Closed [Hammer and Nails] The Scary Man with the Nice Hat

[Reisen Widerspruch]

79th day of Spring 516 A.V. 13th Bell, 13th chime


It had been said and thought time and again, but it to Reisen it bares saying once more; he hated getting hurt. His right shoulder and left face were bandaged duo to the wounds they hid, wounds he’d received from a Rujaro in an event where Reisen’s own curiosity had simply got the best of him.

This of course had set him back at work somewhat, obviously some of his tasks couldn’t be done without the aid of grooms so cleaning out the stalls and replacing the feed bins for the horses left in his charge by Conner Askara were a negative. He could still help with brushing, walking and some bits of training the horses so there was no great loss there.

‘Still, it’s annoying’ One thing could be said Reisin, was that if he were given a task then he would do it to the best of his abilities. Just putting in half the effort was not something he could honestly bring himself do; if one wants his pay, then he puts in all the effort is one of the few proverbs his dad passed on to him.

Still, Collin kept him busy and now he had set the man on a task to get done. And this task had brought him to the Hammer and Nails. The name itself spoke volumes of who the owner’s war and the sounds of hammers and anvils being worked could be hear quite well even outside its stone walls. The Radackes don’t like half-baking it as well it seemed .

The Hammer and Nails was all the way on the East Bank, The stables were on the opposing bank to the West and today was intolerably humid a more than a bit warm. So like anyone who didn’t want to bother with walking through this annoying weather, he did what any normal person and tool a river taxi-3sm and rode took a nice, albeit humid, boatride.

So there he was in front of the building, a note in hand that detailed a business request that was quite common between the two business. Dressed in a brown shirt, brown pants and simple boots, he walked inside with a dull sweaty look on his face.

“Welcome to the Hammer and Nails!” Came a cheerful voice that simply annoyed Reisen. He had nothing against its owner truly but no one should be chipper under such weather. Its owner, a dark brown haired man, simply smiled at the dour looking Reisen.

“Do come in, though I can’t promise you it will be cool inside. This place is a smithy after all.”

‘It is? Why I haven’t noticed, what with all the weapons and armor pieces on display and the sounds of an anvil being struck in the back’ He kept that remark to himself however and simply nodded in greeting as he approached the counter. He noted the slave mark on his face, the Radacke Hammer. It was a quirk of the slave familys to mark all that was ‘theirs’ with the emblem of their Dynasties and for some reason they really loved to mark the face.

Simply put it was a blunt message to those who would look upon these faces; one would need certain means to even remove them and Reis didn’t want to imagine what those means were.

“So come friend, what can Tayil here get for you? A new perhaps, nice and sharp? A good bit of chainmail to for protection? Maybe a bit of both?” If Reisen had the least bit of need for them at the moment and were here on his own time, then perhaps he would have taken the slave attendant on that offer. But Reisen shook his head and pulled out the note from pocket.

“I’m here on behalf of Master Collin Askara from the stables, asked that I give this note so that you may give it your masters” Tayil didn’t lose his chipper demeanor but one bit, but Reis couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to stiffen just a bit at the words.

“Ah, so its that time again, eh? Alright then, hand that note to me and I’ll see that the masters here get a look at it, they’rea bit a busy at the moment though. Rest assured that I, their faithful slave, shall have it in their hands once all is said and done and that master Askara should expect them 6 days from now as per usual of the season for the shoe fitting”

Reisen nodded, the Boss said as much that this would happen and he that his task was about done once he handed the note. He was just about to leave when Taiyl opened that damn mouth of his again “…But, while you’re hear and now that I imagine this task of yours is done, sir. Why not browse are fine collection of weaponry? I’m sure there must be something a man of keen eyes such as yourself could find useful!”

Reis could feel a nerve bulging, but he couldn’t really deny that it might be a good idea to browse. It wouldn’t take him long to return any he reasoned to himself, and he certainly could use all the protection that he could get after what had happened to him. So with a reluctant sigh of defeat, he nodded and began to browse the various weapons and armor that were on display.

At least he might get something good out of this, right?

[Konrad Venger]

"Any better t'day?"

"Still petching stiff."

Konrad didn't like showing any kind of weakness, for obvious reasons. Obvious to him, anyway. Anyone living in Kenash would come to the same conclusion, if they were in his world. If he were back in Sunberth?

