Location: Marrow Lock, Capital of Kadesa...
The sun did its best to provide warmth through the dense clouds covering Marrow Lock, but the remnants of last winter's cold still grasped the capital. This did little to dampen the spirits of all and any who came to celebrate the 150th anniversary of The Arcane Coalition. Such commemoration had never been done before, but King Chogutai of Kadesa insisted. While all were welcome to participate, almost every T.A.C. operative that wasn't on assignment received an invitation. It served as a much needed morale booster, which came at the right time, considering the recent spike of criminal activity happening all over Venastia. The Coalition and King Chogutai's best elitesmen took painstaking steps to ensure the capital's security was grade A for this momentous event.
Almost every city street was a festival. Music of all types bounced off victorian homes and businesses. Artisans ran wild with their brushes, painting side walks and alleyway walls with murals of the Coalition's feats. Merchants preyed on naive tourist with poultices and herbal remedies for impotence and sex drive. Street performers dazzled crowds with flashy magic tricks. Coalition advocators preached to every ear that cared to listen about the sacred bond of science, magic, and nature. Bars and smoke lounges were flowing with brew and candied hasheesh, and bazaars were lively with price hagglers and amateur negotiators. This went on for three days, yet even on the third, its sheen did not luster. Today would mark the end of the celebration, and rumor has it that King Chogutai has planned quite the send off.
Unfortunately, Sir Dmitry Kovalev won't be in attendance for the extravaganza. The grizzly old man watched the festivities through an open window with much envy. He leaned over, lit a cigar he had twirled in his prosthetic hand for quite some time, and casually puffed smoke rings through the open slit.
"I told you to stop doing that in my office." A voice much older than Kovalev's bounced off the lavender walls covered with breathtaking paintings. A bald gentleman with glasses named Jim Wallaceburg closed the double doors behind him and postured over to Dmitry, who still couldn't pry his eyes away from the festive scene outside.
"I suppose this entire charade is fitting." Dmitry said, ignoring the man's concern as he puffed away on his cigar. "It will be a nice send off for the unit. Good R and R before their next assignment."
"Yes, yes," Jim said irritably, fanning the smoke away with a manilla folder. "My operatives have been tailing them since they arrived. After the grand finale, they'll receive further instruction. I trust that you have everything in order?"
Dmitry nodded. "Our Airship is en-route. Cargo is packed, stacked, and ready for loading."
"Well..." Jim inhaled slowly and exhaled just the same as he handed over the manilla folder. "I guess this is it, huh? All these months of planning. Handpicking each operative." Silence stood between them, and Dmitry could feel Wallaceburg's uneasiness about the whole thing. It was seeping through his three piece suit and overpowering the cologne he wore. "Do you think it'll work?"
"What?"
"This team...do you think they'll function as the unit like we hope? A lot is riding on this. I'm not so sure jumping right into an assignment is the prudent thing to do. I mean just the day after the anniversary? Who knows what kind of shape they'll be in the next morn-"
"Jimmy," Dmitry ashed his cigar along the outside ridge of the window pane and stored it in one of the compartments of his metal arm for later. Just then the loud speakers playing overhead on zipping airships made announcements to head toward the King's square, the center of Marrow Lock. "You want my honest answer?" Wallaceburg cringed at the uncertainty of what Dmitry might say. He slowly shook his head.
"No. They won't be everything we hoped for." He tipped his duster and trudged toward the exit. "They'll be better than we anticipated."
As Dmitry left the office he shook his head, then decided on finishing the rest of his cigar. He lit it once again with a dry match and sighed.
"Shit, they better, Jimmy ol' boy..."
The sun did its best to provide warmth through the dense clouds covering Marrow Lock, but the remnants of last winter's cold still grasped the capital. This did little to dampen the spirits of all and any who came to celebrate the 150th anniversary of The Arcane Coalition. Such commemoration had never been done before, but King Chogutai of Kadesa insisted. While all were welcome to participate, almost every T.A.C. operative that wasn't on assignment received an invitation. It served as a much needed morale booster, which came at the right time, considering the recent spike of criminal activity happening all over Venastia. The Coalition and King Chogutai's best elitesmen took painstaking steps to ensure the capital's security was grade A for this momentous event.
Almost every city street was a festival. Music of all types bounced off victorian homes and businesses. Artisans ran wild with their brushes, painting side walks and alleyway walls with murals of the Coalition's feats. Merchants preyed on naive tourist with poultices and herbal remedies for impotence and sex drive. Street performers dazzled crowds with flashy magic tricks. Coalition advocators preached to every ear that cared to listen about the sacred bond of science, magic, and nature. Bars and smoke lounges were flowing with brew and candied hasheesh, and bazaars were lively with price hagglers and amateur negotiators. This went on for three days, yet even on the third, its sheen did not luster. Today would mark the end of the celebration, and rumor has it that King Chogutai has planned quite the send off.
Unfortunately, Sir Dmitry Kovalev won't be in attendance for the extravaganza. The grizzly old man watched the festivities through an open window with much envy. He leaned over, lit a cigar he had twirled in his prosthetic hand for quite some time, and casually puffed smoke rings through the open slit.
"I told you to stop doing that in my office." A voice much older than Kovalev's bounced off the lavender walls covered with breathtaking paintings. A bald gentleman with glasses named Jim Wallaceburg closed the double doors behind him and postured over to Dmitry, who still couldn't pry his eyes away from the festive scene outside.
"I suppose this entire charade is fitting." Dmitry said, ignoring the man's concern as he puffed away on his cigar. "It will be a nice send off for the unit. Good R and R before their next assignment."
"Yes, yes," Jim said irritably, fanning the smoke away with a manilla folder. "My operatives have been tailing them since they arrived. After the grand finale, they'll receive further instruction. I trust that you have everything in order?"
Dmitry nodded. "Our Airship is en-route. Cargo is packed, stacked, and ready for loading."
"Well..." Jim inhaled slowly and exhaled just the same as he handed over the manilla folder. "I guess this is it, huh? All these months of planning. Handpicking each operative." Silence stood between them, and Dmitry could feel Wallaceburg's uneasiness about the whole thing. It was seeping through his three piece suit and overpowering the cologne he wore. "Do you think it'll work?"
"What?"
"This team...do you think they'll function as the unit like we hope? A lot is riding on this. I'm not so sure jumping right into an assignment is the prudent thing to do. I mean just the day after the anniversary? Who knows what kind of shape they'll be in the next morn-"
"Jimmy," Dmitry ashed his cigar along the outside ridge of the window pane and stored it in one of the compartments of his metal arm for later. Just then the loud speakers playing overhead on zipping airships made announcements to head toward the King's square, the center of Marrow Lock. "You want my honest answer?" Wallaceburg cringed at the uncertainty of what Dmitry might say. He slowly shook his head.
"No. They won't be everything we hoped for." He tipped his duster and trudged toward the exit. "They'll be better than we anticipated."
As Dmitry left the office he shook his head, then decided on finishing the rest of his cigar. He lit it once again with a dry match and sighed.
"Shit, they better, Jimmy ol' boy..."