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Back of the Sleeping Boar, Old Gridania:
“Uh-huh. No movements. Uh-huh.†Hadrian stood near what passed for the “loading dock†of the Sleeping Boar, a small porch stacked with crates and a smaller backdoor nearly blocked by the same. He had one hand near his ear and the other tapping out a bit of ash from his pipe. His expression was, as always, inscrutable to Weylan, and he was only now beginning to suspect that the Wailer’s mask he never took off was but a part of that.
The younger Wailer was doing his best to politely ignore Hadrian’s pearl conversation, having seated himself on a crate of wines yet to be unloaded and placed in the bar proper. He had been told to sit with Hadrian and keep a look out for their “supplierâ€; that meant, he suspected, the Duskwight who had all the patrons drinking that banned Horse Oil stuff. “Horse-powered†they’d started calling it. A bit too much like the phrases those new “Doman†folks would say, for his tastes. They always did prefer horses. But he didn’t drink it, and Hadrian was fine with it, so what did it matter?
There were other concerns, anyhow. He hadn’t yet brought up what he’d heard of Hadrian’s conversation a couple sennights’ past. Stumbling into negotiations between the older Wailer and what had looked like a mob of adventurers about getting help for the next hit had not been part of Weylan’s plans for the evening, and the entire thing had left him mostly speechless. Half of the conversation had been beyond him, and the other half was merely confusing, talk about demons and cleansing and why their target needed to die. And after that, he asked for their help. Their help. Why get outside aid after all the good and right talk about Gridania taking care of its own?
And why had she been there, that Keeper bitch? And hanging off of some Seeker woman’s arm like she belonged?
“All right. Good.†He snapped up to see Hadrian was ending the conversation. “Keep me posted if he moves. All should be ready in good time. I’ll check in tomorrow.†Hadrian lowered his hand from his ear, and lifted his pipe to check to see if it was properly cleaned. “They’re getting bored out there, Wey. Think we have to move on this or they’re going to cause some trouble.â€
“Oh? A-are they?†The hitch in Weylan’s voice caught him off guard. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time that he was trembling, that his fists were clenched. His chest rose and fell as he took a few deep breaths, tried to repurpose a few bits of lancer training techniques to steady himself.
“Mm. Might be that I was being overcautious there. Wanted to do this out somewhere quiet, but he hasn’t moved far from that damn farm.†Hadrian blew out his lips in frustration, an act Weylan found oddly childish in contrast to the scars around the bottom of the older Wailer’s face. “Might just have to hit ‘em and run, take the body elsewhere to get the horns sawn and ground. Risky, but . . . “ He shrugged. “Well, they’re just farmers.â€
“You don’t want to wait for those, uh, adventurers to confirm what you were saying? That he was, uh, you know, ‘corrupted’?â€
Weylan’s voice rose to a higher note than was strictly necessary for a questioning tone of voice. It brought a smirk out of Hadrian. “Wey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were fishing for a bit more than that.â€
Shaking his head quickly, Weylan retrained his eyes on the path to the back door. “No, I mean, I thought you were just feeding them a line, like, ‘Oh, it’s okay if we kill this Padjal because he’s demon-corrupted,’ right? Like, they wouldn’t get it, would they? Not like you.†The space around the back door was poorly lit, the dim and fading lantern on the wall giving Weylan a few yalm’s sight into the dark, and not much else. “Or like the other guys.â€
Hadrian’s shoulders rose as he sighed. “Yeah, I’d like that to have been a line, Wey. Really I would. But that was pretty much the truth. I’d explain all of it, but let me leave it at this: The way I know the ‘children of the forest’ are what they are is because I got to see that one go rabid.â€
Rabid Padjal. Now there was an image. Weylan’s head shot to the left to stare at Hadrian in shock. “What, like, go bad? They can go bad?â€
“Oh, they can, Wey. They can go bad and worse. Spent a long time learning that.†He held his hands out, palms up, pipe still in one. “Can’t say much about it to the locals, though, because who’d believe that? But you get it by now. There’s more to it, but maybe when Peld isn’t nearly at the door.â€
