[IC] Gold & Glory: AU thread

[POOHEAD189]

Markus had the urge to throw another barrel of gunpowder and ignite it by these cretins, but that wouldn't go over well likely, and more importantly, they were running out of shot. He already told Sketti to go and find the best deals in the city once they docked for powder and ammo. Luckily they still had plenty of cannon balls. having gathered some in Sartosa already. Instead of blowing them up, Markus just ignored them and turned the ship as if they didn't exist. If any of the criers were unlucky enough to be in their way, it wasn't his fault. Unfortunately, they seemed pretty adept at maneuvering in their dingies, and Markus sardonically thought they had done this plenty of times before.

"Vi findu la'vas!" He called into their midst, and the only advertisers that seemed to understand were the elves in their slim lowboat, blinking and perking up their ears like dogs. Markus merely grinned as the ship passed them by, groans and cries from behind him slowly fading away. He heard footsteps behind him, and for a moment he thought he was going to have to explain to Sketti how he could speak a small bit of the Elven tongue, but instead Klaus approached, with Emmaline standing nearby, though she made a case not to look Markus' way.

"Have you ever been here before?" Markus inquired to the man, his eyes sweeping over the overbearing architecture and various flags whipping in the breeze. It had the look of a less fortified Castle Reiksgard, if you asked Markus. Mostly because he had never seen a structure in his life that had more ornamentation, until today. These tapestries and various other cloths didn't display pride for country, but for various merchant families and likely had some historical significance.

"No, I rarely travel. Er, I used to rarely travel, I suppose. But I do know the city from maps. Recent enough to be helpful at least."
He explained. "Despite the city's name, it's people are much more like Imperial people than other Tileans, being gruff and redoubtable folk. They don't have a lot of time for luxury goods, though there is a fair sized population of gypsies within the city. It also has good relations with Estali-"

"Where is the safest, most comfortable place to rest for the night?"

"Um... uh, oh! The Bonded Boot!" Herr Klaus recommended. He seemed eager to step off the ship himself. For a landlubber he hadn't done too poorly, in Markus' estimation. "As you might have guessed, it has a steel toed boot for its iconography, to celebrate the boots of the city watch."

The ship slowly glided up the dock, the men behind him weighing anchor and setting down. The sails had been pulled up a mile previously, and Markus could let go of the helm. He gave a nod to the scholar, and looked past him to Emmaline. "Tonight, make sure you make it to the Bonded Boot."

She muttered something but only glanced at him, walking off the ship as soon as the gangplank was lowered. She even pushed past the men that had lowered the board, and Markus shook his head. "I don't know what her problem is. I said she was useful to the crew."

"Maybe you can try being a bit nicer?" Klaus added, though he quickly backpedaled, realizing he could make a murderous pirate captain a bit less agreeable. Markus still had some decency, he couldn't help that his usual demeanor screamed aloof and deadly. Though it did come in handy sometimes. "I mean...I-I'm not very experienced with women, but maybe she's not used to being teased like your crewmates are to one another?"

Markus snorted. "Stick to books, scholar. Halfdan! Go with her and keep her safe! The rest of you stay in the ship tonight! All save the men who didn't get hammered drunk last time."

Every crewman but Morgan deflated.

[Penny]

The docks were filled with people though it seemed to Emmaline that they were largely idlers rather than interested in working. With the ships penned up by the sirens, loading had been completed. Even so there were plenty of sailors and off work stevedors with associated whores and street vendors. A few of the stevedores stood up and began to call to Emmaline asking about cargo. She ignored their calls, the Hammer was empty but she supposed that once Markus had found a chandlery there would be work loading cordage, spars and other supplies for the voyage.

The city had a strange grandeur once Emmaline wandered beyond the waterfront. It seemed oddly squashed against the cliffside though there were extensive tunnels and caves which had been squared off with masonry. Climbing upwards into what seemed to be a merchant's quarter. The shops here seemed to be largely wrought out of stone, timber evidently being in somewhat short supply, but it had been done with surpassing artistry. Emmaline suspected that the presence of so many dwarves had something to do with that. The stunted folk were certainly outnumbered by humans, but there were more dwarves here per capita than in Altdorf or anywhere else Emmaline had visited. There was even a modest temple that depicted a dwarf swinging a pick. The temple seemed to atract both human and dwarf worshipers, though judging by their fine clothes it seemed unlikely they were miners themselves.

"You can leave me alone," she told Halfdan who hulked along behind her like a muscular shadow.

"That's not what the what the captain said," Halfdan grunted. Emmaline scowled but knew better than to bother argue with the big Norscan. Halfdan had a very simple view of the world and there was little point in arguing with him. Instead she turned into a brassware store and began muttering under her breath. Halfdan followed her in and then cursed, reaching for his sword in shock when he found that Emmaline had vanished. He raced the the back of the store despite the shouts of the owner to be careful but there was no sign of her. He stalked around for several more minutes before heading out to the street.

"Crazy foreigners," the shop keeper muttered as the Norscan finally left. A large mirror of polished silver suddenly rippled as a blond haired Imperial woman stepped from the metal as though emerging from a pool.

"Right?" she agreed, and then walked out of the store, leaving the storekeeper staring in shock after her.

[POOHEAD189]

The streets weren't exactly filled to the brim with people like some large metropolitan cities Markus had traveled to, but there was a more than healthy amount of trade and activity. Tobaro was likely quite wealthy when all was said and done, even if there was a stark contrast between the rather austere locals and the profligate reputation the city had accumulated over the years. He imagined Klaus would find the history of such a place quite interesting, but Markus had told him to stay on the ship, more for his own safety than any worry he would leave the crew. Money was money, and once the scholar got his share, Markus saw the complaints fleeing his mind. That was a very piratey way of viewing things; they might make a buccaneer out of him yet.

Markus felt the heat of the glassblower as the muttonchopped man continued his work, the mercenary only standing idly for a moment, too deep in thought to really give much attention. A fish monger called for anyone who wished for Tilean caught Swordfish or Blue Finned Tuna from past the Rocks. A few Dwarfs stumped past the crowd, parting them like a wave as they marched northward. Glancing at the skyline, he saw towering spires of smoke drifting upwards from where their destination likely lay. Sketti would be over there finding a good deal.

