1??????????Soul Bound
1.2????????Taking Control
1.2.4??????An Artful Carnivale
1.2.4.3????Forging bargains
5:30 am, Thursday June 8th, 2045
4 bells of the forenoon watch
Lunday full, 8th day of the month of KrevinBelember, A2F1600
When Kafana did eventually flip in, the party had already reached the junction where the now-paved Mud Road joined Wall Street. She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. In the wake of the rains, Wall Street was relatively clean of droppings, and as they made their way north east along it she could hear the sea birds ahead.
Kafana: “Good morning guys. Is this the Arsenal District? It doesn’t look much different to the edges of the market area, where I got my violin.”
Bulgaria: “We’re starting off gently. Most businesses on the east side of this road pay taxes to Lord Ruffo in return for his protection, but some still look to Lord Landi of Mercato. You’ll get a better view of how the Arsenal is laid out once we reach the canals.”
Tomsk and Bungo were dressed in the fighting gear they’d obtained from the Sanctum, while Wellington was in his merchant’s clothes and she was in the bardic costume that Alderney had made for her. Vessel-Alderney herself was dressed as a cheeky-faced urchin with a cap covering her hair, and Bulgaria was wearing rough canvas clothes, suitable for a dock labourer.
Kafana: “Bulgaria, I take it you’re leading this newcomer’s walking guide to the fair district of Arsenal? What’s our first stop?”
Bulgaria: “We have a quest to defend House Czerny’s reputation from the rumour that their auctions are rigged. We identified several items as having falsified provenances, all certified by a man named Ciotto, who runs a pawn shop near here.”
Ciotto? Not a name she’d come across before. Touching the tattoo of a person icon on her left hand with her middle finger, she brought up the game interface and navigated through to the page listing active quests and the ones Wellington had highlighted for today:
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Name???: A Sailors’ Revenge
Type???: Normal
Level??: D
Origin : Etruscan City States / Torello / Libri / Captain Nafaro
Details:
Captain Cuniberti of the Valorosa has been assassinated.
Help his crew find the assassin, so they can rain justice
down upon the perpetrator at the point of a bloody cutlass.
Name???: Market Mayhem
Type???: Chain
Level??: E
Origin : Etruscan City States / Torello / Necropolis / Ruffiana
Details:
Someone has paid for the assassination of several people connected
with shipping, and it is having a big impact upon the financial
markets of Torello. Discovering who benefitted the most from
the deaths of those particular people.
Stakes : Become a personal enemy of Gideon, the Skeleton King
Name???: Tremors in the market
Type???: Normal
Level??: D
Origin : Etruscan City States / Torello / Mercato / Pantalone
Details:
Someone has been intercepting couriers carrying market information
from incoming ships to Torello''s exchanges, and Pantalone (head of
the Bancario) is worried that if some investors having foreknowledge
it is going to upset the status quo. Help bring stability back to
Torello''s financial system.
Progress:
You discovered The Brute Squad intercepting a courier, but you don''t
yet know who hired them to do it.
Name???: Defend our Reputation
Type???: Normal
Level??: E
Origin : Etruscan City States / Torello / Mercato / Mikalos Czerny
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Details:
Rumour has it that the auctions run by House Czerny are rigged.
Investigate what’s behind the rumour, and provide evidence of your findings.
Progress:
You have discovered that items with falsified provenances were being
auctioned by the firm "Ciotto & Sons"
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Wellington had explained that a difficulty “E” quest would normally take about three hours in game for a level 30 player to complete, while difficulty “D” was closer to six hours work for a level 40 player (about the time an average solo player would need in order to grind through a hundred or more on-level mobs). Could they really get through 4 such quests in just 12 hours playing time?
It seemed unlikely, unless the quests all related somehow. She decided to focus on enjoying the new area, and not worrying about how fast they made progress. If they completed anything, then great; if they didn’t but had fun, that was fine too. They could always come back another day, or finish things off while not being broadcast together.
