Solo The Landlord/Merchant Gambit (Part One)

[Zandelia]

Spring 9th, 513 AV – Sharp Tooth Tavern


Nyka was a most difficult situation to integrate herself into, the standard sense of xenophobia was almost palpable and severely hampered her operational desires. She had purchased her dresses with a good eye for Nykan styles and they served her well in terms of blending into the crowd. Still, any attempts to ingratiate herself with the various key figures of the city had been…difficult. Trust of foreigners was in short supply, though she had had some successes with Vysia in the Safe Haven Hostel and with the various denizens of the more mercantile heart that was the Eastern Quarter. The Monks of the Heavy Coffers were still far from her clutches, however, some small time players had left a crack or two for her to wedge into when she was possessed of the opportunity.

Those opportunities will come in time, for now though I have a different target in mind. Hopefully this one will be an easier one to gain confidence from she told herself as her skirts whisked about her in the breeze, ruby red shades flicking as she set a steady but leisurely pace.

She took her time as she traversed the streets, navigating the once familiar streets and mapping them exactly in both her mental and physical memories as she passed over the rounded cobbles. It was a useful ability that all denizens of Sunberth learnt by instinct, or rather the ones who survived the dangers of the anarchic state learnt it. Zandelia had merely taken it a slight step further, she had developed the technique of consciously acting out what had once been passive – she was far from the first she was sure. If she could learn to navigate Nyka as well as she could Sunberth then she would possess a distinct advantage over other foreigners – if, perhaps, not the majority of citizens.

“Still, levelling the playing field is better than nothing. Not bad for a handful of days at least, that is a certainty. Still…to excel I will need to do more. The Celestial Square is beyond my reach…for now. The Northern Quarter however…perhaps something can be done” she muttered to herself, her voice pitched so that passing threats would only hear if they pushed to do so.

The Northern Quarter was both more difficult and immeasurably easier than the other Quarters to try and infiltrate into – at least in terms of the social and metaphorical. She doubted that even with her skills in stealth she could easily penetrate the heart of the main citadel of the Order of the Sharp Blade. She was not trying to enter that domain yet, instead she was letting her feet sway her towards the Sharp Tooth Tavern. Rumour and discontent were the easiest to pick up on in the Intelligencer’s trade and the location’s owner reeked of both currently. She had sniffed out several sources – amongst them those staying at the Safe Haven, merchants from the Flaxen District and utterances from upset Monks – and all had corroborated the fact the this ‘Yeller’ was incensed.

An opportunity not to be missed, for if I can ease his anger somehow I can gain a friend and ease the minds of those around me. It would be a shame to get caught by a belligerent Monk in a bad mood she told herself as she finally approached the bettered old sign and entered the establishment.

The interior was similar to a number of taverns she had frequented over the years and across various cities. The dingy rooms were lit by flaming chandeliers, a balconied second floor allowed for more private gatherings. The rabble inside were well dressed at least, their tongue seemingly engaged in a vicious verbiage of some kind – the name upon the door was suggestive at least. She noted that a private balcony was empty and made her way towards it – she would have a few moments before a barmaid came to serve her. She corssed her legs at the knee and merely listened to the words of those around her – one could tell much by simply words.

“He’s in a foul mood you know…”

“Won’t even take part in the games…”

“I heard it was…”

“Undesirables…”

“Foreign probably…”

The words washed over her ears as a smile came to her face – she was in the right place at least. Now she merely had to ascertain if the rest of the information as to the person in question was correct. The barmaid approached her, pushing the veiled curtains to one side with a ginger smile with full lips. She was a slip of a thing but clearly none too happy about approaching Zandelia, especially when she saw her face and furtive looks began to be directed at her ruined eye and the scare there.

“What can I do for you lady?” she asked her.

“A mug of your finest beverage please, the most rustic of them if you would” Zandelia responded

“’Scuse me?”

“Beer”

“Right. Anything else?”

“Yes, a message for your employer…Yeller? Tell him there is an Amelias in this both and she is offering to try and deal with his problems for him. No charge either” and with that the barmaid, with a strange look for Zandelia, turned and made her way back towards the bar below.

