MUSIC


Vargas took no pause in his scribbling as Marengo figured up his tally. Y'Vanna scoffed at the number he proposed. She had surely not though it would cost her this much, nor had she really thought it through. She huffed and slumped back in her chair with a decent bit of force, causing it to wobble slightly and nearly threw her out of the chair. Vargas stopped writing and set his quill down neatly beside the book.

"Let's call it seventy one hundred." he said sliding the book away from him slightly. "That includes a ship charter both ways plus the lull, if there is one. Of course, judging by the looks of you lot there will be... Two weeks of the most basic rations, enough to fend off the scurvy. A dead investment is no good to me so there's a few extra days worth just in case. I've also itemized a list of basic gear for your little excursion plus one hundred gold each petty cash for you to spend on any other items you might deem necessary in the event I left something out."

He was very professional in stating all of this, matter-of-factly. Y'Vanna groaned accordingly...

"This also includes an additional fee of fifty gold for my personal time spent here on this matter, and for figuring up this list and my aiding you in your logistics issues, and my interest rate of 40%, which comes out to eleven hundred gold for my troubles..."
Vargas tore the page from his journal and then slid it to the center of the table for the group to look over.

"Now that we have come to an agreement on the loan..." Vargas said, clasping his hands on his lap.

"Just a minute now... nobody said we came to any agreement on the pri-"

"I think you'll find it a suitable price, once you take into consideration that you don't have a ship, nor the means to procure one currently, and the fact that I do. I am being more than generous on such a large amount on loan no less..." he said, clearly agitated. "not to mention my having to employ my own personal contacts, unless of course you know someone else who can gather up all your gear and have you ready to leave harbor by the noon time tomorrow? Eh?"

Y'Vanna shut her mouth, slumping even further into the seat. This was all clearly more than she had considered, and would have most definitely rather been able to bypass dealing with Vargas altogether. But, she knew that wasn't a viable option. Vargas had her by the tits, and she knew it.

Solange smiled as the woman took the bait and snatched the glass of wine, downing some of the drink without even a sniff of the contents or a question of intent. She had no answer to the question of how Solange could be so sure things would run smoothly outside of knowing that it would be smooth if everyone were so eager to follow her lead like Y’vanna was eager to drink the shite wine. Fortunately, there was no need for her to find a way to word the thought in such a way that didn’t seem so desperately power hungry as Vargas joined them at the table and shifted all eyes on to him. Solange sat back and squared her shoulders as she watched him with one raised eyebrow and tried to get a read on how he reacted to Solange giving herself a promotion.

She was happy to see him play along with the act as she was happy for holding her tongue instead of burying herself alive or digging herself out right before hitting gold. Solange hid her smirk behind her fist as Maréngo did a number crunch. From what she could tell, Vargas wasn’t angry with her at all. In fact, she bet the sucker was so head-over-heels for her that he’d let the whole fake partnership thing become a reality. What an idiot! If only she dreamed so little that sharing success would satisfy her. Solange had no desires for a real partnership with anyone, let alone someone as small time as Vargas. She was much more interested in acquisitions. In due time…

"...unless of course you know someone else who can gather up all your gear and have you ready to leave harbor by the noon time tomorrow? Eh?"

“I know of one,” said Solange, narrowing her eyes and raising her head as she stared down her nose at Vargas. He would know that she was referencing Fontaine. She had said it only to make him squirm. Vargas might be good, but Fontaine was better—and so much more dangerous. Admirable, if she wasn’t the enemy. Solange chuckled ever so lightly and relaxed her stare, “But she’s sitting right here.”

“Honestly, dear, it’s a better deal than what I would’ve offered, and considering you already gave me the what and the where regarding this potential treasure horde you should really consider it a blessing that an offer is even being made at all,” said Solange, turning to Y’vanna. “A less honest and greedier man would’ve laughed you out of the room and then chartered a ship to keep the coin all to himself. Might’ve even gutted you to avoid any kind of competition on the way.”

Still could, she thought and smiled at Vargas, curious to see if he could read her thoughts.

“I would say we should raise a glass in toast for sealing the deal and getting rich in the future, but as you can see,” Solange gestured to the missing drink that should be in front of her. “I might have to get them myself if Percival takes much longer.”

---

The room was small and painted with darkness. Beneath the torchlights, dust swirled through the air, musky and damp. Uncomfortable, it reminded Nora of a tomb and in the dim light the casks of alcohol that surrounded her looked like a forest of bulging caskets. Perched on a barrel of whiskey, Nora watched the sweating merchant that flustered in front of her disdainfully. He was grotesquely fat and smelled so strongly of Lironian perfume that she wondered if perhaps he had not spent the hours before their meeting with the whores. She could hear the desperation in his voice. His begging. His endless pleading.

"I tire of your excuses, Merchant Aman," Nora interrupted. She had listened politely at first. She had listened to the merchant and his many excuses for several minutes, but his sing song voice had become intolerable. And Lord Vargas had been clear. It was time to collect on the debt. The two thugs that she had brought with her were bored. There would have to be violence.

"You signed a contract with Lord Vargas, Merchant Aman," Nora lectured disinterestedly, her sharp eyes full of disgust as she studied the pathetic form of the merchant and his sad, fearful face. "The terms of this contract were clear. Very clear. You had three months, Merchant Aman. And three long months have passed. Now where is the money that you owe Lord Vargas?"

"Miss Nora!" Aman squealed. "As I was telling your associates here I had every intention of repaying Lord Vargas in time, but-"

"Good, then we are in agreement. You will repay your loan today."

"I- I can't! Please, allow me to provide a portion of the debt!" the merchant beseeched. He fell to his knees and his great jowls jiggled with fear as he pawed at Nora's feet.

"How much are you prepared to deliver to us then? Today."

"500 gold!" the merchant shouted desperately. "Please! I have a family. I have several nieces reaching a marriageable age-"

"You have a debt, Merchant Aman," Nora said with a cruel smile. "You owe Lord Vargas 1200 gold. And you offer him a handful of coins instead?"

Nora shook her head and pushed the man away from her with her foot as she leapt to her feet. "No, I am thinking Lord Vargas will want me to remind you that there are costs to being late."

"What-"

Nora's open hand struck the side of the merchant's face, sending the fat merchant tumbling onto the ground as if he had been struck by lightening. The bandit raised her hand to deliver another thundering slap to the merchant's face when a loud, embarrassed cough interrupted her.

"Nora," Percival said, his voice rising lightly as if he was trying to apologize to her. "Lord Vargas asked me to find you, he wanted me to bring you to him. There's some sort of meeting. "

Nora frowned, delivering a swift kick to the mewling merchant. Merchant Aman let out a low scream of terror and covered his face.

"I see, did he say why?" Nora asked.

"There's some sort of meeting. Y'vanna is there and that woman from the Red Sails that's been hanging around Lord Vargas...Miss Belgard, I believe. Two others as well, Neh’miah and some sailor I've never seen before."

"Trouble, doubtlessly trouble if Y'vanna is there," Nora hissed. "No matter, her kind is not unfamiliar in this place. You may leave us, Percival, I will be there shortly."