"Markus! Markus Flintbrook!?" The Captain heard from behind him, a singsong voice he had not heard in years. He spun, unsurprised to see the tall, conical and well plumed helmet that so often accompanied elven warriors and dignitaries, though it was a different helm than last time Markus saw this elf. With an easy smile and eyes full of cheer, the slim elf approached the swordsman, holding a scepter of some significance in his left hand The majority of his form was cloaked in robes, though he still donned a breastplate and sweeping pauldrons.

"As I live and breathe," Markus said, before calling his name. "Galadel! What in Ulthuan brings you so far eastward?"

Markus wasn't a short man, but once they met to the side, the elf stood nearly a head taller than him. He would be slightly taller than Halfdan, likely. Though far lighter, of course. "I should ask you the same question, my friend." The elf laughed, a sound that brought up the spirits of any that might hear. Many elves had a darkness to them, but Markus had never seen that side of Galadel, though he knew somewhere Asuryan's wrath lurked if pressed. "I haven't seen you since we were in Kislev. Don't tell me you're involved in the wars of the south. Is Lilea here? or Lieutenant Fiedwell?"

Markus flinched at the mention, shaking his head. Those names were from what seemed a lifetime ago. "The Lieutenant was killed after we left Kislev. And I haven't seen Lilea since Ostermark. We didn't exactly part on kind terms." He cleared his throat, seeking to change the subject. He felt at a loss, being caught off guard by his old comrade's sudden appearance. "Actually, I'm captain of a ship now, an... Imperial vessel. We're just here to trade. But I'd be more curious to know what you're here for, friend. This is a strange city for an Elf of Ulthuan, especially considering you were a banneret last we spoke."

"You'll have to tell me more about that, and yes, I am here guarding Prince Aluryon of Avelorn." He explained, glancing at the crowd, a few passersby staring his way. Markus had to admit they seemed an odd pair. An elf is resplendent white, blue, and gold, whilst Markus had on an admittedly important yet bedraggled captain's jacket, shirt, and breeches. The only thing remarkable about Markus's effects was his sword. "Sometimes we must accept human invitations to retain good trade opportunities. There are more Druchii on the seas now more than ever, so we travel protected to safeguard our interests."

Markus made sure to keep his sword hilt covered by his jacket. He didn't want his old friend to think less of him. "Yes, I've heard there are increasing attacks by your dark kin. I hope your journeys have been safe. Is there a place we could meet later? I'm a bit busy at the moment."

Galadel smiled, inclining his head gingerly. "I was hoping you would ask. Tomorrow there is a banquet at the Duke's villa. If you're a Captain, you do have the right to attend if you've done some trading. I will be there, as it's where the Prince shall see the Duke. Would you have the time?"
Minutes later...

Markus wondered if it was truly a good idea to agree to that, but he had. Though he felt he was caught between his desire to take the opportunity to steal, or to make himself a legitimate partner to the aristocracy of Tilea. It wasn't out of the ordinary for pirates to steal from ships that flew certain flags and protected others. But that would require him to announce himself as a pirate, which could go south very quickly. Around him, he found himself in a lower end part of town, opposite the dicks but still framing the great engineering works, with the Duke's Palace sitting opposite next to another line of coast.

Though clearly there was less wealth here, it still seemed everyone was well off enough to have a fair time of the day. No buildings looked run down, though many alleyways were cut off and filled with wooden shacks where peddlers and sellers of knick knacks. Many of the stalls were covered with brightly colored carpets, and music wafted through the air, though where it came from he couldn't tell. All around it seemed. Tilean women danced and smacked jingling tambourines as men talked and ate, though some played the flute and glided between and around the women and independent lovers who had found the area inviting.

"You! Hey!" A voice rang in his ears to his left, and it took another call for him to grasp that it was his attention the voice sought. Markus saw a woman sitting cross legged atop a carpet, an opened, unlit hookah before her. She was cloaked along her entire body, save for her exotic eyes. A slim hand slid out of the wrapping to beckon him forward. Briefly he considered telling her to piss off, but in the end he decided to humor her. Seeing Galadel had made him thoughtful, and it wouldn't hurt to watch someone try to swindle him.

"Have you ever had your mind read?" She asked with a practiced whimsy.

"Why would I pay you to read my mind?" Markus inquired dryly. "I can do that for free."

"You misunderstand!" The woman replied, holding a hand up. "Our minds are muddled and filled with conflicting desires. The aches and cares of the world intrude constantly, yes? Sometimes we do not even know what we want. I only offer you the truth to your own mind. Your own troubles...I will show you what you wish for most, not what you need, but what you desire as a man."

Markus knew magic was in the world. He was a casual practitioner, when it was suitable. Having fought the hordes of Chaos in the north and the beasts and dark elves in the sea, there were certainly strange things occurring in the world they inhabited. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to humor the woman and toss her a silver schilling. "Very well, how does this work?"

"You do not need to do anything, my friend. Just relax-" she said, indicating Markus take a seat, which he did. "-And I shall show you what it is that haunts your soul..."

She produced a flint and tinder and began to light the hookah, which made Markus nearly scoff. He could begin the flame without any aid of tools. Thankfully, within just three strikes, the hookah was alight. She reached down and grabbed three vials that were behind the base of the instrument, muttering all the while as she filled it with whatever substances were within. It was curious to the swordsman that the hookah was not connected to anything to smoke from, which became obvious when she instead placed her hand atop it and unscrewed the stopper, allowing the smoke to billow forth like a summoned djinn.

"Look..." She said in answer to Markus's skeptical eyebrow. "Look at the smoke and simply breathe. You will see what it is you desire!"

For many moments he sat there, trying to be as patient as he could. He breathed, keeping his heart beat steady as his old master used to tell him. As usual, it paid off, for the smoke began to take shape and form. He watched curiously as it warped for a brief period and coalesced into the form of a shapely woman, arms crossed with her tongue sticking out childishly. Markus squared his jaw and concentrated.