Tomsk looked dubious. “Do we arrest Ciotto? Normally the Watch would let the local count’s guard or the relevant guild sort out that sort of thing.”
Bulgaria: “We could try threatening him with the prospect, I suppose. But what we’re really interested in is finding out who’s behind it all. Is it bandits, pirates, cultists, or someone else? Were the rumours started deliberately, or were they accidental leaks?”
Kafana: “Wouldn’t it be whoever put the items up for sale? Were they all owned by the same person?”
Wellington: “We don’t know. The paperwork filed with the auctioneers claimed Ciotto had been appointed as an agent, which isn’t that unusual. Noble houses running short of funds, for example, are not keen on letting other people know. I checked with the Antiquarians Guild, who also cover things like assessing gemstones and artifacts. Ciotto wasn’t tested here in Torello - he had a letter, supposedly from the guild in Sassari, certifying his status.”
Bungo: {I’ve been practising talking with sylphs. They might be able to follow him and listen in, but do we want to reveal that capability?}
Bulgaria looked smug and amused. “Alderney and I have a strong suspicion. Let’s rattle his cage a bit, then depart and see what happens. But before we do, there’s someone quite interesting whose shop we’re just passing.”
The buildings by the road here were similar to the gated courtyards of the Boemo, except they went up 6 or 7 stories rather than the 3 to 4 they’d seen in Basso, and the archway was large enough to accept carts piled high with produce. Above the archway of this particular building were large brass letters spelling out “The Forge”. The gates were wide open in welcome and she could hear hammering coming from inside.
A tall man, dressed in clothing fine enough for the most fashionable of nobles, with red-and-black diagonal stripes meeting in ‘V’ shapes going down the centre of his body, like landing stripes directing the gaze towards the crotch. Slung around the waist was an ornate sword hanger, designed to avoid the tip of the scabbard banging against the ground; obviously a serious problem for this gentleman, as the sword he was posing with seemed nearly as tall as he was. The man was speaking to an adventurer sitting upon a barrel, who looked up at the man with an awed gaze.
Scaramouche: “This sword, passed down to me by my ancestor Baron Hieronymus, is named Storditore. Never once has it needed repair, so well was it made. The secret of this craftsmanship was passed down from father to son along with the sword itself, and it is this that I will pass onto you if you choose to apprentice yourself to me for the pitifully inadequate sum of 2 zecchi and 36 florins.”
With each sentence he changed his stance, like some slow motion Vogue, into a pose designed to show himself off as much as it showed off the sword. A gleaming smile, that was framed by a Van Dyke beard and moustache under a long pointed beak of a nasal protuberance, never left his face, even as he caught the sword’s basket hilt in the red and black feathers attached to the hat that Kafana now recognised as being in the new Burgundish style. Either Signora has already started spreading the word, or Scaramouche had a very good information network.
The adventurer, a stocky Nordic-looking warrior with massive muscles, frantically searched through his pouch, even counting his silver ducato and bronze osella.
Oswaldson: “That’s all I have!”
Scaramouche: “Marvellous, it must be fate. Let us strike the bargain now, lest we anger the deities. I’ll even throw in certification for free!”
Alderney: {Thanks for the coffee. What have I missed?}
Tomsk: {Scaramouche has been showing off an ancient ancestral sword that’s never needed repair to a prospective apprentice.}
Alderney: {What do you mean “ancestral”? That’s a schiavona, it can’t be more than 2 years old at most - I discussed them with Rudolfo only yesterday.}
But it was too late. Oswaldson had handed over the pouch and been set by the genial smith to carrying bar stock from the newly delivered barrel over to the apprentice room.
Scaramouche smiled fondly. “Potential smiths. There’s one born every minute.”
Bulgaria raised an eyebrow, stepping forwards to engage in conversation: “Potential?”
Scaramouche sheathed his sword with some difficulty, and said in a grand voice: “We live in a world of potential.” Then, more modestly, he added: “It is not for me to pre-judge who will or won’t achieve their dreams. I offer them the means: a forge and tools. But in the end, every man must take responsibility for their own progress. I can not and will not impose upon others my own vision of how to be a smith. Supposing by doing so I prevented a genius from discovering their own unique path?”