The bartender jolted as if to move, but hesitated and turned to look at the big man standing next to him, "Ummm...I also need to...that is...I mean...This is Skarsat...He...he says he has an appointment with Lord Vargas."

"And you believed him?" Nora said with a raised eyebrow. She brushed a stray hair beneath the hood of her robe again, before delivering another heavy kick to the prostrate merchant as he rolled around on the ground in front of her.

"He made a most convincing argument," Percival replied with a visible flinch.

Nora shrugged, she did not place much faith in Percival and the stranger seemed to be the capable sort. He was big. Giant even. She could cut him in half and he would still be two modestly sized men. He was exactly the type of thug that Lord Vargas or one of his underbosses would hire to break the right amount of bones and extort an acceptable amount of coin. She did not take chances though. She was no drunken fool. The bandit rested her right hand demonstratively on the pommel of her sword as her gaze carefully measured the towering man, "What's your business with Lord Vargas, stranger?"

---

Skarsat had watched the scenery in front of him with a fair degree of amusement. Even if he had not been the one he was, just watching Nora deal with the sheer amount of almost pathetic pitifulness was entertaining to a certain degree. It was not like Skarsat was completely oblivious to the concept of mercy, but with those traders it was always the same thing: They wanted something they couldn't afford, so they made deals with people they should have known better and avoided in the first place. Then they couldn't keep up to their part of the deal and the real trouble began. The final act always were the thugs like him -- and obviously her -- trying to crush the sand that had been in the gears from day one, even if that meant applying so much force that the gears themselves were torn apart.

A little bit of a more welcoming greeting towards himself would have been in order, though... Skarsat crossed his arms in front of his breast and leaned against the wall a little more markedly. "I could ask you the same thing, but I don't because I know I'm not the local authority and I could already partially witness what happens when people overstep their competence here." At that point his eyes darted down towards Percival. "However it could also be considered overstepping my own competence if I tell any stranger about my personal business. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I am Nora Harah Fifrawi," Nora said slowly in the language spoken by the nomads that traveled across the easternmost Lands of the Tork. Her words were slow, clumsy even, but there was a politeness to her speech that had not been present earlier. "I keep this place for Lord Vargas. I keep this place safe. I am the blade of this house. It would be easier for us both if you told me what your business is with Lord Vargas."

What a surprise! She spoke the tongue, even though she handled it so poorly it was almost excruciating. There was a slight, but still appreciative nod coming from Skarsat as he listened to her words. Relaxing his stance a little, Skarsat replied in the words native to this eastern part of the world for he was afraid she wouldn't be able to keep up with him using the tongue: "I don't know myself exactly what all this is about. All I can say is that I have an appointment and that it's actually overdue. Seems he's busy." That was the truth. Whether Nora would believe in him telling the truth was a different matter though...

---

"Lord Vargas is a busy man," Nora agreed with a shrug. Lies did not come as easily to her as matters of the sword, but she sensed no dishonesty in the big man. For the moment at least, he was not a danger, and he was not a threat. A man of his stature might prove useful even, she reasoned, depending on how far into the the bottle Y'Vanna had crawled.

Delivering a final enthusiastic kick to the back of merchant, Nora bent low and with a swift, well-practiced movement of her knife relieved him of the heavy coin purse that was tied to his belt. She waved two fingers at the weeping merchant as she slipped the coin purse into the sleeve of her robe with a satisfied cluck of her tongue. The two thugs moved from there positions leaning against the wall and grabbed hold of his quivering shoulders, dragging Merchant Aman screaming to his feet. The textile trader recoiled as Nora approached, but she merely tapped him gently on the cheek.

"Tharlas. Gilan," Nora said, addressing the two blocks of violence that stood next to her with a generous smile. "Please see Merchant Aman to his shop and help him recover the rest of the coin he owes Lord Vargas. With interest, if you would be so kind." Tharlas and Gilan nodded, shoving the sputtering merchant in front of them and out of the room with all the gentleness of a pair of stone masons.

Brushing off the tip of her boots, Nora turned towards the bartender. "Let us not delay any further, take us to Lord Vargas, Percival," Nora said, flashing a warning smile at the bartender who sprang out of the room with the utmost haste. She gestured for Skarsat to follow the barkeeper and trailed after the big man at a safe distance, her hand still resting comfortably on the hilt of her curved blade.

---

"Lord Vargas," Percival interrupted, trepidation so clear in his voice that Nora almost flinched. The man was a coward. He was weak. He was full of water. She saw the way he looked at the women in the tavern. She knew how they moved him and how they ensnared him with well-practiced flirtations. He was a crack in the security of the tavern. A threat to the sword she had forged. She would have to tell Lord Vargas. She couldn't allow the fracture to grow any larger.

"I have brought Nora...and...Skarsat, as you requested."

"Ah, finally" Vargas said. "I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost."

Percy did everything in his power to not make eye contact with Vargas as he entered the room carrying three pitchers, one of which tucked daringly into his elbow. He set them down on the table before everyone. He was very mindful to not spill anything, though his cage had clearly been rattled as he seemed a bit shaky as he did. He stepped back from the table as a good servant would, bowing slightly. Y'Vanna couldn't wait to fill her glass. Once finished she raised the pitcher to Neh'miah and Marengo, offering them a hornful as well.

"You guys good?" she said raising a brow.

Vargas could see Nora's outline just behind Percival. This put the man more to ease. He could also not help but to see another large fellow standing there with her in the hallway, which assumed was his appointment, taking note that this little meeting had yet again screwed up his evening. The redness in his face began to calm now that Nora had arrived. All the talk of making money had made him hungry too.

"Percy, as you leave would you send in Nora and the big one please... and send us up a few pheasants and some food for our guests before returning to your duties downstairs. I will be unavailable for the rest of the evening." he said calmly, not bothering to look at him either.

"Nora, do come join us... and bring your man please." Vargas said, shooing Percival out with a gloved hand.

Location: The Faded Lantern

Once more Lord Vargass missed to grasp the brilliance of the self titled master thief Neh’miah Heron. Leaving the harbor is the most easy part of stealing a ship. The difficult part about stealing a ship is that you have to become the legitimate crew first. That way you can sail out of the harbor, way beyond the reach of any city guards or other nasty law enforcing figures and stage a mutiny to seige control of the ship.

Of Course that required that you board the ship with enough crew to operate the vessel, that the crew actually have the right skills to sail, navigate and maintain the ship and that the ship has enough supplies for the trip. If the mutiny was successful, the ship would never reach its destination and the owners would assume that it was lost at sea.

An almost perfect plan from the inflated head of Neh’miah except that scouting out the vessels, assembling the right crew and somehow getting them to replace the existing crew by noon tomorrow was something that could not be done in such a short timeframe.

So Neh’miah decided to go with the proposal of Vargass but quickly changed his mind when Solage spoke that she could do it too. Neh’miah did not put much faith in the words that left the woman’s mouth. It was a gut feeling that she was lying about at least some part of what she was saying yet the young man was entirely unsure what parts were true and what were the lies.

Just as Nora entered the room the young thief turned his attention toward Solange. He believed that it was time that the woman put her money where her mouth was. ””I’ll go with your offer. Even if the price is worse, it still beats getting on Nora’s bad side. You don’t want to know what that vixen does to people that piss her off.” Spoke Neh'miah with a flirtuous smile.