Forget it, I'd just stay in doors until I could walk proper again.

The cobbles weren't helping. With mud, or gravel, or grass, the softer footfalls wouldn't have had him gritting his teeth every other step. But with nothing but hard stone under his feet, they were jolting up and down his left leg and Three Eyes could probably hear his teeth grinding from next to him as they walked.

Konrad thanked buggery that the armory was on the same side as the Terraces. Walking all the way to the West Bank would have been unbearable.

"Why're we not usin' the horses again?"

"Mine threw a shoe."

"Mine didn't."

"Aye," Konrad said without looking around, limp noticeable but not slowing him down much. The shorter man, Three Eyes still had to walk swiftly to keep up with him. "But I'm not havin' youse riding while I walk. Looks like I'm yer slave."

Three Eyes digested that for a moment as they approached the pair of squat, sturdy red-roofed buildings by the riverbank. Already they could hear hammers clanging into anvils, metal being shuffled, broken, molded, melted, the hiss of water on white-hot pseudo-artifacts and the roaring of burly men with sooty faces and hands long-immune to mere heat. Horse shoes and farm implements were arrayed outside, clearly not the best stuff (gotta mind the thieves, after all) but enough to tempt a customer inside, where the real products were available.

Konrad thought it politic not to come out and just say that he'd not have a runty little shyke like Three Eyes lording over him in public, like he was somehow better. Eyes was a slippery little bastard, but he was loyal, in his way. Because Konrad was his meal ticket. He had the brains and the brutality to make his name in Kenash, and he also knew that Three Eyes wanted to be attached firmly to his coat-tails when the rewards started rolling in.

So a little misdirection was necessary. Making him think it was the society of Kenash he was thinking of, not his own ego. Konrad smiled and mayhap Eyes would think it was because they'd finally arrived, and his leg could relax for a while. It wasn't.

Getting better at this. Not quite lying, not the full truth... but it gets me what I want.

"A'right," Konrad said with that tone of a man who didn't want to discuss any past conversation and just wanted to plow on with the present. He took off his hat and wiped his sweaty face with the back of his sleeve, then plugged it back on his head and sighed. "Brace yerself."

It didn't do much good. No matter how much you braced, walking into a smithy at full swing at the peak of the day was like stepping into a sweat lodge a day into the ceremonies. The sting of burning metal was everywhere, the heat sprouted fresh beads of sweat on their faces and the smoke... well, that was what the chimney's were for, thankfully.

"Ah, good day!" A smiling slave with a Radacke mark bustled up to them, clapping her hands together with joy even after getting a proper look at them. The two Sunberthians exchanged looks as her smile didn't seem to waver. This one's cracked, no doubt. "And how can we serve you today, sers?"

"Ah, we're just lookin'."

Konrad spoke as he gazed around the armory at the racks and shelves and displays. He knew the place had another name but "the armory" seemed to fill his mind better than others. It reminded him of the place back in Sunberth, smaller and build into and under a centuries-old tenement, but still churning out weapons enough to arm a city... which they often did.

Then his eyes alighted on one of the score of crossbows on the wall, but this one was different enough to bring a spark to his eyes and he strode over. Taiyl was hardly a fool, despite her perpetual good cheer, and could what had captured her new customer's attention.

"Ah, I see this particular mechanism has caught your eyes, hmm?"

"Aye. What is it?"

"A repeating crossbow."

"Geraway," Three Eyes scoffed next to them as Konrad ogled the strange device, with the fat, tall box of bolts in place, apparently feeding them into the string. "How'd ya manage that?"

"Not us, ser, the Isurians. Great metalworkers and smithy's, mayhap the greatest. By Lhex's grace, we happen to have a half-Isurian working here." Taiyl dipped her head closer and delivered a quick, conspiritorial wink. "Once can imagine how useful that can be."

"Aye," Konrad said, half-listening. "One would. How much?"

Taiyl named a figure that made Konrad blow out sharply with his cheeks puffy. Gods, might as well be a million mizas. That much coin would take everything in his purse and then some, and for what? An interesting toy but one he'd never even used before? He scratched under his chin and decided to let that slide for the moment. Maybe after his next purse from the Radacke. Until then...