Bulgaria slapped Scaramouche on the back, and tipped him a very obvious wink. “A man after my own heart. I believe I can guess your secret, how to ensure that your sword never needs to be repaired…”
They completed the sentence together: “... don’t get into fights.”
Scaramouche: “A most prudent position, and the piece of advice from my father that I have tried to live my life by.” With a sly wink to Bulgaria he turned to face the other new arrivals and executed a courtly bow, avoiding being hit in the head by his own sword only by some extreme contortions.
Scaramouche: “Now what can I do for you gentlemen? And ladies!”
Bulgaria: “Madame Kafana has a very heavy purse, though Signora has lightened it somewhat. I volunteered to be her local guide, and show her around a few ‘suitable’ shops, if you know what I mean. We’re on our way to look for antiques, but I thought I’d drop by on the way to make your acquaintance and, who knows, perhaps we’ll have time to do some shopping here on the return leg?”
Bungo: {Did you just sell us all downriver?}
Bulgaria: {With a bit of luck, that’s what he’ll believe. Go wander around and leave me to be tricked by him for a few minutes, please.}
Kafana hid a smile. Bulgaria must be using his Mask of Generic Disguise, because he currently appeared to be Beppe, an apprentice stevedore, with broad shoulders and a crafty looking face. She drew Tomsk over to the cloister surrounding the courtyard, where weapons were displayed in the window. They were polished to perfection and displayed against velvet backdrops designed to bring out the colours in their gem-encrusted hilts and guards.
Tomsk: “I don’t like the look of these ones. Tourist trash. The balance looks poor, the wrap’s been chosen for looks rather than how well you can grip it, and the fuller is too deep. It would shatter just when you need it the most.”
Kafana: “Maybe it’s apprentice work?”
Bungo joined them and checked the price card under one of the showier swords.
Bungo: “It’s listed as master-level, and says the gem is ruby. It isn’t. I had Harlequin show me his collection. That’s a spinel. He’s asking 50 florins for it.”
Wellington: “That wouldn’t be a bad price for a set-quality magic sword enchanted by a master mage-smith. But as far as my mage sight shows, that’s entirely unenchanted. Alderney’s waiting outside the gate.”
Bungo: “She’s so hopping mad you could boil a tea kettle on her head. She’s run out of swear words to describe his craftsmanship and is starting to repeat herself.”
Kafana: “So he’s an inept fighter, a terrible smith and a worse actor. I wonder what Signora saw in such a small-time grifter?”
Bulgaria appeared, with a grovelling posture, and led them out before replying.
Bulgaria: “On the contrary. He proudly boasted that not only is he a deadly duelist, he is also Torello’s finest trickster, and that I could learn a thing or two if I studied with him. It took some spirited bargaining, but he’s agreed to pay me a 13 gold florin kickback for every platinum zecchi the party spends in his shop.”
Alderney scoffed: “Only 13? You must be slipping. You should have aimed for 75 and held out for 50.”
Bulgaria: “Why yes, only 13. I’ve left him thinking that I’m a fool, and that he’s thoroughly conned me. I’d have let him beat me down as far as 10 if I could have, but I thought that might not be plausible, even for a greedy stevedore whose only victims have been rich passengers on a carrack. Now he thinks he has my measure he’ll be over confident, and it will be easier to trick him.”
Kafana: “Do we want to trick him?”
Bulgaria: “Perhaps."
His voice was mild and the way he held himself was nearly the same as before but, though she couldn''t describe the reason in words, she felt sure there was a new energy and alertness in Bulgaria. Had he seen something that she''d missed? She knew better than to ask. Oh, he''d probably answer if she did, but he really did enjoy having secrets and usually it was better to let him take his time. For now, she''d trust him. It wasn''t certain her trust would be repaid. But then again, a situation entirely full of certainty has no gaps left to be filled in with trust.