[IC] Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

[POOHEAD189]

Truthfully, he hadn't planned on coming to the island for this specific purpose. As much work as he would pull off, impressing a girl he liked, this happened to be a lucky coincidence for the most part. But as soon as they had made landfall, he remembered just what the island was used for to kick off Black Powder week, and he kept his lip buttoned and focused on the gold. If everything went well, the date would be executed without a hitch. Though he didn't expect the showing to be that loud and dazzling, even privvy to the knowledge they were at ground zero. Neil grabbed his mug of vodka and drained the last of it, leaning back onto the couch as he did so, placing the mug down on the floor and groaning.

"I might have done the leg work on the food but, that gold is from pure teamwork, Em." He grinned, winking. His sat up, close to her. His arm now behind the back of the couch, face near enough to Emmaline to feel the sweet alcoholic scent wafting on him. Behind him, the river looked laden with gold itself. Idly his finger began to play with her golden tresses, trying to keep his lustful thoughts at heel for just a bit longer.

"Plus I don't tend to find girls that will fuck up the establishment even more than I do." He admitted with a chuckle, seeing her eyes on him. "That's the kind of girl that deserves a good time..."

[POOHEAD189]

Two days later...

Wissenland was a province filled with ruins. Ghosts lurked in the woodlands and forest paths, still haunted by the great invasion of Gorbad Ironclaw over a century ago. The folk that tilled the land amongst this land were equally grim; hard working and dour enough to make Dwarfs notice their grumbling. Nuln was the exception. A vast metropolitan city that could potentially become its own independent city state. Rumor had it the Countess wished for that

The Emmanuelleplatz was a wide, stone carved road that inclines the steep hill leading to the palace, offering a beautiful view of Nuln’s architecture. On either side of the road stand the townhouses of the nobility, and each tier offers a better view of the temple spires, the great buildings of the Imperial Gunnery School, the University of Nuln, and the immaculate College of Engineering. The palace itself is incredibly large, with tall walls, turrets, and crenulated balconies. It was a veritable fortress, the only entrance to it through the gateway, which was a great arch fitted with heavy oaken doors reinforced with bronze. The wood itself was laminated. Neil had studied the entirety of the palace's schematics himself for a project once. You would have to place three great cannons within fifty meters of the gate to knock the thing down cleanly, otherwise it would be a shitshow to break in. And that's considering an invading army already pierced the city and pacified the rest of Nuln.

Neil stared at those gates now, leaning on an alleyway wall and waiting for the right time to move The day had been overcast, but now the skies were clearing up and he could see the sun directly. Any minute, Imperial Gunnery Academy Dean Lebowitz Von Wickenbach, accompanied by various guards and staff, would walk up the Emmanuelleplatz to give his weekly report to Vicount Valstadt, the delectable Countess's cousin and overseer of the southern half of Nuln, across the riek. A common enough meeting; Neil hadn't had to dig for very long. He had known about it before he was presumed dead. He'd just had to go and make sure they were still continuing, the two conducting field reports on the Veranda of the Vicount's townhouse. It gave an even lovelier view of the city than the one at the palace gates, which meant it brought an equally auspicious view of the street below, where Neil Edwards would meet with the justicar to discuss legal recompense for being knowingly put in danger and left for dead.

He cradled the piece of glass he had in his left hand just under his jacket, glancing down the street to see if he caught sight of Emmaline. In his right, he lifted an apple to his mouth to bite into. He hadn't seen her all morning, nor had he caught a glimpse of her in the suit she had acquired. He didn't doubt she waited at the appointed spot, but it was still a bit nerve wracking as the minutes slipped by, until on cue, he spied the good Dean's coach, flanked by mounted pistoliers as they cantered up the street toward the townhouse. He waited until he finished the apple, tossing the core into the trash laden alley and sliding his piece of glass out, angling it perpendicular to the sun and letting its glare flash across the way for just a moment. He waited...and did it again.

When he got another flash back, he dropped the glass by the apple and stepped out into the street, walking across a very upper class market and finely dressed people to 'meet' for the first time, the Lady Justicar.

[Penny]

It had taken the better part of two days to assemble the outfit. Fortunately a few gold coins could purchase almost anything in a city like Nuln. She stepped out into the square dressed in an outfit of tight highly polished black leather. It had been cut for someone slimmer than she and it hugged her body distractingly. A stole of fine grey silk was draped over her shoulders and a silver amulet depicting the Owl of Vernea hung around her neck. Her fine blond hair and been pulled back into a pair of extremely severe braids that were held in place with silver pins. She walked across the square, attempting to control her natural impulse to sashy, but she still turned heads. That was part of the reason she had chosen not to alter the costume for a better fit. It was important she be seen, be noticed. It also had the added benefit of letting her dress up for Neil.

She reached the fountain at the center of the platz at about the same time Neil did. Emmaline paused for a moment as though resting from the heat. A moment later Neil arrived also, taking a seat on the stone beside her. The began to talk, going through the script they had laboriously prepared. At several points during the conversation, when natural quiets fell, she laughed loudly. At least once the dean looked over at her. Once they reached the end of the script she rose and passed a piece of parchment to Neil. It was theatre, the parchment was blank, but it cemented the idea for any onlookers that something had passed between them. After that Emmaline stood up and headed over towards where the dean was making his report.

"Dean Lebowitz Von Wickenbach," she called from the edge of the perimeter. He turned and glanced at her. The dean's eyes were conflicted. On the one hand, he had a mans appreciation for a pretty woman. On the other he had the beauracrats distaste for a Justicar. Practitioners of the law were never viewed with favor by such men.

"Justicar," he said with a thin veneer of neutral politeness.

"I am new in Nuln and would like to call on the school about a professional matter, an improperly dismissed student," she said. The Dean shook his head.

"You must speak to the clerks tomorrow Frauline," he declared and turned away from her. Emmaline kept her face placid and professional as she headed out of the square. It wasn't until she turned a corner that her smile spread across her face.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil thought not for the first time that this was well executed. Far better executed than he could have done alone. He was used to improvising, or spur of the moment cons when he wasn't purse snatching. This had been orchestrated like a play. It was good Neil had a good memory and penchant for the dramatic, lest he wouldn't have been convincing. It was impressive how good of an actor Emmaline was. Even compared to her role as the noble lady, this was something else. Neil had to remind himself to keep his mind on the mission, though her in that outfit absolutely murdered him. He truly hoped she wore it tonight and they did a bit of roleplaying because goddamn she kept one upping him.

