionist, but the man is gone is a twirl of frill. Sighing heavily to himself, he again considers the frail chairs, wondering at the wisdom in smashing them to bits for spite.
Eventually he just leans against a wall and slides down to a sitting position, wondering after his horse. Of course if someone did try to disturb Ursa, he felt sorry for that fool already. The thought of what Ursa would do to that person making him chuckle quietly to himself in the stale, quiet air.
Having arrived to the Bank, Otis had to stop and wipe his face several times, to get rid of the beads of sweat plaguing him in the summer heat. He took a moment to inspect the plaque near the massive doors.
"Yeah, I'm reasonably sure I don't owe any money to those guys... yet."
He tried to comb his short but unruly hair with his palm, tucked the shirt to give himself a modicum of decency and went in.
He remained indifferent to the receptionist's sneer - he has endured much worse from the banks' employees and got used to their aloof demeanor. Just to try and see if he can provoke the man, though, he assumed an arrogant leer himself, worthy of a nobleman, in stark contrast with his downtrodden appearance: "This is unacceptable, you're wasting my valuable time. I will remain, if only out of respect for the Maester's need of my services, but I will make sure he is aware of your unprofessional attitude." By the time he finished the sentence, the receptionist has already turned his back on him, moving away. Otis made a face at him, then looked around.
He sat in one of the chairs, crossed his legs, and addressed a strange feral-looking fellow who was leaning against the wall. "A fine afternoon, sir. Allow me to inquire, do you also work in this fine establishment, or does your religion forbid you to sit on chairs?"
Shorga looks up at the new fellow walking in and seating himself, grinning at the rebuke towards the cockatrice/receptionist. He nods his head in acknowledgement of the mans statement, holding back a grimace at the mention of religion, "It'sh a hot one at leasht!" he smiles ruefully, "The shtatush of my employ here remainsh to be sheen, although if the Mashter ish anything like 'fancshy-leggingsh' out there, this poshitshion hash losht much of itsh appeal." He reaches over and gives on of the light chairs a small shake, "I've ruined chairsh larger than thish before... courshe I had more armor in those daysh." He glances at the chair supporting the man, "It doesh sheem shturdy enough for your weight..."
Shorga is a sweaty and bandaged half-oc, and has several bruises only half-healed. He's smaller than many other half-orcs you may have seen, having the height but not the weight one may have become accustomed to in the half breed race. Dark brown of skin, with a definite dark green hue in his hair, and eyes so brown as to be nearly black, it's no secret what his heritage is. Even more telling are the enlarged lower canines, which don't appear sharp or weapon-like, but they certainly interfere with his ability to enunciate clearly. He's clad in worn clothes, and a well used falchion at his his, angled carefully to allow his seated position. A relatively new breastplate covers his torso and he wears it comfortably, as if used to the added weight.
The cavalier asks, "Did you happen to shee Ursha, my horshe, ash you entered, shir? She should've been right outshide the building." He tries to appear nonchalant, but there is an undercurrent of worry in his features.
Whistling cheerfully a young halfling lad walks up to the bank, a small backpack looking almost humorously large strapped to his back. He reaches up to touch the plaque, closing his eyes for a few second as he commits the experience to memory. Then he opens his eyes and strides in.
As a young halfling he is used to being looked down on both figuratively and physically - though the clerk's attitude leaves him itching to play a prank.
Don't prank someone who might become your boss. he reminds himself firmly as he enters the room. Actually that's probably a good rule to live by. Don't prank people you'll work with.
Looking at the tall half-orc and the somehow disreputable looking human his young mouth drops open a little, his inexperience showing through. A second later his mouth snaps shut and a veneer of confidence snaps down.
I'm good with a crossbow, but if they're looking for guards I'm... his mind starts to form a rude word, but is derailed by his mother's training ...in trouble
Kalum is slim for a halfling. His obviously new, obviously tailored superb studded leather armour bespeaks someone of means, but his patched cloak, battered but serviceable hat and hard-soled re-stitched shoes suggest someone from a much more humble background.
