The gathering of information wasn't normally something that required as much foresight as Warren was determined to apply. The details he'd gotten from the Yates woman were a start, but she couldn't provide enough to begin answering any of the questions Warren was contemplating. A dead body with a newly-bought racing bird, one that doubtless had earned some attention. An alluded to criminal background. It reeked of underground involvement, and that meant that as soon as Warren started asking around, ears were going to pick up on that. He eventually decided that striking while the iron was hot would be his best option; Word would get around fast and the longer he waited to snoop the more obvious it would be he was snooping.
The roads to the Silver Bazaar seemed an obvious choice for racing. Long and straight, mostly safe due to their proximity to the Jewel itself: It was sufficient for the recreational purposes that had popped up since the Calamity. During the normal working hours it was exactly what Warren would expect to see from the laboring classes, with the hustle and bustle that seemed to be ever-constant, similar to the Scorpion Crossing trading grounds. There wasn't much that hinted at the betting that would go down once the work was done on some nights.
"Pardon, friend," Warren began as he approached a large Roegadyn hauling boxes. His demeanor didn't read as particularly friendly, but the weather and sun gave the workman little to be happy about. Warren was dressed as any merchant might be, nothing so fancy it would draw attention but enough that it would make him appear to have some wealth. His hair was down and his hat felt oddly foppish; It wasn't a look he was used to.
The Roe dropped the load from his shoulder and wiped his brow. "Awful busy, sir. What do you want?" The honorific came with a hint of resentment. Warren grinned.
"I was hoping to bend your ear for a moment or three; I've heard the most delicious rumors popping up about this place especially in recent days, and-"
The Roe raised a hand to cut him off. "You an' everyone else, you know. A man's dead."
"So it's true?!" Warren sent his eyes wide open and half-raised a gloved hand to his mouth, appearing all the world as a man who just had the world opened to him. "Is it all true, then? That he died protecting his bird from a wayward arrowshot?"
A confused expression crossed the Roegadyn's face and he shook his head. "Where'd you go an' here somethin' like that? Idiots spreadin' rumors, I reckon. No, the man didn't die of a shot. I saw him after his race, an' he looked panicked despite winnin'. Next time I saw him he was sittin' in front of his bird, dead."
Warren clapped his hands in delight. "Oh, this is so exciting!"
The hulking worker frowned, his expression hard. "Yeah, real excitin' to have someone turn up dead in the middle'a racin'."
"I wonder if I could make an offer on his steed... I could put together a racing team!" Warren feigned thoughtfulness, tapping his chin with a covered finger.
"No, you can't. Bird's already got a new owner." The Roe was barely containing his displeasure at the callousness of the conversation. "You should probably leave that alone, unless you want to be meetin' up with his last rider."
Again Warren sent his eyes wide. "Oh! Oh... Oh." He let realization play across his expression and flicked his eyes over the worker, pulling the side of his mouth into a sneer. "Peasant sport anyway." For extra measure Warren dusted himself off and spun on his heels, striding away as best he could replicate the arrogant swagger of those who often place hard dividers between themselves and the populace.
That was enough for the first outing. Warren had a little more to go on, though he'd need to somehow check out the Roegadyn as well. There wasn't anything overtly threatening in his replies, not that Warren picked up anyway. At best, he'd regale his friends after work with stories of the ignorant fop who came chasing serial tales.
At worst, he just introduced himself to someone involved with the murder.
The roads to the Silver Bazaar seemed an obvious choice for racing. Long and straight, mostly safe due to their proximity to the Jewel itself: It was sufficient for the recreational purposes that had popped up since the Calamity. During the normal working hours it was exactly what Warren would expect to see from the laboring classes, with the hustle and bustle that seemed to be ever-constant, similar to the Scorpion Crossing trading grounds. There wasn't much that hinted at the betting that would go down once the work was done on some nights.
"Pardon, friend," Warren began as he approached a large Roegadyn hauling boxes. His demeanor didn't read as particularly friendly, but the weather and sun gave the workman little to be happy about. Warren was dressed as any merchant might be, nothing so fancy it would draw attention but enough that it would make him appear to have some wealth. His hair was down and his hat felt oddly foppish; It wasn't a look he was used to.
The Roe dropped the load from his shoulder and wiped his brow. "Awful busy, sir. What do you want?" The honorific came with a hint of resentment. Warren grinned.
"I was hoping to bend your ear for a moment or three; I've heard the most delicious rumors popping up about this place especially in recent days, and-"
The Roe raised a hand to cut him off. "You an' everyone else, you know. A man's dead."
"So it's true?!" Warren sent his eyes wide open and half-raised a gloved hand to his mouth, appearing all the world as a man who just had the world opened to him. "Is it all true, then? That he died protecting his bird from a wayward arrowshot?"
A confused expression crossed the Roegadyn's face and he shook his head. "Where'd you go an' here somethin' like that? Idiots spreadin' rumors, I reckon. No, the man didn't die of a shot. I saw him after his race, an' he looked panicked despite winnin'. Next time I saw him he was sittin' in front of his bird, dead."
Warren clapped his hands in delight. "Oh, this is so exciting!"
The hulking worker frowned, his expression hard. "Yeah, real excitin' to have someone turn up dead in the middle'a racin'."
"I wonder if I could make an offer on his steed... I could put together a racing team!" Warren feigned thoughtfulness, tapping his chin with a covered finger.
"No, you can't. Bird's already got a new owner." The Roe was barely containing his displeasure at the callousness of the conversation. "You should probably leave that alone, unless you want to be meetin' up with his last rider."
Again Warren sent his eyes wide. "Oh! Oh... Oh." He let realization play across his expression and flicked his eyes over the worker, pulling the side of his mouth into a sneer. "Peasant sport anyway." For extra measure Warren dusted himself off and spun on his heels, striding away as best he could replicate the arrogant swagger of those who often place hard dividers between themselves and the populace.
That was enough for the first outing. Warren had a little more to go on, though he'd need to somehow check out the Roegadyn as well. There wasn't anything overtly threatening in his replies, not that Warren picked up anyway. At best, he'd regale his friends after work with stories of the ignorant fop who came chasing serial tales.
At worst, he just introduced himself to someone involved with the murder.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