As it was, Neil decided to take himself into the next street, following the trail they had agreed upon. He went through the Temple Quarter, the older architecture was pretty in an archaic way. Neil had never been the most devout follower of the Gods, but they were anti chaos; at least the supernatural form of it. Which he was all for, truth be told. They perverted the safe, fun sort of chaos he liked. They took it too seriously.

An hour later, he made it to Marketplatz, around the less populated streets near the smaller ironworks that smelted the steel for pikes and swords rather than the guns. Here, private smiths and military contractors collected good steel to use. None of them knew Neil by sight, and so the young man casually leaned on the wall near the corner that led into a shop of knickknacks, waiting for the 'justicar' to make her appearance. When she did, he let out a low whistle that carried to her ears with a satisfying richness.

"Sigmar, you look hot." He marveled, shaking his head. He grinned at how dumb he probably sounded, but it was a shameless one. "So how'd it go? Did they look put off enough? Aaaand ready for our second date?"

[Penny]

"It was perfect," Emmaline told him with a wicked grin. Reasoning that such a grin would not have been found on a real justicar, she smoothed her face.

"Don't you worry, right at this moment the Dean has flunkies who are learning about a justicar having a conversation with someone who maybe, possibly looked like an guild apprentice," she assured him confidently. Even if the Dean himself hadn't given the order, some officious underling, eager to curry favor, would have taken the initiative. Of course they wouldn't be able to identify Neil by sight, which was perfect, speculation would fuel the rumor she was trying to create. Emmaline was very pleased with herself, and very pleased with the effect her outfit was having on Neil. It had cost her three gold Imperials afterall, she might as well get some fun out of it.

"As for a second date, I have just the place..."

Conyer's was an upscale reasturant in the Brettonian fashion, rather than inn that served food as was more typical of Imperial eating establishments. It was more expensive than a chophouse, but not so much that it had to cater to the upper crust of the nobility and the merchant class. It was the kind of place a moderately successful guild member or a modest merchant might bring their wife for dinner. The perfect place to spread more rumors of a justicar meeting with a guild apprentice. The reasturant itself was a two story affair with the traditional stone ground floor. At some point in the past a fire had ravaged the building. Rather than rebuild it completely, an expensive undertaking in Nuln, the reasturanter had purchased it and rebuilt the foot print mostly in decking, with a single smaller structure around the stair case. The resulting space was a kind of open air dining platform that gave the diners a chance to view the city and the river. Had the view been better it would have been a hotspot, but it was pleasant enough. In bad weather canvas awnings could be rigged to keep the diners dry.

Given that Blackpowder week was still in full swing, the place was crowded, though not so packed that Emmaline had trouble convincing a waiter to find them a table. The kitchen served roast chicken and a potato and leek soup that was very pleasant, as well as fresh brown bread with crocks of local butter. There was ale and wine also, though several tables were drinking Brettonian Brandy.

"I'm afraid we don't have any vodka madame," a waiter told Emmaline when she asked. She shot Neil a wicked look when the fellow turned to look towards a particularly loud blast off in the distance.

"Wine for me then, something red," Emmaline told him. Truthfully she would have preferred ale, but this was a business dinner as well as a social one, and it paid to keep up appearances.

[POOHEAD189]

"Red wine would be perfect-" He started to say, but the waiter had already walked away. Well, if they didn't bring two glasses then he could complain at least, or just go up and take some himself. He smiled in agreement when she made a face about the lack of vodka. Luckily they had some back at the tower. The fact she liked gut-puncher drinks was strangely attractive, he realized.

The booms in the distance sounded like muted crashing. It was actually cathartic to Neil. He had always liked noises like that, or thunder. He loved storms, and for awhile he felt he liked storms because it was more havoc, but in truth that wasn't it. Thunder, or crowds, or any sort of loud commotion off to the side made him feel like the major events were happening elsewhere, and he could do what he wanted without fear of repercussion wherever he was, even if it was distant thunder and falling asleep. Soon the waiter came back, and brought two glasses and a bottle, thankfully.

"I'm not much of a worrier, as you might have guessed. Thanks-" He told the waiter as the fellow poured the glasses. The food had been nice and filling. Neil was feeling relaxed already. "But that would suck if things went downhill for me here. Nuln's a nice city. I do miss Marienburg, though."

Neil took a third generous sip of his wine before the waiter had been gone two minutes. He wasn't against getting wine drunk tonight. He felt the zest slip down his throat and placed the glass down, leaning on the table in what would usually be considered a rude-fashion, though it was clear he was just interested in his dinner companion. "So, I'm curious. You are a really good actress. I'm ok, but you must have trained somewhere. How do you do it? And also how many accents can you do?" He asked, keeping his voice low enough so no one could eaves drop. "And fucking, how many people have you swindled?"

It was clear before he spoke that he had been staring at her. A part of him really wanted to get back so he could appreciate her in that outfit a bit more personally, but honestly he was just fixated. She screwed over so many people, he was rapt with curiosity on her track record. Idly he realized she might mention past lovers, which wasn't the most fun topic. But he was willing to take that chance. He felt like he had been an open book since they met, and while she shared quite a bit, he had always been a talker around a girl he fancied.

[Penny]

Emmaline took a sip of her own wine. Truthfully she wasn't much of a judge but it tasted good to her. The meal and the drink were expensive as she measured such things, but living with Albrecht encouraged a very transitory view of wealth. Spend what you had before it was gambled away. It was better to eat like a queen today rather than depend on porridge for a month.

"Well for the first," she paused considering her words and taking another sip of wine.

"My father was a potter and my mother was a seamstress," she explained.

"They thought they could marry me off into the lower aristocracy, a real coup for them," Emmaline said, her voice a touch bitter. It had been obvious to her parents that their daughter would be a beauty and they had sought to take full advantage of the situation.

"They spent what little they could scrape together to hire coaches for me for speech and etiquette, so I'd be better equipped to find a husband." The training had been tedious in the extreme and her tutors had been severe dour women, mostly former servants of the nobility who for one reason or another had fallen out of favor with their masters. Spending hours being instructed on how to alter the Altdorf street accent into the loftier noble cast had not been something a rambunctious young girl had particularly enjoyed.

"After you learn to act as one thing, it isn't difficult to see the trick of acting as another," Emmaline told Neil smiling slightly at the way her parents lofty ambition had been perverted.