A rightward glance showed Weylan that a figure was approaching in the dark. Hadrian’s sight must have been the better of the pair, because he hadn’t even noticed the dim outline slowly taking shape into a Duskwight of middling height and build, apparently struggling under the bulk of a crate in his arms. Neither Wailer made a move to assist him as he approached the porch, until at last he knelt down and dropped his burden in the dirt with an exaggerated gasp. “Hearns, you swiving arse,†he wheezed, bent double to catch his breath. “You could’ve at least helped.â€
“Looked like you had it. Weylan, this here’s our supplier, Pelderain Dornier, erstwhile inventor of the now-banned Horse Oil, which he is generously given to the loyal customers of the Boar and charging nary a gil.†Hearns said all of this with an exaggerated circling of the hand, as if introducing royalty. “He’d bow, but y’see the problem. Peld, this is Weylan, he’s, uh . . . “ He frowned in Weylan’s direction. “Yeah, I guess he’s my second in this. Got the records for the first hit and all, that’s something. Keeps his head clear and the boys in line. You’re both charmed, bow or nod or however you want to do it, Twelve knows it’s not my business.â€
Weylan settled for at least a nod of the head. Duskwight or not, the man was working closely with Hadrian. That was worth something. Pelderain failed to notice it in his fatigue, finally planting his hands on the crate’s edge to keep himself steady. “There you have it, then. Another moon’s supply. Any more and people will start getting suspicious about anise purchases in the city.†The Duskwight scowled, creasing a small, dark goatee, and mumbled something Weylan couldn’t quite hear. “Now, why this instead of the usual drop?â€
“Ah, that.†Hadrian leaned forward on the railing of the porch, fishing around his belt for a tobacco pouch. “Let me get you caught up. Wey here was asking me if we were inclined to take help from adventurers that came calling. Seem to know what’s what about our time in the dark. They sign on, we can take the bastard down for sure, I’ll tell you that.â€
“But outsiders? Come on, Hadrian, do we really - “
“Hold on, hold on. I don’t think we need ‘em, but think about it, Weylan.†He plucked a handful of tobacco into his pipe and tamped it down. “Think about that leve you went on. They didn’t do the job right, an’ then when you cancelled it, they hunted you down and threatened your life. That’s adventurers, isn’t it? Just a bunch of - of - “ He patted his pockets. “Either’ve you got a match?â€
Weylan provided a short matchstick, and both he and Peld endured the silence necessary as Hadrian lit his pipe. Interrupting his thought more than once was unwise. “Right, so. Adventurers. If Padjal’s is animals, then adventurers is beasts. Barbarians, really. No morals but what they decide in the moment, no loyalties but their closest friends, and too powerful to lock ‘em up or smack ‘em down.
“Some days I think they get all that power by givin’ up all their sense. Think about that Seeker from that chat, Wey. She seemed on board with killin’ a Padjal, right? If he’d done something as bad as he did. But the second Bellveil got brought up, oh, no, he couldn’t have done something like that, and even if he did it didn’t matter, he’s ‘different now’. For all she knows the grey’s done worse’n the Padjal - no offense, Peld - but see if that matters a jot.†Seeming to remember the now-lit pipe, he bothered to take a small puff. “That’s adventurers, Wey. But they got interested in this, so we gotta deal with ‘em. They want proof? They wanna ‘confirm’? Well, we’ll give it to them.â€
He thrust his finger at Pelderain, who seemed to flinch back a bit in the dark. “An’ that brings us to you, Peld. Think it’s about time we put your real talents to use.â€
The Duskwight held up his hands near his chest “Oh no, no no Hadrian. Our relationship is strictly alchemical. Haven’t the faintest what you’ve got in mind, but - “
“You get to prove Bronco Grease a fraud and make Bellveil look like an idiot in public.â€
“. . . Pray, continue.†Â
“Uh-huh. No movements. Uh-huh.†Hadrian stood near what passed for the “loading dock†of the Sleeping Boar, a small porch stacked with crates and a smaller backdoor nearly blocked by the same. He had one hand near his ear and the other tapping out a bit of ash from his pipe. His expression was, as always, inscrutable to Weylan, and he was only now beginning to suspect that the Wailer’s mask he never took off was but a part of that.