He heaves his backpack off his back, and against the wall and walks over to the sitting half-orc, hand outstretched
"Kalum. I'm here for the job." he pauses, then rushes forwards "Looks like you've got some bruises. Want some help?"
Good one Kalum. a snarky internal voice criticises Potential competitor and you go offering to help him out. Why not offer to shine his armour too?
Still lounging against the wall, Shorga turns in time to see an enormous walking backpack, no... wait, it's a confident looking halfling with a large backpack, walk confidently into the room. After being sized up by the small man Shorga's eyebrows rise up on his forehead, surprised as the halfling, Kalum, approaches him with an offer to help. Dipping his head slightly in greeting, "Shorga, job sheeking ash well, and while I appreshiate the offer, I cannot pay, and sho musht refushe."
He smiles with real mirth, "You should have sheen me a week ago, thish ish nothing. Thank you for ashking, good shir." He gives the halfling a sizing-up look of his own, "What'sh your shkill-set? Pershonally I'm hoping they need shome shecurity, or a guide perhapsh." He shrugs, and says in a half mumble, "Not that I can afford to be picky."
A figure enters the building wearing a heavy cloak with an overly large hood and a backpack on, carrying a quarter staff with a bow slung across his shoulders. After speaking to the receptionist and being lead to the back room where the others wait he pauses for a moment in the door letting his eyes sweep over the gathered crowd. "For an bill that was supposed to have been taken down months ago this one sure has gathered a motley looking group." I state before continuing into the room. You can tell from my voice that I am male, however my face is shrouded in shadow due to the hood still being up indoors. As I walk across the room to the far wall away from everyone else all can hear me humming softly and tunelessly to myself. When I post up on the far side of the room all can again feel my eyes slowly playing over each in turn as my hooded head swivels from one to the other. "May I ask who you fine fellows are?" I ask.
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Kalum deftly plucks a hand-carved wooden amulet out from a pocket. At first glance it appears to be a holy symbol of Pharasma, though the spiral is black, not white.
"Don't worry about paying - this is part of my skill set, just put in a good review!"
He is raising the amulet towards Shorga, a look of concentration on his face, when Icarus starts humming behind him.
Jumping a little, he twists around, then twists back.
"Hang on.."
A flood of harsh positive energy floods the area. Though indisputably healing, there is a strange otherness to it. For a second vision blurs, and a faint sound of a celestial orchestra can be heard.
"Better?" he asks Shorga, then turns around to face Icarus and Otis.
"I'm Kalum!"
You are left to acclimatise yourselves to the cramped and dilapidated conditions for an hour or more before you are disturbed. The frilled receptionist approaches down the corridor and the corners of his mouth trim to a frown when he notices that you have endured and not fled the bank. Under his breath he mutters "Pity" and curtly waves you to follow him.
Led through the ground floor of the bank and up a small set of stairs to the rear of the House of Commerce he points out an office at the end of the hall that has an ornate wooden door barring you from entry within. The prim man intones "Maester Stephan will see you now" before standing sentry at the top of the stairs to ensure that you go directly to the office indicated and no-where else.
Drawing close you find that the door is indeed well made and you note that it is engraved from a solid piece of oak. The tree that gave it's life to provide the door must have been mighty indeed. Inlaid in gold lettering stout and sure are the words Vaylen Trade Guild - Non partus gratis. There are no windows, so you cannot peer within - but you hear snatches of bird sound... and what might be a goat's bleat?
As the first hand extends to knock, and just before your fist strikes the door you hear a booming voice within cry out
During the long wait:
As his bruises disappear before his very eyes, and the last of his aches fade away like the dew before the rising sun. "That wash... impreshive!" the half-orc has a look of wonder on his face, followed by a brief hint of something else.
Blinking away memories nods his appreciate to the halfling, "That ish much better shir Kalum, I'm in your debt." Turning to the musically inclined man, "Now that you menshion it, it doesh sheem rather odd we all have anshwered the bill after monthsh of no takersh. Very ashtute obshervation shir." Shorga inclines his head from his seat on the ground, "I am Shorga, you may have sheen Ursha, my horshe, on the way into the building. And you are?"
