"...got four of those Allagan silvers, should fetch you a pretty gil or two in the market. If you want I can go get them sold for you when we're done here. Brought back some Coeurl skins too -- real high quality stuff. Got all your other things sold, gil's in the bag. Big haul today, boss!"
Bruuder, recently appointed as a retainer, had always been  the last-moment sort. The tall, dark haired highlander stood before Berrod with the bar counter between them. The hour was late, and he had managed to be let in just before the Astral Headquarters closed up for the night. Drystfarr had retired a bell ago, and Berrod had been quite ready to do the same.Â
Bruuder's report had finished; the spoils of his venture were all laid out along the bar counter for Berrod's perusal. Still, he lingered with that quiet, expectant awkwardness associated with the desire for payment. Berrod had the special coins in hand ready to hand over, but he hesitated and gave the other man a harsh glare.Â
"Did ya  double cross us back at Hullbreaker?"
The question was sudden, and blurted in a tone that betrayed hours of brooding on the possibility. While usually indignant about his own affairs, Bruuder's apparent guilt about being conveniently late that day forced him into a defensive stutter. "Wait -- what?"Â
A few days ago he had been hired to take a group of three of Berrod's Colleagues to Hullbreaker Isle on a simple treasure hunting mission. Nothing too grand or world-breaking, they just needed a guide to help them find things that other adventurers had not. Bruuder, having been there a few times before, had been a perfect candidate to see them there and back. He had been instructed to meet them at the ferry.Â
Someone had met them there. Someone who looked and sounded exactly like Bruuder, forced Ul'Dahn accent and all. That Someone claimed the retainer's identity as his own and took the group to the isle, where he abandoned them to what would have been a grisly, muddy demise. Fortunately the trio beat the odds and survived the ordeal -- and found out that their real guide had 'overslept'. Berrod immediately had them retrieved from the isle and held a close, tense meeting with everyone involved -- including Bruuder, who had been spoken to separately from the others.
The Retainer's story set the stage for a neat little conspiracy. He'd been approached by a lovely lady the evening before and took her into his company for the evening. They indulged as adults did, and as a result he slept throughout the day and missed his appointment. When Bruuder spoke Berrod had been convinced enough that the poor man had been used in their enemy's ploy, but after speaking with Athe...he wasn't so sure.Â
Athe had brought up a worrying possibility. What if Bruuder was lying? No one knew who the doppleganger was, or if he'd shown up again, but what better way to get a mole into the company than to present a victim? The Highlander had been Berrod's friend for a while -- they'd occupied the same territory back in the days of the Lane. The moment Berrod got a break, he had tried to offer one to Bruuder as well. Would he really double cross him and his colleagues? The uncertainty was maddening, and Berrod refused to let it linger any longer.Â
"You know I wouldn't stab you in the back like that, you dumb arse -- you pulled me off the streets! You really think I'm that much of a buggerin' whoreson?" Ah, there was the anger. Bruuder was incensed, and in his usual fashion, already primed for things to come to blows.Â
Berrod was not always the sort to respond with reason, though he had his moments. "Yeah, that's what I know, which is why I think it's easy ta use against me. If you say you ain't though, I'm gonna hold ya to it. Here, I'll pay ya fer a couple days well. Take a few off, yeah?" He dropped the venture coins into a little pouch and tossed it across.
Bruuder caught it, but he wasn't wearing the placated look that usually came on the heels  compensation. The Highlander was livid, red-faced and glaring. With a quick swipe of his arm he tossed the pouch right back into Berrod's face. The impact would have been rather comical had it not been for the circumstances. "Keep your shite-stained pay, you bastard. I rather go back on the  streets then have you lookin' at me like I'm some kinda turncoat. Thanks for the break." As soon as he was done speaking he turned to the door.
"Bruuder, it ain't --"
"Cram it up your arse, Armstrong," Bruuder spat, "Word on the street is that's your specialty."
The insult stung, and came very close to inciting a loss of temper. Employing his usual tactic of silence, Berrod managed to weather the sudden tempest of rage that tore at his insides. He was suddenly aware of the door slamming; Bruuder was gone. Perhaps for good.