"Of course that all came crashing down when I started showing.... talent," she continued. It had began with headaches and bad dreams, but it hadn't been long before milk started unexpectedly curdling and candle flames would take on odd colors. It had been then, at fourteen years of age, that she committed her first serious crimes, theft for the most part in which she had stolen a nobles golden pendant, lured by what she would later come to recognize as gold lust. Fortunately Altdorf was a cosmopolitan city, long familiar with the Colleges of Magic, and a passing wizard had spotted her potential before the city watch were able to solve a string of jewelry thefts.

"My parents were furious of course no one wants to have a child like that, plus there investment was wasted as no one, much less a wealthy nobleman, is likely to marry a... well someone like me," she concluded. Her tone was blithe but she was unable or unwilling to keep the slight tightening of pain from her voice.

"They were never really that fond of me, other than as an investment, so they tossed me out. I couldn't afford the dues at the College of course, but Albrecht, he is my master, was willing to take me on provided I would work for him," Emmaline snickered. At the time she had been disconsolate at the notion of spending years as the drudge of an old liver spotted wizard. Albrecht did expect her to clean, though his initial insistence that she cook for him had quickly withered in the face of Emmaline's incredible knack for ruining any meal she attempted to prepare.

"He is not a very powerful wizard, but he was a great teacher when it came to running scams," she chuckled. Life with Albrecht had often been unpleasant and frustrating. He was lecherous, lazy and almost completely uninterested in instructing her in magic. Most of what she had learned had been through reading in his tattered library or from other apprentices she met around the college. It had never been boring though, and she had fond memories of the schemes they had hatched and the cons they had pulled.

"As for how many people," she blew out a breath considering. It wasn't an easy question, as lying and scamming had been such a part of her life.

"Probably something like thirty big cons, like the one with the 'mining' we pulled here," she explained, "but plenty of small stuff too, passing fake coins, counterfeit cosmetics and stuff."

[POOHEAD189]

Neil was engaged in her story, taking the odd sip of wine here or there but fully focused on what she was saying. It made him feel slightly inadequate, which wasn't a usual thing. Neil loved to play himself off as arrogant, but he was, if nothing else, confident. A lack of confidence made life far less fun, and he knew just how talented he was in certain ways. But Emmaline was above and beyond what he had expected.

"So let me get this straight," he said, placing the wine glass down again. He called for their glasses to be filled again with an upraised hand. He didn't want to be reductionist, but Neil was the sort of guy who did sort of nonchalantly simplify things. "So, and this happened to me to in a way. So a lot of people wanted to use you and taught you all this shit, and you just sort of went 'fuck you' and used what they taught you to your own advantage? Babe that's...you're impressive."

Neil took a generous sip of wine once it was refilled, feeling warmth emanating from his belly as he considered himself. There were times when a guy spoke to a girl, and his dick made things complicated. It acted like a second brain that put you under its spell. Most men got used to it, learned how to quell the constant intrusions, but there were sleazebags who just went with it. Even stand up guys would lose to it every now and then, and it wasn't fair to the guy or the girl in question, and he wondered if that was what was transpiring now, but he realized it wasn't. Neil meant every word.

"Look, Em. I'll be honest with you. I like you a lot. I want to keep going on dates, drinking with you, and stealing everything we can get our hands on. But you're pretty, talented, you can fool most people with anything. Like...I understand why you tossed Otto away." He laughed, leaning back in his chair. "But you can swindle almost any noble in the empire or bullshit your way to the top. Hell, in the border kingdoms you could probably teach some petty lord magic for a fortune. Why slum it with me in a dusty tower, making pocket change? You could do anything you want."

The sun lowered, giving the water a glistening quality as a backdrop to their table. Two tilean lateen ships floated amongst the more robust river barges of the Empire. Beyond them, the guns boomed in a final chorus for the night.

[Penny]

Emmaline considered it. Like all citizens of the Empire she had heard tales of the Border Princes. In the public imagination it was a semi-mythical place in which any cut throat could raise themselves to the rulership of one of the many petty statelets. The notion had a certain appeal, though the more pragmatic side of her realized that the roads were hardly paved with gold. She also had some vague notion that the further one got from civilization the less effective lies became, that line of thinking made her more than a little nervous.

"People have always wanted to use me," Emmaline agreed, thinking back to her parents and also to Albrecht, to the Empire itself when she got right down to it. The Colleges hadn't been founded out of alturistic reasons, but to provide weapons for the Empire to use in its wars. Theoretically wars against Chaos, but against Brettonia and its internal opponents as well.

"I suppose I've always had to take what people have given me and twist it to my own ends," she agreed. It had never struck her as particularly impressive. As for being able to go anywhere and do anything... well Neil somewhat underestimated the stigma of being a wizard. If she strayed too far from the capital and its College she ran the risk of running afoul of witch hunters and mobs. There were no possibilities of marriage, not that she wanted it, and her sorcerous talents were modest, although it was normal for talent to grow over the years.

"As for slumming it with you in a dusty tower... well it has its compensations," she began but realising that Neil was not looking for a glib response nodded thoughtfully.

"Well you are cute, and you did save me when you might as easily have left me when the orcs attacked, Albrecht would have in the same situation," she didn't give the last part any emotional loading, one of the skills of a con-artist was to judge people accurately, neither she nor her master were under any illusions about each other. Emmaline would have tried to have saved Albrecht but only because another master would be less accommodating of her interests.

"I like you," she admitted, "and sure maybe it isn't scamming a Lord out of a thousand marks but..." She trailed off trying to find a way to explain.

"It's ours, its exciting, I've always been on other peoples sufferance," she continued a familiar grin coming back to her face.

"So I suppose if I can do anything I want, what I want to do is steal pocket change in Nuln with you."

[POOHEAD189]

For the first time in years, Neil actually felt a little awkward. She called him cute, wanted to steal stuff with him, she liked him, and she was still wearing that goddamn outfit. The wine nearly had him taking her hand to pull her up for a kiss, but he stopped himself. They were out for appearances as much as a date. Damn! The staff at Conyer's was busy as ever, sashaying to and fro, taking orders and setting down more drinks. Their mustachioed waiter appeared beside them just before Neil was going to speak.

"Are you ready for the check?" He asked them, raising an eyebrow at the 'Justicar' until Neil interrupted by asking for dessert. "What's on your mind, herr...?"

"Edwards, and fetch us some pie. To go. Half blueberry, half cherry," He began, the man giving him a sweeping bow and making his way back to the kitchen. Neil stood up to catch his attention with a call of, "And your best bottle of wine!" Which the waiter gave a prompt thumbs up at. Neil grinned, falling to his chair again.

"Neil...?" She asked, clearly seeing something was on his mind.