"Aha, there is a woman in your life I see! You understand now, that- wait...What!? That is impossible!" She yelled as the image changed to a man, strikingly similar to Markus, giving the killing stroke to a nameless male figure. The smoke struggled within the boundaries it had been set, but it was clear. Even as he watched, the dead man in the smoke dropped a coin purse, and Markus caught it. The fortune teller scrambled to place the stopper atop the hookah. "No one can change their desires! That is of the heart! How did yo-"

"You need a new job, wench." He spat, gathering himself to his feet and striding away. The woman was speechless as she watched him, utterly intimidated at the force of will. Markus needn't move aside for anyone for the next five blocks, the menace in his eyes brooking no challenge from anyone who valued their life. He knew the smoke had produced Emmaline, but he had other worries and cares. The damned woman was lucky he didn't slit her throat for wasting his time. As he reviewed his thoughts over and over, trying to decipher what might have led to that utterly incorrect image, he bumped shoulders with one of the locals absentmindedly. Paying no heed, he continued onward until he realized the crowd around him had grown noticeably silent. Markus knew a dangerous situation when he found himself in one, and he took his time in turning to face the man who he had yet to sense attack.

A mustachioed fellow, wearing an open vest and jewels on every finger watched him with hard eyes. With his left hand, he drew out a castle-forged rapier, and then placed the point at the ground and tapped it expectantly. It took him a moment to understand that the idiot wanted Markus to prostrate himself, or at the very least kneel. The Captain made no move to perform either service to whoever this was.

"I see you are in need of an education!" The duelist declared, Tilean accent dripping with every syllable. He flourished his blade in a salute. "I am Il Conte Raphael Mondego, and I shall duel you here and now! If you do not fight for honor, fight for blood! Fight for-..." He gasped when Markus drew out his black sword, suddenly unable to find any words for a brief moment. "Fight for your sword! I will kill you for your insolence and relieve you of such fine a weapon! And if you defeat me, you will be known as the man who slew the Whirlwind Crow of Tobaro!"

Markus thought of the smoke just after it dissipated from Emmaline's visage, and he wondered if the smoke had been right. Maybe not the the first time, but the second. Maybe both, he thought, but it nearly made him wretch. Clearly he was taking too long of a time for Il Conte Raphael Mondego, for the man saluted once more and leaped with all the fury his name entailed. He waited for the last moment to pierce Markus so the Borderlander could not block in time. His victory was assured, though the Whirlwind of Tobaro wondered why the world was suddenly spinning. He would have felt pain if his nervous system was still connected to his head, but even as he hit the ground, he saw his body fall to the pavement strides away, and the swordsman stooping down to take the jewels off his fingers.

[Penny]

Emmaline found that her mood had lifted considerably since she had shed her tail. Part of her felt some shame. Halfdan wasn't a bad sort for a pirate and he was certain to take failing Markus personally. Well the fault on that score was Markus' for saddling her with the hulking chaperone in the first place. Tobaro was doubtlessly a dangerous city, but Emmaline had grown up in Altdorf, and not in the better parts of it either and had no fear of cities.

After perhaps half an hour of wandering she found what she was looking for. Tobaro didn't have a magic quater, the way the College district in Altdorf was, but the relaxed approach to the craft meant that any city on Tilea had far more in the way or arcane resources than an Imperial city of a comparable size. In Tabaro the street was actually cut back into the cliffs, though it didn't seem to be connected to any deeper tunnels beyond its old cul de sac. The street was lined with stores cut into the rock and the fronts of the building were painted with gaudy sigils in a variety of bright colors. So far as Emmaline could tell none of them were actually spells or wards, just interesting looking designs meant to evoke an aura of the mystical. Old women with crystal balls stood in front of several stores, others shouted that they would cast bones or tell fortunes. Simple healing spells to rid you of the pox and other such inducements were shouted to passers by at a volume that would have lead to a visit from the witch hunters back home.

"Girl! Come here and I shall brew you a love potion!" a toothless old hag yelled.

"Come here and I will show you how to turn lead to gold!"

"Come here Dawn Star and I shall tell you your fortune," a man of indeterminate age called. Emmaline paused and turned to look at him. He was a frustratingly average sort of man, neither short nor tall, fat nor slim, neither handsome or ugly. His only remakrable feature was an enormous cloth of gold turban that seemed to clash horribly with his simple home spun tunic.

"Why do you call me Dawn Star," Emmaline enquired. The fellow grinned becoming her closer with quick gestures of his left hand.

"That is your name is it not?" he asked innocently.

"Sort of," Emmaline returned curtly. The literal translation of Morganstern was 'Dawn Star' which anyone might know, but this seer didn't have any reason to know her name.

"Would you like to see your future?" he asked. Emmaline folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"Sure," she replied. The seer held out his hand in demand of payment.

"I predict you will pay me," he said with a wiley grin. Emmaline snorted and pulled a gold coin from her pouch.

"A gold mark then," she said, extending the coin between thumb and forefinger.

"That is a silver schilling," he objected with a hurt look.

"Not if you change it in the next half hour it isn't," Emmaline argued. The seer considered it for a moment and nodded his approval.

"This is true," he agreed and plucked the faux coin from her fingers, making it disappear into thin air. Rather than engaging in any theatrics with crystal balls or smoke, he pulled a simple mirror of polished silver from his turban and held it up to her eyes.

"What do you see..."

Emmaline blinked, peering at her reflection in the wavy imperfection of the mirror. At first there was nothing but as she watched she saw Markus, but over laid somehow with another man, both of them were dangerous but very different. Suddenly images and light began to tumble past and Emmaline cried out, almost falling, but the mirror somehow held her transfixed. She rushed down a pair of paths so fast that the lines jumbled, assaulted by images she didn't understand until suddenly she was standing naked and in the dark. A pair of bright green serpentine eyes opened and a mouth that belonged to no human and no snake hissed a single word and...

Emmaline snapped back to the present, the seer dropped his mirror which was now smoking and bubbling like heated mercury.

"What... what have you done?" he demeanded, but Emmaline was already striding away, she had wasted enough of her day with fortunes, she had some shopping to do and then, she supposed, she would head back to the inn and find Markus.

[POOHEAD189]

"You are not mad, Captain?" Halfdan asked again, the huge man somehow able to appear like a newly recruited deckhand when caught in trouble. He prided himself on being a ferocious Norscan warrior, and though he was, he knew he had no life to go back to if he were to be kicked off the ship. It was Markus who had saved his life when he was captured, having vouched for him. There was a sense of loyalty there he would never be able to fully repay.

