The market of Geltreis teemed with humanity. As morning stretched into the afternoon, the centerpiece of the city came to be occupied not only by its live-in army of workers and managers but also by the swarms of travelers that came to the mountain pass for business or pleasure. No matter what gate of the city they came in through, they all seemed to find their way to its market. Ringed by taverns and inns, it was an excellent place to stop and that was by no coincidence. Foreigners were a difficult mark in Geltreis, the riders and walkers alike all came differently wrapped but they were sure to find themselves at home amongst the similarly dissimilar locals. For the moment, the only way to tell the two classes apart was that one was primary still riding into town. Carriages came and went from the market all day long, carrying newcomers and returning patrons from the countryside. East and west didn't matter, for just a moment, at street level, Arcarti citizens and those with enough money to travel from the west came to the city for their first taste of travel. None to exotic to either culture, it did sit on the border, and to many of them it was still a suitable journey.

The sky was clear for the day, a rare and unspeakably welcomed sight to the snow blanketed city. It was only getting to be midday, and already the snow glistened with signs of melt. It was a good temperature for a walk, and that opportunity had even the most sedentary rich locals up and about, adding the colors of their regalia to to the crowds. The only blemish on the weather was a low, steady wind from the east. It promised storms from the shore, the ever present rains over Arcartus' capital and coast that occasionally blew inland to pelt the rest of the region. It was never known for certainty when they would arrive, the encroaching lines of clouds could scarcely be observed from within the mountains. Eventually, however, the rainstorms would climb the mountains to smother Geltreis in snow. While the going was good, however, the city would bustle as much as any trade port.

While it was bustling, she wanted to make her move. Karcine Beffelet was one of the many faces amongst the crowd. She had spent a few hours in the market, cruising inconspicuously through the stalls in her coat and studying the people she could find in the middle of town. Her own footfalls were indistinct from the milling bodies around her, her own thoughts nearly lost in the noise of gathered people. The conversations were colorful, a mixed racket of haggling and greeting in too many accents. It would be too difficult to be picked from the crowd, or so she consoled herself. Meanwhile, she tried to pick people out from the crowd. Her eyes swept back and forth, a scythe for commoners as she hoped to find someone with the distinctive look of a mercenary amongst the bounty of the market. She had been at it for too long, even if the day was still young. The feeling of going nowhere was just as tiresome as the feelings brought on by walking everywhere the marketplace had to offer. She had other reasons to give up her quest, more and more it seemed that the city guard was in her peripheral vision. She wasn't so deluded as to believe they cared or were looking, but it wouldn't do to take the chance. More likely, they were making their daily rounds now that the business day was well underway. Wherever she saw them, the muted blue of their uniforms seemed to pop from within the crowds. It may have just been the fear attributed to their colors. It always only a glimpse, and then she was jostled and bumped around in the tide of people to start searching again. The crowd provided safety, but it was also constricting. A person could only suffer under so many elbows before the masses became stifling and Karcine sought an end to her confinement.

With a few gentle elbow prods of her own, and some softly spoken apologies, she broke free to the edge of the crowd. The storefronts and inns that surrounded the marketplace faced her, spaced by the busy roadway occupied by parked carriages. People were less densely packed here, peacefully occupying tables and benches while the more energetic were already participating in the melee behind her. Joining the people enjoying their morning tea and the paper was a tempting proposition, but she turned her back on it. Looking back into the crowd, she could see even less than before. She decided to walk alongside the street, circling the marketplace for one last glimpse over not the people, but the carriages they had come in. The symbols adorning them were sometimes familiar to her, companies that ferried people across the heartlands or simply those that trusted their business with a merchant based in Geltreis. It stood to her logic at least that if there was a group come to town that she had an interest in pursuing, she could start at a much more easily located asset of theirs. Like a carriage bearing their emblem. The green clad woman slowly made her orbit, walking just beyond the bounds of the crowd and displaying a peculiar affinity for the vehicles lining the roadways.