His eyes caught something else, in one of the display cases. Not quite the irresistible pull of the Isurian crossbow, more... subtle. Almost like a part of history tugging at him, a memory or mayhap a memory as it should have been. Konrad's eyes glazed over a little as he remembered the rough leather over the back of his hand, metal stubs above his knuckles. The way they hammered back into his own flesh as much as they did the bastard he was hammering them into.

Wouldn't be an issue with these beauties.

"Something else catches your fancy, ser?"

"Aye. Those."

He used the plural, because he knew the weapon. It may have sounded strange, one item being described as several, but for him, it was accurate. They gleamed with polished copper or brass, four circles of metal all joined together with an odd, almost T-shaped handle underneath them. Konrad squinted a little and made a fist... smiled as he understood it.

"Helps y'grip it," he said to the world in general. "That stubby bit at the bottom. He tighten yer fist, less chance of the metal mashin' yer knuckles when you land a blow. Clever. Ain't seen the like before."

"Ah, well, that would explain the added cost, ser," Taiyl slid in with the usual grace of a born salesperson, cheerful tones tempered by brass-tacks shopkeeping. "Five gold mizas, as opposed to the usual silvers for the leather-and-iron variety."

"Looks t'me like it'd be worth-shyke!"

Konrad was so starry-eyed he didn't notice the figure he collided with as he turned around to face the slave. A shorter, stockier man was prowling the armory, too, and with that adjective in mind Konrad's hand went to his kukri, just in case... but no... the man didn't go for a weapon, or lunge.

Which gave the sellsword and Three Eyes time to study him. Three Eyes blinked a few times and went back to his rubbernecking, never one for deep thinking or a long memory. But Konrad saw the bandages on his face and thought, or tried to think. Was there a thought? Yes, needling at the back of his mind. The build and the shock of hair, the wounds... something trying to gain a voice and failing.

No apology followed, of course. Instead Konrad squinted and looked down at the younger man.

"We know each other... mate?"

ReceiptBrass Knuckles: -5gm

[Reisen Widerspruch]

Reis panicked internally, stiff as a board right he was checking out a cutlass. Prior to hearing the dreaded and familiar voices; he’d imagined himself wielding the cutlass alongside the other one he owned. He had dismissed the idea almost immediately because as it stood he could barely weild the one he already had with any degree of competence. Adding to that he was predominantly right handed so to even use another blade in his spare hand would be awkward and ridiculous.

As he heard their voices Reisen’s thought process had frozen to a standing halt. Despite the darkness of the swamp that fateful day, he knew that if he were to turn to look at them than he’d recognize them instantly because quite frankly they had distinct shapes as well as distinct accents. A sudden thought that terrified was the realization was that he was with those two, particularly the terrifying one with the admittedly nice hat, in a veritable armory of weaponry.

Again he seemed to freeze in place to the point one would suddenly he would drop dead then and there after voiding his bodily fluids first. Thankfully that part didn’t happen but the ‘death’ part could still possibly happen and he was quite attached to his currently living status, thank you!

Unfortunately it seemed he lingered too long and lost any opportunity of making a, for the given value of the word, subtle escape. No, instead the Six feet and a half tall man whom needed a bath perhaps bumped into the five feet and seven inches man who wasn’t roses himself due to the weather. He hadn’t paid attention to the conversation that took place between him and the slave, so he’d no reason to know what brought this stumble about.

Almost beyond his control, he’d looked up to the face of a man who might burn him with a torch. Some unconscious part of him prayed that whatever part of his face showed fear would register to the source of that fear as simply ‘a common occurrence’. Slim chance no doubt, but a chance was a chance.

“We know each other….. Mate?”

It was a simple question, innocent in the sense that there was familiarity involved….. but reason for the familiarity was not so. For now, for that instant, Reison was a vague form memory from when and where was not clear. In short, he was a blank space on the form found at the Magistrate’s office.

Reisen wasn’t much of a liar, but he did saw the opportunity to say a sort of truth. As part of the stables Reison worked around peoples horses, people who would often walk in to talk about the horses health, cost of care and generally taking said horses out for a ride. He was in effect ‘one of those faces’.

So here he had an answer and a question to ask. He was still tense, still nervous however and he could only hope that the man would assume it was his purely appearance that elicited that sense of fear.