"No, I am not. But if you keep asking me, I will be." The Captain warned with a glance as they marched down the street toward the Bonded Boot. It was Markus' fault for not sending someone a bit more sly. He knew full well Emmaline had given him the slip, which would have impressed him had he just met her. "She's a wiley one. I have no doubt she'll meet us at the Inn in due time, even if she has the whole of the city guard after her."

Markus clutched a small bag he had strapped to his belt, just next to his coin purse. Before Halfdan had inevitably found him, he had done some more thinking after he had killed that lowly baron. No doubt if his identity was discovered he would have made enemies, but so far it had been nothing but a cathartic experience. Once they rounded the corner and saw the establishment, he held up a hand. "You will have two drinks, and then you will head back to the ship. You will not stop for any reason, not even to take a piss. Got that?"

"Aye sir!" He roared happily, smiling big at the prospect of a few drinks.

The Inn was expansive, the lower common room spread out through clever architectural design Markus couldn't quite understand at first glance. The center and left side of the common room was lowered by three steps compared to the bar and the more private dining areas, the last place which Markus sought particularly. Each small dining area was closed on three sides by a wall, and the fourth by a heavy curtain. Markus took two pints of vodka and made his way into the third down from the left, whereas Halfdan took his two drinks for just himself and stepped down into the lower area where men arm wrestled and played cards. The barkeep was on the lookout for a beautiful imperial woman with blonde hair and who had a small chance of tripping on the stairs if she wasn't looking.

[Penny]

Emmaline put the strange fortune teller out of her mind in the traditional way. By spending a bunch of money. Though some of more extravagent stores were beyond her price range, she only had the hundred or so pieces of silver she had stolen from Von Roberts, her eye for what was real among the forgeries and nonsense allowed her to pick up a few bargins and then sell them back to more reputable stores. More than once a propiter suggested that they could arrive at a better price if they went into the back of the store where, coincidentally, there was a bed or cot, or in one case an alley, but Emmaline politely but firmly declined. After an hour or so of haggling and trading she had aquired a grimoire which seemed to be a collection of spells and formulae from the Gold College, it was an old book, printed nearly a hundred years ago in Altdorf. The unknown wizard who had owned it had made copious notes in the margins, expanding at some length in a cramped spidery hand. She also purchased a small diary bound in tattered leather that appeared to be hedge magic. The final volume she had found was a rarer thing, filled with the kind of ritual magic rarely attempted by Imperial Wizards. Some of the illustrations were detailed enough to make even Emmaline blush, but as she had used such magics to heal Markus once already she figured she might as well read up. The sailors said that the voyage to Ind would be months long and there would be plenty of time for reading. She had also aquired flasks of some common alchemical reagents, most of what she needed she could find or manufacture, but there were a few staples which she wanted to lay in store. Perhaps, she thought as she headed back towards the inn, she could get some money from Markus. The thought made her giggle, sure, maybe she could get some from Sketti too.

It wasn't until she had nearly reached the inn that she noticed that there were a pair of men watching her. One of them, the taller one with a trim mustache, she thought she had seen once already. Had they been following her? They certainly hadn't been until after she left the Street of the Arcane. Emmaline frowned, she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to follow her, but she supposed it was a free city and if they wanted to skulk around that was their business. If they were planning on robbing her it was too late now she had already reached the inn.

Stepping inside she was immediately impressed by the understated style of the place. Expensive but not flashy in the way that expensive places often were. It reminded her of the inns and dining houses which the uppercrust of Altdorf society frequented, in deliberate negation of the flashier taste of newer mercantile parvenu. It lacked the stink of most of the inns Emmaline had been in as well, that familiar cocktail of stale beer, moulding reeds, tallow candles and the sharp tang of vomit. This place smelled faintly of vinegar and... Emmaline wrinkled her nose before her eyes widened with delight. She marched up to the bar, tripping at the sudden step down and juggling her books for several seconds before regaining her poise.

"You have dwarven ale?" she demanded of the tapster. The barman a stout man with a neatly shaved scalp hooked a thumb at one of the booths sectioned off by curtains.

"Your friend is looking for you," he grunted. Emmaline nodded impatiently.

"Yes yes, but ale first," she demanded, placing one of her few remaining pieces of silver on the counter top. The barman gave her a speculative look and then scooped up the coin. He produced a wooden flagon from under the bar and then turned to a tapped keg on the wall. He turned the tap and filled the mug with the reach malty brew that was so rare in Imperial taverns and all but unknown in Tilean ones.

"Here you go," he told her, sliding the stein across the bar to her.

[POOHEAD189]

Behind her, Halfdan was too busy playing dice with a few other ruffians to glimpse Emmaline, else she would have heard a bit of racket from the huge norscan. Rather, a few ne'er-do-wells that skulked the sides of the inn had spotted her and were approaching to see if they could grab a cot, but before they made it three steps, the curtain to one of the private areas opened. Markus poked his head out, dagger in hand as he whistled, reeling in Emmaline's attention. He saw her look his way, but instead of approaching, she simply picked up the Dwarf ale and sipped it, trying to appear standoffish. Though her cough from absentmindedly consuming the extremely potent brew broke the dignity of it.

Markus stepped out and took her hand, practically dragging her within and closing the curtain, though he could tell she wasn't in the best mood around him. Hopefully what he was about to do would help.

On the table was a sack with unknown contents, Markus's sword, and four daggers he always kept on his person. They were keen edged and unblemished, and they all had varying hilts denoting he had acquired them in different areas of the world. It must have seemed like a threat of torture, as Emmaline glanced at the exit warily. Markus didn't bar her way. He merely took a seat at the booth and lowered the light in the lamp by a hair. The Captain took his jacket off, placing it beside him on the long bench. "I'm just cleaning them, sit down." He told her. Hesitantly, she did so, sitting across from him. There was something on her mind, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he stopped her.

"Wait, let me speak first."

"Oh by all means. You are the captain after all." She said, rolling her eyes. He didn't take the bait, instead he sat back and looked at her with his dark eyes.

"You annoy the hell out of me." He stated, unsure if she would find offense or burst into laughter. He could never tell with her. He let the words hang before he looked away for a brief second, sighing. "But I've been unfair to you." She could see two pints of ale before him, with one emptied and the other halfway gone. There was obviously something Markus was hesitant to say, but he trudged on nonetheless.