The sound of trotting hooves had all but ingrained itself in the young man's mind. It'd been a long journey from the west coast, a constant trek that had halted only briefly for occasional meals and rest, but it finally seemed that the traveler had reached his destination. Halyn leaned forward in the saddle as the shadow of Geltreis began to materialize in the distance. The nostalgia of seeing his old home almost brought a smile to the rider's face, but the memories associated with the city held back such a gesture. Still, he had finally arrived, a fact he was thankful for. Halyn looked down at the shaggy grey mane below him. He'd been lucky to find such a reliable mount. The creature was larger than the average horse, and it's thick fur suggested it had been bred for mountain life. It's large, sturdy frame had made carrying supplies a simple task, and even the long journey didn't seem to have worn on the horse's constitution at all. The former mercenary patted the animal gently on the side of it's neck. "We made it, Franc." With a brisk flick of the reins, the horse increased it's gait, quickly closing the distance between their current location and the city gates.

The sound of hooves against cobblestone told the traveler that his journey was finished. As he passed into the city, Halyn paused for a moment to take in the all-too-familiar sights around him. The streets were bustling as always, and the sound of hundreds of voices ringing together served as a tribute to the importance of the city's business. Halyn slowed his horse's pace to a crawl, carefully maneuvering his way through the streets towards the market. He got the occasional odd look, which he attributed to his current appearance and the blatantly visible sword hanging from his back. He brought a gloved hand to the brooch at his neck, his fingers caressing the silver. He doubted anyone would recognize him merely from his appearance, after all, he'd changed quite a bit over the years, but the prospect of someone noticing the crest on the brooch occurred to him. Even so, he wasn't terribly worried. Even if his family wasn't popular, he doubted such a thing was enough to prompt a response.

Halyn led his horse to a nearby stable, carefully cutting his way through the crowded bazaar. He paid the stablemaster for a hearty bag of oats, a reward to his new companion for his efforts, and set off into the market. The black clad man stood out a bit from the merchants and buyers that created the whirlwind of commerce around him. He pulled his cloak around him, cutting through the crowd. For a moment, Halyn's vision drifted to the castle looming over the market, bringing the slightest frown to his face. That's right, he couldn't lose track of what he was here to accomplish. He had no time to waste, or at least that's what he told himself, but he hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin his crusade. He meandered through the crowd, his good eye scouring his surroundings. He'd heard stories of the current state of affairs, but he knew how stories tended to get twisted around. Before anything, he'd need to find a reliable source of information, a guide to tell him what exactly had taken place in his homeland since his absence.

It was one thing, trying to be heard over the bustle of the market. Trying to be heard when you're short, and selling something that few were willing to purchase was another thing altogether. Felix's clientele were usually the moneyed, noble, snooty types: the ones who demanded everything tailor-made, and fit-to-form. On market days, buyers usually showed up in the form of canvassers and pilgrims who were preparing to make the long journey across the central mountains. Unfortunately, those people were particularly sparse on these days, and Felix had never felt quite right to over-charge those people. The trek west was hard enough, especially in the winter: travelers would need any provisions they could get their hands on, and the more money that was spent on clothing, the less was spent on food or oil. All of this was complicated by the ever-nauseating city politics: Sell to this person, and that person will stop buying. Don't sell to anyone that might be 'unpopular' with the Tolbert family. If you want to keep your license (and your head), don't sod with anyone from the House of Affairs. It was a game that Felix hated, but one that he had to play to survive the nasty intrigue that was Geltreisian politics.

But beyond all that, Felix was still as bright as ever. It was a relatively sunny winter morning, and the sound of people hawking their wares and dashing about was a symphony in its own right: the padding of feet on the ground as a chorus of drums, and the voices of marketeers like a battalion of coronets. So often, it was easy to get lost in the sights and sounds of the crowd, which happened to Felix more than a little often. Today, however, he was just attentive enough to catch the man passing buy his tent. He was tall, bright, and (Felix admitted to himself) more than a little handsome. He stood out like a black radish, what with the eye-patch and the (much more important) large fur coat draped around his shoulders. The sword he carried and the broach around his neck indicated that he was likely of some stature, and though the crest was familiar, Felix couldn't quite place from where.