Present time
Shorga had just about knocked upon the impressive door when a voice came booming from behind the door, startling him. Giving a sheepish look to the others he leaned forward again and opens the door, entering with the others.
"Why yes, there was a horse stabled outside when I entered. I assumed it belonged to some kind of a knight-errant looking to cash in on his paycheck: it is well-groomed, but looks like it has seen its share of adventure."
Otis greets Kalum with a nod, but when the cleric releases his energy, the burst sends shivers down his spine. From now on, he regards the halfling with suspicion. "Say, that's a very interesting holy symbol you have here. Do you revere one of the halfling pantheon?"
I'm Otis, I've come here to apply as a wagon driver. And who might you be? You have the looks of a mage. What could one skilled in the arcane arts look for in such a job?
Standing in front of the oaken door, Otis made another hasty attempt to groom himself, cleared his thoat and stepped inside.
Previously In answer to everyone's quires, I stand for a moment thinking about what everyone else has said and done since I have entered the room. Then with a sweeping bow that throws back my hood.
"I am Ruben Rybnik, Adventure first class, I happen to be just what you need though you may not know it yet. I answer cryptically.
Standing from my bow I look confused for a second and then my facial features smooth, "Did I say Ruben Rybnik? I meant Icarus Ras'Drexel." With that you notice that the man before you appears to be in his mid 20s and has disheveled hair, and other then that appears completely forgettable in every way, one of those faces that you would associate with a crowd not recognizing a single detail.
Currently I then follow everyone else into the room staying as close to the center of the group as possible, out of habit.
Previously
@Shorga "Ah - don't worry about it. If we're competing for the same job I reckon one of us is in trouble!" the tiny halfling grins up at the big half-orc.
@Otis
Kalum blinks up at Otis.
"Sorry? I don't think so. I never really studied theology - mostly geography, zoology, botany and cartography. I mean, I trained as a Priest, but really only studied my God. I can tell you about him if you want a Sermon - he's amazing - but I don't know if he's widely worshipped by us Halflings."
Currently
As Shorga goes through, Kalum slips through the momentary gap before Icarus can, doing his best to radiate enthusiasm, experience and confidence.
Before
Breathing a small sigh of relief as the man says his horse is safe and sound, [b}"Ah, thank you shir, that shetsh my heart at eashe. And what ish your name if I might ashk?"[/b]
As Icaraus introduces himself, Shorga looks up sharply, 'Maybe he knows Richard!' But then the man corrects himself in the strangest way. Squinting an eye at him, "Do ya oft forget who you are Shir Drexshel? and what ish it your thinking we need?" The half-orc looks slightly bemused.
Present
Shorga finds himself holding his breath as they enter, genuinely concerned for his health.
A dark-haired elf pokes his head in tentatively. I hope I'm not too late. "The receptionist said to come in." He looks around (and up and down) at the others. "I am Kiren Tanariel, here about the job." His patched cloak seems to have a large number of old stains and burn marks.
Before
As Icaraus introduces himself, Shorga looks up sharply, 'Maybe he knows Richard!' But then the man corrects himself in the strangest way. Squinting an eye at him, "Do ya oft forget who you are Shir Drexshel? and what ish it your thinking we need?" The half-orc looks slightly bemused.
"Ah... that is, I play many roles, and when I play those roles it is as though I become that person for a time, sometimes it is a bit hard to shake." I replay in answer to both questions, then I go back to humming quietly to myself.
Before
Shorga nods in understanding, "Ah, sho your shome type of actor then?"
"Oooh! An actor!"
The door opens before you onto a relatively humble office where you see a large bear of a man ushering a man with a bird cage and a goat out a door at the rear of it, closing the portal when the figures have departed. Turning to face you is a portly man in velvet robes that have not overheated him despite the muggy conditions. A round face with a well manicured beard and topped with a feathered cap sit upon the top of his torso.
