Flashback The Gambler and the Drunk [Kelmar]

[Zandelia]

Fall 85th, 506 AV – The Silver Sliver

As the deadline for her loosely bartered agreement with Nathaniel grew – the second one in fact - ever nearer she was reminded of how little progress she had managed to make, a startling small shard of what she had promised was what she would be delivering two days hence if she was not able to crack the shells of her first few targets. She had been hoping for an easy enough series of opponents, something to impress Nathaniel with in terms of handing two of the three heads he had demanded in only half of the allotted span of time. It was proving…difficult, far more difficult than she had anticipated. She had to hand it to the denizens of Ravok – they knew how to play their games well indeed. Still, she had enough information to have a plan in mind, it was merely the execution that she was foundering at. For that she needed a couple more piece of the jig-saw.

Which is why I sit, once again, in a tavern. I seem to be here often enough I might as well convert to alcoholism one of these days she told herself bitterly, privately acknowledging that she was beginning to loathe taverns.

She had two names on her list that she had in her singular orb, both regular patrons of the Silver Sliver which she now stood in and both possessed of weaknesses she could use – though each was different from the other. She was hardly surprised at the variety of merchants that existed in the city now, growing used to the fact that economics was practiced differently than in Sunberth – and yet the same. Both cities merchants were thugs to be true, it was just that those of Ravok were better at pretending they weren’t so. Still, as she sat in her shadowed corner table she watched both men with occasional glances – Delmar Hurien and Grist Klaver, both were busily with their disparate activities.

“One a gambler and the other a drunk, this will be interesting indeed” she mused to herself quietly, barely above a whisper.

She had watched them for five days now, shadowing their footsteps separately and buying small yet tantalizing clues as to how she could bring them under her remit. Her lip curled slightly at the thought of having to kill them, they were of far more use alive in terms of what she hoped to leave in her wake. She needed more than dead bodies, she needed contacts and a series of them under, and as well as, Patrice – who now owed her – would be a great boon indeed. Especially when she counted Sashena, even if she ended up taking him out and replacing him with someone more pliant . With that she could build a little more before she left, something that would last long enough to return to if her plans elsewhere fractured perhaps. She sighed and finished her wine, flicking her hand towards the plump barmaid to indicate she wished more. If it was to be a waiting game then she would make it a well-watered one. By her own memory, it being noon roughly to her inner-clock, she would have a good four Bells to work with. Her presence in the tavern was not to wrap her noose around them in public, but to ensure they would be staying a reasonable length of time. She smiled and took her new cup of alcohol to the bar and tapped out five gold on to the battered wooden surface, almost casually. She sipped away as she awaited the inevitable sauntering over of Jeb.

Such a reliable man, the only thing he cares about is his tavern and with good reason. Anyone else though, he’ll sell them out as long as it isn’t bloody she thought as he came over to her. He wasn’t a contact per se, more of a general knowledge man with a good ear and a tavern full of drunks bemoaning and bragging to him.

“Good day so far?” she asked him jovially, not wanting to arouse any suspicion.

“Ain’t you already got a drink lass?” he asked her with a grin.

“Can never have too many, never too many. Powerful thirst and all that. Make it a fiery one, something with a kick!” she responded, the sub-text obvious to Jeb and creasing his brow in thought.

“Alright, but don’t tell me you don’t like it afterwards little lady” he responded, taking a few minutes to hand her a drink and placing it carefully, almost artfully one could say, before her upon the counter.

She gathered it up, gulped the fire water down with one swallow and placed it down before her. She drank the wine to soothe her tongue and held back a cough for a few seconds. She then heaved a raspy breath of air from her throat and bent over, obscuring her motion of slipping the note that had been underneath the cup into her pocket as others laughed raucously. She bowed out graciously and walked a ways down the street before reading it. She frowned as she did and crumpled it back into her pocket with a mixture of relish and distaste.

I’ll need help with this one she mused, wandering forwards in blissful ignorance of the world around her for the time being. Only when she bumped into something did he start back into reality.

“What the-?” she got out before stumbling slightly into a nearby wall. Her frustration played upon her face clearly as she rounded upon the unknown object.

[Kelmar Hedos]