Leaning forward, Felix tried to get the attention of the older man. "Morning!" he said, cheerfully. "If you've been traveling, you might want to get that coat cleaned and mended. Neglect it too much, and it'll be tatters before you know it." He tried to be as tactful as possible: too aggressive, and people'l avoid you. Not aggressive enough, and they'll ignore you. It was a balancing act, and Felix was by no means an expert, but he did have a certain tool at his disposal. "And I'm just about the only furrier here. If anyone's going to do it, it'll have to be me." He hoped he hadn't come off as an ass, but he needed to make at least one sale for the day, even if it was just patching and cleaning. And besides, there was something about this man. He was new, and yet there was something about him that made Felix want to keep him by for just a while longer. Maybe it was the familiar-looking broach, or maybe the boyish-yet-rugged look was something Felix found attractive. Whatever the case, a sale would be a sale, and that was something Felix needed more than anything.

The trip had been a dour one, but that did little to dampen the high spirits John was currently in. Looking through the carriage window, he could see increasingly closer Geltreis, bringing a bright grin to the man's face. Despite what he had been advised, and despite what would be considered the best course of action, John had given the order for the carriage to go through the town. He had wanted to stop in the market, and check around, but most of all he wanted to be seen. Either through the House of Affairs, or the rumors of those who had been to Geltreis, he had heard the disgusting things that occur in the streets of the distressed town, especially to those that tout the support of the Empire. John, however, believed that if he was to make himself seen and even browse the shops to buy, and visit with the townspeople, it'd be seen as an act of goodwill. John detested the secrecy recommended to him for this mission, as it would only cause further mistrust and damage to the relations between Geltreis and Arcartus. John knew, though, he the gesture could possibly be lost on the townspeople, as he would be arriving in two carriages, of rather good quality. John had learned long ago that the common people could always find time to hate those that were better off, consumed in their own hatred and jealously. He would have to overcome this if he was to make the right impression on the people. Shutting the carriage window, John sank back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment of relaxed meditation before they entered the marketplace.

Jacob eyed the town of Geltreis from atop of his trotting mare, sizing the town up in a few grim glances. Even though they were only a short distance from their destination, Jacob felt more distress than enjoyment. They were to enter the town, along with their small Royal Arcarti Scout detail, on the demands of John, whom was more worried about his appearance than he was his safety. Jacob had no doubt the small gesture made by John would go unappreciated, and possibly could even be turned against him to demonize him. Jacob had refused to speak out against this order, though. He was simply a bodyguard, and John was the charge. As the two carriages, entered the town, Jacob could already feel the eyes of Geltreis upon him. Confusion, fear, and hatred. Jacob could see all three in the faces as they entered the town. Eventually, the carriages found a lot to pull into, to allow John his tour of the town. It appeared as if they weren't from far the marketplace, which would make sense as Geltreis was famous for the fact that it was a trade highway. Jacob slowly slumped off his mare, tying it to the rear of one of the carriages, and awaited his cousin to exit the carriage and carry on with his charade.

Beffelet rounded one last wagon, slowly lifting her head as she studied it from top to bottom before crisply turning away. Her cadence faltered at last, as the chipper heiress's shoulders fell into a slump beneath the heavy weight of her coat. A forced smile remained on her face as she walked away, taking up a more normal spot on the sidewalk where most pedestrians not lurking the marketplace took themselves. As she walked by the odd couple sharing a morning or the ubiquitous newspaper bearing observer, a sensation like being judged began to set in, an odd and discomforting warmth. Whether or not she was comfortable with the fact, there was no private army awaiting her in the marketplace. Her more pragmatic mind was quick to provide explanations for her. Public dissent was not yet at an acceptable level, mercenaries favored taverns over markets... The rest of her simply wanted to crawl away and sit down for a moment.