"We're going to make a sizeable score tomorrow, babe." He said, leaning in to speak softly. "And we won't fail to celebrate tonight. So we're getting some delicious dessert, some more alcohol, and we're not going back to the tower. We're going to the Golden Comet."

Emmaline might have heard of it, but Neil knew it well. It was the swankiest inn in Nuln, and one of the most expensive. For good reason, however. A delectable bath house, lush, comfortable beds, and large suites. The best part was it was located at the southern gate, far away from anyone near the palace who might recognize the Justicar from earlier that day. Neil did have a small worry that a few servants there might recognize him for some petty theft a year ago, but he doubted it. Even if they did, who would believe them over a servant of the law and Neil, who could now afford to go there as a patron? The pie was presented, steaming on a wooden bowl Neil paid extra for to keep, and he took the wine bottle too, shoving it into Emmaline's hands as they made their way out into the streets of Nuln, just as the sun was beginning to set. The clamor of the crowd died down behind them. Both thieves were anxious to get there to relax and enjoy one another. Neil suspected Emmaline might be taken aback at how fancy the place was, too. He was never one to be smart with money, but they had sixty pieces of imperial gold crowns, that could last them a long time even if they lost about seven tonight.

There was very little in the way of lights in the Faulestadt District, which served as a buffer of poverty and ineptitude between the southern gate and the rest of the city. The industrial complex and the gunnery school was just beside it, but Neil avoided it like the plague to keep from any familiar face seeing him, so he went through the belly of the shantytown. Every now and then they heard wails or coughs, and a few shouts in the distance mingled with the echoing of barking dogs. Not to mention they passed by a few unpleasant smelling mounds of...something. It took very little time to traverse a place Neil knew like the back of his hand, however. Just when they were three blocks out of the woods, a shadow on the street, merely an extension of a stoop, stumbled out in front of them, whistling a jaunty tune.

"Hello there, frauline and gentleman." He remarked, stepping into the light with a dry, crusty grin. He had on a worn hat and a buck toothed smile, twirling a pocket watch in his hand idly. "Care to spare some change, eh?"

"This one's a Justicar!" A voice marveled behind them, a big man with a bald head lumbered out, clenching his fists. Next to him, a slim fellow with a cudgel giggled. They closed in around them, circling like predators. "I hear Justicar's are worth a lot in the lower markets, eh? This one's pretty too."

"Look, fellas." Neil said diplomatically. "Normally I'd be in the mood to play with you, but right now we're sort of in a hurry."

"Shame, because we got all night." The lead one said, producing a serrated knife. It glinted in the light of the moons, and he gave a disgusting smirk that promised many nasty things. Neil sighed, shaking his head. He handed the pie to Emmaline, the buxom woman taking it in her other hand as she watched Neil, too casually, reach into the back of his trousers.

"Well, ok then." Neil replied before he drew his pistol and shot the man square in the head. Just before the bullet hit, his eyes widened in disbelief, and it was his death mask. Blood smeared the road as the crack echoed across the stone. The two thugs behind them were dumbfounded, not knowing how to take their leader being summarily executed in broad moonlight. After a moment's hesitation, the big man cried out and charged at Neil. Neil rose his brow, but merely ducked under a heavy swing, stepping behind the big man and stomping behind his leg, twisting it painfully. Squealing, he hit the floor in a spasm, at which point Neil merely started to reload his pistol. Taking out the powder, he half cocked the pistol again and began to refill it, before he turned to see the third man just standing there with his crudgle.

"You can run if you want." Neil told him, and the lithe man promptly did, dropping his weapon and fleeing into the darkness. Neil finished reloading his pistol, and cocked the weapon again as the big man regained his sense of self, suddenly realizing he might be shot within moments. Rather, Neil knelt down and said: "Never halt the law, son. Because without law, there's only Chaos. Sigmar preserve you."

He motioned for Emmaline to head on, and both of them promptly left the scene before anyone else could investigate, heading to the Golden Comet for a good night.

[Penny]

It was a wonder that the entire city of Nuln didn't lose their hearing in the course of Black Powder week. Emmaline stood across from the gates of the gunnery school, sipping tea from a beer stein. A surprising number of stall sold such things, apparently as a local cure for hangovers. Having eaten a full breakfast at the Golden Comet and enduring the very skeptical looks of the staff, Emmaline was tired but not hung over. Not that she was complaining. She had dressed in her Justicar outfit though she didn't expect to need it. The remainder of the con was up to Neil.

"Break a leg," she whispered as she gave him a gentle push towards the gunnery school.

"It isn't every day someone comes back from the dead."

[POOHEAD189]

Neil admitted he felt a bit whimsical. Truth be told he was having a lot of fun, and all of it was due to this girl who had popped into his life. Perhaps he should be a bit more careful considering she was a con woman, but that only added to the mystique. He gave her a wink, beaming like a fox. "I'm used to cheating death, but this is kind of new for me." he quipped, and disappeared into the gunnery shop.

They had timed it right when Neil knew Master Gunter was on shift, the man meticulous but predictable in his habits. It was mostly due to Neil's respect for the man that tolerated him (and the fact he wanted to graduate) that kept Neil from stealing from him when he went to lunch half past noon, or used the latrines four times a day unless he had dinner with his ex-wife the night before, which would lead him to use it five times. Those days were interesting, since he tended to mumble to himself twice as much as the average day.

Neil heard the small clinking of his hammer, and the small talk of other students who seemed to be working on a small engine at the corner of the hall. Gunter was at his desk, his right eye encased with a telescopic goggle as he gazed at a strange cylinder with a brass nut on either end. Neil didn't wait or announce himself; he simply walked in and stepped past the students. Most didn't recognize him or realize he had been missing, but a brown haired girl he had once shared a kiss with gasped, whispering, "Neil?"

Neil smirked at her, planting his feet just behind Master Gunter, who had heard the gasp and turned just at the correct moment, for his right eye was filled with the visage of Neil's face.

"Sigmar's fucking hammer!" He sputtered, tearing his goggles off and for once in his life showing enough surprise to be nearly mistaken for fear. Neil just smiled, and the Master shook his head. "This is not possible..."

"Hey so, yeah the lord left me for dead. He also left the rest of the soldiers for dead too. They didn't make it, but I did so...yeah, I kind of feel like I'm owed something..."

Master Gunter was stern and unyielding, but he wasn't stupid. It was fairly hilarious watching the implications dawning on him. This wasn't a matter for grief, but Neil could see the five stages of it in his face. The thief crossed his arms, steeling his resolve. He quite liked the Master, in all honesty. Conning him wasn't something he enjoyed. But he hadn't lied yet, nor would he need to (very much). He was simply glad he had the idea, and when he was making love to Emmaline no doubt. Gods, she was really just sinking her claws in him.