And now she would wait, if there was opportunity here it would now find her…in time perhaps. If not then all she had wasted was the time it took to drink a mug of beer and listen for further rumours in one of the most engorged places for them – a tavern. There was little to lose in that equation.

[Zandelia]

The beer was brought to her within a smattering of chimes and then she was left, bereft of company and shrouded in isolation. She had this to smile over the rim of her mug at, rather than to lament like some love-struck whelp. Silence was a greater gift than the babble below her, it afforded time to think and, within which, to plan. Tongues usually led to slippery facts being released into the world, her silence acquired her a protection that was often not within her grasp. She listened still, her ears picking up upon a few things of vague interest. There was talk of further disappearances within the Eastern Quarter – it had been worst hit of late. Discontent with the general order of things was rife though controlled. Something was indeed vexing the citizens and this was obviously unusual – it was intriguing.

Superstitions indeed! Disappearances are more easily explained by bad blood shed than monsters in the night. Oh, they exist of course but I doubt that the Aperture is as populated as they claim it to be she mused as she sipped her beverage and waited.

“It’s not right you know! Even the Orders are jumpy for some reason”

“That’s right, I saw them patrol the Aperture three times more than normal I did”

“If I were you Rebley I’d be more worried about that business of yours going under than fould creatures”

“Shut it you, doing fine”

“Oh? And that’s why you’re trying to beggar yourself with prices lower than all others in the Flaxen by half?”

“I said…shut it!”

Zandelia, eyes closed and cup held between her two palms gently, could not help but smile to herself at that, lips curling up at the edges – for all the world a cat whom had not just taken some cream but guzzled the whole bottle. She did love taverns so, their tendency to drop what seemed like small gems into her pockets was a recurring wonder to her that she had yet to figure out the reason for. Sometimes all she had to do was sit and listen, as she had just done so, to hear something worth pursuing. She needed as many little birds as possible in Nyka and had little time to acquire them. This shopkeeper seemed ideal to her – he was weak now and thus would owe her everything if she made him strong. With a little…insurance…he would be a malleable little tool for her hand. All she had to do was mould it to fit – but that would come later.

“Rebley…Rebley…Flaxen District. Interesting” she whispered to herself, memorizing the name and location. The rest she would not need, she would simply look for the lowest prices and most distraught looking merchant there.

I need many allies, and they will all be citizens – of one sort or another. The Monks are untouchable for now…they exist in a high valley that few can reach. The commoner however, they are easy to get to and foolish enough to be taken advantage of. They are the blood of this city and I will use them as such. The organism will survive but the disease will spread – secretly for as long as possible. We will see how quickly it can react when the time comes she thought to herself, her eye became steely then – she would be hard as stone if that was what was required. Nyka was a testing riddle to try and solve.

“I hear you want to…help…with a problem? Well then, spill it out and be quick about it. I may be known for riddles but I can weave a pretty enough web to get you hung if I chose to” came a deep male voice to rock her from her ponderings.

“Ah…Yeller. Good man. My name is Amelias and yes,” she indicated the chair opposite her for him to sit in politely before continuing, “I can help you with any problems you may have. Within reason”

“Why?”

“Because I can? Because I am filled with a need to be admired by the Mother of us all? Or perhaps because I need a living…we all do. Does it matter?”

“Depends on whether you want to be the foreigner with a knife at the throat of said Mother”

“Please Yeller, I am not threatening you. I came here peacefully, you did not need to sit with me. I am offering aid…aid which you cannot find anywhere else. And if it goes wrong then yes, you can blame it on a foreigner. Who could offer you better?”

Yeller thought for a moment, she could see his complex mind working and she began to appreciate why his intellect was well respected – he actually thought about things properly before going through with them. Still, the offer of success without risk would prove too much for him, she knew this as did he. His pause was simply part of the bargaining process – she had had him at her offer to help. From the look in his eyes and his aggressive manner she guessed none had offered as of yet.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing”

“Nothing?” he was puzzled then.