---

Stepping into the room in the wake of Percy's hasty exit, Nora gestured for Skarsat to have a seat at one of the empty chairs surrounding the table. Her man, as it was. He did look the part at the very least. She hoped he could fight as well as he could scowl. She thought it likely he could hold his own. At least when it came to drunkards in the tavern.

She heard Neh’miah mentioning her name and felt a tingle of pleasure at his description. To be feared was good and to be respected for her violence was even better. Neh’miah was a talented guttersnipe. Amusing even. But he was too loud for her taste. He was too foolish. And he was too full of bravado and ale.

"Your mouth will be the end of you sooner than I will," Nora said as she moved to stand next to Vargas. The corner of her mouth turned into a shallow smile as she eyed the boastful thief. She could almost forgive him his many vices, almost. Neh’miah had a gift for thievery, but talent did not excuse sloppiness. And profit did not reduce risk. A wanted man was a wanted man, even if he was a good runner.

Nora leaned in close, speaking in a whisper as she handed him the coin purse she had so recently liberated, "Merchant Aman sends his regards, Lord Vargas. I have taken steps to ensure that he pays his debt with interest."

"We are here as you asked, Lord Vargas, what would you have us do?" Nora asked as she turned her attention to the others. They were a sorry lot, a band of misfits that meshed perfectly with the current setting.

The sailor, the stranger, had the look of a pirate and Nora did not miss the blade that rested on his hip. He carried it well and did not seem a stranger to violence. Y'Vanna was known to her. The woman was a regular and a regular nuisance. Still, when she was sober, she could get the job done, and as long as Lord Vargas tolerated Y'Vanna's unfortunate drinking habits, then Nora would do the same.

Nora recognized the smiling courtesan. She had seen her often enough. The woman had all the marks of one of Fontaine's girls. What purpose she had in the Faded Lantern was unclear to Nora, although she was sure that it had something to do with Vargas. Nora doubted Fontaine would have approved, the brothel madam had ever been a jealous protector of her merchandise, but Nora had no intention of asking her. The path to Fontaine could only be followed with much bloodshed and Lord Vargas was not overly fond of unnecessary conflict.

Percival arrived moments later as if Solange had summoned him by his name alone. She began to shuffle in her seat to stand and assist the dogged barkeep but stopped and sunk down ever so slightly at the sight of the woman behind him. Solange’s lips parted the tiniest of slivers as a curse gasped its last breath right upon the tip of her tongue, escaping her mouth as nothing more than an almost silent rattle. She didn’t really know Nora, but she’d spent plenty of time around another person like Nora that she knew loyal lap dogs were the most likely to snap off the hand of anyone beside their owner, regardless of the type of treat it had offered. She was a complication to any future plans that Solange had yet to even partially process.

The large Tork man behind Nora, Skarsat apparently, normally wouldn’t intimidate Solange in just about any other scenario. Men weren’t nearly as simple as some of her peers told her they were, but most had similar weaknesses and none were as terrifying as a woman like Fontaine could be. Plus, his name was one she’d never heard Vargas mention before, which meant Skarsat was either a total stranger or regarded as small time by someone who he himself was already small time. Normally this would be a good thing, but if he was Nora’s man then that meant he was dangerous, especially depending on what kind of man he was exactly. Solange gave him a smile, but held back on tossing a hook out at him before fully understanding his connection to Vargas’s enforcer.

“Impeccable timing, sweetie. We were all dying of thirst. Thank you,” said Solange to Percival, touching his elbow as he placed the pitchers and bumping him ever so slightly with her shoulder. The little bit of affection might stop him from throwing himself into the sea that night, but Solange had only been hoping it’d unnerve him enough to get him to drop a pitcher so they could all have another show. Shame. Perhaps next round. Solange eyed Y’vanna. At the rate she was going, there would be plenty of opportunities.

””I’ll go with your offer. Even if the price is worse, it still beats getting on Nora’s bad side. You don’t want to know what that vixen does to people that piss her off,” said Neh’miah.

Solange returned the flirtatious smile and started to lean in to whisper something into his ear but Nora called him out like a schoolmarm shouting at the bad kids in the back of the schoolhouse. Solange couldn’t help but grin, her eyes revealing that she was holding back a laugh as she abandoned the attempt to whisper and sat back in her chair.

“I’m afraid I might witness it soon enough, dear. It appears you’re already on her bad side,” said Solange. She held up a finger to shush Neh’miah in jest and winked. “I would absolutely hate to see what she’d do to an asset such as yourself. However, if you truly did want to give up more of your share to Lord Vargas and myself then I’d be an idiot to refuse. Still, we can discuss it later.”

“Our apologies,” she said to Nora and Vargas for getting sidetracked. She folded her hands on the table in front of her, and nodded to Vargas to show that he had their undivided attention. Solange had an inkling as to why Vargas had summoned Nora and her goon, and she was concerned that she was right. She glanced over at Neh’miah and reconsidered what he said as she peeled back her bottom lip. Solange was afraid that Vargas wanted Nora to join the expedition, but if she was here for another reason...shit. Now she was concerned that she’d read everything wrong. The faintest tap could be heard from her end of the table as she knocked on it, praying that Vargas wasn't about to remove her for that business partner comment.

Maréngo felt the newcomer's eyes on him and returned Nora's gaze with a smile of greeting and a friendly nod for her savage companion. He looked her over and found nothing wanting from the Zherpanian. A sword on each hip implied any number of hidden weapons and not to mention the ornately carved rifle across her back. A thing of beauty with few peers. There was little doubt in his mind it was either plunder or a gift; most likely the former. The pirate also recognized a fellow pirate when he saw one, even if she sailed dunes rather than waves. She had the sort of hardened look about her that only one who makes their living far from civilization has. Speaking of, the oak tree shaped like a Tork man accompanying her was an especially good example of such a look. A thought crossed his mind that if they tied a rope around the wild man's ankle and threw him overboard he would make a decent anchor by weight alone.
"A perfect addition to the crew!" Maréngo thought to himself with an amused smirk.
Jokes aside, his own experience told him there was rarely such a thing as too much muscle in a group of outlaws.

Neh'miah's self assuredness gave Maréngo pause. Confidence was one thing, but his felt tainted with arrogance and he was not looking to almost get himself killed twice for the same brand of foolishness in the same month. He'd have to keep a sharp eye on that one to be sure.

He caught sight of Solange attempting to make a mark of poor Percy and shook his head with a chuckle as he relieved the bar keep of a pitcher.
"Temptin' a man as he works, Ms. Belgrad? Shame on you!" he admonished sarcastically, "Leave the poor man be and let's have that toast you mentioned earlier."
Maréngo poured himself a horn and raised it up with a smile.
"To health, wealth, adventure, and new friends!"

For a brief moment, Skarsat just kept standing right behind Nora and let Percival slip past him without doing as much as turning an eye towards the man. The scenery that unfolded right in front of him was just too interesting to process it in the time it took for Vargas to give his directives to Nora and for Nora to forward them. And, just as this happened, Skarsat's mind identified exactly this event and a major downer for his current mood: Had he just been demoted from someone having an appointment with Vargas under four eyes to a mere henchmen of a woman he had not ever met before ?

