[Job Thread] Running Around

[Quint Caravel]

64th of Autumn, 513 AV.

The woman called herself Lady Stiletto. That was probably not her real name. It was even debatable if she was a Lady. Quint has spent a few seasons in Syliras-- the city of Knights and Squires-- and he had come across actual women with titles like "Sera," and they had a certain air to them. They could be a bit pompous, a bit arrogant, more than a bit condescending and they probably all attended lavish balls where they wore powdered wigs and showed off expensive jewelry. They had an air about them, and that was one of arrogance.
Lady Stiletto had an air about her as well. But it was an air of danger.

The sailor man most recently from Syliras could not guess her pedigree or background and so he had no actual idea if she was heir to the throne of Talderas or Queen of the Xith. He had no idea if she was Empress of the Inarti or Sovereign of the Svefra. (It bothered him a little bit that he didn't know the latter, but there were so many Pods out there that he had no idea if one of them had gone off and done their own thing. He had heard once of a Pod that had gone all patriarchal and had elected a man to rule them instead of a woman. It was more than practically unheard of: it was somewhere between blasphemous and sacrilegious. But it was a small Pod that had for whatever reason given birth to many men about twenty years back, and a few of them had gotten together and decided to give it a try.

It was said that they felt it was worth a try, and that they didn't think any lasting harm could come of it. Many knew of Loren Dyres and the other male rulers scattered around Mizahar, and they said it was time for some new leadership ideas in their Pod.

Not being full Svefra, Quint had heard this story from a female sailor who had known of this Pod but who had been reluctant to tell any full-blood Svefra for fear of their reaction. He himself had been sleeping with both the woman and her sister, and so he trusted her as a trusted and reliable source. He had no reason to doubt the story, especially when it was concluded later that season. When Quint ran into the woman again after having had to run an errand for his Uncle Pondar, she told him that the Patriarchal Pod had been wiped out to a man.

Apparently they had gotten into their collective heads that now that they had a man in charge, they didn't want to just have him rule a small patch of water. They decided to pick a land target, one ruled by a woman. They had attacked the nearest port. Some kind of snake-women or spider-women had been living there. Were still living there. But the Pod was gone.

Quint remembered the story when he starting having bad dreams. All season long he had been having a recurring dream where he was at a masquerade ball with teenagers eager to impress him and each other with strange and unusual abilities, odd outfits and bizarre bits of bathos. And to be honest, sometimes he was impressed. It gave him some very vivid dreams.

But it meant he wasn't sleeping well. And so he hoped the odd dreams would be over when the season ended. It was starting to effect his ability to function. He wasn't as observant as he should be. While trying to pick a pocket last week, he had been robbed of his blackjack. Times were tough in Sunberth, but Quint felt personally humiliated that he had been such an easy mark.

Realizing he could not go it alone in Sunberth, especially as a foreigner, he had cased the area looking for someone who needed a hired hand. Several prospects arose--- lots of people enjoyed having minions and thugs-- and currently he was considering taking a full time gig with Lady Stiletto.

Or he had been considering it. Now he considered the crossbow she had pointed at his heart.

[Quint Caravel]

This was Quint's real first time look at Lady Stiletto. At least his real first-hand look. Always there had been a minion or underling between them. But now he stood in a dark alley with the woman herself.

He tried paying attention to her, seeing what he could observe from her appearance. Far as he could tell, Lady Stiletto was a tall woman with almond-shaped eyes and jet-black hair. She either had a slightly golden touch to her skin or was suffering from jaundice; Quint had no idea. First of all, because he wasn't a doctor, and secondly, because most of her skin was covered up. She was dressed from the neck down in loose-fitting black leather. Quint normally preferred his women to be wearing skin-tight black leather, but this was a woman who was a walking arsenal and so Quint understood that she needed room to store everything. She also wore a hat of a type he had never seen before; it looked like a beret but he was sure it served a more practical purpose than mere ornament or decoration. This was the sort of woman who preferred practicality to comfort or style.

(Eventually he found out that he was correct; the beret was actually a sap used to club targets from behind just enough to stun them. This was for when she needed her victims alive because she needed news or information from them and she knew that they were not going to give up what they knew too easily. This was Sunberth, after all, where children grew up playing 'Interrogation' on each other instead of 'Doctor' or 'Tag.' Well, they sometimes played tag, but the person who was 'it' usually ended up going up crying that night, often ending up bruised and shaken and missing some or all of their clothes. Quint was glad he had not grown up in Sunberth; the various seasons he had traveled here had been enough to convince him that he only wanted to be here when he was a fully grown adult male with the strength not to immediately end up a victim. And even then you wanted to be part of a gang or a pack.)

He could only imagine the life that had turned an ordinary woman into the cold-blooded person who now stood before him, aiming her weapon at his heart. He wasn't sure if she was using an arrow or bolt, or if it was poisoned or had some other trick to it. Quint filed this away under 'yet another thing he needed to learn and research' and wondered again at his own lack of ambition. Normally he didn't care that he had wasted his life doing nothing but drinking and wenching, singing and brawling, but now and then, at moments when he might very well die, he did stop and wonder why he had never tried to buckle down and learn how to become a wizard, priest or fighter. Something useful in melee combat or around the world, anyway.

It appeared she was imagining things about him as well, and not good things. In fact, it rather appeared that she was imagining the worst.

"I don't like being robbed by my employees, or even my prospective employees, Mr. Caravel."

Quint blinked, unsure as to what was going on. That seemed to be a common feeling that he was having lately. "I didn't rob you. You have to believe me."

'I don't have to believe anything. I'm the one with the weapon, after all."

He needed to persuade her that he was innocent. "I'm innocent."

"Are you trying to persuade me that you're innocent? That was a terrible attempt."

He tried again. "I couldn't have done anything. I don't even know you. I don't know your name or where you live or anything about you."

"Hmm. You don't strike me as the innocent type. But you do strike me as the type who would lie to get out of trouble. And you try hard to act even dumber than you really are. Goodbye, Mr. Caravel..."

"Wait wait wait! I can prove it wasn't me. I've only just arrived in Sunberth in the last month of autumn. And since my arrival I've been busy helping people rebuild from the flood or otherwise running around doing errands for you and whomever could pay a few Mizas for a hired hand."

Lady Stiletto nodded at this. "Very well, you've convinced me. I don't hire anyone without checking into their backgrounds. You speak the truth, at least as you understand or believe it."

"So you'll let me go?"

"No, that's a separate issue. Guilt or innocence doesn't matter. I just need to kill someone right now."

[Quint Caravel]

"What? But I didn't rob you!"

"I said that I don't like being robbed. Not by you, not by anyone else." She took a step closer to him and aimed carefully. "Your cold dead corpse will serve as a warning that I am to be taken seriously on this matter."

Quint raised his hands. "But I didn't steal anything."

She snorted. "Then you are a terrible thief and a worthless rogue and of no real use to me anyway. You won't be missed, will you?"

The words pierced his soul. He remembered being lost at sea and nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean. The only thing that kept him alive was the realization that no one would miss him. He had done nothing with his life, and had made no ripples in space of time. He was a nothing and a nobody.

He wanted to live, but had nothing to bargain with. He wanted to persuade her to spare him but could see that appealing to any sense of decency or loyalty or compassion was out of the question. And he couldn't seduce her: no one had ever seen her with a man, just butch girls and tom-boy girls. That was probably more a by-product of a childhood where she often ended up naked and ravished or the object of rapine violence than a true indicator of her orientation. Still what was done was done, and that option was closed to him.

Perhaps she could be persuaded if he embellished and emphasized the truth. It was worth a try. Failure would mean death, but at this point he had nothing left to lose.

She had asked him if he would be missed.

Quint shook his head. "No, I won't be missed. No one in Sunberth knows I'm alive. Or would care if they did know." He glanced down at himself. "Even my death would mean nothing. I'm an outsider and a foreigner. People would assume I tripped over my own shadow. My death would be as useless as my life."

That made Lady Stiletto laugh. It was very unclear if she was laughing with him or at him. It probably did not matter.