The negotiations were short. Neil was told he would receive his diploma by the end of Black Powder week, and a small sum of gold to keep him from pressing charges on the Guild. He was not planning on it anyway, since it would have cost Gunter his position. But the dean wanted to be careful. By the time he had left the Gunnery School, he was two hundred krowns richer, and due for a diploma within days. Now he needed only to find Emmaline, and once Neil stepped onto the steet, he went south, going where they had agreed to rendezvous; atop the small wall bisecting the river Reik, so they could get to their boat at their leisure.

[Penny]

If Emmaline had not been so focused on watching for her lovers return, or so worn out by his attentions the previous evening she might have been able to spot the trouble before it was too late. As it was she was leaning against the stone wall of a chandlers shop in a most un-justicar like way when she felt the hard metal muzzle of a pistol press into her ribs. At almost the same time a heavy hand, dirty and smelling of sausage grease clamped down over her mouth.

"Guntag Frauline Justicar," a grating voice said from behind her. Emmaline didn't recognise the speaker but the distinctive smell of sour ale pricked at her nose and she sneezed into the hand covering her mouth. Her assailant cursed and fetched her a blow across the shoulders with the butt of his pistol.

"We are going to go for a little walk" Alebreath told her, "If you shout or try to escape I'll put a pistol ball through your back." The pistol jabbed her ribs and the hand went from her mouth to her shoulder.

"Who are you?" Emmaline demanded, though she allowed him to turn her away from the gunnery school and march her down to an alley beside an inn.

"Just someone with a use for a Justicar," Alebreath replied. The hand left her shoulder and gripped her ass for a moment before returning to its place and shoving her down into the alley.

"Maybe more than one use," he leered. Emmaline considered her options as she was lead towards a cart that appeared to be loaded with barrels. From the smell they were barrels of pickled herring, a staple at inns throughought the city. A disheveled looking nag was hitched to the harness of the wagon and looked none to happy about it. Before Emmaline could begin to incant a spell the pistol was pulled away and her hands were trussed behind her back with what she assumed was herring wire from the way it bit her wrist. That would have helped her cause if the next thing that happened hadn't been a gag of some kind of greasy material being tied around head. She tried to speak but it came out muffled as Alebreath pulled the gag tight. There was no way she could work a spell with both her hands and mouth impeded.

"Wmmmrh arrmmm yoummmm?" Emmaline demanded but her attacker picked her up and slung her into the back of the wagon, grabbing her feet as she kicked and binding them with the same wire that bound her wrist.

"I'm a guy whose brother is going to be hung tomorrow morning, unless maybe he has a Justicar to trade for him," Alebreath returned. He shoved Emmaline back into the cart, hastily making a hollow among the kegs to conceal her. Using some more of the wire he bound her to the lower hoop staves of two of the hundred pound barrels. She got her first look at him, an ugly heavy man whose nose had been broken more than once and had added the ornamentation of drinkers veins beside. He had lost an eye at some point and wore a filthy looking patch that made Emmaline itch. The pistol he carried was a simple crude thing, like any wagoner might use for protection. It was cheap but it probably worked well enough. From the fact that he hadn't prepared the wagon in advance it was clear that this hadn't been premedetated, the fellow had proabbly been making his deliveries, spotted her, and come up with the plan on the spur of the moment. That was good in its way, but it also would make it harder for Neil to find her as the randomness of the attack would work against her.

"I got a place we can get to know each other better while we negotiate for my brothers release, but I dont want you to be uncomfortable while we travel, or overcome with a need to try to get help. He spread a heavy horse blanket over her as he chuckled, keeping her from sight from those on balconies above just as the barrels would keep her out of sight from the street level. Emmaline didn't struggle, she had been tied enough in more pleasant circumstances to know that she wasn't going to be able to break free of the wire restraints, and she didn't want to encourage her captor to clout her across the head. The sound of his hobnails rang on the stones of the alley before the wagon creaked as he climbed up into the drivers bench. There was a shaking of leather and the tired horse's hooves began to clatter. Emmaline squirmed her body down as far as she could till her feet could reach the barrels at the end. Probing with her toes she touched one barrel after the other till she found what she was looking for, one of the empties being returned for reuse. Cursing into her gag she worked her toes under the barrel and then waited until the sunlight of the open sky hit the top of the blanket. Flexing her body she flipped the barrel over the back of the wagon so that it clattered to the ground in the mouth of the alley with a crack of splintering wood.

"Oh you bitch," Alebreath snarled, but he didn't stop. As Emmaline predicted he didn't want to stop in the street to retrieve the barrel, it would attract too much attention that she might have used to try to alert people that she was being held prisoner. As it was it would serve, she hoped as a clue for Neil, in the event she wasn't able to free herself. The wagon clattered on through the noisy streets of Nuln.

[POOHEAD189]

"Em?" He called, his voice a very lonely sound in the noonday air, smothered until all was silent again.

He had waited for more than twenty minutes just under the wall, where the guards were on duty. They had discussed it, that every two hours there was a small window of sentries that were switched out, which allowed them to sneak past it to grab their dingy on the riek. But as it were, she missed the window of opportunity. Even now, Neil heard the chatter of the new guardsmen as they approached, their Nuln-forged pikes visible before the men themselves were.

"Emmaline!?" He called one last time to no avail. The charming thief ducked back behind an almoner's shop just before the sentries passed, and he crossed his arms in the shadows of the building. Should he be worried? She did tend to dawdle when her attention was rapt by something interesting, but she was also methodical. He didn't suspect she would make a new boyfriend worry for some flippant reason, would she? He couldn't tell. Something felt wrong, but he wasn't sure. After a moment to think, he decided to backtrack. Maybe she simply forgot and went looking.

Neil made his way out of the alley and up the wide metropolitan street. A horse drawn carriage cantered by him toward the docks, pulling a black coach. To his left, a group of fops in feather hats walked by like a pack of storks, likely heading for Kaufman district to get a head start on the nightlife beside the Griffon Gate. A man from Ind sat beside a chandler's shop, holding out a cup to place coins in. Strangely enough, across the street from the foreigner was a broken barrel, the contents of which truly reeked when exposed to the noonday sun.

Neil approached the fellow, seeing a kindred spirit in him. He knelt down in front of the dark-skinned man, placing five gold krowns in the cup and smiling. He knew a plant when he saw one. Like as not he worked for one of the local organizations. "I need some help, if you're willing." He asked, subtly moving his hand right in front of his chest so as to keep it hidden from all eyes save the beggar's.