...or perhaps it was an act.Â
Either way, uncertainty remained.
Bruuder, recently appointed as a retainer, had always been  the last-moment sort. The tall, dark haired highlander stood before Berrod with the bar counter between them. The hour was late, and he had managed to be let in just before the Astral Headquarters closed up for the night. Drystfarr had retired a bell ago, and Berrod had been quite ready to do the same.Â
Bruuder's report had finished; the spoils of his venture were all laid out along the bar counter for Berrod's perusal. Still, he lingered with that quiet, expectant awkwardness associated with the desire for payment. Berrod had the special coins in hand ready to hand over, but he hesitated and gave the other man a harsh glare.Â
"Did ya  double cross us back at Hullbreaker?"
The question was sudden, and blurted in a tone that betrayed hours of brooding on the possibility. While usually indignant about his own affairs, Bruuder's apparent guilt about being conveniently late that day forced him into a defensive stutter. "Wait -- what?"Â
A few days ago he had been hired to take a group of three of Berrod's Colleagues to Hullbreaker Isle on a simple treasure hunting mission. Nothing too grand or world-breaking, they just needed a guide to help them find things that other adventurers had not. Bruuder, having been there a few times before, had been a perfect candidate to see them there and back. He had been instructed to meet them at the ferry.Â
Someone had met them there. Someone who looked and sounded exactly like Bruuder, forced Ul'Dahn accent and all. That Someone claimed the retainer's identity as his own and took the group to the isle, where he abandoned them to what would have been a grisly, muddy demise. Fortunately the trio beat the odds and survived the ordeal -- and found out that their real guide had 'overslept'. Berrod immediately had them retrieved from the isle and held a close, tense meeting with everyone involved -- including Bruuder, who had been spoken to separately from the others.
The Retainer's story set the stage for a neat little conspiracy. He'd been approached by a lovely lady the evening before and took her into his company for the evening. They indulged as adults did, and as a result he slept throughout the day and missed his appointment. When Bruuder spoke Berrod had been convinced enough that the poor man had been used in their enemy's ploy, but after speaking with Athe...he wasn't so sure.Â
Athe had brought up a worrying possibility. What if Bruuder was lying? No one knew who the doppleganger was, or if he'd shown up again, but what better way to get a mole into the company than to present a victim? The Highlander had been Berrod's friend for a while -- they'd occupied the same territory back in the days of the Lane. The moment Berrod got a break, he had tried to offer one to Bruuder as well. Would he really double cross him and his colleagues? The uncertainty was maddening, and Berrod refused to let it linger any longer.Â
"You know I wouldn't stab you in the back like that, you dumb arse -- you pulled me off the streets! You really think I'm that much of a buggerin' whoreson?" Ah, there was the anger. Bruuder was incensed, and in his usual fashion, already primed for things to come to blows.Â
Berrod was not always the sort to respond with reason, though he had his moments. "Yeah, that's what I know, which is why I think it's easy ta use against me. If you say you ain't though, I'm gonna hold ya to it. Here, I'll pay ya fer a couple days well. Take a few off, yeah?" He dropped the venture coins into a little pouch and tossed it across.
Bruuder caught it, but he wasn't wearing the placated look that usually came on the heels  compensation. The Highlander was livid, red-faced and glaring. With a quick swipe of his arm he tossed the pouch right back into Berrod's face. The impact would have been rather comical had it not been for the circumstances. "Keep your shite-stained pay, you bastard. I rather go back on the  streets then have you lookin' at me like I'm some kinda turncoat. Thanks for the break." As soon as he was done speaking he turned to the door.
"Bruuder, it ain't --"
"Cram it up your arse, Armstrong," Bruuder spat, "Word on the street is that's your specialty."
The insult stung, and came very close to inciting a loss of temper. Employing his usual tactic of silence, Berrod managed to weather the sudden tempest of rage that tore at his insides. He was suddenly aware of the door slamming; Bruuder was gone. Perhaps for good.
...or perhaps it was an act.Â
Either way, uncertainty remained.
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
