1st of Winter, 520 AV
"I’ll be free bright and early."
Isaac blinked his way over to The Gate to find a man named Marus. He was the manager of the the Gate City Market, and made a deal with the Kelvic ghoul the day before. Marus promised to teach him what he knew about negotiation so that Zac would stop looking at an art piece of Morwen. Apparently the shopkeeper selling the art had been displeased with Isaac’s daily show of reverence.
A market booth isn’t a temple, after all.
With his mind now on locating the manager, Isaac asked around until he was directed inside the great hall of The Lodge. The day’s communal meal time was about to begin, and the young ghost found Marus grabbing a bowl of gruel and making his way towards one of the long wooden tables with benches on either side. Isaac waved to him and caught the man’s grumpy gaze before quickly looking around again. The Lodge was slowly beginning to fill with people of all kinds, gathering around fireplaces and taking a seat with their families and friends. There was chatter, and a bit of a band setting up in a corner, playing drums, chimes, and a an almost melancholic version of a lute melody from a familiar Avanthalian folk song. Isaac couldn’t recall which one it was, though he recalled a line about the the Watch. Something about their eyes forever on the lookout, to protect, defend, and uphold their Queen.
Zac huffed when he realized it was the 1st of Winter.
Another season without her.
“Isaac Iceglaze, ain’t it?” said Marus, calling out to him. “Good to see you. We can chat while I eat here,” he said, taking another gulp of his meal. “What can I help you with?” he asked, still chewing. Marus surveyed the ghost’s form as it came closer to the table, the flickering, gauzy image becoming more and more solid.
Isaac had been looking forward to this conversation all night, having no reason nor ability to sleep, wondering exactly how he was going to approach the topic at hand. He wasn’t sure how skilled the manager was in the type of negotiation that would probably be needed for something as vague and probably naive as ‘bringing her back’. The ghosts intensity of thought and will transformed itself, materializing the substance surrounding him as he motioned to sit across from Marus. When Isaac began to speak, he sound carried out more like a hushed whisper than the usual full tone of his voice.
“To be frank, I’m just following through from the last time we spoke,” he said.
“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” said Marus as he chewed the contents of his gruel.
Isaac gave a sigh, checking the view to his right to see a family of four begin to sit a ways off beside them, paying no mind. He focused his attention back on the manager and spoke up again.
“Right so,” said the ghost, his voice clearer and ringing with a base pitch. “You teach people how to Negotiate?”
“Nope, you and I made a deal. We talk, you move on. And by that I mean moving on from disturbing customers at the market. Not really sure what it takes for you to move on from this life,” said Marus, brows raised.
“Vengeance, probably,” said the ghost, without skipping a beat. “But if our Queen comes back before that’s necessary, that should be enough for me.”
“How exactly did you die, Isaac?” asked the manager, as simply as if he were asking about how his day was going.
"I’ll be free bright and early."
Isaac blinked his way over to The Gate to find a man named Marus. He was the manager of the the Gate City Market, and made a deal with the Kelvic ghoul the day before. Marus promised to teach him what he knew about negotiation so that Zac would stop looking at an art piece of Morwen. Apparently the shopkeeper selling the art had been displeased with Isaac’s daily show of reverence.
A market booth isn’t a temple, after all.
With his mind now on locating the manager, Isaac asked around until he was directed inside the great hall of The Lodge. The day’s communal meal time was about to begin, and the young ghost found Marus grabbing a bowl of gruel and making his way towards one of the long wooden tables with benches on either side. Isaac waved to him and caught the man’s grumpy gaze before quickly looking around again. The Lodge was slowly beginning to fill with people of all kinds, gathering around fireplaces and taking a seat with their families and friends. There was chatter, and a bit of a band setting up in a corner, playing drums, chimes, and a an almost melancholic version of a lute melody from a familiar Avanthalian folk song. Isaac couldn’t recall which one it was, though he recalled a line about the the Watch. Something about their eyes forever on the lookout, to protect, defend, and uphold their Queen.
Zac huffed when he realized it was the 1st of Winter.
Another season without her.
“Isaac Iceglaze, ain’t it?” said Marus, calling out to him. “Good to see you. We can chat while I eat here,” he said, taking another gulp of his meal. “What can I help you with?” he asked, still chewing. Marus surveyed the ghost’s form as it came closer to the table, the flickering, gauzy image becoming more and more solid.
Isaac had been looking forward to this conversation all night, having no reason nor ability to sleep, wondering exactly how he was going to approach the topic at hand. He wasn’t sure how skilled the manager was in the type of negotiation that would probably be needed for something as vague and probably naive as ‘bringing her back’. The ghosts intensity of thought and will transformed itself, materializing the substance surrounding him as he motioned to sit across from Marus. When Isaac began to speak, he sound carried out more like a hushed whisper than the usual full tone of his voice.
“To be frank, I’m just following through from the last time we spoke,” he said.
“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” said Marus as he chewed the contents of his gruel.
Isaac gave a sigh, checking the view to his right to see a family of four begin to sit a ways off beside them, paying no mind. He focused his attention back on the manager and spoke up again.
“Right so,” said the ghost, his voice clearer and ringing with a base pitch. “You teach people how to Negotiate?”
“Nope, you and I made a deal. We talk, you move on. And by that I mean moving on from disturbing customers at the market. Not really sure what it takes for you to move on from this life,” said Marus, brows raised.
“Vengeance, probably,” said the ghost, without skipping a beat. “But if our Queen comes back before that’s necessary, that should be enough for me.”
“How exactly did you die, Isaac?” asked the manager, as simply as if he were asking about how his day was going.