The younger Wailer was doing his best to politely ignore Hadrian’s pearl conversation, having seated himself on a crate of wines yet to be unloaded and placed in the bar proper. He had been told to sit with Hadrian and keep a look out for their “supplierâ€; that meant, he suspected, the Duskwight who had all the patrons drinking that banned Horse Oil stuff. “Horse-powered†they’d started calling it. A bit too much like the phrases those new “Doman†folks would say, for his tastes. They always did prefer horses. But he didn’t drink it, and Hadrian was fine with it, so what did it matter?
There were other concerns, anyhow. He hadn’t yet brought up what he’d heard of Hadrian’s conversation a couple sennights’ past. Stumbling into negotiations between the older Wailer and what had looked like a mob of adventurers about getting help for the next hit had not been part of Weylan’s plans for the evening, and the entire thing had left him mostly speechless. Half of the conversation had been beyond him, and the other half was merely confusing, talk about demons and cleansing and why their target needed to die. And after that, he asked for their help. Their help. Why get outside aid after all the good and right talk about Gridania taking care of its own?
And why had she been there, that Keeper bitch? And hanging off of some Seeker woman’s arm like she belonged?
“All right. Good.†He snapped up to see Hadrian was ending the conversation. “Keep me posted if he moves. All should be ready in good time. I’ll check in tomorrow.†Hadrian lowered his hand from his ear, and lifted his pipe to check to see if it was properly cleaned. “They’re getting bored out there, Wey. Think we have to move on this or they’re going to cause some trouble.â€
“Oh? A-are they?†The hitch in Weylan’s voice caught him off guard. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time that he was trembling, that his fists were clenched. His chest rose and fell as he took a few deep breaths, tried to repurpose a few bits of lancer training techniques to steady himself.
“Mm. Might be that I was being overcautious there. Wanted to do this out somewhere quiet, but he hasn’t moved far from that damn farm.†Hadrian blew out his lips in frustration, an act Weylan found oddly childish in contrast to the scars around the bottom of the older Wailer’s face. “Might just have to hit ‘em and run, take the body elsewhere to get the horns sawn and ground. Risky, but . . . “ He shrugged. “Well, they’re just farmers.â€
“You don’t want to wait for those, uh, adventurers to confirm what you were saying? That he was, uh, you know, ‘corrupted’?â€
Weylan’s voice rose to a higher note than was strictly necessary for a questioning tone of voice. It brought a smirk out of Hadrian. “Wey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were fishing for a bit more than that.â€
Shaking his head quickly, Weylan retrained his eyes on the path to the back door. “No, I mean, I thought you were just feeding them a line, like, ‘Oh, it’s okay if we kill this Padjal because he’s demon-corrupted,’ right? Like, they wouldn’t get it, would they? Not like you.†The space around the back door was poorly lit, the dim and fading lantern on the wall giving Weylan a few yalm’s sight into the dark, and not much else. “Or like the other guys.â€
Hadrian’s shoulders rose as he sighed. “Yeah, I’d like that to have been a line, Wey. Really I would. But that was pretty much the truth. I’d explain all of it, but let me leave it at this: The way I know the ‘children of the forest’ are what they are is because I got to see that one go rabid.â€
Rabid Padjal. Now there was an image. Weylan’s head shot to the left to stare at Hadrian in shock. “What, like, go bad? They can go bad?â€
“Oh, they can, Wey. They can go bad and worse. Spent a long time learning that.†He held his hands out, palms up, pipe still in one. “Can’t say much about it to the locals, though, because who’d believe that? But you get it by now. There’s more to it, but maybe when Peld isn’t nearly at the door.â€
