Walter shrugged, grinned and followed. He was willing to try almost anything at least once, which had gotten him into enough trouble over his life, and it usually went well enough. So long as it wasn't boring it should be fun.
Djon appreciates food, sustenance... typically working alone and perhaps in remote locales, he was never sure when the next meal would come.
I may not eat as much as you, but we may share the same zeal for food.
The man nods, "Tarasik may be small now, yet stomach remains large yet still."
Billy grins at Tarasik’s suggestion. The big man was a steadfast friend, and the suggestion of Russkin food seemed to delight him like nothing else. He’d put up with Syrniki for his friend’s sake…whatever it was.
Knocked slightly off balance by Tarasik’s mighty hands, Billy regains what little composure he’s got before saying, ”Sounds just fine by me, big fella. Say, you Russkins got some strong drink, dontcha? If we can get some of that in the cards, I can keep goin’ as long as I’m needed to.”
The inside of the restaurant is quite chaotic.
Tarasik sees more of his native countrymen than he has in quite some time, mixed amid an even larger number of Mercurians and others. You wait for a few minutes before you manage to snag a table. The menu includes shchi (cabbage soup), borscht, meat pies called pirozhki, the (Tarasik) recommended syrniki, and even the more recently popular dish of stroganov (beef in a cream sauce). Drinks include popular wines and ales from all over, plus, of course votke (vodka).
A waiter wearing serving clothes (similar to the man serving front and center-right in the drawing) approaches.
"Good Evenings! I am Milo. What can I get the gentlemen this evening? You can order off the menu, or you can get in the lines and eat as much as you'd like for one low price of" .
Walter looked at Tarasik, and handed the coin over. "I fear you may make a loss on this deal, dear boy, but thank you anyway. Does that include drinks or will those be extra?"
"Includes water. Drinks..."
Billy pulls a few coins out of his pocket and places them on the table, ”Votke, four glasses, and keep it comin’ Milo.”
Tarasik grins, "(I'll be taking up the lines, countryman Milo.)" He turns to the others, nodding at Billy's request. "Leave bottle, will be paying."
"Sounds like a plan," Walter agreed cheerfully.
Milo brings you water, along with the bottle of votke. He's only charging you 20 for the entire bottle, which is a substantial savings over 2 gp a glass.
The food is varied. Some of it has been out a while and is getting a little dry, but in general it is pretty good. Even the dry stuff is tasty, just not perfect.
Your meal is almost finished, when Sir Walter notices a clean-cut blond man in uniform eyeing you peculiarly. He's with the military, but you don't recognize the unit insignia.
Djon eats methodically, with sips of water in between bites.
Not so bad, better than most I've been forced to endure on the road.
I'm always grateful as one never knows when the next meal will come.
Hmm... Walter, something the matter? The last comment under his breath.
"We have a fan," Walter said as he cut some kind of cheese-filled pancake - the syrinki mention, he believed - into bite size pieces. He jerked his chin at the man without looking at him. "Military man, blond hair, don't recognize the insignia. He seems to know us, though, judging by the look. Shall we invite him for a drink?"
"Don't see why not. We goin' for manners or congeniality? If it's the latter I'll go for it."
We do cut a striking figure, do we not? Perhaps he just noticed four handsome gents sharing a meal.
Does he seem agitated? Djon attempts to sneak a peek.
"Mm... Perhaps." The giant of an eater mumbles, stacking his fifth plate off to the side before washing it down with a swivel of watered down votke. It was the only way one bottle alone would've been enough for the whole group. Even then he was pulling up the dredges as he started tilting it once more.
It wasn't that he was merely scarfing everything down, though he did eat at pace. His tongue still savored the flavor of each morsel. It was simply his stomach, though shrunken down, rumbled with the appetite of a man twice his current size. For the first time in a long time it was being properly satiated.
Does he seem agitated?
Agitated is not the right word. More like alarmed, or perhaps...wrathful? He's seething with dissatisfaction at your presence.
To the team. I like to think I've gotten good at reading people... This guy's not a fan. Note the understatement.
I'd counsel avoidance.
"Tarasik not be wishing to inflict conflict when it's not needed. He ignores us, we are to be ivnoring him in turn." The Russkin reasons.
Oh, I would tend to agree my friend... but this is deeper. His disgust and harted is to our very presence. We need to remove ourselves from his sight...
... I dare say, I've seen the look before. We will be hunted. If we capture and question him, we will need to choose... kill him or let him release the dogs or war.
"Then let him be angry, and drink alone," Walter said with a shrug. "Whatever information we could get is unlikely to be worth whatever awkwardness it brings. Most likely he's seen us in the paper and fears what it means for his town, but we'll be gone after lunch."
"Ain't that the truth. Let's enjoy our meal and then get on the road."
The uniformed man ducks out after a few minutes, and you are left to complete your lunch in piece.
Walter picked up some more travel food - you never knew what fate would bring, such as a closed buffet car - and searched for a newspaper to see how fate was unfolding. Beyond that he had no pressing issues.