"You're fun to be around." He admitted. "You aren't something to be controlled or a prize to be won. Everything you've done, you've just done to survive. We're similar in that regard. But what's more, you've saved me and my crew more than once, without reward or accolades except being allowed on the crew. I realize that is wrong. I just...I want to you to know I'm sorry, and that you have my respect. You probably haven't heard that a lot in your life, and considering you likely swindled a lot of people, with good reason. But you deserve to hear it once in awhile."

[Penny]

Emmaline peered at Markus suspiciously. It certainly looked like the corsair captain. She sniffed as though attempting to detect the smell of liquor or hashish but found nothing out of the ordinary. She took another sip of the dwarven ale without speaking and then set the stein down on the table. She wasn't even sure how to process his words, being a past master of the back handed compliment made her suspicious.

Morality was a strange thing she supposed. He respected her because she was a swindler. She was annoying but valued. It occured to her that she wouldn't be here at all if he hadn't kidnapped her in the first place. She supposed that she could probably have run off if she wanted to, in Sartosa perhaps but here certainly, but the truth was that sailing with Markus on an adventure that might make them all rich was far more appealing than scamming aging socialites with miracle youth potions. It was also true that although he had kidnapped her, she owed Markus something for protecting her, and not for simply selling her at auction to what, she modestly suspected would be a small fortune. And so having considered her words she opened her mouth and responded.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Markus Flintbrook?"

[POOHEAD189]

He didn't know if he should be insulted. Was this so uncharacteristic of him? He'd certainly argued with her more than anyone on the ship, but she had worked the least out of everyone, she had been made a part of the crew without any hazing or pledge of loyalty. Of course she had risen quiet rapidly to become 'Captain's woman' due to saving his life and a good lay, but that had been in her interests as well. He grabbed the second pint, and drained it fully before her eyes, small streams of ale sliding down his neck until it was all in his belly.

He clapped the flagon on the table, wiping his mouth with his forearm. "You're a part of the crew and I haven't treated you like it." It was as blatant an admission as any he'd give. "I made the lads treat you with respect but I haven't, so I'm setting it right, got it?" He held back the bit of dangerous anger that flared up in him, which just made him seem that more more thoughtful. He slid the flagon away to bump into his knives, the light of the lamps dancing on their mirror polish.

Once he calmed a bit, his casual captain's control of the situation took the helm once more, though he didn't change his tune. "We're going to fight in the future. That's about as sure as the sun rising. But you're still my woman, if you haven't changed your mind. So..." Now Markus would prove it. He reached over to the sack, which turned out to be wrapped silk of blue. Pulling it to him, he gingerly unwrapped it one small movement at a time.

"I killed a man today. A rich bastard. I took every jeweled thing he had off his corpse, thinking to sell it so I could add to our savings. Instead... I sold them and got this."

When the last bit of silk was pulled aside, the room suddenly brightened as if the light of the moon peered through a window they couldn't see. There by his callused fingers was a necklace. A interlinked bronze chord held dearly a sea blue sapphire that could swallow an onlooker with its deep beauty, framed by a thick collection of pure gold tears, like the tears of the sun radiating off of the jewel in a broad wave six deep, five deep, four deep, until it had fully thinned and tapered off into the bronze chord once more.

Markus slid out of his chair, letting hang the necklace so she could continue to appreciated it. He slid his strong fingers along her hair and lifted it so he could clasp it upon her neck, the necklace now draped just above her chest. "You like it? It's yours. If we're together, we share in the wealth." He said with simple pragmatism. "Besides, tomorrow I was invited to an expensive gathering and I need a date." He wasn't going to order her to, nor was the gift a bribe.

"So how bout it. Wanna go on a date? Maybe fuck some shit up if things go south?"

[Penny]

Emmaline's gold lust pounded so powerfully that her vision momentarily narrowed to a dark tunnel. She settled the necklace around her neck and nestled the gem gently between her breasts. The effect with her loose fitting sailors garments was slightly ridiculous, though even in sailors slops Emmaline's fine golden hair prevented her from looking completely comic.

"Well," she said in a throaty purr, "I suppose you have yourself a date." She set the books and supplies she had purchased on the table, and suppressed a giggle. For all of her wheeling and dealing, she could have bought all of Arcane Street for the price of the necklace Markus had bought. She wondered who it was that he had killed, but she supposed if he hadn't been rounded up by whatever passed for the authorities in Tobaro, it couldn't be too much of a big deal. Emmaline hadn't seen any city guard during her wanderings, but no town quite this large could function without some sort of law enforcement. She didn't bother to ask why Markus had killed some random citizen, that would be like asking why the tide came in. There was doubtless an explanation but it was just easier to assume that it was simply nature taking its course.

"Of course there is one problem," she pointed out, running a fingernail along one of the facets of the jewels. Markus arched an eyebrow at her. Emmaline batted her eyelashes disarmingly.

"I simply don't have a thing to wear!"

[POOHEAD189]

Markus grinned fiercely. Despite their bickering, there was an attraction between them Markus hadn't forgotten. That, coupled with a shared sense of greed and an enjoyment of nefarious activities, were the reasons he had sold or even executed some captured women but offered Emmaline the opportunity to share his bed with him. He had made sure to not look at the necklace after he had traded all the gold and diamonds he had won for it, but now that he saw it again, nestled within Emmaline's full bosom as well, he felt a powerful mixture of greed and lust that he had to visibly quell. He realized he was staring, and all thoughts of regret over his decision to purchase it and what's more to give it to her fled immediately.

"We have until tomorrow night to find something." He chuckled, and he now leaned back on the cushioned booth he sat on, his hands behind his head as he drank her in. His next words had the barest hint of a groan to show he was stretching a bit. "Besides, seeing as I technically didn't take any coin from the treasury, we have a bit of extra coin to spend. I'm hoping we can make an actual, legitimate shipping agreement with one of the bloody upperclassmen. We'll be sailing to Ind and I'll become a High Captain of Sartosa while simultaneously making legal allies in Tilea."

He snorted, knowing full well 'legality' in Tilea could very well be seen as illicit further north, or even illegal in other Tilean city states. There was almost no collective national identity to the Tileans except a shared language and culture. Though he supposed if he wanted something uncouth, he could have picked a better city than Tobaro for it. It was all he could have done in this situation, considering Von Roberts attempting to tail them.