That simply wouldn't do. She stopped, holding her head up for a moment to look around her at the crowded city. A smile dashed her face almost instantly as her eyes settled on something utterly unmistakable. A large man bearing a large sword. There was something oddly familiar about his countenance, some feature of his that brought out absolute revilement within her, and that gave her pause. She stood on tiptoe to get a better look, staring across the street with tightly narrowed eyes at the armed man and not caring a bit what the people sitting at tables nearby thought. She scoffed at her own reaction as soon as she had a better look, unable to make any connection and thoroughly taken by the prospect of finally having found a mercenary. She had no proof of that, but he was armed and had an eye patch. That counts for something, she assured herself, looking him over once more for security. He'll at least know someone. Decided, Beffelet took a preparatory step back and brushed off the outer layer of her jacket. With a firm adjustment of her collar, she began to stride forward towards her newfound future. Her stride faltered instantly and unintelligible wailing filled her thoughts as a dark haired youth engaged her mark. Beaten to the punch? He was implacable, hopefully a simple merchant but the apparent age of the newcomer left her with the impression of an errand boy. She restrained herself across the road, crossing her arms and watching the duo with occasional glances in the hopes of spotting an opening. No matter what conduct a mercenary was used to seeing, she had an obligation to maintain a certain sort of image. Interrupting a matter of business wouldn't do, even if it meant losing her chance. Ah, don't grind your teeth.

---

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and the driver began to stow his things for their stay. A multicolored bill was thrust into his vision from beside him, and he froze momentarily before accepting the payment. His eyes wandered up from the reigns to the provider. It was one of the few times his riding partner was awake. The man sitting next to him was dressed like some kind of office worker, in well cared for black pants and a pristine white collared shirt. A blue tie added the only color to his accoutrements, although the same couldn't be said for the man himself. Medium length brick red hair, and eyes the greenish blue of shallow, clear water met his eyes. He had boyish looks, with a slight pout to his features that spoke of high birth and clashed with the unregulated cheer in his demeanor. A slight flush colored his face, because he was a pale man whose red-toned skin responded poorly to everything. "Treat yourself, and keep safe too," the man said, shaking the money at the driver, who finally took the bribe. His contract already stated the method of payment for his government service, and given the nature of the work being paid on site struck him as bizarre. Rudolph Traugott, however, was in a good mood. They were safely to Geltreis, and his lengthy time riding mostly alone with the Prestons was over. They were good company, or so he thought, but he wanted to be on with his job. Turning away from the driver, he dropped from atop the carriage to the ground and nearly buckled. It was the first time the ground had been beneath his boots that day. With a stretch and a sigh of relief, he looked around them. The streets of Geltreis were busy, almost as busy as the capital he'd left behind, but Lieda was orders of magnitude larger. His work, and the work of his fellow scouts, was cut quite nicely for them. The civilians had slowly stopped paying them so much mind, going about their lives and disappearing into crowds, but a few fellows in blue coats caught his eye. The trio of gentlemen stood at a corner, watching them from afar but without much engagement in their postures. That's cute, they dress like the capital gendarmes, he mused, before rounding back on the carriage. Gingerly, he opened the door and motioned for the man inside to depart with a broad wave. "We have arrived, Mister Preston. Our lodgings are only a few blocks away, if you'll come with me."