Hesitantly, Reisen shrugged and tilted his head slightly “Maybe, you got a horse at the stables? Chances are I’m the one taking care of it if you do.”

[Konrad Venger]

Given his nature, his profession and several decades living in Sunberth, Konrad was given to assuming that deceit was the default answer to any meaningful question he asked. People simply had more to gain from lying to him than telling the truth. Namely, keeping their lives and avoiding his ire.

But the man in front of him was already robbed of words, wide-eyed and fearful, yet Konrad wasn't on the job. He wasn't a target. So why the fear? Why the hesitation? Of course, there was another age-old reason for that, too.

Your face. Typical reaction.

"Don't think I remember yah," Konrad said slowly, words edging out as he worked them past the sieve of his memory, trying to match the face, the voice, even the fresh wounds. "Looks nasty, that. What happened?"

The gnawing little itch in his mind wouldn't go away. Something without form and proper memory was screaming at him, telling him there was more to this man than just a bump in a store and the standard loss of words at seeing his face.

His face. Those dressings. Like he got cut up...

"Wadaya favor, anyway?" His demeanor shifted too fast to be believable, but Konrad was new at the subtle ways of coaxing information from folk. As the attentive slave and Three Eyes alternated between watching and discussing various items on the shelves, Konrad nodded to the nearest row of swords. "Don't see any steel on yer belt. Lookin' to get something new?"

Cutlass.

The word whispered from where that itch was still tickling at his memory. He'd seen a man wielding a cutlass, and recently. Not with much skill, but with the desperation of a man fighting for his life against those equally as wild, in the mud of the swamp, with a man half-roasted and fully-dead hanging in the background.

Konrad swept off his hat and studied the brim... then his sharp green eyes zipped up and pinned Reisen where he stood. A half-smile tugged at the scarred side of his face, so battered and riven that it was hardly recognizable as a smile at all.

"Y'sure we ain't met? Got the strangest feelin'..."

[Reisen Widerspruch]

Great, he was questioning. It wasn’t surprising but it was hardly comforting and quite frankly he felt like any answer he gave would only cast more suspicion or be a plain admission of sorts. Gah…. Why couldn’t this man forget about him and move on? It’s like the Gods were using him like a puppet for a play and he’d no choice but go by the script they’ve written.

And now he asked about his wounds “ If it ain’t clear, I got into a fight. Simple as that” He answered in a tone that wasn’t quite disrespectful but had the hint of refusal to clarify. Thankfully, despite how brief it was the truth though perhaps supported whatever theories the tall crackpot had within his head.

At the question of what he favored he sighed and just shook his head “ At the moment? Jus’ browsing. Was here on a chore for the stables and the slave over there cajoled me into taking a gander” Another truth, simple as that and hardly anything to be suspicious about “Colin Askara needs the help of the Radacke to fit some shoes on the horses down at the stables” He hoped that assuaged him from further questions.

By now whatever fear he had was replaced by a sense of annoyance in no small part to the heat within the forge. Was he still wary? By his hairy shyke hole YES! But now he simply wished to go back to work and standing around to answer the man who may or may not kill him despite the score being ‘settled’ between them.

It was obvious to a dunderhead like Reis that….. Kon, was it? Was trying to cajole him into spilling the beans as it were. While he did have something to hide, as long as he could speak some variant of the truth Reis was not worried even if the justified suspicion still lingered.

Then came the repeat of if he was sure that they didn’t know each other. Reis simply shrugged and rolled his eyes “I ain’t denying the possibility that we do know each other. Jus’ saying I don’t care to recall ‘less you got a question about horses”

Then, somewhere stupid in his mind his eyes, both annoyed and afraid, looked back at Kon’s “ Now it’s your choice to pardon my rudeness, friend. But as it stands you’re wasting my time and yours an’ despite my wounds I ain’t wanting to risk my boss’ wrath even if he’s the soft sort”

His body shifted anxiously and the heat of the building wasn’t doing him any good. He’d rather not go back to the healer anytime soon on account of something nerve-wracking as this. The Kon man was as sharp as he was scary apparently and Reis had little doubt that if Reis were to linger a little longer than he’d be stuck having a ‘discussion’ with that tall man…. Oh and his portly companion but he was sure he’d be too waylaid by Tayil. ‘A fool and his money will soon be apart’ so the saying went…
Now he just hoped that fool will be taking his friend with him…

[Konrad Venger]

It was brave, and Konrad respected courage, but it was also totally the wrong tack to take with a man who did not like to be denied. Konrad had few hard and fast rules in his life. Adaptability was what kept him alive, the ability to roll with changes, evolve his skills and his loyalties, staying one step away from the latest wave of destruction that Tanroa would send crashing over the landscape. But ever since he'd been begging and brawling as a juvie in the gutter of Sunberth, he'd had the rule.