"I have some friends in town I met today. An Elf, actually, so I'll need to keep my Druchii sword at the ship. We'll need to hide a few knives. They'll take the old steel backsword I'll bring." He was more thinking aloud than anything, and when he saw once again the gleed-like nature of the golden tresses accompanying the hue of sapphire atop her creamy skin, he shook his head and gave a suggestive whistle. "Sink me Em, you'll make the Duchess jealous."

[Penny]

"What do you think?" Emmaline asked as she stepped from the dress makers store, somewhat gingerly given the events of the previous night. As Markus had predicted the cost of the inn had stretched their remaining resources. Well no one would accuse Emmaline of making good decisions when in the grip of gold lust. Fortunately she had been able to temporarily transmute her remaining silver coins into golden Tilean lire. Hopefully the coins would go into a strong box or be traded to others before the magic faded and the innkeeper realized that his guests had cheated him. Morgan had sent Halfdan to the inn with the message that they had found the spare spares, cordage and rations that they needed and that loading would be complete later that night. Apparently one of the Estalian galleons in harbor had been willing to sell their spares, at a mark up of course, given they only had a short voyage home. Food had been more of a problem, it was expensive and rare in a place like Tobaro which had little agriculture of its own. Luckily the mines produced salts as well as metals and salted fish, though unpalatable was readily availble. The one necessity they hadn't been able to secure was rum, though Markus was confident that rum or arrak could be found in the ports of Araby once they set sail.

Markus looked up from where he had been sitting on a barrel eating an apple and eyed her. They had decided that since they were still going to be loading supplies they might as well take up the invitation to dine with the nobility and the navigator families. Emmaline had parted with her last few coins as a down payment her ensemble, a gown of dark blue silk with sleeves of different shades which seemed to hint at waves on the ocean. A sash of golden silk encircled her waist and blue slippers for her stockinged feet. Though she lacked the extravagant jewelry of many nobles, the sapphire necklace made up for the lack and then some.

[POOHEAD189]

Markus himself hadn't gotten fully dressed yet. He wore the black pants and the button up shirt, though his sleeves were rolled up as if he was preparing to do hard labor, though he truly didn't expect to be doing any. He hadn't the time to buy new boots, so he merely buffed them as well as he could and polished over a few of the blemishes and cuts. He was glad he couldn't do the same for his scars. Even dressed up, he never wanted to seem like he had not seen battle or combat. Plus he felt Emmaline thought them attractive, though she hadn't said it explicitly.

Speaking of the witch, he perked up from his hunched position on the bench just outside, blinking at the sudden change of her attire. If he had never met her before he would have been immediately convinced she was the daughter of an imperial count, in both looks and dress. A smile bloomed on his rugged, handsome face as he gave a whistle. "Babe, you looked good in the sailors clothes. With that on you're a goddamn goddess." He assured her, still amazed at how he could marvel at her beauty after wrapped up in one another the previous night.

He took the last bite of his apple, tossing the core into a nearby wastebin with his normal dexterity. He slid out of his seat and approached her, rolling down his sleeves so he could give a sly bow and extend his arm for her to take. "Have you ever been to any courtly event, Em? Or can you dance for such an occasion? I forgot to ask."

[Penny]

mmaline grinned and crossed the road to Markus. Tobaro was waking up as the stevedores came off shift as the sun began to heat up the harbor. They surged up from the docks as a mob, peeling off into the various taverns for a liquid breakfast. Emmaline weaved between them helped by the tendency of the men to stop and stare, a few made catcalls which died when their eyes tracked to Markus.

“I’ve always found that the rich make the best marks, they have the money afterall,” she explained as she joined him.

“I can do, Imperial aristocracy,” she explained, drawing herself up and glaring haughtily down her nose at the passing stream of dock workers. Abruptly her eyes widened and her demeanor took on an air of contrived dignity.

“Up and coming merchant's wife,” she explained. Her eyes grew vacant and empty and her lip hung as though breathless with excitement.

“And of course ditzy arm candy,” she concluded.

[POOHEAD189]

It was interesting walking her demonstration, he had to admit. No wonder she had been successful at her swindling. Well, he wasn't certain how successful, but clearly she had been eating well. He smirked and took her arm so she could walk beside him as he went to go and collect his jacket at the tailor just down the next street. "Well...I only needed you to be my date. But I'll suggest a mixture between Imperial aristocracy and ditzy arm candy. You won't need to do much talking other than the kind that distracts or bores other guests, unless something unexpected happens. In which case we'll improvise." He judged. Improvisation had always worked in the past, even if it was a bad way to go about planning.

The stream of early risers were thinning somewhat, however that only gave way to the slower, later risers that slunk out of their inns and homes to go and perform more leisurely, or at least less pressing matters. Men hauled crates and sacks onto carts and called to one another across the street as women chattered amongst themselves and swept porches. Markus saw a strange deal being made in an alley they passed between a halfling and a man dressed as a chiney sweep. The place reminded him a bit of Marienburg if he was honest.

"No, come in with me." Markus chuckled as Emmaline slowed down at the door. They both stepped into the tailor's shop together. "No need for me to go into a dressing room, I'll just be grabbing a- What in the hells."

The inside of the building was burgundy in color from the deeply dyed carpet, with racks upon racks of jackets, shirts, trousers, belts, and even a few cloaks hung up along the walls. Three well dressed and sporty employees walked every which way to adhere to the customers they had within, which to Markus' surprise were three Dwarfs who seemed to be finding dress for a special occasion. One of them being unmistakable by his mohawk and lack of an arm.

"Sketti?"

"Cap't Flintbrook! Aye lad, there ye are! And the bimbo too, och, small city eh?" He said with a hearty laugh as a young attendant measured his thrice broad chest, long arms splayed out. Dwarf bodies were a strange sight when displayed, their legs being half the length whilst their arms were almost ape-like in muscle and length. All attached to a barrel body of stout muscle. "What brings you two into this den of thieves?"