There was not much that could be done anymore. The Hedos had overstepped one too many bounds with a few too many families, and was now paying the price dearly. Each rival had sent out their saboteurs to handle various small wares of the small yet profitable business, and though while each one individually might have been little more than a nuisance there were quite a few toes that the family had tread on quite forcefully. Collectively, the overall efforts of a series of rival merchants in tandem brought the once proud and enviable House Hedos to its knees. A name that had been once respected in some circles was now pitied and looked down on, the former partners that they had forged stepping out of the way to let them take the fall lest the scope of the sabotage widen. It had taken only a year to destroy what it took one man twenty to build. The result was impressive in some way. Forced out of their own home by debt, the Hedos family was now living in a shabby residence that even their former customers would have loathed to live in. Dust rested in layers on the floor and furniture, which consisted of three wooden chairs, a broken table, and two cots. The son had to take the floor. Cobwebs decorated the corners of the room, and the wood was rotting in some places. A single dresser held only two changes of clothes a person, and the handle was broken off so whoever wished to access it had to jostle the segment within the opening until it caught and pulled the drawer out. All they had for tableware was a couple sets of knives and spoons and a small stsck of wooden plates they had to clean in the lake. There was no bathroom. This was not the only place they had moved to since their wealth declined, but it was where they'd ended up and where they's been for the past season. Coming from a small estate, decorated with a chandelier and ornate tapestries and cloths with flourishes on them, marble halls and velvet sheets, the contrast was a huge shock to them all. They were moving from place to place, each one slightly worse than the one before, trying desperately to cling onto any semblance of their former affluence, but it all kept slipping through their fingers. They sold their house and everything in it, including the slaves, but any investments they made were only money sinks that never returned, resulting in their current home, which they had finally settled into. Not that Kelmar and his family's fate was looking any better now. His mother had found a simple job stocking shelves in one of her former rival's shops, probably just to twist the blade, but his father was absolutely hopeless. Still rambling on about how his name would be remembered and insisting that there would be a Hedos dynasty, Jorvik did not even bother looking for a job and instead spent his time wandering the docks and looking at the warehouse that used to be his. Whenever reality threatened to catch up with him, he would escape it by going to the Sliver and drinking away any sane thoughts until there was more alcohol in his veins than blood. Every night now it seemed, and whatever Kelmar's mother made her husband wasted it almost immediately. There was barely enough to feed them all, let alone anything for spending. This sas Kelmar's life as he knew it. Recently though it'd been getting worse. Not even waiting until the night sometimes, there were occasions when Jorvik would visit in the middle of the afternoon or even midday to start forgetting about his problems and even his self, drunk to the point where if he tried to move one way he'd go in the opposite direction. It almost got him killed a couple times. That was why Kelmar was heading out there at this time of day, to make sure his idiot of a father didn't get himself killed. For while the drunk was a drain on the family's money and energy, he was still part of it, and for some reason that was good enough for both his wife and son to still be worried about him. That was when Kelmar bumped into some woman, not quite as dru but who'd obviously had some. He wasn't saying much anymore, there was nothing to say and no reason to say it, but a lifetime of manners and training kicked in and he uttered a quiet, "sorry." His eyes remained downcast, his expressioned hardened and black eyes blinking only rarely. Then he looked up at the woman, his face set but apologetic. "I did not see you," he explained.

[Zandelia]

Her look of scorn and sense of innate superiority in the simplistic conflict eased and began to evaporate as the reality of the situation set in and her senses did their routine work of assimilating a feeding her the requisite information – they were becoming quicker these days, either that or her mind was developing better coping mechanisms at reading the provided data. Her balled fists, twitched from surprise and anger, quickly relaxed as her stance loosened as threat was not readily apparent. She could not be too careful in Ravok, of course, she had even seen children of a most shrewd and calculating manner, however the youth before her did not initiate those instincts and so she was willing to go one her intuition whilst ready to pull her knife out at a moment’s notice, thumb tucked behind her belt ready to draw.

“It’s okay lad, no harm done unless you took my purse of course,” she responded, her tone not altogether chilling but reserved enough as she patted herself a little to check everything was in place, “no, all there. Guess I have no reason to dislike you hmm?” she finished with a small smile, merely the corners of her lips turning up fractionally and little warmth in her eye.

She did not leave the scene however, she had just been seeking for aid and perhaps she had been heard – existence itself presenting her with an opportunity. The search for secrets bred suspicion and this, in turn, tended to create an acknowledgement that coincidence very rarely existed in life, if at all. Her gaze took him in as her free hand cupped her chin, forefinger stroking it slowly as she considered him in the following moments – stoic gaze telling her more than she needed to know. His clothing was not overly cheap, it possessed a touch of fashion to it that expressed a provision for wealth – however its worn and faded coloring whispered that such times were most probably in his past, but not too distant else he would have sold even this poor garment already.

Food grows more important than beauty when hunger begins to bite. So, money but gone now. His manners are too crafted for a street urchin who has won then lost too, so from the parents – who let him wander in the vicinity of a tavern…interesting she told herself, she knew the truth of that all too well indeed.

He was definite too, though his eyes and the sockets around them seemed strained – almost haunted perhaps. There was no love behind that gaze, no hate, merely blind acceptance to her thoughts. That in itself was a sadness as it meant he had suffered things which might possibly almost be breaking him. She could never be sure about such abstract assumptions but she knew the gaze of the one’s being defeated, she had had such a gaze once too. In many ways he reminded her of a younger version of herself after she had won her freedom from slavery. More importantly, though she disliked making such calculations, it meant that he would perhaps be more than eager to earn some coin and more on the side if it meant he suffered a little less. She did not let the distaste twist her mouth but she was desperate now and had much ground to cover in the coming hours – the lad seemed healthy enough to be of service.

“What are you doing out here lad, wandering around a tavern where only rough drunks and thugs gather at this hour? Does your mother and father not know you are here?” she went for a sideways question that would, hopefully, lead to more palatable conclusions.

“If you have nothing to do I could always find something for you lad, coin in it and everything too. Not saying it’ll be highly paid but enough to get some bread and broth somewhere more pleasant than this” she jerked her thumb towards the bulk of the Silver Sliver and allowed her two series of utterances sink into his mind.

I’m such a petcher when I need to be. The promise of food and drink linked to mention of his family to illicit either sympathy or sorrow. Petch my soul she told herself with more force than she had personally thought she could – his plight obviously touched a nerve she thought long dead inside her.