The man from Ind smiled.

---

Hours had gone by, but the sun still dominated the sky. Small wisps of clouds hovered on the horizon, not daring to block the rays of sunshine until the fiery orb had grown weary of the day. Unfortunately, that was little help to Emmaline, tied and gagged in the old cellar beneath the abandoned grainery, with only the barest hints of daylight pierced through the wicker door above her. Other than a few open palmed slaps to her face when she didn't seem to cooperate, they had done little to her save call her a few unsavory names she had heard a thousand times before for just being an attractive woman.

Neil was privvy to none of this yet, still fearing the worst. Which was why he concocted a plan. The entrepreneurial young engineer had gone back to the Gunnery School, procuring a small barrel from Master Gunter's apologetic secretary. He didn't have time for an elaborate costume, but he made sure his hair was combed and he wore a jacket over his shirt to hide the plainness of his garb, before he found himself right before the abandoned grainery he had scoped out not a two hours ago. Rundown though it was, anyone with any sort of wiles could tell people occupied this area. Whoever it was, there looked to be about four men in all from his last surveillance.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently.

The door opened. A bulbous nosed man with greasy hair and a tall face glared at him, a knife not-so-well hidden behind his leg, clutched in a hand. "What do you want, eh?"

"Hello, sir. I-I work for the Almoner's office near the Riek, and we had a report that one of your barrels busted. I was told to deliver this cask of pickled herring to you."

"Wh-" The fellow started, suspicion warring with bewilderment. He looked behind Neil to see he was alone, then back inside to his mate, whom he whispered to. 'Blighter' and 'Pickled Herring' were mentioned, before Neil was rudely told to go away. But not before they took the barrel right out of his grasp, slamming the door in front of him. From his small window of vision, he didn't see Emmaline. Good, it meant there would be no collateral damage that he cared about. He decided to sing a small song his mother used to sing him as a child, aptly dubbed 'Sigmar's Sacrifice' that lasted thirty seconds exactly.

He got a bit over halfway before the phosphorus was exposed to air and ignited.

He had worked with such chemicals before. It wasn't explosive per-say, but it was unpleasant to be within ten feet of a small dash of phosphorous, much less an entire cask full! A grin spread across his boyish face, unholstering his two pistols and none-too-gently shoving his foot into the door of the grainery. Unfortunately, his foot merely just went through the wood, leaving his leg stuck. He simply bounced forward and followed the door, swinging open with him attached. He needn't have worried, seeing as two of the men were burned significantly, one across the face and the other on his side.

The abandoned tower was small, with only two floors and no walls blocking the second floor floor from being visible from below; with a few barrels, all smelling of pickled herring. No doubt it was to be a budding business, like as not soon to be a bit less than lawful, considering the location they had chosen for it. Well, it was already unlawful, since this wasn't their property, but the city's. He didn't judge them for that. Just for taking his woman. A wicker door opened from the ground, a mean and frizzled-haired fellow gaping at his burned compatriots before swinging his eyes towards the lad who's foot was caught in the door. Neil gave him a blank look, and then pointed his gun and shot the man between the eyes. Immediately he went limp, falling back down into the cellar.

"You bastard! You're here for that big titted bitch aren't you!" One of the men accused. Not the one who had answered the door. He would never see or probably speak again. This was the other fellow. He wasn't writhing on the ground anymore, going for his firearm and trying to cock it.

"Every man needs a big titted bitch in his life." Neil philosophized, trying to shove his foot out the door. "This one's mine."

The speaker, a talabeclander by his hair, found his nerve (and gun powder) and fired at Neil just as the young man yanked himself out of his predicament, hitting the ground and firing back. It was a blink and you miss it moment, considering the man blinked and saw nothing but Neil, ass on the ground. His gun barrel smoking. Soon he felt cold, and a pressure in his chest. And then warmth as a wetness covered his form. Neil watched him hit the ground noiselessly.

"Ulric's genitals!" A voice cried from below. A hoarse one. Neil began to reload his guns as he heard the last man cry out. "My brother will not hang! You willing to die for this bimbo?" A blunderbuss went off below, like as not to show Neil he had one. Neil wasn't going to judge, but that was kind of stupid.

"I've dated bimbos. She's smarter than that. Smarter than me at least, which means she is much smarter than you. Now let her go. Sigmar have mercy on you because I won't!" Neil warned.

"If...If I let her go, will you have mercy or not?" he called, quizzically. Neil stopped.

"Uh...pr-probably I will have mercy, yeah. I can see how that was confusing."

"No deal anyway, herr asshole!"

[Penny]

Emmaline had scarcely dared to hope that rescue would come. She knew that the moment she was presented as a 'justicar' to be traded the temple would know she was a fraud. Even if she survived that revelation the Temple courts took a pretty dim view of impersonating a cleric. She wasn't sure what the punishment was but it probably started at 'public beating' and ended at 'burned at the stake until dead', both fates to be avoided. She couldn't believe her luck when she heard the gun fire and screams from above. She did her best to hunch in the corner and avoid attention, just in case someone took it into their mind to shoot or stab her. They did neither, instead her orginal captor, whose name she thought was Helmut from snatches of conversation she had over heard jerked her to her feet and pressed the barrel of his pistol to her head.

"Mmmmrrmmmph," Emmaline said through her gag. The fellow pressed her ahead of him like a human shield, keeping her body between him and Neil.

"Look, I'm just going to trade her for my brother, then she will be free no sweat," the fellow said, crouching to expose the smallest amount of his body possible.

"Mrrn nmmmpph arr mmrrrll jussstrc," Emmaline said through her gag.

"What?" Helmut demanded, his eyes wide and panicy now, Emmaline tried not to think of that shaking finger on the trigger.

"Mrrn nmmmpph arr mmrrrll jussstrc," she repeated patiently and calmly as she could. Helmut reached up and yanked her gag free. Emmaline said something low and under her voice. The light in the room seemed to dim for a moment and Neil caught the flash of gold in her eyes.

"I'm not a real justicar," she said, her voice now calm and almost happy. Helmut gripped her hard with his hand spinning her to face him.

"What do you mean!" he demanded incredously. Emmaline almost felt pitty as she watched his desperate plan fall appart around him. If he hadn't kidnapped her, and he had been able to pay she might have been willing to help him, but several hours being manhandeld in a basement that stank of old fish had not improved her mood.

