[Amphitheater] Extortion

[Ifran]

75th Fall, 512 A.V.

"No artist is pleased," he told his apprentice, his young cousin Manipadme. "There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

There was the faintest smirk to his sculptured lips as she smiled, nodded, and continued to remove the bulk of his stage makeup. In the holy art of semhu, the performer was as much an object of art as an artist, and everything was quite stylized. Somehow with all the artificiality, it still served to move an audience; at least a cultured, Eypharian audience.

"Your scherzo was hilarious tonight," she said, her words modulated to reflect a sincere admiration. Her grin was without guile. "I could not stop laughing. I had to step back from the wings for fear they would hear me without."

"Flattery," he said, but his undermode denoted a certain amount of gratitude for her compliment.

There came a knock from the door. Manipadme rose to answer it, and paled when she saw who it was.

"How did you...?" she said, then turned back to her master. "Ifran."

The man turned to face the door, his face flushed from the abrasion and the alcohol she had used to remove the bulk of his makeup, though his eyes were still lined with kohl, and there was the faint gleam of gold around his hairline.

"May I help you?"

[Vikeer]

When the finally door opened after he knocked; Vikeer came face to face to the very person he been looking for. “So you’re Manipadme huh?” he smile looking the young girl over with his pitch black eyes, it was more of a statement sense he was told in excessive detail on what she look like.
Looking at him with fear “How did you…” she said before turning back to the Eypharian male in the room calling out his name who in turn asks if he can help him.

“Doubtful” Vikeer said while pushing his way into the room not caring that he was uninvited. Making his way to stand between the man and Manipadme, Vikeer instantly recognized him as the performer from the composition early “My business is with the young Hejdi here. In which has nothing to do with you so do us both a favor and keep silent thing would go much easier.” He threatened looking the Eypharian in the eyes.

With that Vikeer turn his back to the performer dismissing him. He leveled his dark gaze at the young Eypharian he smiled. “So I take you know why I’m here don’t you? In that case I just get straight to the point” he said crossing his arms “I personally find no joy in this, but you indebted a quit a large sum of money to the wrong sort of people and so do yourself and to pay up before things gets unpleasant my dear” laying his hand on his knife at his waist.

[Ifran]

That Manipadme's eyes were honestly wide was enough to clue Ifran into the urgency of the situation. One did not ignore scions of the Noble Houses, and so while the Chaktawe turned his back to threaten his young cousin, Ifran rose quietly, a pair of hands silently taking a bronze khopesh from where it rested on his dressing table.

Perhaps he wasn't the most stealthy fellow, but Manipadme had his attention, and he brought the blade, which was not a prop, up to the man's neck.

"Ah," he all but purred, and even the purr sounded dangerous, "but the business of the Hejdi is my business. I suggest you put that away and speak plainly. You do not want the House of the North Winds to find need of your blood."

[Vikeer]

Tensing as he felt the cold blade against his neck. Vikeer cursing himself for being foolish enough to turn his back on a potential enemy, just to gloat for having the upper hand over a child of the North Winds.

“Ah but the business of the Hejdi is my business. I suggest you put that away and speak plainly. You do not want the House of the North Winds to find need of your blood." Said the man threateningly

“Well if you going to put it that why…wait…You mean your kinswoman here didn’t tell you?” Vikeer said in mock surprise while at the same time trying not to show his unease for having a khopesh at his neck. “It seems she owes a nice sum of money to an unsavory dusker that has been demanding his payment from her for some time now, and it just happens his employer who happens to be gileded tires of waiting for payment so sent me to collect.” He finished deliberately leaving out the name of his grandfather. Less out of any love for the old man more so to use it for lavage to get himself out of this situation he in.

Trying to swallow as the khopesh press against his throat he asked irritable. “Sense I told you everything I know would you kindly remove your weapon? We can at least be civil can’t we.” he finished with a while baring his teeth in what he hopes is something that resemble a smile.

[Ifran]

"Ah, but you have yet to act in a civil manner, sir." The khopesh remained steady there against his neck. Was his skin vaguely gilded? Perhaps he was eysh-na. No matter, as gilded skin parted as easily under sharp bronze as any other skin.

"How much money does she allegedly owe," he asked, "and to whom?"

The man had to know that such a one as Ifran of the House of the North Winds could kill him without more than a slap on the wrist, if that. He could be bold as he pleased and sass nobility, but there could be consequences if Ifran chose to mete them out. Perhaps that would be the more expedient route, in any case.

Though most of his attention was on the swaggering Chaktawe, he was aware enough of Manipadme to know that for all her stage aplomb, she was frightened. There would be no lies if he questioned her, and perhaps they could just cut out the middle man and deal with the powers that be. Or let Sadiki handle it. Their grandfather could deal harshly with those who threatened his people or his peace.