Now that too was a way to make problems with one's miserably failed schedule disappear, but the Tork didn't like it. It all happened at his cost, be it one situated purely in the realm of morale and mutual respect or not! A castling a little too long for his taste. This Lord Vargas might be the king in this room, but the way he had pushed around the literal tower here before even speaking one word had quite some potential for inner outrage within Skarsat. What equally hurt was that he just couldn't point that out in the most straightforward way possible for even he had already heard about Vargas being dangerous.

So Skarsat's face did not make much of a secret out of his mood even though it was not on purpose, but out of pure lack of interest to hide it. He watched the others in the room, mostly women, and listened in to more things not finding his approval. Judging by the various statements coming out of various mouths some kind of negotiation had already started and made significant process, 'your offer' being the most significant keyword. Now would anyone have the gratitude to fill him in on all of these facts in a chronological, non-fragemented order, or was being left in the dark a part of the job he'd have ? Weren't enforcers the most important people to know what was going on, just in case one had to reckon with unexpected competition or the like ?

Some part deep inside the Tork man wished he could swap roles with the poor bartender, thereby gaining the luxury of a reason to just leave this snake pit of a rendezvous. At least it gave the first impression of being such for all the phony kindness dripping from the words exchanged here: 'I would absolutely hate to see what she’d do to an asset such as yourself.', 'sweetie', 'You don’t want to know what that vixen does to people that piss her off.'... How long had this bunch kept him standing at the door before actually allowing him to sit down ? And, more importantly: How long would the owners of those kind words fare in a real, Torkanian snake pit ? Would they hope that some overabundancy of perfume and makeup left over from their dirty jobs would make the predators choke once they started to swallow the body parts attached to all those fake smiles with jaws unhinged ? Well he couldn't entirely rule out that possibility.

Skarsat had no real interest in taking the seat offered anymore. He did not yet really know his role in all of this, but given what Skarsat knew about his own reputation and what he had heard so far in this room his best guess was that he indeed was to join whatever was going on here as some kind of guard or enforcer. And who'd be more important to protect here than Lord Vargas himself ? A real castling ended with the tower standing next to the king, didn't it ? Well... Vargas could have it all and with great pleasure!

Ignoring the chair, Skarsat maneuvered himself to a spot somewhere behind Lord Vargas' seat and crossed his arms while he remained standing. Not exactly close enough to make the man feel the exhaust coming out of the Tork's nostrils, but close enough to be warmed by some body heat on the long run. Skarsat made himself no illusions about Vargas not being a hard-boiled fellow, but the latter had given him every reason so far to make the whole affair as difficult as possible. Also, if the women's palaver would go on for longer or the whole scenery would slowly descend into a bunch of drunkards maintained by some obedient Percival, this new position would allow for some fancy imaginations to prevent boredom: One of those certainly was taking Lord Vargas head and using it as a lever to wrap his neck around the upper edge of the back of the chair the man sat on.

MUSIC

"I think you'd do well to take this deal Neh'miah, seeing as how half the King's Guard are currently out seeking your pretty little face. Even as we speak they are out in the square searching for you." Vargas said without making eye contact with Neh'miah, somewhat perturbed that he had spent coin to send them away once already. "It's literally your best option, at the moment."

The party was coming together. Had she known that it would have been this much trouble she'd thought better of even mentioning it. Vargas was always a hard deal, but he had made it very easy this time. She pondered why. The why, she suspected had something to do with what he stood to gain from all of this. It would have to have been substantial for she had never seen him cater to anything so swiftly. His rates were a bit high, but they always were, and they usually didn't come with a crewed ship, rations, and gear...
Nora made her way into the room with Skarsat as Vargas had instructed, as the rest of the party conversed. It was an odd lot for sure, but at least she thought in company she wouldn't have to bear the burden alone, for failure was certainly still a very viable option here. Y'Vanna grabbed her horn at the mention of a toast and began to fill it to the brim as her eyes swam, giddy in delight.

"A toast!" she said. "Finally, a reason to quench this god awful thirst."

"Then we are in agreement? A drink to seal the deal." said Vargas inquisitively. "Nora. I assume this is Skarsat? I had an appointment with him and this little meeting got in the way. I take it he hasn't given you any problems?"

He grabbed a bottle and poured himself a glass of wine. He swirled it around in the glass as he glanced over the party. The sweet aroma risng to his nostrils above the rim of the glass, as he mulled things over in the brief moment of silence. The music giving a dramatic presence to the occasion.

"My apologies for your wait sir. I Have a use for a man of your... talents. This fine lady is Nora, she will be your superior. The two of you make sure that this lot makes it back to me, along with my share. I was to offer you a job helping out with security around here for the festival, but I will double that salary and pay you five hundred gold to escort my investment with Nora. You will recieve half before you depart, and the other half you will receive once the party has returned to Guillan. If that works out then maybe we'll work out something a bit more permanent."

Vargas left little room for bargaining or even a retort. Five hundred gold was a lot of coin. He took a sip from his glass as he paused. He took a moment to savor the flavor before beginning again.

"Nora I'll add an additional two fifty to your salary as well as a cut of the loot for you and for Skarsat. I am sorry for the inconvenience and the short notice. I would ask someone else to go in your stead, however this is a rather large investment... and, I couldn't bear it if anything were to happen to... my partner here." Vargas said, clasping a hand over Solange's. He met eyes with her and grinned.

Vargas's affection for Solange was undeniable, but so was his love for coin. He was not to forget about this for quite a while. Vargas had his own ways of dealing with her. Truth be told hey had a lot in common, Vargas and Solange. Both vindictive, and thirsty for wealth. Perhaps that was part of the allure for him.

"Which reminds me. As my partner we shall split everything, say, sixty forty, on whatever loot we acquire. That's after the shared cost of course, which I can take out of your share later on if you don't have the coin for it now." he said, again with the same twisted grin. Still yet, the man did not oust her to the party for her lie. A courtesy of sorts, which was a courtesy coming from him.

"So, if everyone is in accord we can settle this matter. I fear if we don't Y'Vanna is going to dry out and then she's absolutely worthless. You will all stay here tonight. I'll have rooms prepared for each of you in the servants wing above the warehouse. The last thing I need is for Neh'miah to be out in the streets causing a scene, and god knows what any of the rest of you have done recently so everyone is forbidden from leaving the inn until morning. Food and drink is on me tonight." he said. Y'Vanna cutting sharp eyes at him, but she knew there was truth in his words.

"I will see that the list is taken to the quartermaster immediately. In the morning I shall leave your allotted coin with Percy at the front desk. Nora, if you would be so kind as to make sure everyone is promptly up and ready to go by eight in the morning, and make sure they make it to the docks. The ship, a small brig by the name of The Pinned Seal, will be docked in stall 14.The ship is marked by a blue flag with a red griffon on it's main mast. The captain's name is Griffin, as is on the flag. He is well seasoned, a hard man, but he'll give you no trouble so long as you do the same. His word is law on the sea, no exceptions. His crew are loyal, dedicated men. Should any of you lot give Nora or Skarsat any trouble they are to back Nora without hesitation. You are all now in my debt and I expect to be... I will be paid my due share back. If we are in agreement then we are in business from this moment forward, and all matters henceforth will be dealt with accordingly. So are we in accord?"

