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[Second Thoughts - The Scales Part Two]
As Aya sat beneath the warm moon-lit sky of late winter, her mind returned again and again to the memory of one evening earlier that season. The Quick Sand had been filled with its usual weeknight atmosphere: the heady scent of tea and herbs mixed with perfume, spice, and ale to create that particular fragrance both exotic and comforting. The tones of a bard quietly performing his art lingered over the hum of numerous conversations within. Aya was about her usual evening business, moving from table to table with her bright, cheerful demeanor, and the skirt that seemed to grow shorter with every ale consumed. Her hands were ever-filled with ale, peanuts, and every assortment of libation as she move to-and-fro with her energetic, almost bouncing manner from group to group and patron to patron.Â
The tips were good, and the work fun. It had been a wonderful evening like many others - but one moment stuck in her memory, disturbing the pleasantness of it. Amongst the patrons that evening, amongst the adventurers, regulars, professionals and a handful of successful traders, was a group of black marketeers paying a routine visit to the tavern. Petty criminals at worst, and quasi-legal traders at best, they seemed to make a tidy living in contraband while staying just on the right side of the Syndicate.Â
In the past she had overheard bits and pieces of their conversation, often smattered with rumors and gossip. When they wandered in with a mood of celebration, and settled around their table, she let her paths through the tavern move near their table time-and-time again to better hear what it was they would discuss. It was one of these topics that now seemed so crucial: Dravanian artifacts moving on the black market.Â
Why had she not thought more of it at that moment? Moons ago when such prescience could have proved valuable. The very words had sent a shiver upon her spine then, and she felt another creeping along her now. Perhaps she had just hoped they were mistaken: even forgeries could go for a fair amount to unfamiliar Ul'dahns. Besides, who had ever heard of something so fantastic as Dravanian relics making the long journey to Ul'dah? Who would have bothered with such a thing - nothing to worry about, she assured herself in that manner with which unwelcome news is so often met. Why worry?
Until, of course, it becomes time to worry.Â
Kiht had laid out the efforts of so many already on the search for the Relics: Brass Blades, Sultansworn, Knights from Ishgard. None had the combination of knowledge, experience, and presence to find what they were looking for, nor had they the ability to combine their efforts. Ishgard would act without regard for others, knowing full well the very real danger and threat posed by the relics. Ishgard takes nothing Dravanian lightly, and that very intensity would be reflected in an unwillingness to cooperate or moderate. The Brass Blades would draw a line in the sand where their authority began, and violently defend it against all transgression. Ambitious and avaricious, the Blades always view Authority is a commodity: never to be relinquished without proper recompense. They would be as feckless and oblivious in the pursuit of Dravanians as they were vigorous and tested in their defense of privilege. The Sultan Sworn, Her Grace's Finest, would pursue every lead without any hope of unraveling the whole before it mattered. Such is the way of the brave, conscientious, and plodding.Â
She lay back atop the domed parapet, resting her head in folded hands as she stared up toward the sky, gazing at wisps of grey cloud faintly illuminated by pale moon-silver. Her thoughts turned the question over and over again: can I? Should I? While Verad tried to untangle the knot of competing interests, Kiht, Osric, and the Flames would look to cut through the fog and drive to the core of the problem. Was it worth taking a risk if she might aid them in their cause? It was just the sort of thing she always told herself to avoid.Â
Avoid. Avoid. A fox must never allow herself to be caught in the open.
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