"Not gonna introduce us, aye?" Another Dwarf said. He was a well to-do Dawi with a carefully groomed brown beard, wearing the handsome attire of a successful businessman, his clothes earthy colors of green, brown, and white linen beneath. He sported multiple satchels and purses on his belt, with three tied up ledgers draping off of him. Whoever he was, he had a jovial personality. The next Dwarf was less so, but with an odd zeal and smile to him. He had a dirtier, gruffer atmosphere to him despite having obviously gotten clean recently. On his forehead were smoked goggles, and a black beard that still had the tiniest hint of soot and smoke about it. He had more pronounced muscles than the merchant, though they just barely fell short of Sketti's. He wore simple overalls and a tan top, though his workboots had clearly seen better days.

"Yeah yeah, keep yer beard on! Och, Captain, these two lads run things on the engineering quarter of the city. Branvaldin Goldsmith and Hugrin Ironbellows here. We're to go and see this Duke and his assembly of simpering lords I been hearing about. By the look on your faces, you are too. And no, I'm not wearing a shirt. As a slayer, best I can do is a cloak which Branvaldin here insisted on." He complained.

"You can't embarrass us. They might be manlings, but they're business!" The merchant harumphed, balling his hands in fists and placing them on his broad hips.

As the two Dwarfs bickered, Markus whispered to Emmaline. "At least we found him now. I'd hate him to give us away as pirates spontaneously in the castle."

[Penny]

"Well there is that," Emmaline agreed in a soft murmer barely audible above the rumble of dwarven conversation. Though the other two were clearly long standing citizens of the city Emmaline couldn't imagine what busy Sketti had with the nobility. Well she supposed she and Markus were also bereft of legitimate interests, which didn't necessarily mean bereft of interests of course.

"A witch is it"?" Branvaldin demanded suddenly, breaking in on the private conversation.

"Well," Emmaline temporized, "I prefer less ... inflammatory words but sure." Flammability was a matter of serious concern for practitioners in the Empire. In theory a wizard with the writ of the colleges of magic was perfectly legal and perfectly safe. Of course saying you had a writ wouldn't do you much good if you found yourself on some witch hunters pyre and he wasn't inclined to check the paperwork.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with these reports of counterfeit coins would you?" the dwarf demanded pugnaciously. Emmaline looked so stricken with wounded innocence at the notion that the dwarf narrowed his eyes further." At that the suspicion faded and was replaced with a speculative look that was quickly replaced with a businesslike nonchalance.

"What can we do you for captain?" the dwarf asked Markus.

"I don't know anything about counterfeiting coins," she objected, her face projecting perfect innocence that made the dwarf appear, if possible even more suspicious.

"If someone is passing trick coins I imagine people will flock to the wise dwarven folk to demand their specie be checked though. A dwarf can always tell true gold from fake afterall, even if he does charge a modest fee for his talents.

[POOHEAD189]

She quite enjoyed being called 'witch' in bed, but Markus kept that thought firmly to himself with a smirk. He decided to change the subject from the questionable crime that could lead back to them in some indirect fashion. Glancing about, he hailed one of the tailors to come over to him once the fellow was done, all the while saying. "Nothing from you, Master Dwarf. Truth be told I didn't even know you would be in here with one of my crew. Speaking of which..."

Behind him, Emmaline caught the arm of the tailor and whispered to him exactly what Markus was looking for, so Markus needn't halt his conversation. Rather he just spread his arms to be measured. The Captain continued: "There will be Elves at the Duke's palace. That won't be a problem, aye?"

"Yes that's...regrettable." Branvaldin remarked diplomatically with a sigh, though in truth Markus had been referring to Sketti in particular. The Slayer's eyes widened, whipping to the merchant as if the other Dawi had stabbed him in the back. Hugrin grumbled and chewed on his pipe, but gave no real opinion other than a general look of distaste. "No doubt there to do business, just as we are. I hear Elgi do like to sail."

"Blasted pointy ears!" Sketti roared, causing the tailor measuring Markus to jump.

"You won't provoke them or cause a fight. That's an order." Markus commanded the Slayer, who seemed very close to insubordination when he opened his mouth, before he closed it wisely. Sketti cleared his throat, taking the cloak they has brought him. "Aye Captain..." Though the conversation didn't end there. Markus found out the two Dwarves had known Sketti before he took his oath, citing him as once one of the best engineers in their guild. No Dwarf would stand in the way of another Dwarf and their oath, but they asked him to inspect their current projects and help present their business to the Duke later. Once that was discovered, the three stout folk departed, leaving Markus and Emmaline to their own devices.

Minutes later, Markus stepped out of the back room wearing a newly fashioned coat just shipped in from the Marienburg not a week ago. The brown was so dark and deep in hue, it was nearly black. Gold trim ran along its breadth, with brass buttons along the center. It accentuated his shoulders and added to his rugged good looks, while still being just fancy enough to be granted entry to the party. With his backsword at his hip, he truly pulled off the rakish captain look.

"What do you think, babe?" He asked her, arms out wide and looking down at himself.

[Penny]

"Very dashing," Emmaline grinned, catching Markus by the collar flaps of the coat and stealing a kiss. That was true, the dark and severe cut made Markus seem even more lean and dangerous. The style was not that similar to what duelists had been wearing when she had last been in Altdorf. Imperial fashion being what it was, the style might have come from, or traveled too Marienburg before appearing here.

"Though with clothing so fine we might run out of even fake coins," she added with a smile. Markus smirked.

"I notice there was no such concern when you were picking out YOUR wardrobe," he observe. Emmaline waved a hand loftily.

"That is a completely different thing," she explained earning another snort from Markus.

"Do you think Sketti will be a problem at the ball?" she asked. Imagining the slayer at a ball was a bit like imagining a Orca in a temple, only not as reassuring.

"He better be," Markus said darkly.

_____________________________________

"Captain Markus Flintbrook of the Hammer Sloop, and Lady Emmaline Von Morganstern," the stern faced greeter boomed, as Markus and Emmaline were escorted through the stone linteled door of the manor house. The house was faced with stone and timber, a mark of true wealth in a place where wood was at a premium, and decorated with globes of glass stained various pastel colors with inset candles. The effect was probably meant to be elegant but it struck Emmaline that so many conflicting colors was like a rainbow vomiting. The great and the good of Tobaro more or less ignored them as they swept into the great ballroom. It was forty yards long and half again wide with two great curling stair cases at the end with velvet rugs. The floor itself was of cunningly polished stone, each in subtle hews to create a subtle pattern. A small orcestra was playing a waltz from a stage between one stair case and the wall, while tables laden with food and drink lined the opposite side. Men and women, even a few elves, in expensive clothing danced on the floor, laughing and chattering at a dull roar. It was obvious that the duke was not yet in attendance.

"Well," Emmaline whispered into Markus ear, "I suppose a free drink is a free drink."

[POOHEAD189]

On the northern wing, Markus spotted the Dwarfs speaking to a few very fat rich men, likely merchants. There was a tall man resplendent in robes standing with them along with a small slip of a woman in a sparkling gown. As they spoke, Hugrin held out a rifle to present as Branvaldin gestured his hands for the onlookers to be at ease, all while Sketti scratched his balls, the bulge prominent even under his thick cotton trousers.

"I wish I had my priorities straight like you," He whispered back to the sorceress, planting a small kiss just above her cheek. As he did so, he could see across the hall where various aristocrats congregated in a small group where most of the drinks seemed to be. As much as he wanted something stronger, it seemed the majority of what was being served was wine. Tilea was famous for it, so it didn't irk him nearly as much as it would have were he in Altdorf. Even as he looked, he saw Galadel with his scepter standing next to three other elves among the group in question.

The rakish swordsman slid a hand to rest on Emmaline's lower back. "Let's go over there, make a good impression, then when the Duke shows up I'll have a few words with him and we can get the hell out of here." Emmaline showed she was ready by fluttered her eyelashes with a blank, stupid look on her face. Markus hid his grin. He knew the aristocrats had their work cut out for them.

The two of them made their way over to the group, giving the dance floor a wide berth. Two abrasive couples, both clearly either very entitled or a little drunk, spoke to one another and blocked the entirety of the lane between the wall and the dance floor. They didn't acknowledge Markus nor Emmaline when they halted before them. The women in their fur coats and the men decked in embroidered surcoats and talking business were rudely interrupted and flabbergasted once Markus placed stepped between them and pushed his hands outward so they would stumble out of the way. It made way for Emmaline in her dress and magnificent necklace. Were it not for the shining sapphire they might have been rebuked loudly, but it was just extravagant enough for them to wonder if she and her date were not an Elector Count and his wife from an Imperial province.

Strutting over, the two had expected to be on the periphery of whatever conversation was currently being held. On the contrary, the nobles had noticed the small spectacle and had noticed The Captain and his beautiful date approaching. The Elves had too, it seemed. At their center, a gorgeous elven maiden in robes of saphery regarded them, and it was a long moment before Markus realized she was actually lightly floating over the ground. Her brown hair was long and luxurious, held back by a tiara of silver upon her forehead. Next to her was an Elven Prince, grounded but no less respectable in an ethereal way, wearing red and gold, a saber at his side. They had taken Markus' sword at the door, but apparently the Elf was given special treatment. Beside them was an Elven guard in a doublet, similarly armed, and Galadel.

"Better late than never, eh?" Markus said, speaking to Galadel first.

There was a very pregnant silence that followed, as he clearly should have regarded the elves of higher status, or even the Tilean aristocrats first rather than his old friend. Galadel knew to say nothing, but he smiled. The tension was cut by a mustached Tilean baron who cleared his throat.

"And who might you be, sir?" He said, accent dripping from his pouty lips.

"Yes, I suppose I am being rude." The swordsman replied easily, inclining his head ever so slightly. "I am Markus Flintbrook, heir to the Flintbrook Estate set upon the Lodestone River." He wasn't exactly lying. If his father passed, he might actually inherit a bit of land. Technically Rhinehold Flintbrook was a Border Prince, albeit a minor one. It was a fact he hadn't even told Emmaline yet. He could imagine her reaction once he did, now that he had reminded himself to. No doubt she thought it a full lie now. "And Captain of the Hammer, a sloop of the Imperial navy. This is my date, the Lady Emmaline Von Morganstern. No doubt you've heard the name, as you are people of substance."

[Penny]

"Ah, commented the floating elf maiden in a voice that sounded like honey over silk, one of Techlis' little brood," she commented. That drew arch looks from the other elves and confused looks from the human. Whatever the elf might have intended by the remark, a reference to the elven founder of the human Colleges of Magic, it had the affect of making it seem like Emmaline really was a person of some substance. Emmaline offere a polite curtsey to the elves, keeping a wary distance. The mage all but crackled with power and Emmaline wasn't all together sure that it would have a good reaction with her own gifts. The male elf said something in his own language of which all Emmaline could make out was the name 'Galadrel'. That elf nodded and responded in an equally mystifying swirl of elven speech and nodded at Markus.

"May I offer you a drink Lady Von Morganstern?" a handsome young man in a satin doublet enquired. He was young, perhaps younger than Emmaline herself and with smooth skin that suggested more than his clothing that his life had been a sheltered one. Markus gave her a slight nod and she allowed the man to lead her to a side bar where liquor and wine were being served. He took a couple of tall flutes of champagne from the table and passed one to her.

"I am Enrique," he told her, "I am the son of the Duke." It came out a little too quickly betraying the young man's nerves.

"I am Emmaline," she told him with an encouraging smile. He nodded enthusiastically.

"So I heard, are you on some kind of secret mission with Captain Flintbrook?" he went on, clearly gaining courage. Emmaline half choked on her wine for a moment, shooting a small stream of champagne out her nose.

"Oh I am sorry, I know you probably shouldn't talk about it, its just, well you know, and Imperial Navy Sloop not flying any colors arrives with an important Sorceress aboard, clearly something is afoot," he burbled. Emmaline pulled herself together and tried to look dignified. The fellow was clearly clever if he had picked up on the elf's vague reference to her talents, but stars above his imagination was getting the better of him.

"Well, as you say least said," Emmaline said as calmly as she could manage. Enrique nodded violently, clearly thrilled beyond words to be even tangentially involved in some skullduggery. If they were some scheme from Altdorf it would hardly do for Markus to announce himself openly, for that matter the scheme might be aimed against Tobaro which Enrique should be concerned about, but never the less Emmaline tucked the idea away in the back of her mind, a useful lie was a terrible thing to waste.

"Perhaps I can show you around the house, while we wait for my father to appear?" Enrique asked hopefully. Emmaline glanced covertly at Markus who was still in conversation with the elves.

"Certainly Master Enrique, I would be honored."