Djon gives Billy a sidelong glance, then musters the courage to approach a worker, passing them a silver.
Pray tell, citizen... could you tell me what corps what man was with? I'd not recognized his insignia.
"Don't know, one of them secret service types I think. I heard him say something about pals on his way out, but I don't know who his pals are."
One last thing... is there a back door? And a modicum of discretion? Djon smoothly places money into the worker's hand.
Sighing and finishing his drink, Walter got ready to head out.
One last thing... is there a back door? And a modicum of discretion? Djon smoothly places money into the worker's hand.
"Yes, leads into alley. Thatway."
"A kindness, sir," Walter said with a tip of his hat. "Now we can catch our coach in peace." Blatant lie left behind, Walter headed for the alley.
The Russkin pats his countrymen on the shoulder, and makes sure to pass along a generous tip of [5 GP]. "<A pleasure, brother. I'll come again one day.">
Billy, too, tips his hat, ”Thank you kindly.” With that, Billy follows along with the party.
The alley runs behind the building, parallel to the restaurant's front entrance. Several youths skulk around the alley, while teens and adults work by loading items off of carts and motor-vehicles into the backs of various stores. The smell out here is astoundingly bad; obviously, the backs of buildings have been used to dump all sorts of rotting matter, as well as acting as restrooms.
As you pass an intersecting alley, you note the uniformed man standing in the street with several similarly outfitted men, some of them armored. They wore swords instead of carrying firearms. They do not seem to have noticed you, but are instead focused on their leader.
"Paladins! The anomalies are in the Ruskian restaurant. We will approach boldly and demand that all inside leave. Then, we will confront them! They are powerful, but we possess the might of righteousness!"
Tarasik frowns heavily, and nearly goes for the weapon stashed under his coat's fold. He didn't wish for his countryman to suffer at the hands of such 'paladins', least of all the inconvenienced clientele. Of course, nothing was said of the sheer panic such a fuss would draw up
Walter frowned at the mention of 'paladins', and asked, "Anyone know who these Paladins are?"
Hmm. Seems we are to be... exorcised. Borderline zealotry, if you ask me.
I don't want innocents harmed, nor is open-mindedness my lesson to teach these men.
As yet, they have not noticed you; you can attempt to continue to make your way down the allies until you've come to a more auspicious place to exit, if you like. They'll have a chance to notice you, of course.
"Quite," Walter agreed. Well, there was no point in a fight that could be avoided. Walter continued walking.
"Anyone know who these Paladins are?"
"Damned fools, if they're aimin' to pick a fight with us. Let's deprive 'em the satisfaction, much as I'd like to show the bastards how hot lead matches up to swords and hatred."
"Call constables, report disturbance," Tarasik suggests.
Light on your feet gentleman... Djon looks at Walter and Billy, then shrugs to Tarasik. Best ya can, big fella.
I can dim the lights a bit, in these allies. Djon vanquishes just enough light between his team and the Paladin. Is that the plural of Paladin? damned if it matters now.
While stealth wasn't his greatest strength, Billy's nimble enough to keep himself from seeming like too much of a klutz.
No one seems to have noted your passing. In any case their plans do not seem to have changed.
Tarasik considers informing the police once you're in the clear, but the Paladins clearly wielded legal authority based on their military affiliation, here in the capital city. It would probably come to a minor distraction if any.
That said, the patrons of the restaurant are probably in for an inconveniencing at worst. You doubt the military would start violence with citizens without the dangling carrot of capturing several wanted war criminals (yourselves).
It is now early afternoon. Are you planning to head directly to the docks to seek passage to Esperan?
Unless someone had a better plan, or simply something they wanted to do, Walter had no plans but to get to the dock and get as pleasant a berth as possible.
We're headed into uncharted and most likely unpleasant territory, gentleman. Let's get there swiftly and in as much comfort as possible without drawing undue attention.
This could be our last vignette of peace for some time. May the Universe provide.
Billy grumbles a bit. The Esperan had been tyrants over his ancestors in Chicoa. His mother had told him horror stories about their crimes, and he bore no love for their former colonial masters.
"Boys, I ain't lookin' forward to headin' to Esperan. My forefathers from Chicoa had all manner of atrocities dealt to 'em by the Esperan. I know I can get a temper sometimes, so I'm countin' on you all to help me keep it in check. Let's get that train so we can get out as soon as possible."
You manage to make your way to the docks without issue; there are dozens of ships here. Once you make your way to the area dedicated to passenger vessels, that number drops dramatically. You find two taking a direct route across Acovaga Lake to Valerida, Esp. One of those departs in 1 hour and a cost of 100 gp per room (sleeps 2). The second leaves in 9 hours and is cheaper at 75 gp per room.
Additionally, at the dock, you come across a young man (a child, really) hawking papers to passers-by. "Prince Fernado assassinated! Subversive escapes in the chaos! Read all about it right hea!"
"Bugger," Walter said. He'd hoped that they'd be in time to stop it, but alas. "I'd say the first, and will cheerfully pay the difference if you gentleman would prefer, but first..." He went and bought a paper.