When someone pushes, you push back. Harder. Not just until they don't; until they can't.

Just as Reisen finished his round of answers - which didn't actually answer anything, Konrad noted to himself - and got ready to move past him, Konrad's arm shot out and-

-pressed against his shoulder, bandages and dressing underneath it. If the man was able to hide his discomfort at the sudden pressure, Konrad would press on regardless. He towered over the man by nearly a foot, glaring down at him with his other hand delving into his pocket... and he knew Reisen's imagination would do wonders to answer what it was doing back there.

"Grasping a pair of brass knuckles" would probably not cross his mind, but something involving weaponry was bound to.

"You ain't seen rude, boy," he snarled, scarred lips pulling back from yellow and black teeth. "But yer about to, if'n youse don't gimme some straight answers an' put a lid on yer petchin' mouth."

He squeezed that shoulder. Enough pressure to let the man know there was power in that tall, rangy body. Speed, he'd seen. Now he showed the boy muscle... and decided to play his bluff. Behind him, Three Eyes was gruffly warning off the querying slave girl from the scene; the words "just a chat" and "don't worry, no mess in 'ere" wafted over the two of them and Konrad's green eyes bored into Reisen.

"Twas you, wunnit?" He hissed, voice matching his Dhani-parched skin. "Inna' swamp. With those petchin' Rooj-" His hand snapped up from shoulder to the side of Reisen's head, grabbing a bare scrap of hair and jerking his head up to see his dressed wound more clearly. "-who gave ya this, aye?"

Konrad's body tensed and his fingers slid into the metal holes of the brass knuckles in his pocket. He'd see... well, he'd seen someone a few nights ago with a boxer's build and timing and training, cracking ribs with his fists as well as swinging steel. That man could move, and he didn't want to be taken unawares, but...

Yes. But. You could be petching wrong.

Konrad waited for his answer, and if nothing else, he had something to work with. An employer. Colin Askara. Different Dynasty but one that got on relatively well with their neighbors, the Radacke. All it would take would be a quick trip and a few questions to get all the answers he'd need... maybe.

Either way, he had this to resolve, first, and waited for the anxious man with the sweating, bandaged face to answer him in the swelter of the smithy.

[Reisen Widerspruch]

Reisen hissed and yelped ‘The petching bastard…. Dirty as his mug suggests’ The man held him in place by his petching wounded shoulder! Reisen hated pain, he hated needles, he hated popping pimples, he hated getting pinched and he hated getting noogied. Pain to him was an annoyance, it pressed a button in his mind that made him want to be annoying. Thing about is the man wanted knowledge about a night the man told to explicitly forget ever seeing and that they were square.

Now that same man is pressing him for information about that Gods’ forsaken night. Kon promised him more petching pain. It was obvious that his damned stupid attempt at giving true answers that didn’t really answer fell to bits and here he was stuck with another interrogation except this time it involved force “Jeez, I don’t know mate, it isn’t like we’re squared on accounts and as if I were told to keep my mouth shut ” It lacked subtlety, but he hoped he got the point across.

He was keeping his damned petching word, keeping his end of an untold bargain that guaranteed his life “But to answer your question, yeah. I got a nasty run in with Rujaro whilst minding me own business a few nights ago. I don’t know what it has to do with you” A damn obvious lie and petulant at that “I sure as shyke don’t recall you or that intelligent looking associate over there. Though, and I am sure this will feel like a compliment to you, if I had I wouldn’t be wishing to remember you even then. Bad for me health just like this wound your agitating” Yes, he was petulant when he was annoyed, pain did that to him quite well. But he hoped in his lackluster subtle method that the man got what he wanted.

It didn’t stop Reis from keeping his gaze however, and despite his outburst he wasn’t stupid to do anything in the business of one of the Families whilst he was outnumbered by Stick and Fatso. “Now are we done? Cause if I had a damn copper for every Berther back there who petching held me up then believe you me I’d be owning a damn plantation here.” There was desperation in that tone of voice, he wanted to leave, he was tired of this situation and he had a freaking salary to earn. Mostly it was to get away from this man who seemed so intent on sating a damn curiosity best left unsated.

He hated the heat, he hated the two petchers helding him up, hated his wounds and by all the Gods and their shyke holes did he hate pain!

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad's mask of intimidation crumbled a little as the murky meaning of the man's first reply finally gave that itch a name. His own words came back to him, spoken curtly, quickly, right before he'd left him there, surrounded by bodies and mud.

Sly little bastard, Konrad thought, and couldn't keep the comical surprise off a face very much alien to the ideas of comedy.

Then Reisen had to go and ruin it. Every word he spoke just pushed buttons and wiped away the smidgen of admiration that he had going for him when it came to talking down Konrad. Even Three Eyes jerked his head around, brow furrowing like the prehuman-looking animal he often was at that scandalous comment about his supposed intelligence. Konrad's face hardened again. Brick by brick, the wall went back up-

Shouldn't have mentioned the wound, kid.

"A plantation, huh?" His voice was light. Amused. Dangerously transparent. He smiled. "Wouldn't be too ambitious there, mate-"

Konrad squeezed. Hard enough to press his fingers into the healing wound. Hard enough to grind dressing and blood and bone together between fingers made hard through years of vicious, bloody labor. Hard enough to drive Reisen to his knees, or failing that, just back against the counter.

Whatever he hit, his knees on the ground or his back to the counter, Konrad's other hand would be out of his pocket when he did. Metal knuckles wrapped around his fist pressed against his cheek.

His wounded cheek. Pushing. Just enough...

"Yer a smart lad," Konrad would mutter, voice so low and gravelly that it would be nothing but ominous noise to anyone but Reisen. "Like y'were in the swamp. But y'need to learn to pick yer fights... an' don't get lippy with men y'know aren't... inclined t'satire."

Konrad made a note to find out what "satire" meant. He'd heard Janus use it a few times. Some kind of joke? Either way, he'd back up and let go of the man, dropping his knuckles back into his pocket and taking a quick inventory.

He'd been stupid, he decided. He had the man's face, and where he worked. He could have blown it all off with a "sorry, my mistake", trotted over to the stables and just asked his questions there, with a Dynast unlikely to protect an employee. Instead he'd let his instincts get the better of him: the call to challenge that he couldn't help but answer, because it kept him alive for so long.

It's different here, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, lips pursing slightly as he watched Reisen recover himself. Gotta take a broader view of things.

"Youse gonna be at the stables today?" Another question from out of nowhere, pinning Reisen in place when he just wanted to leave. "My horse needs some work done. Be happy t'pay you for the time, not just yer master." Konrad looked the slave up and down and ran a finger down his face where Reisen's scars were, voice low again. "Yeh earned it, true enough..."

[Reisen Widerspruch]

Reisen hissed in pain as he pushed to his knees, his own berserk button pushed even further. If Reis were the petty sort to keep a list of grudges then the petcher before him would rank from the first spot to the fifth and he’d rationalize that he’d find a way to get back at him five times over.

Granted, Reis was an idiot when his own buttons were pressed and laid things on too thick… insulting him and his mate probably didn’t help. He hissed even more when that bastard pressed against his cheek wound with that damned knuckleduster in his hand!

A random thought entered his mind thinking he should invest in one but that was not the nor place for such thoughts! Well it was the place… just not the right situation.

‘Satire, big word for a big man’ He thought to himself, keeping one insult to himself this time instead of blabbing it for all pleasant here.

When the tall shykehead let up finally, Reis brought himself up clumsily and held his shoulder. Unable to keep the look of scorn from his face. He was just tempted to up and run when the man had to pin him down with another damnable question. Reis, realizing there was a fair chance that they’d show up at any time they well damn pleased and he didn’t really afford the luxury of avoiding work, grudgingly nodded.