Vargas leaned back in his chair as he awaited their reply. Y'Vanna knew this was the best offer to be had, especially in such a short span of time. Lord Vargas was the only person that she knew of who had enough retainers to pull this sort of thing off. Perhaps she was just sulking at the large sums because she was so unaccustomed to setting up such a large deal. She was usually much less ambitious with her endeavors, which was obviously something that she had grown tired of. Leathe willing, they'd set their sails to the wind of the morrow, and new horizons were all she could think of.

"Aye, I suppose don't be having much of a choice..." she said, raising her horn. "but what do the rest of you say?"

Location: The Faded Lantern

Neh’miah knew that Vargass was right. He had spotted the wanted poster and noticed that many of the kingsguard were in town today. With all those soldiers looking for him, it would be hard to move around town. Let alone to liberate some coin from some wealthy people. Leaving Guillan certainly seemed the best move for now. The young thief raised his pint of ale and looked around the table to his future companions. ”To fame and fortune!”

It was true, that it was an odd bunch that had gathered around this table. A bunch of weirdo’s crazy enough to go on some wild goose chase to some ancient tomb far away, or at least far away from Neh’miah’s perspective. The thief had never traveled much beyond the walls of Guillan, let alone sailed on a ship. The only time he actually boarded one was to steal something from a merchant.

For a moment the young thief thought about what they could encounter on their journey and that he should prepare accordingly. There might be pirates and others who want to raid the same tomb. Maybe some aggressive animals and not to mention that he had to make it to the ship without the kingsguard noticing him. Neh’miah could better make a list of items that Percy should acquire for him. Quickly the young thief grabbed a piece of parchment and writing gear from his pocket and started to write some stuff down.

Pistol shot
Gun powder
Easy to hide daggers
Torches
Leather cloak with hood
Crowbar
Thiefs tools
Backpack
Hair Dye
Small mirror
Cosmetics
Perfume
Expensive and fashionable clothing usually worn by rich merchants
Merchants hat.

Once Neh’miah was done writing down the list he turned towards lord Vargass’s assistant. ”Percy, please fetch these items for me.”

Oh, look! Lord Vargas could talk! So who was a simple Tork to bargain with such a noble man ? From Skarsat's point of view he had already achieved his goal and that had been to make that man not only open his mouth, but to actually produce something humble and reasonable with it: an apology! Five hundred gold sounded like a lot, but also really just that: It sounded like a lot. He did not really know whether this amount was adequate for the job at hand or not. However, so much one might ask in order to be fair, did Lord Vargas himself know what the job really was ?

Yeah. Thanks to Nora he had already picked up that it was about some kind of recently discovered ancient grave they should relieve of its riches, but that was not the point. The point was the bunch of people in here: The burly man looked like a sailor and gave a rather honest first impression, but all the girls in here ? Something back in his head told Skarsat that it could only be matter of days until the party would start suffering from... internal disintegration ? With that possibility in mind one could interpret the job description of 'make sure that this lot makes it back to make' in a much different way. Maybe this all was not about defending against overly enthusiastic competitors, but about giving the people here a whipping if necessary ?

It left Skarsat wondering why Vargas would put together such a difficult bunch of people in the first place though. Was one of the major leaders in this damn port running out of men ? An interesting thought, but again Skarsat found himself in desperate lack of real knowledge. He'd stick to Nora. If the woman had shown her true nature downstairs just before than they likely could work with each other. Anything else would be highly problematic anyway...

"I have nothing to add." Skarsat responded to Y'Vanna's question. Then, after having glanced over towards Nora briefly, he thought twice: "Oh wait! I ask for a hammock!"

He had sat on the chairs in the main hall, he had already looked at the kind of seat they had offered him here and with departure having been announced for eight in the morning it dawned upon Skarsat that the bed in his room might turn out to be the third item in a row of utter inadequacies. A hammock was much less prone to size problems and, if oriented properly with regard to the boat's course and the current winds, could also compensate for the swell and save him from being tossed out of bed again and again. No need to make a laugh out of oneself is a simple request could prevent this!

Hopefully Nora would not turn out to be an ex-member of some highly official army or whatever those Easteners tended to have around here in their kingdoms. Just by looking at their armors, one perfectly matching the other, one could already guess that being a soldier there involved a lot of highly valued 'standards' being rammed up one's butt. 'Standards' was something many travellers found an appalling lack of within Torkanian territory so he himself would not like any dictate about how exactly to do things, arrange things, eat things or whatever else could come to one's mind!

Neh'miah made an important point though: They'd all have to make sure they had proper equipment. If Lord Vargas had just allowed for all of them to go out over night this would not have been that much of a problem in a sprawling place like this, but now ? Could Percy really be trusted to do important business ? Neh'miah certainly believed so -- or he had just given up already.

"Erm, Lord Vargas ? What if I need more arrows before we leave ? Percival probably doesn't know what kind of stuff I'm exactly looking for. Eight in the morning is a little early for buying things before departure, isn't it ?"

Several servers from the kitchen arrive just as Neh'miah raised his glass and toasted to their new expedition. They brought with them two Royal pheasants that were exquisitely roasted in rosemary and several other aromatic herbs, six Cornish hens, a basket of fresh fruits, and a basket of assorted breads. They also brought in more wine for the meal. It was fine Bavorian wine, and a very decent vintage at that. It would seem that everyone for the most part was on board with this plan. For better, or for worse. Neh'miah took a short bit of time to produce a small list of things which he then handed off to Percival. He glanced over the note and scratched the back of his head before giving it to Lord Vargas.

"Indeed, at least to the fortune. I'm not sure fame should be sought on this one, but I like the attitude. It shall be a necessity I'm afraid." Vargas said, raising his own glass. "Ah yes. It would seem that we will need to acquire you some sort of disguise, and I suppose it would be better to do his shopping for him, lest he wind up in the dungeon before you can depart on the morrow."

Vargas set his glass down and took a moment to look over Neh'miah's shopping list. he began to do some figuring and began to jot down the costs of each item. It only took a few moments for him to do so. Percival stood next to Vargas as the rest of the servants left the room. The aroma of the food swelled in the small space, even though it had an open balcony the smell was still very rich and pleasant.

"You could probably find a suitable disguise here Neh'miah, unless you're absolutely set on spending the money. Why don't you and Solange here go up to my dressing room next to my private quarters after you all have a bite to eat and pick something suitable from the stores there. She has a wonderful eye for such things and I'm sure she'll find you a fine disguise. for the rest of this it will be another sixteen gold and forty bits. If you'd like to give Percival the loot for it now that's fine, or I can just add it to the tab you already owe for this trip." he said. "I'll have these items waiting for you on the ship. Nora will escort you to the ship while Skarsat takes the others to the market for a few things. At any rate we can't afford for you to get caught. The less you are out in the open the better"

Skarsat then mentioned needing a hammock as well as some arrows. There would most likely be hammocks on the ship, but it had been noted by Vargas that Skarsat was extremely large. He could see where this would be an issue. He nodded to Skarsat in approval.