Halyn was pulled from his aimless meandering by a quick greeting from behind him. He turned on a heel, noting that the voice belonged to a rather short young man, barely twenty, if his estimation was correct. The former mercenary's face changed quickly into a warm smile. With a friendly nod, he returned the gesture. "Oh, good morning there." The young man continued. He was a merchant of sorts, unsurprising, everyone in Geltreis was a merchant in one way or another. Halyn looked down at the thick cloak around him and replied with a chuckle. "I suppose you're right. I just bought the thing, but a long ride has a way of wearing things down pretty quickly." He noticed as the young man's eyes glanced to the brooch. It wasn't apparent if he recognized it or not, but it was a trail worth pursuing. "You worked here for long?" Halyn spoke with a warm, friendly tone, still, one had to almost shout to be heard over the cacophony that the market created. "Oh, Halyn, by the way, a pleasure to meet you." He didn't recognize the furrier, at least not as far as he could remember, but if he'd worked in Geltreis long he was bound to have heard something.

As he was making conversation with the furrier, Halyn noticed another figure approaching them from the side. He glanced towards the newcomer, a blonde woman, with a bit of interest. As he talked with the furrier, he made periodic glances towards the woman, coming to the conclusion that she was staring at them, or perhaps him, after a few moments. His appearance didn't quite fit the bill of a run-of-the-mill traveler, so such things were bound to happen. Even so, the woman seemed to be showing more than fleeting interest, which was more than he could say of most of the whisperers on the street. After a few moments, he waved towards the woman. "Hey there, looking for something?" He spoke with the same friendly voice he'd been conversing with the furrier with. It seemed the young lady had something to say. Regardless, the staring had begun to make him slightly uncomfortable.

Felix had to smile a bit. "I don't think I've been around long enough to have worked anywhere for long", he said, playfully. "Only seen about twenty summers. But my father didn't pass on without making sure I was well-prepared for the world". He was far from an expert, of course. The guild had only seen it fit to award him a journeymanship the last year. "My name's Felix, for what it's worth. I'm no noble or merchant of standing, so if you need to specify, Felix of Nikephora usually works for most people". Felix racked through his brain, trying to remember if there were any Halyn he could remember. A few popped to mind, but none of them seemed to fit the criteria to be the man across from him. This man must have been of some importance, given the broach signifying a family of stature. He decided that he didn't recognize it, but its simple existence told him enough about the man he was talking to.

Of course, it would've been easier to try and make a sale if Halyn hadn't been so distracted. The whole time, he kept looking back at something, making Felix wonder if he had interrupted something. Though, when the eyepatched man suddenly turned around to wave at some woman in the distance, and this was one that Felix knew. He leaned forward to whisper to the older man. "Careful. That's one of the Beffelets". Then, realizing how rude he must have sounded, tried to correct himself. "They're not bad people, by no means. But be careful talking to her. Draw too much attention, and the other noble families won't be too... fond of you, to put it lightly". Felix wasn't particularly fond of any of the noble patricians: he had always chalked up the pining for the Pre-Arcartian days up to nostalgia, and the exaltation of the modern system to imperial nationalism. Still, a lot of good people were bound to end up in the cannon-fire. "Not that I'm trying to dictate what you do. Just a word of warning. Hate to see more innocent people get caught up in all this noble bickering".

Karcine would have been at least satisfied to continue shooting glances over at the duo across the road. The details of their conversation ultimately meant little, she just needed it to end. She swayed softly as she waited, only to freeze mid bend as her peripheral vision caught the larger man waving in her direction. In the smallest increments she could manage, Beffelet turned to face the duo. All the while, she checked over her shoulder to make sure the man wasn't referring to someone who had escaped her notice. Seeing no one there, she scrounged up her resolve and looked to the calling soldier. The younger man whispered something to his companion, and the sight worried her. Over the roar of the crowd, standing across a road, it would have been easy to say anything and she wouldn't have heard. However, there was something now between them that she was explicitly not to know. Was this a meeting? The friendly smile on the swordsman's face suddenly looked just as benevolent as a crocodile's. She stepped forward, crossing the road as quickly as she could towards the new conversation.