"I am a real wizard though, well, apprentice wizard," she admitted. At the mention of sorcery Helmut's will finally snapped. He pulled the trigger and the flint of his pistol snapped forward into the pan. There was an odd fizzling sound and liquid spattered back out of the touch hole like dust blown through a straw.

"What!?" he demanded and tried to drop the gun, only to find that it was attached to his hand. Or rather that the stone spreading the granite that had set on his skin where the powder had back blasted. Helmut screamed and shook at his hand trying to free himself of the spell.

"The first thing you need to know about gold wizards is..." BOOM. Helmut's forehead burst like a ripe melon as he took a step back away from her. Neil lowered his smoking pistol.

"Wait was that going to be a big dramatic thing?" he asked.

[POOHEAD189]

Just as the body fell, Neil holstered his pistol and all but rushed forward, care in his normally impish eyes. He stepped over the fallen man's still warm corpse and checked Emmaline for any signs of damage, gently stroking her cheek where there was a small welt. He was glad she wasn't harmed any other way, and the youth breathed easier. He wanted to kiss her, but it was a tricky thing. A woman who had like as not been molested might have lost her comfort in any sort of intimate contact. He doubted Emmaline was privvy to that, but he wanted to make sure.

"Baby, are you ok?" He asked her, and when she nodded he began to untie her as gently and quickly as he could, letting her get the feeling back in her wrists and ankles, standing awkwardly but patiently. Upstairs, a man still groaned and smoke was in the air. Truth be told, there like as not was a small fire in the corner. They were in no danger at the moment, but if they remained they might very well be.

"So..." he started, smiling guiltily and holding up the sack of two hundred krowns. "Want to go on a third date? Whenever a new girlfriend of mine gets kidnapped, I make a habit of paying the tab."

[Penny]

Emmaline through her arms around Neil's neck and kissed him, her hands throbbing as blood rushed back into them. They hadn't hurt exactly but they had become numb from the tight wire bindings. There were any number of reasons why binding her with wire was a bad idea, but they had wisely not unbound her or removed her gag. Well Helmut had lived, briefly, to learn why that was a bad idea. Emmaline glanced to his cooling corpse. The stone spell had reached his shoulder now and would continue until the body was completely engulfed in stone. Doubtless the next group of criminals to take up in this place would be disquieted.

"I'm alright, thanks to you" she said, leaning her cheek against Neil's shoulder. She was trying to put on a brave face but she really was relieved that he had come. She very much doubted that even if she had gotten free she could have mustered enough magic to get free before she was shot or stabbed.

"Your like a hero out of the stories," she said, not entirely meaning it as a joke. She climbed over Helmut's body and lead Neil towards the stairs. It was unlikely that the watch would pay any attention to a couple of extra gunshots during black powder week, but she had a professionals instinct to flee the scene of the crime. Plus the smell of pickled herring was making her nauseous.

"Well if there is a free dinner in it I shall endeavor to get kidnapped more often," she joked, working her jaw to restore it and work the taste of the gag out of it. She squeezed Neil's hand, the gesture cutting through her usually jocular manner for a moment before her insouciant grin returned.

"Though we might need to use different names if we go back to the Golden Comet."

[POOHEAD189]

Neil wasn't a blusher, but his heart thudded through his chest and his cheeks reddened considerably from her praise and touch He wanted to say so many things, but he didn't. He had to keep it cool, or he would doubtlessly get embarrassed from his voice cracking or from some confession of something that even he couldn't guess. Neil had been a lot more worried about her than he let on. He took a moment, and then smoothed his unkempt hair and winked at her, squeezing her hand back. "I know just the place." He assured the woman.

Of course, they had to clean up first.

Neil wasn't going to leave Emmaline alone again, or at least not without making certain she was safe, but he gave her around forty krowns of the money and led her to the Kaufman district to go to a well known bathhouse and a tailor. The day was had not yet reached a late hour, but the air was growing cooler and the clouds grew more bold. No doubt by the time they put food in their bellies, it would be late afternoon. It would depend on the tailor, and that wasn't a hard garauntee. Neil knew the tailor 'Rogello' personally, helping him find some well needed coin last tax season when he had first arrived at Nuln. Neil believed the fifty-something, olive skinned man was Estalian, but Rogello's accent was hard to pinpoint and the tailor had never spoken of his home country. But Neil had seen his work first-hand. He was a master tailor, and though he hadn't been in Nuln long enough to have a large reputation, he had begun to be the talk of many noble circles with his garb-work.

The door opened and the bell gave a cling to announce them. Rogello called in some foreign language, but soon appeared, his stoic expression turning bright. "Ah, friend Neil! Oh, and a lady friend eh?"

Neil smiled widely, gently pushing Emmaline forward. "Rogello, I got a new customer for you! Make sure she gets a good bath and stitch together whatever she wants. If she wants to be a duchess, do it. If she wants to go Tilean, make it happen. Ind? Brettonian? Classicly Rieklandic? Make it happen, and fetch me that special outfit you stitched up for me. I'll leave you two to it."

"Wait, what?" Emmaline asked. Rogello was already taking measurements behind her, eyes widening at his findings from her bust and hips. Rogello was always up for a challenge, at least.

Neil cupped her cheeks and kissed her like she's never been kissed before, long and sweet. His tongue lightly slid over her teeth before he pulled away. "Trust me. I'll take you to dinner soon. I'll be right back," he told her, squeezing her hand again and walking out the door.

[Penny]

Emmaline watched Neil go in a bit of a buzz, before she could comment however Rogello had grabbed her, gently but firmly, and propelled her through a back a linen curtained door into a large room with a six foot wooden tub bound with a hoop of black iron.

"Have you been eating fish?" the Tilean asked wrinkling his nose. Before Emmaline could reply he was peeling off her leather justicar outfit and tossing the various components to the corners of the room. Emmaline instinctively tried to cover herself, though this was at best a questionable propitiation. Rogello clucked.

"None of that, I'm like a doctor, but you know, not a creepy doctor," he reassured her, and then immediately undercut the message by giving her a shove that toppled her over into the bath with a splash. Emmaline came up spluttering, relived to discover that the water was actually fairly warm. As she wiped her blond hair out of her eyes Rogello fetched one of three kettles from a large fireplace on the back wall and poured the steaming contents into the tub. Emmaline scooted back allowing the scalding water to diffuse bring the water from warm to pleasantly hot. Rogello grabbed a cake of scented soap and a brush.

"You know I can...ow!" Rogello siezed her by the shoulder and began to scrub her with the soap, lathering her neck and shoulders before taking the rough brush and beginning to scrub. It wasn't exactly painful but the sensation was more than ticklish, even more so when he stood her up and gave her breasts, belly and back the same treatment. She was about to object when he shoved her down and began to pour buckets of water over her hair before lathering a different soap in his hands before running them through her hair. Now that she wasn't having bristled dragged across her nipples Emmaline subsided and allowed the tailor to finish bathing her, which he did with quick efficiency.

"Now, let me measure you and we will see what we can do for clothing seeing master Neil has decided to be so generous..."

A half hour later Emmaline was caparisoned in something between the height of Imperial fashion and the more extravagant Brettonian style. She wore a dress of silk that was such a dark blue it was almost black, layered in waves down over her bodice and stretching down to her ankles where it flared modestly. Sashes of cloth of gold had been tied between the layers in diagonal bands that ran from the base of her shoulder and just below her right breast down to a knot at her left hip and a dark blue sapphire hung from a gold plated chain around her neck, pure gold seeming an unnecessary expense. Rogello had also combed her hair until it shone and then tied it back with some golden cord in an elaborate knot at the base of her skull before it spread out down her back.

"Ah signornia, bellisimo," Rogello said clearly pleased with his handiwork.

[POOHEAD189]

Neil knew full well how thorough Rogello would be, and despite his manner he could guess Emmaline would be far more pleased with the outcome and would likely forget about the nosiness. Neil himself was in far more danger at the moment, having crossed the bridge over into the Neuestadt district. Whilst not a true shantytown, it was the most tightly packed area in the entire city. Fully 2/3rds of the population lived in this district, Neuestadt itself barely 1/3rd of the city in terms of square mileage. Not all of it was comprised of homes, either. With various sub-districts like Handelbezirk where many stock housing and small time trading is done. Both legal and illegal, if one knew the right places to look. Neil, of course, knew where to go for some underground auctioning.

After having passed the Reik Platz, he turned west down the street toward Westen, stopping before Leobowitz Street and turning south into a street between two larger stock houses. It was barely bigger than an alleyway, where poor immigrants, downtrodden locals, and sylvanian gypsies with their elaborate silks and fortunes plied their wares. Neil spoke to none of the above, making one final turn into a stairway that led down into a basement; dusty, dank, and dark until he made it to a large wooden door. He knocked on the wood thrice, then twice four times. The door opened almost immediately, as if it was made by a magical ward, though the potbellied bouncer was behind it with his hand on the doorknob, nodding to Neil.

"Thank you, kind sir," Neil remarked in a jocular tone, entering the private tavern. Rapscallions filled the broad tables and low-set seats, alcohol heavy in the air. He would have stayed normally, but Neil wasn't there to party. He was there on business, and he saw the broker he had been looking for, sitting in the corner next to a one-eyed Dwarf in a corsair garb. Unlike Rogello, Haulerman in his frock coat and wrinkled cap didn't like Neil very much, but Neil trusted the man's success at procuring items of rare importance and even magical quality. Haulerman barely smiled, but he rarely gave a true frown either. Neil saw one forming when he showed his smiling face.

"Oh, it's you." Muttered the fence, staring at Neil's insufferable, grinning visage. "Heard you were dead."

"I was for a week, but I got bored." Neil remarked as he sat down, the table between them. The black haired Dwarf beside Haulerman snorted a greeting to the thief, but otherwise said nothing. "What I did get was a small amount of money. I'm interested to make a purchase, if you're willing to trade."

"Only if you're willing to actually do business," Haulerman sneered. Neil smiled, knowing what the man imagined he was here for. Haulerman specialized in runic and enchanted items, and most men looking for them were rich sorcerers or thieves wanting to gain an edge in a big score. He wanted a cut in whatever job he believed Neil was about to take. Neil was going to disappoint him, and that made his night.

"Sorry, no can-do." Neil said, crossing his trim arms. "It's just a gift."

"A gift? What, your mother in town? No deal then." He responded.

"It's for a girl I fancy," Neil said off-handedly. Haulerman lived up to the anachronism in his name and howled. Even the Dwarf guffawed, nearly spilling his alestein. Neil let their mirth subside, glad to be of assistance in making their night a bit better.

"And what makes this girl so special, eh?" The seedy broker inquired, leaning forward. Neil was glad Emmaline wasn't here to smell the man's absolutely putrid breath. It made the Pickled Herring pleasant. The bits of what he hoped was some sort of cabbage in his teeth didn't make Neil's stomach any less queasy. The engineer blinked away the breath that felt like it singed his eyebrows, backing his chair up a bit.

"She deserves something nice," He reasoned, and then paused to consider something he hadn't before. "And you know what? I fucking do too. Now are we going to get into this or should I go find Deiter Von Zacksbury?"

"That bastard doesn't have what you want, you popinjay. I do, or I did. I already sold my best ring."

"How much did you sell for?" Neil played along.

"Ninety krowns." Haulerman said, thin lips spreading wide in a vicious smile, knowing full well Neil couldn't normally pay. Neil just smiled back.

"That's too bad. I was going to pay a hundred for it."

---

2 hours later...

The last week, the two of them had procured around three hundred krowns in total. Which wasn't much for a duke or count, but the average skilled craftsman would be hard pressed to make that much in two and a half years, no expenses. And if they had, they wouldn't toss a quarter of it away in one night, no matter if it was to entertain Karl Franz himself. Neil treated money a bit differently. It came easy and was spent easier, and as long as he had a bit left over he was happy. Besides, his new girlfriend had gotten kidnapped and he had nearly died trying to rescue her. He was going to show her a good time.

Rogello helped him button up the top of his dark jerkin made of arabyan satin, his finely stitched trousers of black nicely contrasted the loose fighting, longsleeve white top beneath the vest. With gold trim and a belt of leather and bronze, complete with a small tapestry of Magnus the Pious preaching on the streets of nuln along the length of it just about his waist, Neil felt like a prince. He wouldn't turn as many heads as Emmaline, but his dark features and fair skin, with an outfit that emphasized both gave him a daring look of rakish audacity. He doubted anyone back in Marienburg would recognize him.

"Is good," Rogello congratulated him.

"Is good?" Neil asked earnestly.

"Si." He replied softly. "Now go to your woman."

Emmaline had not needed to wait long in the foyer for him, Neil appearing from within the shop in his finery, giving his virgin killing grin. He lost it though when he saw her gussied up, his jaw dropping. "Gods you look amazing," he said without conscious thought. He pulled on his collar a bit, composing himself. "So, let's go out to the carriage," he said, and she would find out he wasn't lying.

He had rented a carriage for the night.