"Quite right. I will also make a note to the ships quartermaster on your uh, issue on size, and I'll see to it that he makes the proper arrangements." Vargas said with a smile. "As for your arrows, you will accompany the rest of the party to the markets in the morning so I'm sure you can find something suitable while there. There wont be a ton of time but the ship leaves at eleven so that's plenty of time to get a few last minute items. Plus it'll be good having you around to keep an eye on them while they do."

Vargas highly doubted that any of them would be stupid enough to run away and cross Vargas for such a small bag of coin, but he didn't want any problems before they set sail either, and Guillan could be very unpredictable. He then stood up from his place at the table and bowed to the party ever so slightly.

"Now, I'll leave you all to it. Enjoy the rest of the evening and please, do try to get some rest. The morning comes before you know it and the hour is already growing late." he said. "Eat up and fill your bellies, for you'll need the strength for your journey. Someone make sure that Y'Vanna at least eats something solid. She's definitely going to need it..."

"Someone make sure Y'Vanna eats something because nyeh nyeh nyeh..." she said in a mocking tone. Y'Vanna scowled at Vargas, cutting a sharp eye at his comments. She reached over the table, tearing a leg from one of the pheasants and tearing a huge chunk from it with her teeth. She chewed on it as it she were a calf chewing cud. she was glossy in the eyes and the grease would be most welcome to her belly.

"Goodnight, dearest partner..." Vargas said as he took Solange's hand in his own, giving it a gentle kiss. His gaze was slightly unnerving. "mind you help Neh'miah find something suitable from the wardrobe upstairs before the morning comes. I have early business to attend to on the morrow so I doubt I will see you before you depart. Should you wish to see me you know where I'll be."

"So are we in accord?"

Maréngo smiled and gave a hearty aye! before downing his horn and slamming it down a satisfying thud. The idea of a captain being in charge outside of battle made his teeth grind ever so slightly but he didn't show it. The way of pirates was one vote for one man but he was not boarding a pirate ship and he silently reminded himself of that. He could stomach taking the orders of a stranger if he was worth his salt and if there was gold at the end of the job.

"Someone make sure that Y'Vanna at least eats something solid. She's definitely going to need it..."

Maréngo laughed as he retrieved his knife and used it to skewer a large chunk of pheasant breast, separating it from the rest of the body with a flick of his wrist. He also made sure grabbed an orange from one of the baskets. Scurvy wouldn't catch this sea dog with his pants down that easily.
"Don't worry, I'll be keepin' an eye on this one," he replied with a gesture at the trouble maker in question.
Which wouldn't exactly be hard. Y'vanna wasn't unpleasant to look at, not that he'd give her the satisfaction of hearing him say that out loud.
Gods know how full of themselves women get with the smallest compliment.

With lists being drafted and requests being made, Maréngo thought to make his own list of needs. Certainly he would need a fishing rod and or a net. Dried provisions feed the man but not the soul. Speaking of, a supply of tobacco wouldn't hurt. Useful during what little free time they might have once they got to their destination and as a trade item among his fellow sailors. If nothing else, he would be sure to consult a soothsayer or an oracle of some sort. Many sailors throughout history have been superstitious and he was no exception in that regard. What did Leathe have in store for him he wondered. A thought crossed his mind as he took a bite of the meat on the end of his knife to save an offering in case the temple allowed outsiders the honor of giving to the gods. He felt it would be appropriate given how much trouble the lord of the seas had gone to to save one no name sailor's life. As disconcerting as the thought was, he doubted he could count on another miracle from on high any time soon.

Following the train of thought, could he count on the others here? Not in the sense of whether or not they could handle themselves, but if he could trust them not to run or crumple in the face of difficulty. As much as he didn't like to grapple with this feeling, he knew he would have to. Things were so much simpler living on the waves. Everyone had to trust one another or everyone might die. Simple as that. Everything got so much more complicated on land.

Solange chuckled as Maréngo called her out for trying to trip up poor Percival. She gave him a playful little shush, complete with a finger to the lip and a knowing wink, as she joined him in his cheers. She lifted the wine glass of hers that Y’vanna had emptied. She’d already had two glasses earlier that night, and while she didn’t mind bonding with her new companions she wanted to keep a clearhead—especially around that Maréngo. Twice he’d caught her in her little games. Perhaps she’d been too quick to think of him as yet another dull sailor whose sharpness had been eroded by the waves and salt of the sea. Her smile slipped as she pressed her lips close to the edge of the wine glass. She preferred dimwits. Clever people were always dangerous.

A wave of relief hit Solange as Vargas revealed that Skarsat was a new underling for Nora. The large man didn’t seem thrilled by the prospect judging by the look on his face, but he hadn’t seemed thrilled since he’d entered the room. By the way he’d loomed over Vargas, Solange had half-expected the Tork to reach down and snap his neck like a stalk of celery. It was a dreadful thought—she still needed the man to finance the voyage. Once everything was paid for, however? Solange felt ice crawl up her skin as Vargas rested his hand on hers, yet gave him a look that could melt the mightiest of glaciers. She slid her hand free to grab the empty wine glass and kept it there.

“A splendid idea,” said Solange as Vargas suggested she help Neh’miah disguise himself. She thought it was a stupid idea. What, the thief couldn’t part his hair another way and change his coat all by his lonesome? And why her? Percy couldn’t grab a shirt? She batted her lashes at Neh’miah. “I am quite talented at getting men out of their trousers, so surely I must be skilled at fitting them in a coat.”

Solange felt Vargas take her hand again, lift it, and kiss it. She didn’t like the way he called her his partner this time and his unblinking stare put a lump in her throat. Solange didn’t pull away. Instead she leaned forward so that her breath was hot on Vargas’s ear as she whispered, “You have my gratitude, darling. ‘Tis a shame neither of us can afford to be up late tonight, but now we both have something else to look forward to once we are reunited.”

Vargas had given her quite the good offer. If she didn’t find his controlling nature repulsive she might’ve begun to reconsider the way she was going to screw him. A shame. Perhaps she’d play her part a little bit longer still. Solange pulled back, gave him a smile, and turned her attention away from him. She eyed Nora and Skarsat as she leaned back in her chair and smoothed her dress. The sooner they were eating out of her hand, the better things would go for Solange.

“I believe the two of you are invited to this feast as well. Please, have a seat and enjoy some pheasant,” said Solange, getting out of her seat to offer it to Nora and playing the role of hostess. She grabbed the decanter, poured the two of them wine, and left it at their empty seats to be enjoyed as she refilled her own empty glass and set it down in front of Y’vanna again. “Empty again, are you? There’s nothing wrong with letting loose every once in a while, love. Neh’miah, darling, I know you’re excited for me to get you out of those clothes, but there’s no need to rush through your food. Maréngo, any sage wisdom about the sea you’re willing to part with for us neophytes? I’m afraid I’m more knowledgeable about sailors than sailing...”

And so on.