"Nothing that I wanted to intrude on your conversation with," she said, bowing her head slightly by way of greeting. "I am Karcine Beffelet, and I apologize for disturbing you." Her eyes wandered between the two of them, narrowing a hair at the younger of the two. Her scrutiny was almost unconscious. Deep curiosity for what exactly she had just wandered into manifested in her search for some sort of hint upon the being of the one person she couldn't explain. The clothes he wore were unique, and she realized that, but the connection to any occupation didn't quite make it through. The swordsman should have been just as boggling, but in her head he was already understood to a degree she was comfortable with. People with swords tended to be soldiers or mercenaries, and there was - in her experience - less to fear of a sword carried in display than one hidden away. Figuring she still owed an explanation of some sort for her snooping, Karcine continued. "It is only a matter of interest with some certain mercenaries, but please, continue, I wish to wait my turn." It wasn't speaking entirely truthfully, but she smiled her practiced smile none the less for it.

Halyn nodded as the furrier introduced himself. "Felix, eh?" He couldn't remember anyone by that name, but then, he had been gone for quite a while. The mention that the young furrier was not of noble stature, and more importantly, not affiliated with anyone that was, was a bit of a relief and a disappointment simultaneously. Still, he was a bit thankful for the young man's evidently neutral stance. There had been a fair chance of the first person he ran into being a potential enemy, so it seemed luck was in his favor, at least for the moment. "I was actually born in Geltreis myself." He paused. "I've been gone for a long time, though. Decided it was about time to see how things had changed in my old home town."

As the blonde woman approached, Felix saw fit to unveil some information regarding the stranger. Beffelet. That was a name he remembered, and one he had heard mentioned in rumors more recently. A small grin cracked across the young man's face. It seemed luck really was on his side. Felix continued, pointing out the dangerous predicament he was getting himself into. He respected the merchant's position on the matter, but as soon as they learned his name, most of the nobles wouldn't exactly be fond of him in the first place. He gave Felix a nod at the last part of his statement, though he didn't know if the merchant's wish could be fulfilled. These kind of things tended to pull people into them, whether they wanted to be involved or not.

A few moments later, Karcine confirmed Felix's observation by introducing herself. Still smiling, Halyn gave a slight bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Beffelet, my name is Halyn LaKruz." He watched the woman's eyes carefully, trying to see any sort of reaction at the name. "I assure you, there's no intrusion. I was just talking to Felix here about the prospect of repairing my cloak and chatting a bit, nothing too serious." He chuckled. The young woman didn't seem to comfortable with the situation at the moment. At the mention of mercenaries, Halyn's interest was piqued. "Mercenaries, you say?" He looked at the young woman quizzically. "What exactly is a young lady like yourself looking into mercenaries for?" He had a feeling that he knew where this conversation was going, if anything he had heard was true.

The stiff straw scratched the wood of the floor as the bundle pushed dust along the way. Under her swift hands, Dalia's broom did good work, cleaning the hardwood of the bookstore. With each hour of the morning, the chimes rang more and more frequently at the arrival of each customer, window-shopper, or what have you—a good sign of a steady business. She wiped the sweat from her brow and stowed the broom behind the counter next to a straight, pyramidal stack of books. They came the day before, themselves the product of a day of bookstore business, of customers buying and selling books to her and her store. She kept some that interested her in her office, the rest she left for the pile behind the counter...

Dalia Harker straightened herself out, pulling a stray, cocoa-brown hair out of her face and slapping the dust off her skirt. She leaned forward on the counter and rested her chin in one palm as she watched the door and waited. Soon another customer would enter, and if necessary, she'd tend to them as per usual, albeit with her eccentric mannerisms and flighty movements. In the meantime, the wait involved periods of watching the door, watching the clock, looking up and down the shelves. Her eyes wandered to the stack of books next to her, and she wondered to herself if there were any more books that would fancy that nephew of hers, that nephew she loved to pieces. She wanted to give him an adventure, a romance, a drama, a fairy tale. Or a biography, a war novel, a history book, a memoir, a philosophy. Most of all, she wanted to give him something real, for him to live the life that his parents could not. The dust in the room settled, the building settled, and all was still while her mind stirred.