Eyes that are both genial and coldly exacting assess you before he sits behind his desk "I am Maester Stephan. The word was passed that you seek employ - is that certain?" awaiting at least a modicum of assent before rolling into his next phrase "I would refuse outright... but the compact was clear... Perhaps it best if you give to me your name and what you think could be offered the Vaylen Guild of Trade?"
As you look around you see no chairs put out for visitors, it would seem as though you are expected to stand.
Kalum is captivated - apparently almost struck dumb - but snaps out of it to answer the question.
"Kalum, Maester Stephan. I can name every river and city in Golarion, I speak four languages, I know how to navigate and survive in the wild, I can handle animals and people, ride like the wind, shoot a mean crossbow, and thanks to my divine patron I can heal, outrun a horse over a short distance and survive a jump from a four story building."
Otis begins speaking, but his voice lets him down, allowing the lively halfling to intervene. As Kalum finishes, Otis clears his throat again and starts anew.
The name's Otis, and I can make a horse outrun Kalum here on any terrain. I also know how carts and wagons should be made properly for fast driving. And I can tend to the animals too.
Perception
I watch closely as the man passes through the door, my eyes narrowing as he does.
Perception
Knowledge(Arcana)
Spellcraft
I examine the door looking for any sort of magical markings or controls.
"Impossible" I mutter under my breath.
I allow Kalum and Otis to finish prior to starting my own resume, "My name is Icarus Ras'Dresel, perhaps you've heard of me? I am a collector of knowledge and know 6 Languages, can care for and drive a beast of burden, I can be diplomatic if the need arises and I have no small amount of magical knowledge." Almost as an after though I add "And I am certain that I am looking for employment here."
Shorga listens to the others explain their credentials, grateful for the opportunity to listen, for he would not have guessed these men were so skilled and wordly. Reminding himself to always reserve judgement and be aware that people can and would surprise you, he now looks at the others with a new found respect, and turns his gaze to the Maester, hoping the Guild needed more than one man for the job. "Shorga Brull shir, my horshe Ursha and I have sheen many battlesh and for the lasht year have shpecializshed in shecurity, guarding the nobleman Shtratham Phippsh and hish family." He pauses here, a grim look overcoming his features for a moment before he presses on, "I have been taught to ushe diplomacy firsht, and intimidatshion shecond, and shteel third, in a hoshtile shichuatshion. I know animalsh shir, and have exshperiencshe in animal training to a shmall degree, and have driven a noblemansh carriage for sheveral month long journeysh, and enshure that the horshes go only sho fasht as shafety permitsh. Thank you for the opportunity to apply shir." The cavalier takes a half-step back, having said his piece, but then seems to remember something, speaking up quickly, "I, uh, alsho shpeak Orcish shir." and then inclines his head and assumes an at-rest position.
Perception:
Kiren, who has been looking around distractedly at the furnishings, suddenly composes himself and gives a slight but graceful bow. "Greetings sir, I am Kiren Tanariel of Talantasarrion, a student of the natural world and of the alchemical sciences. I am a seasoned traveler, knowledgeable in the secrets of nature and the arcane. I am skilled in the operation of mechanical devices. As a youth, I trained as a lookout and guard. In addition, I have prepared some alchemical bombs that might be of use in defense of a carriage or other conveyance." His voice becomes eager. "Would you like to see a demonstration?"
The man's face retains a modicum of courtesy though his voice is more cutting and sarcastic "One might wonder why such experienced and worldly persons would be applying to the hint of jobs left on tattered paper clinging for life on a post." shaking his head "If not for the strictures under which I must hold I would see you turned away and chase your forms from this building with my laughter echoing in your ears. But alas." sighing heavily.
Taking on a slightly more fatherly tone "We sit within the Bank of Vaylen, but apart also. Their resources can be called to, but you shall not become their burden. You will start with little, but have the capacity to improve beyond sight and dream. By roads mundane and those more treacherous there is one thing that you must always remember above all - the package must reach it's goal as committed and agreed, or payment is void. There is no restriction given to how you choose your conveyance... but delivery must be made" stern gaze ensuring that the words were heard before he turns his head towards the door and bellows
The door that was closed is then opened and you glimpse a crowded office overflowing with paper through it. A hunched and ancient gnome emerges and the door is closed once more. He shuffles forward with a kindness upon his face and proffers a single sheet of parchment to each of you. In a halting voice he adds "Leave your mark as you care to and return it to me." He also offers a quillpot and ink to those that need it as Maester Stephan sits and watches.