Y'Vanna had been doing her best not to make too much eye contact with Maréngo, but she could certainly feel a lustful tension growing deep down in her belly. She had always had bad luck with men and she knew that making eye contact with a semi-burly, musclebound sailor was not in her best interests at the moment. It could be said that Y'Vanna wasn't known for her decision making skills, and when he spoke... she just couldn't do it. She looked right at him, and then immediately shifted her focus back to the pheasant, taking a large bite, mincing it voraciously. What the fuck are you doing Y'Vanna? - she thought. Solange interjected and Y'Vanna was glad she did. Y'Vanna shoved her glass over as soon as she offered to fill it. Then Vargas chimed in.

"Of that I am most certain darling..." he said, Y'Vanna was unable to contain a snicker to the retort. He turned to acknowledge the party. "Goodnight to you all, and I bid you good fortune on your journey."

And with that Vargas made his exit. He was a prudent man at times, but he was always about his money first. That was a given. He was also the sort of man who would walk out of the room and not give this affair another thought until they returned either, and that's exactly what he did. Vargas could be detestable at times, but there was a certain air of confidence about him that one had to admire, if nothing else. He had managed to accomplish a lot for one man, especially in a city such as Guillan, even moreso to be said about his line of work. The fact that he had managed to survive for this long was astounding in it's own right. Vargas was a smart man. He knew people, and more importantly, the right ones. He also knew how to implement them for a desired outcome. Why, if Vargas wasn't up to his neck in the black market and consorting with undesirables he be a perfect fit for a man of the courts. The man could literally plan kingdoms if he wanted to.
The party would most likely not see him before they departed, and the tensions in the room seemed to leave alongside him. Y'Vanna rolled her eyes and bit another huge bite from the pheasant leg. Royal pheasants had been bred to produce a more plump fowl and were usually reserved for royalty or other important guests. Vargas having set forth two before them was just another way for him to flex on the party and it made the sweet poultry turn to ash in her mouth. It also fortified the notion that Vargas was not to be fucked with on the grand scale of things for his reach was long, very long.

"Ugh, I thought he would never leave..." she said, letting off a sigh of relief. She took a drink of wine from her glass as she tipped it in gesture to thank Solange. "I suppose I owe you all a debt of gratitude on this. I hope I haven't bitten of more than I can chew... we can chew."

So Vargas was gone, a moment Skarsat had been looking forward to since he had been given the answer he had waited for. It was at this exact point of time however that the Tork man also realized how foolish a thought it had been to believe that this would actually make things so much better in the room. A little more air to breath, yes, but otherwise ? The others were free to spread their verbal wings even further! And by 'others' Skarsat primarily had the women in mind. Maréngo seemed okay so far and given his body he probably was an able fighter, but he could not see much of his qualities in the other persons so far, except for Nora perhaps whose attitude he had already been able to witness.

Another slight detail that only now started to burn itself into his mind was how some people here had been touching each other... A more than professional relationship between employer and employees did not have to end in jeopardy per se, but this time there was a lot of coin on the table. Skarsat had to suppress the inner urge to envision some kind of betrayal just because somebody 'loved' somebody else more than the others...

He stepped forward towards the table where Solange had poured him some wine, the wooden floorboards protesting against his weight with quite loud noises. In his calloused hand the wine glass almost seemed a little fragile, but it turned out it would not have to stay in that precarious place for long as Skarsat apparently followed a 'taste doesn't matter as long as you're fast'-approach. He craned his neck as if wanting to take a look at the ceiling that already was close to his scalp, but in fact he only wanted to use his face and beard as a means to catch any droplets of wine that would inevitably escape their death march out of the glass and into his throat. Also, of course, gravity was always useful when pouring things.

And yet anybody who paid attention at the right moment would be able to see how his neck winced, thick veins bulging on its skin as some reflex desperately tried to override Skarsat's sheer will and to stop the influx of red fluid. That stuff was way too fruity! He needed something to fix this... wasn't there some considerable lot of pheasant around here ? Skarsat reached for a part of it with bare hands, separting it from the remainder with one swift move and guiding it to his mouth before too much liquid could come out of it and fall to the ground. Tork people were not the most mannered bunch from an Eastener's point of view in general perhaps, but when the need to eat was so urgent in order to wash away something else all other priorities receded!

It was only after the first two bites that Skarsat dared to look for something like a plate and he also squeezed himself into the empty chair, continuing to eat. His response to Y'Vannas concerns about their capability to chew was the loud sound of his chewing. At least physically it seemed he could chew a lot, but in the metaphorical sense that was in question for this whole endeavour ? That was an entirely different matter still to be investigated...

Y'Vanna nodded as Skarsat found himself a seat at the table, pressing a smile on her face between chews. It was true, Y'Vanna's table manners were also less than admirable, but in their defense the pheasant was exquisitely prepared. So well prepared in fact that it was almost a guaranteed given that this fowl was never intended for this lot. This was surely meant to find itself laying elsewhere in front of a whole other group of people, who surely had the manners to go along with it. She was doing her best to keep her eyeballs from floating, and stuffing heaps of pheasant in her mouth was a sure sign of it. Y'Vanna could feel the dust tugging at the back of her mind. She was well overdue already, and if anything could quell the room from spinning the dust would surely do the trick.
The hour of the evening was growing late. The festival was in full swing now and the tavern was packed full of people, most of which were nearly shoulder to shoulder at this point, and the music was lively. Y'Vanna finished up the last bit of her pheasant leg and slung the bone onto a plate on the table. She licked the grease from her fingers and finished the last bit of wine in her glass. She could feel the rhythm of the music taunting her. She closed her eyes and her head and shoulder began to sway along with it. She had endured enough seriousness and amassed enough debt for one night, now it was time to enjoy the rest of her evening. Y'Vanna was a wild and sensuous young woman, and a bit of grog and some upbeat music was just about all it took, add a bit of the dust in with that and well...
She definitely wasn't bad to look at either. Had she not been a bit clumsy and always awash with the drink she could nearly have man she wanted. But that was neither here nor there, and when one's main goal is usually a one night stand it hardly matters for they don't have to get to to know one another anyway. Y'Vanna wiped her mouth on her arm and set the glass down on the table and then she stood from her chair.

"Well, I don't know about you lot but I've about had my fill with all this seriousness and shite." she said. She looked to all the members of the party at the table. "It's been a pleasure, but if we're to leave on the morrow for this journey and it be as treacherous as I believe it to be then I'll be off to enjoy the rest of my evenin' while I'm still alive to do so." She bowed to the party and grabbed her belts and sabre and threw them on her shoulder as she began to walk out of the meeting room.

"I suggest you all do the same."

She exited the room and made her way across the balcony and down the stairs. She stopped by the lavatory to powder her nose but there were crowds of people already waiting. Damnit, she thought. Oh well, it wasn't like anyone was actually paying attention to anything other than themselves. They surely didn't seem to notice or mind the spit and froth that went flying from one's mouth to the other's face so surely they wouldn't notice her either. She made her just beyond the crowds for the lavatory and wedged herself into a small nook in the corner, her fingers digging about wildly in the crotch of her pants as she tried to retrieve the small vial she had tucked away in a piece of cloth. She finally managed to get her fingers around it as she notices a burly chap eyeballing her as she did with a huge grin on his face and nearly drooling into his horn.