“Ay, I plan on heading back” He didn’t know where this was going, but odds were that it was nowhere good. Then he had to drop the words that he’d want work done on his word ‘What, like giving it a bath it probably desperately so needed?’ another comment he kept to himself…. Though odds were it was probably the truth. Reis looked the man over and reminded himself the man was a walking stink hazard…. If he cares for his hygiene this little than his horse probably wasn’t being well caredfor either. It was a travesty! A horse needs a good bathing once every day as well as brushing! Prasites and ticks may as well be infesting the poor thing.

Then the man had to run a finger against his check wound again. And who was talking about ‘master’? Sure Collin was the stable master but he was his boss! Wait…did this petcher think he was a slave?! Was it because of the cheek wound?
“Oy…. “ Stopping himself, he decided to enlighten him later and just rolled his eyes “ Just… fine “ He sighed “ Bring the horse then, if it needs some care then I’d be damned remiss to not care for it, just don’t try anything funny at the bloody stable. Colin Askara cares pretty damn well about his horses and the horses under his care, so he won’t take kindly to anyone who spooks them” And the general rule of thumb for Freeborns in Kenash is don’t get on a dynast’s bad side unless you’re high enough on the food chain to get away with it.

“Now, can I go… please?” He let out the please with an annoyed tone. It didn’t matter what he said now, that please was an admission of defeat of sorts and the man his place of work. He could just well ask Colin where Reisen lived and really even that didn’t matter much. Short of ditching Kenash which he couldn’t afford to do, he was stuck with the bastard who was too close to comfort.

[Konrad Venger]

Well, proof that the boy can be reasonable, at least.

Konrad couldn't read minds, and he needed to work on studious observation, but he remembered well enough. He recalled the way Reisen's face screwed up and his tongue flapped in his mind, his mouth, but not with his lips parting. Some insult or another was already frothing in his throat but he'd already gotten a taste of the pain Konrad could inflict without really trying. Gods alone knew what he was capable of when he was.

But he was learning, confirming Konrad's earlier opinion. The boy was smart, and recognized a futile battle when he was on the cusp of it. Konrad squared his hat on his head and touched the brim with a smile.

"We'll be over in a bell or two. Have a fine day, m'friend... ma'am."

The last word was directed at the bowing, platitude-spouting slave as Konrad and Three Eyes walked out of the store. He paused in the doorway and pointed back at the rack of crossbows.

"An' I'll be back fer that some time, too."

Then they were gone.

++++++++++

"Gods above, what the petch're you feedin' him?"

"Just oats an' hay, same as yours."

"Not bloody likely..."

Konrad resolved never to get downwind of the plague-spewing factory on hooves that Three Eyes possessed again. Still coughing and wondering if it would somehow seep into his clothes and stink them up forever, he dug his heels into the flanks of Horse, coming up in front of him instead.

"Easy... easy..."

A little pull on the reins and the burst of speed vanished, replaced by a slow, leisurely clip-cop across the cobbles of Kenash. Konrad didn't mind admitting that he liked the feeling, trotting gently along, swaying side to side, looking down on people... especially that last part. He was still learning how to ride, taking it step by step and not even bothering smacking Horse into a full gallop yet. Just getting him to stop and turn when he wanted to was challenge enough.

That and I don't think my arse could handle the damn pressure.

"Looks like the place."

Konrad didn't know why Three Eyes felt the need to state the petching obvious so often. He knew it was the place: he woke up to the sight of out outside his bloody window every day for thirty days, of course he knew it was the place! But verbally slapping his partner around was not the point of the day, so he settled for patting his horse and shaking his head.

"Least youse just do yer job, aye?" He murmured into one ear, constantly swiveling and battering away errant flies. "No chat, no bollocks..."

The Livery spread across the opposite side of the road, rolling and ornate in the same way the Complex was squat and functional. Already Konrad could smell the overpowering stunk of horse flesh and manure, the braying, neighing, shuffling and hoof-falls of scores of animals in their pens or ambling around the corrals. It was later in the day but the place was still busy, travelers and caravaneers of all kinds clamoring to get the attention of the staff.

Konrad and Three Eyes sidled their mounts to a quiet wall and just let themselves be seen. A few of the crowd saw them there and their eyes widened when they took in the black hat, the hideous scars, the bulbous nose with a painted eye that gave Three Eyes his name. Konrad felt a satisfied smile tug at the good side of his mouth.

Ah, word spreads. And it does half the job for you.

They waited for Reisen to make his appearance.