Listening to Kiren, Shorga was hoping to see a demonstration of the mans skills, but the Maester seemed uninterested. The half-orc stiffened slightly as the large man scorns them, his face stony and gaze fixed firmly on the wall behind the Maesters head. But he relaxes as the confusing man continues his explanation in a less demeaning fashion.
Shorga reads the paper, mouth moving almost imperceptibly as he sounded out the words in his head. Looking past the paper after a moment, and reaching for a quill, he addresses the gnome, "If I may shir, what ish 'The bond'?" His hand remains poised above the paper, waiting.
The gnarled Seneschal smiles and non-answers "Why, it is no less than the pact that binds us all as one... shareholders to everything the guild stands for."
Shorga looks at him for a few moments in silence, breathing in and out, and then nods and puts his signature to the paper. "Alright then." After making his mark, he hands the paper and quill back to the Seneschal, his face passive.
Kalum, used to the casual scorn of human-kind barely notices the patronising scorn of Maester Stephan, but entranced by the suggestion of roads not mundane quickly leaves his mark.
A second after he hands it back Shorga asks about the Bond and on the word 'Pact' Kalum feels his stomach drop - what has he leapt into without looking this time?
The gnome accepts the signed papers wordlessly, quickly checking them before rolling and ferreting them away within robes. He awaits the mark of the remaining three...
Kiren pauses, wondering what he is getting himself into. His companions seem competent enough. Then he remembers what led him to this situation and takes the quill and signs.
A Bond? Look, I came here for the job, not for a loan, got enough of those dragging me down... Otis begins in frustration, but when the gnome "explains" the meaning to Shorga, he relaxes and takes the quill, but then hesitates again before signing. "Wait, so you're making US the shareholders? As in, we don't just get wages, but our share of the profits?"
Barely listening to what Maester Stephan says, I read the paper multiple times with a slight frown on my face, then with a slight shrug I sign the paper with a flourish and hand it back to the waiting Gnome.
Icarus believes there to be some magic at play with the door, but it is far beyond his ken.
The Seneschal nods to Otis "Aye lad, the guild takes it's fifth and the rest is yours to share... though all upkeep of the conveyance is at your cost and coin." collecting the papers from Icarus and Kiren - leaving Otis the sole holdout.
Maester Stephan remains silent, but watches him intently.
Shorga looks side-long at the man, wondering what he'll do, and not sure if he should be pulling one way or another.
Kalum starts doing maths in his head trying to work out how much profit they need to make a day for him to get 10 gold a week. Without realising he starts mumbling quietly to himself with his eyes closed.
"Guild gets a fifth, so four fifths split five ways is four twenty fifths, or sixteen hundredths. Six hundred and twenty five silver a week. Profit. Seems unlikely."
He looks at the Seneschal
"What sort of money are we likely to make doing this?"
Otis's intuition calls out to him, screaming that there's got to be a catch in all this, but the exact problem eludes his mind. While he frowns and re-reads the document for the third time, a droplet of ink forms on the quill he's been holding during this time, and falls down on the parchment, leaving a splatter right where the signature should be. This event startles Otis, and he hurriedly scribbles his name in crude letters over the ink spot.
That's all five of us in. Kalum thinks.
Maybe I didn't need to be quite so enthusiastic in my resume after all.
"So, what happens now?" asks Kalum, who has never applied for a job before.
"Do we get a uniform? Can we register who gets our share if we die? I want my mum to get mine. Is there an oath? Do we have to get training?" the questions continue...
The Seneschal is initially too busy checking the parchments to answer Kalum's flood of queries. However after he is sure all is in order he manages to respond "Gold will be free enough... if you live long enough." before being cut off by an arrival from the mundane door that you just came through from the bank.