After several tense seconds, she lowered her weapon. "A cat enjoys toying with a mouse because there's some challenge in it, no matter how miniscule. The rodent could run away or attempt to dash into a mouse-hole. When cornered, even a rat might turn and fight."

She turned her back to him. "But you are more useless than a rat that has been dead for a week. It wouldn't even be enjoyable to slay you; it would simply be a wasted bolt caught in a target dummy. A complete waste of time. Get out of my sight."

Quint stood where he was. He might not be a skilled warrior, but he was still a man. "I feel bad that someone robbed you. I doubt this or anything can get me back in your good graces-- if I was ever in them to being with, being half-Svefra-- but I'm going to find whatever it was that was stolen from you. And get it back."

"Prrrt. Good luck with that."

She didn't say no.

And she didn't kill him.

Quint took those two facts as omens of good will and good fortune, and set out to finally do something that mattered to someone besides himself.

[Quint Caravel]

Perhaps in another life and time, Quint would have made a good Knight of Syliras. Then again, perhaps he might have made a good Eagle Rider. Or a priest of one of the many gods that roamed the world. But he didn't have any of those skill sets. All he had going for him was that he a minor gift for larceny. A bit of talent for acting and disguise. A bit of camouflage and subterfuge. Good abilities for a man wanting to be a cat-burglar or foot-pad, but nothing that immediately came to mind that would be useful in tracking down something stolen.

In point of fact, he had no idea what criminals did with stolen items once they had them. Even in a town like Sunberth you could not steal a valuable painting from someone and then hang it up in your living room. First of all, they might just steal it back. Secondly, they might kill you in the process.

And so Quint decided to ask around. He saw a man who was pretending to be blind-- this was obvious even to Quint as the man was reading some paper when not conning his latest marks-- and Quint approached him.

"Hey, if I stole something from you, what would I do with it?"

"Nothing. You'd be dead long before you could even try."

That wasn't very helpful.

He then approached a midget woman-- he wasn't sure if she was human or of some pint-sized race he was unaware off-- and he asked her when she wasn't busy pretending to be a little girl and fleecing good Samaritans (or good Sylirians) of their wallets. Quint said to her "Excuse me, little girl, where would you go after you took some Mizas from me?"

"Let's find out!"

She kicked him in the shin, then jumped up and kicked him in the balls. Once he was down and curled up into a ball, she grabbed the first handful of Mizas she found on him and then ran off, giggling.

Quint attempted to follow but then got mugged by an little old lady thief look for an easy score. She rolled him when he was down and found another cache of Mizas.

Nursing his wounded ego, Quint skulked towards the nearest bar, a place called "The Empty Safe," and he sat at the bar nursing a beer.

While he was sitting there a man walked up to him and offered to sell him used Gnosis Marks only 10 Mizas each. Quint explained that he was all out of cash. He turned away and ended up eavesdropping on two rogues who were sitting on the other side of him.

One of them spoke about how he had stolen a small Casinor that had just arrived in port and was looking for a fence to sell it to. The other man gave him a list of names of people specializing in nautical equipment.

After several minutes of stealthily listening-- and asking a few questions-- Quint learned the general gist of what fences were, and how they traded around stolen merchandise.

[Quint Caravel]

Now that Quint had learned something about how crime was able to function in a city without laws-- something he had at first thought to be a bit of a paradox because if there was no law then you couldn't break the law, and if you could not break the law then nothing was illegal. If nothing was illegal then even crime would be meaningless.

Well, violent crimes would always have their own rewards: those who committed rape or murder or arson were doing it for rewards having nothing to do with Mizas and much more to do with rewarding some dark and twisted corner of their soul. People like this would exist anywhere, and would in fact sometimes force even the citizens of places like Sunberth to band together and appoint a mercenary (or band of mercenaries) with the right and authority to hunt down such heinous villains.

But that sort of crime was the exception in a city where gangs were not constrained by the ethics that bound constables, guards and organizations like the Syliran Knights. There was no need to gather witnesses or evidence here, no need for a trial or to prove motive and means. There was only retribution and vengeance.