A rightward glance showed Weylan that a figure was approaching in the dark. Hadrian’s sight must have been the better of the pair, because he hadn’t even noticed the dim outline slowly taking shape into a Duskwight of middling height and build, apparently struggling under the bulk of a crate in his arms. Neither Wailer made a move to assist him as he approached the porch, until at last he knelt down and dropped his burden in the dirt with an exaggerated gasp. “Hearns, you swiving arse,†he wheezed, bent double to catch his breath. “You could’ve at least helped.â€
“Looked like you had it. Weylan, this here’s our supplier, Pelderain Dornier, erstwhile inventor of the now-banned Horse Oil, which he is generously given to the loyal customers of the Boar and charging nary a gil.†Hearns said all of this with an exaggerated circling of the hand, as if introducing royalty. “He’d bow, but y’see the problem. Peld, this is Weylan, he’s, uh . . . “ He frowned in Weylan’s direction. “Yeah, I guess he’s my second in this. Got the records for the first hit and all, that’s something. Keeps his head clear and the boys in line. You’re both charmed, bow or nod or however you want to do it, Twelve knows it’s not my business.â€
Weylan settled for at least a nod of the head. Duskwight or not, the man was working closely with Hadrian. That was worth something. Pelderain failed to notice it in his fatigue, finally planting his hands on the crate’s edge to keep himself steady. “There you have it, then. Another moon’s supply. Any more and people will start getting suspicious about anise purchases in the city.†The Duskwight scowled, creasing a small, dark goatee, and mumbled something Weylan couldn’t quite hear. “Now, why this instead of the usual drop?â€
“Ah, that.†Hadrian leaned forward on the railing of the porch, fishing around his belt for a tobacco pouch. “Let me get you caught up. Wey here was asking me if we were inclined to take help from adventurers that came calling. Seem to know what’s what about our time in the dark. They sign on, we can take the bastard down for sure, I’ll tell you that.â€
“But outsiders? Come on, Hadrian, do we really - “
“Hold on, hold on. I don’t think we need ‘em, but think about it, Weylan.†He plucked a handful of tobacco into his pipe and tamped it down. “Think about that leve you went on. They didn’t do the job right, an’ then when you cancelled it, they hunted you down and threatened your life. That’s adventurers, isn’t it? Just a bunch of - of - “ He patted his pockets. “Either’ve you got a match?â€
Weylan provided a short matchstick, and both he and Peld endured the silence necessary as Hadrian lit his pipe. Interrupting his thought more than once was unwise. “Right, so. Adventurers. If Padjal’s is animals, then adventurers is beasts. Barbarians, really. No morals but what they decide in the moment, no loyalties but their closest friends, and too powerful to lock ‘em up or smack ‘em down.
“Some days I think they get all that power by givin’ up all their sense. Think about that Seeker from that chat, Wey. She seemed on board with killin’ a Padjal, right? If he’d done something as bad as he did. But the second Bellveil got brought up, oh, no, he couldn’t have done something like that, and even if he did it didn’t matter, he’s ‘different now’. For all she knows the grey’s done worse’n the Padjal - no offense, Peld - but see if that matters a jot.†Seeming to remember the now-lit pipe, he bothered to take a small puff. “That’s adventurers, Wey. But they got interested in this, so we gotta deal with ‘em. They want proof? They wanna ‘confirm’? Well, we’ll give it to them.â€
He thrust his finger at Pelderain, who seemed to flinch back a bit in the dark. “An’ that brings us to you, Peld. Think it’s about time we put your real talents to use.â€
The Duskwight held up his hands near his chest “Oh no, no no Hadrian. Our relationship is strictly alchemical. Haven’t the faintest what you’ve got in mind, but - “
“You get to prove Bronco Grease a fraud and make Bellveil look like an idiot in public.â€
“. . . Pray, continue.†Â
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Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine