Timestamp: 35th of Spring, 522 A.V.
Stumble Alley
As the twisted trail through the entrails of Sunberth, Stumble Alley often leads past caches of information and resources that are far more than what they seem. Some people thrive in this rat maze environment while others simply vanish. Many of those lose their lives or sanity in the bowels of the City of Misery while others are simply snatched away from their everyday miserable lives to work aboard ships or in positions of slavery elsewhere. It is a place of cast-offs, where no one cares who is who or what anyone else is doing. The only concern is who has the most and who can take from whomever has the most.
This environment takes adaptation to thrive within, and even those able to adapt only do so because there is something fundamentally wrong with them. Their souls are shattered or their minds are broken. It takes more than a wasted body or a life lost to the pursuits of drugs or flesh. The denizens of Stumble Alley all appear human, but are the furthest from it and would not hold onto their human guises under any sort of close scrutiny. They were birthed human, from mothers full of hope or desperation for their offspring, but the environment they dwell in robs them of anything remotely civilized and cultured. Then it takes pieces from them, one after another, after another, until they feel they are standing in ruins and only too late realize those ruins are the remains of the foundations of who they wanted to be.
Left standing was the reality of what Sunberth had deemed too unfit to confiscate. Ruined minds. Ruined hearts. Ruined ambitions.
Nothing epitomizes this more than The Majestic. This small shop is tucked into the deep twisting shadows of Stumble Alley and almost always gets overlooked. It probably gets visitors once or twice a tenday, perhaps maybe a dozen for the whole season. They buy books, potions, pills, and even drugs. They knock, walk into a barren room, and wait for a voice from behind a bookshelf to answer. Business is conducted. And then the individuals exit again. No fanfare, no fuss, no coin exchanges hands. Information, small sachets of something or another, and that is all. The voice behind the bookcase never reveals himself. There is no visible entrance to where the voice originates from either.
It was just past late morning before a visitor was found slipping through the front door and pausing to stand distastefully in the vacant room with nothing but rat shit and cobwebs for company. The slender figure stood tall, healthy, well fed, and while the quality of her cloak was dubious as were her battered boots, the way she stood tended to suggest the clothing was a lie.
“Don’t keep me waiting all day.” The words came forth, acidic and impatient. The visitor was decidedly out of patience today for her words were not her usual tone with the reclusive mage.
“I’ll keep you waiting as long as I’d like.” Said the voice behind the bookshelves. “You took your time getting here.” He added, irritation not being bothered to be covered.
“The streets are unusually … treacherous today.” She replied, the tone as if something left a bad taste in her mouth.
“You’ve noticed too.” He snorted. “What in the six regions has brought them in, en masse, I might add.” He growled.
The figure standing in the middle of the room exposed shifted slightly. Almost unconsciously, she began a careful weapons-check out of habit, touching systematic places about her body as if assuring herself that her beloved instruments were there if she needed them. “Information isn’t free.” She prompted after her mind was satisfied of her relative safety.
“You are of their kind. Stop stalling and just tell me. You know I’ll pay well.” He added.
“I don’t want coin.” She grumbled, shifting a hip so she looked relaxed. Now that she knew what Doler wanted, she was more relieved about the whole situation. Anything Doler was curious about usually boded no good for anyone, but in this case, an internal affair wouldn’t be of much interest to him.
“I want to see the payment first.” She insisted, beginning the game between them. They’d been at it for years. Doler was a dealer of all things exotic. He knew what she liked. And she was shocked when he answered her promptly.
“Top shelf… right hand side. Careful climbing up.” He cautioned with a laugh.
The woman tipped her head up, peering into the cobwebbed interior of one of the deep empty bookshelves and saw that it wasn’t empty. Frowning, but knowing he was just doing it so he could look at her ass, she walked over to the shelves and scrambled up them as if they were a stair. She swiped the small wooden chest off the back of the shelves, and was back down in the center of the room in a moment. The light was better there and she didn’t hesitate to lift the lid on the chest. Her eyes widened and she carefully shut the chest up again. It was about a foot long and about half that wide with a nice curved top and a bit of carved artistry on its sides.
“You did a good job on this one.” She admitted, tucking it under her arm.
“I know you like your secrets and things that can keep them.” Doler replied.
The woman nodded, then looked thoughtfully at the box. It was well worked, and the interior was far more than she could have hoped for. She turned to the bookshelf and looked thoughtful.
“We lost one of ours a while back. Twenty years or more. At first it was a defection. The story goes it was for love. We aren’t supposed to fall in love, you know. But it still happens. And when it does, we usually bring the object of affection into the organization for better control. But in this case, our operative disappeared before we could recruit. Later, we learned that he was taken by Arcadius because she was one of his targets. The irony? Arcadius hired us to grab her for his purposes, but our guy couldn’t do it. It wasn’t pretty after that. They were on the run for years. It takes one of us to hide from one of us. The object of his affection birthed him a whelp and that one escaped the old Benshira’s grasp. I heard Arcadius killed half his staff in his rage to the point they call that day Bloody Seventh in his operation. But regardless, Kalas’ bloodline owes us one, and now we are here to collect. His defection gives us the right to take a replacement. The kids a mage too, one with a big scrumptious aura that has half the league salivating, especially the Leeches. Rumor has him placed here in the city and we brought all our best to collect him. There’s just one problem…” She said, taking a deep breath.
The man behind the bookshelves made an appropriate noise of agreement then frustration. This particular Mortanis always did take too long to tell a good yarn.
“Arcadius got here first. And he has the equivalent of a small army with him. He’s also got strong ties to The Sun’s Birth and they are quietly scouring the city looking for the kid. They are backing the venture with a wagonload of coin. We need to take him first if we ever want our debt collected on. If Arcadius gets to him, it seems he’s destined to be Arcadisus’ new vessel. No one wants that. Death would be better.” She added, then gave him a long slow smile.
“What did you think it was?” She asked, curious.
The bookcase was silent for a time then a throat cleared as if someone had been lost in a lot of thought. “I thought it was the Second Valterrian. I’ve never seen so many Gods Forsaken Mortanis and that power-hungry Kois faction in one city at one time together. I was actually thinking it was time to clear out.” He said, snorting at any of her thoughts. “I’m glad you were among them. Straight answers from either side is hard to get. I just have one more question.” He asked, his voice not failing to hide the curiosity behind the bookcase. “Who is the target?” He said, sounding puzzled.
“It’s one of the guards at Ruby’s. Goes by the name Alric.” She said, then gestured at the wooden chest in her hands. “The information you want wasn’t worth this.” She said, hefting the little chest once more. “The chest is worth more.” She added.
“Not to me, dear… not to me. Now get out of here… before I take it back and demand a better payment.” He grumped, kicking the bookshelf from somewhere behind the wood.
She offered him a smile, a bow, and then headed out the front door in plain daylight.
When she was gone, the man behind the bookshelf muttered to himself then called out louder. “You can come out now.”
A figure stepped from the shadows, the darkness and gloom peeling off him like he had stepped from the very shadows themselves. The figure pushed back his hood revealing a sandy blond man with bright mischievous green eyes. “You did well. Our debt is canceled. Thank you.” He said to Doler, staring straight at him as if he could see right through the bookcase.
“What are you going to do now?” Doler asked of the third man, curiously. It had been a long time since he’d gotten involved with any direct city affairs. And now that he knew the Mortanis and Aradicus’ people were on a direct bullseye that was not in any way shape or form related to him, he was a whole lot more relaxed.
“I’m going to go start a brawl at Ruby’s. Then I’m going to snatch this Alric out of the fray before either party gets a hold of him for the sheer fun of it. Then I’m going to see which is the left standing at the end of their temper tantrums. And I’ll probably sell him to that one if they have anything left to buy him with after they tear each other apart. Unlike you, I value coin.” He said with a smirk and turned on his heels.
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Ruby's
Exactly one bell later, an enormous brawl got started in Ruby’s. One girl, who had repeatedly had her things vanish, found them in another girl’s vanity. The catfight that had ensued was epic. Ruby stood back, bade everyone to wait, and let the two girls fight it out. Meanwhile, their clients left waiting got steamed, over liquored, and before they knew what happened, the catfight had escalated into a huge brothel-wide brawl. When the guards were finally alerted and asked to intervene, a figure standing in the deep shadows was waiting… waiting for an opportunity to figure out which guard he wanted and then to snatch him out of the fray.
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