"Oh piss off, you feck.." Y'Vanna scoffed and flipped him off, the man laughing voraciously as he walked on.

She turned towards the wall and dug her fingernail into the vial. She put it to her nostril and inhaled hard. The effect was instant, and her pupils shrank to pin pricks. She could feel the dust as it coursed through her veins, the music now magnified in her head. It was go time. The festivities had the masses enthralled, and the music enticed her to follow suit. There was a table somewhere in need of a dancer, and she aimed to fill it...

---

---

Chitchat was had, pheasants were picked at, drinks were filled, jackets were fitted, and an excuse was made.

A chill hit Solange as she exited the Faded Lantern and saw the red-tinted lanterns posted beside the entryway to the Red Sail Brothel looming nearby. It was difficult to say if it was the cool summer breeze sweeping in from the night sea or unchecked nerves about being questioned regarding her whereabouts that caused her spine to tingle, but whatever it was it made her hesitate on the corner. The street was lined with revelers getting an early start to the Festival of the Crescents, bottles trading hands as a few sailors danced with ladies to an out of tune fiddle. Solange knew a few of the girls from the brothel, likely trying to entice the men inside with promises to fulfill their fantasies while draining their purses.

Solange didn’t immediately head towards the brothel. Instead, she walked away from the busy intersection, a careful eye observing the ground for any mother-crippling cracks. She cut through an alleyway, paid little mind to the independent contractor shrieking at her to find her own spot, turned upon the next main thoroughfare, loosened a few strings on her bodice, and approached the brothel as if she’d been at the markets serving as a lure. Solange waved a few fingers at the girls that thought she was their friend and ignored the glares from the couple of them clever enough to know she thought herself their better.

Before she had a chance to avoid it a bottle had been placed in one hand and a drunken sailor had grabbed her by another to lead her in a stumbling waltz. He was young and still unbroken by the sea, with a big smile, deep dimples, and a clear first attempt at a mustache. Solange knew instantly he was the kind of boy whose month’s salary she could siphon completely given the proper amount of time to allow for her nails to sink in, but such paltry sums were beneath her now that she had a treasure to acquire. Still might’ve been a bit of good fun, but tonight wasn’t one for distractions. She slipped the bottle into his back pocket and then took the lead of the dance as quick as a whip before cracking him towards the nearest open painted woman, who graciously caught him in her web.

The bouncer Kline, a quiet, bald, pockmarked man with arms the size of ham hocks that Solange had once thought of as terrifying until she discovered that slipping him the occasional pastry would transform him into the biggest softie, gave her a nod and welcomed her back. He called her Ms. Belgard, as it was his habit to refer to all of the working girls as if they were proper ladies. That strange bit of professionalism and respectfulness earned him more points in Solange’s lodger, and it was why she still supplied him with sweets even after they were chums. His eyes brightened like a baby doe as she palmed him a scone wrapped in parchment that she’d taken from Vargas’s feast, pressed two fingers against her lips, and sent a kiss swirling through the air towards him.

“From the market, love. Where I have been all evening drawing this crowd before you, as you know,” said Solange.

“Oh but of course, Ms. Belgard. As you mentioned earlier,” said Kline knowingly.

Solange smiled, happy to hear that the only man of Fontaine’s who had seen her enter the Faded Lantern was on her side as long as the sugar kept flowing. Kline opened the door for her and she passed through the threshold, parting a sheer red drape as she entered the brothel. The bar was as raucous as ever with constant chatter and live music playing along to a free burlesque show that men cheered to, loud enough to thankfully drown out the theatrics going on behind closed doors upstairs. Solange preferred the noisy nights over the quiet evenings. It was easier to ignore the constant drone of debauchery than it was to try not to critique someone’s hammed-up bedroom performance like they were a theater starlet (and she a world-renowned theater critic) instead of them being a harlot and she one as well.

Not the case anymore, if all goes well. Her hand racked the wood on the bartop, inadvertently getting the attention of the bartender who regarded her with a familiarity that was chiller than the breeze from outdoors before turning back to chat up the men before her. Solange kept moving through the dimly lit room, lights flickering behind red-stained glass and red and pink lace draped over everything to add a false layer of warmth to an environment that was expertly calculated to drain men of their cold, hard cash. She passed the two bouncers at the stairs up to the private chambers, unsure if she was more thankful or nervous to have not bumped into Fontaine’s lapdog yet. Perhaps the awful woman had the night off. Perhaps the monster had caught a knife in the belly and Solange and the whole world had been given a favor. She doubted she’d have such luck. Better to ask.

“Darlings, have you seen ol’ Prue anywhere? I caught a free bird trying to hook a couple of worms in one of the nearby alleys, and she didn’t have much kind words to say about the Madame when I told her Fontaine didn’t like to share,” asked Solange, taking one step back from the curtain to better see the bouncer.

“Can’t say that I have. You?”

”Not since shift change.”

“Well then, sounds like it would be a good night for all of us then, doesn’t it?” said Solange.

Smirks were shared as she dipped back through the drapes, ascended the stairs, and made for her room. She had much she needed to pack and prepare for her voyage, and she had her doubts that she’d get much of any sleep thanks to the excitement. Solange paused momentarily at her sister’s door, and then decided better to just leave a letter. She fished her key out from her pocket and unlocked the door to her own room. It was crowded but organized, with sheets draped over bookshelves and a desk stacked with journals. A few plants lined the windowsill, nestled alongside a few bottles of ointments. Something felt off the moment Solange stepped into her room. Where was her desk chair? The door closed behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat. A woman spoke.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

---

Nora had left as the others faded out of the room. They were not her friends. She did not like most of them. And she trusted them even less. They were bound by the promise of coin and Vargas commands alone. Fragile strings, weak ribbons of loyalty that she suspected would tear apart at the slightest tug. She would keep them steady with her blade if she had to. The big man would be useful if it came to it.

She retreated into the small room she had in the back of the Faded Lantern. A small candle burned on the table, just as she always requested. There was nothing to discover in her room and everyone in the Faded Lantern knew better than to try and steal from her. She had only had to teach the lesson once for it to be understood that her quarters were strictly off limits to everyone but the young serving boy that Vargas paid to clean. One lost hand sent a clear message in any language.

Nora had handed a list of supplies to Percy on her way. Some more gunpowder, two bags of bullets, and all that she could think of for an expedition into some ancient ruins. A good length of hemp rope. She expected trouble. She expected a lot of trouble. Bandits seemed likely, other thieves seeking lost treasures. Secrets never stayed secret for very long. Her mind was free from the warm, enfeebling embrace of the wine she had been offered. Her thoughts were clear. She was wary. She trusted Vargas. She trusted his greed, it was predictable, and she knew that so long as they returned with enough coin to pay their debts he would have no interest in betrayal. However, the others she did not trust. They were fat with water. They were drunk with comfort. She would watch them carefully.

She would watch them carefully Nora thought as she settled into an easy sleep. She hoped that the others would be wise enough to spend the night in bed, resting and preparing themselves for the voyage ahead. She was a morning person and she would find them all before the sun had risen.