A man in well made chainmail, though marked with use enters. He nods to the Maester and hands over a small package the size of a couple of loafs of bread. It is square and wrapped in waxed paper, secured with twine. "Rush job" is all he states before leaving. Maester Stephan opens an envelope atop the package and reads it briefly before cursing softly. Putting the parchment back in the envelope he hands the package to the Seneschal and addresses you all "Questions will have to wait... this needs to get mobile now and we've no other crews. Seneschal, see them to a conveyance" waving you away as he returns his focus onto the papers and desk before him.
The Seneschal half-opens his mouth to reply, before shaking his head. Wordlessly beckoning you to follow he goes to the rear door, opening it onto a large stable and stepping through into it.
The half-orc has to restrain himself from responding with a quick affirmation that they would not only 'live long enough', but be the 'best damn crew the Trade Guild had ever seen!' But his bit his lip, pretty certain bravado would not be appreciated, and he didn't wish to make a liar of himself. He cast a look at the others, wondering how long they would survive, if the others would protect him even as he protected them in the face of danger. He shrugs imperceptibly, committed to the job and so would have to just wait to see.
The stranger in chainmail entered and left in a rush, and Shorga eyes the package curiously. The Seneschal bade them follow, and after a pause Shorga fell in step behind him, clearly wanting to get more information, but his sense of responsibility overriding his other impulses.
Why don't they just call it 'transport' like everyone else?. Then realizing he could just ask the Seneschal, speaks to the mans back as they step into the stables, "Why 'conveyancshe', ash opposhed to 'Transhport' shir?" He does get excited about the stables though, looking around with wide eyes, curious what a place like this has to offer, being a delivery service and all.
"He said 'rush', what are we waiting for?" Kiren follows Shorga into the stable.
Kalum bolts after Kiren.
The Seneschal replies to Shorga "Force of habit and a desire to be definitive... you'll understand in time." as he leads you into the stable proper and you are able to see it in full. A large open-aired annexe that you don't think you noticed anywhere near to the bank when you arrived. Many of the stalls lie empty, but some bear occupants - you spy a hearty looking bullock, a couple of draft horses and a pair of more spirited stallions.
The open area in the middle of the stable is strewn with all manner of wooden, cloth, metal and beast-skin? accoutrement that are being worked on by men and women. The Seneschal's arrival is met with nods and waves, and a few questioning eyes upon your group, but none leave their work to attend you. Racked on one side of the stable are three wagons with leathers and tackle fitted. An open topped cart, a freshly painted and sleek looking carriage and a battered and beaten carriage with faded colors and frayed reins.
The Seneschal pauses and turns to address you "Before I pass the package over to you... the conveyance must be chosen. Unfortunately for you, and unbeknowst to the Maester, we are hardly well stocked with fine choices at this juncture. But you seem a hardy lot and I am sure that you will endure." beckoning to the stable with a swept arm "Take your time, but choose decisively as you need be underway soon if the deadline is to be met."
It would appear that you've twin decisions to make of three options each.
As to the means of propulsion:
- The hearty bullock
- The draft horses
- The stallions
As to the conveyance itself:
- The open-top cart
- The well painted and sleek carriage
- The battered and beaten carriage
To Shorga the Seneschal adds "Your horse will be brought while you consider your choice."
Otis cocks a brow at the Seneschal. "Not to start the job on a wrong note, but... before we make a choice, can we at least know WHERE and WHEN the package should be delivered?"
Kalum eyes the animals a tad nervously
they're all so... Big
Kalum listens intently to the Seneschal, also trying to judge what this parcel might be. When the Seneschal looks around Kalum concentrates on his legs. Even experienced tricksters know to control their eyes, but few realise how much their stance gives away.
So busy caught up studying the Seneschal, Kalum is actually caught by surprise when Otis asks his question. Without doubt, the man has done this sort of thing before.
Kalum cheerfully attaches himself to the experienced Otis "I'll give you a hand looking at the animals if you like!"