In any event, Quint dismissed such dark thoughts from his mind. He understood those impulses would exist in any city, be it Sunberth or Syliras. What he had not at first understood was how the softer crimes could have any value in a city that had no authority to regulate the value of items bought and sold. Rob a rich merchant in Syliras and you could make a pretty profit off of your ill-gotten goods; their value was intrinsic.

But as Quint originally understood things, in Sunberth, you could steal a 500 Miza necklace from someone and have everyone then tell you they wouldn't give you 2 Miza for it. However, now that he understood a bit about fences he was quite pleased with what they did and how they operated. In a shadowy sort of way, a fence operated much like a bank teller or shop-keeper, selling and acquiring goods and services. It was not unlike a pawn shoppe but there was a better profit for all concerned, all around.

Quint decided that this was what he wanted to do with his life. Someday.

Understanding that he would have to start at the bottom of the totem pole, or at least at the bottom of the ladder, he asked around and made various inquiries and eventual found a Fence with enough of a business that he could afford to take a chance on a nobody outsider.

In fact, it was explained to Quint that his status as an outsider in Sunberth might prove useful. He was not a known gang member and had no particular affiliations and so would be free to travel around unmolested by those engaging in turf wars.

It was also explained to Quint that it also meant that his days were numbered, as until he picked a side he could be the random victim of any violent outburst from any one at any time. And unless he had some skills in either fighting or fleeing, he had either better learn some quickly or choose a group that would offer him some protection in return for most of his pay.

Once Quint agreed to do this and found some thugs and rowdies willing to offer him protection, he found his net pay dropping from the agreed upon 4 Mizas gross pay to a single 1 Miza net pay after 'taxes', but it was the cost of doing business in a city without law.

As the days passed, Quint ran around delivering packages that he was not allowed to open or know what was inside them. It was menial and dangerous work, but it was a start.

[Quint Caravel]

At first he was given very simple tasks. Things a four year old girl could manage if she was at all capable of walking and talking. To Quint's credit he only fumbled most of these tasks, not all of them, and actually managed to complete some of them correctly.

And to be fair to Quint, some of these tasks were impossible to complete, for various reasons. One assignment was a test of his prowess as he was instructed to deliver a package to the alternate identity of someone that he only knew under an assumed name. That was Quint's fault as he had not bothered to do the research before heading out. But many other tasks given to him were simply impossible because they were literally impossible, such as the time he was instructed to deliver a package by 438 AV when it was now already 513 AV. Or the time he was told to go to Kalea and be back by nightfall. And a few tasks were not at all real; they were diversions. That is to say, sometimes Quint was given empty packages and told to deliver them to addresses that no longer existed (or had never existed) or which had been ruined by the recent flooding. This was because his employer was a typical Sunberth native, discreet and paranoid, and it was hoped that any rival fences or gangs that were keeping a tail on Quint would give up in exasperation. This was to insure that Quint did not accidentally lead anyone back to either his fence or one of their customers.

And so that explained why he developed a reputation as being foolish and inept and yet was never fired; this was because he was actually being used as a pawn in a game of subterfuge and deception. After a few weeks of doing much but accomplishing little he began to catch on to the fact that he was a cat's-paw being used like a piece on a game-board. By then he had learned enough to know that it was better to be under-estimated instead of over-estimated, and so he said little of his suspicions to anyone. He didn't have to; it was obvious to those who were paying attention that he knew a bit more than he let on; it was also obvious to all and sundry that he actually knew less about the ways of Sunberth than he thought he knew, and so it all balanced out in the end.

But he was an apt pupil and in his own way he did start to learn things. For one thing he learned a bit of the geography of Sunberth. For another he learned of the social and political situation. This was done through trial and error as sometimes he could cross a street and not get beat up, and sometimes he could not. Sometimes he would be required to pay a fee or toll or protection money.

Quint made sure to keep track of who wanted what, and where. And so, little by little, he began to realize that thug A and minion B were in the same gang even though they were a block apart, and he learned that a new group was trying to make a name for itself around 'The Establishment' while another gang that had long owned a large strip of land near the Sunberth River was now splintering into three rival factions that were all busy fighting each other.