“Nothing you can’t afford to lose”

“What then?”

“Information. You hear things, all Innkeepers do. People get drunk…let things slip. All I require of you is to put these to paper and have them delivered to me. Not much trouble for a problem or two solved, I think you’d agree”

“And what things are you looking for then?”

“Anything. Everything. Anything of note beyond the usual drunken grumblings in Nyka. You know what I mean”

“Yes”

“You find acceptable terms?”

“For now, but I will stop if I suspect anything…untoward”

“Of course,” she allowed him, omitting the fact that by the time he might decide to she would already have a noose around his neck, “your problem involves Laat yes?”

“Three petchers, street cleaners turned merchant, owe me a lot. I helped fund their initial business set up. They have not paid their due as their business…if you can call it that…is failing miserably. Not my fault, but no one wants to get the money from them”

“Names, locations”

“Keral, Nuray and Rebley. The last little shyke is in here tonight”

“Very well, then we know where to start. How long do I have?”

“Long as it takes, it’s been a season already”

“Five days”

Hah! Lass, you want to set yourself something impossible then go ahead but me, I’m going to stick to riddles and beer. As long as you like. Don’t expect you to succeed at any rate. If you do…well then we can discuss further things. Have that beer on me, for foolishness and mockery” and with those last words Yeller left her and she allowed the cogs of her mind to begin working.

[Zandelia]

The time for planning, if there ever were a stated time for such a thing, could have said to have been then. She had three names, targets all of them, and three debts to collect from them so that she could weasel her way into the decidedly positive sides of Yeller’s ledger. It was an unprecedented stroke of luck that one of the three she would be forced to hunt now sat directly below her position at the balcony. Still, she would not squander such a moment of synchronicity with an over-zealous assault that was not thought through fully. No, this would have to be handled with the utmost care – she was a stranger in Nyka still and as such had to work within the law, such as it was. She sipped upon her wheat beer, the taste rich and hearty in comparison to fare from other cities.

The real question is not how I can help Yeller…it’s how can I help the both of them, for my own benefit, without them being any the wiser? A knotty problem indeed, one which will require some character insight I think she mused as she edged her seat closer to the railing of the balcony so that she could look down, into the shadowed lower floor.

She watched Yeller move about his bar, he was a man with purpose and vision. His lips moved animatedly as he talked to his patrons, keeping their spirits alive and enjoying the back and forth of ribald banter. His smiles were evident though she did not think they were ‘true’ smiles, merely the ones he plastered across his face for his customers. He clearly oozed self-respect, it was a part of his personality that seemed to fill him with vigorous life. She considered how he had built that Sharp Tooth – reputedly – from nothing and that it was now a success. It crossed her mind that if he were slighted then the slight itself might prove harder for him to bear than the loss of anything of value.

“Which perhaps…explains why he set no limit on the time. He just wants it done and the debtors embarrassed!” she muttered into her wheat beer.

Rebley, however, was different. He was a small, skinny weasel of a man – barely out of boyhood to her gaze. His eyes were downcast and his nose was so far into his mug she was beginning to wonder if her were drinking or drowning. Shabby clothing, rumpled and dirty, spoke of living quarters that were far from appealing. All in all it would be difficult, to her mind, to find anyone as directly an opposite to Yeller as Rebley was. Still, they could just as easily have been the same man in truth, the only difference between them was the razor-thin divide of success and failure. She smiled at that, the philosophical considerations of choice and fate of particular interest to her. She often found herself wondering whether either existed in a mutually exclusive manner.


No…there is opportunity here. Rebley hungers for success…his weakness is ambition, eldritch and powerful. Yeller however…his is pride. He is already successful and needs no help with becoming so. However, he does need help in keeping a reputation in a city where reputation is, frankly, more telling than religion she told herself, her head tilting to the side as she finished her wheat beer and placed the cup upon the table beside her.

“Now all I can do is…wait. Rebley will leave eventually, even a depressed failure cannot drink forever without…consequences. When he moves we will begin” she whispered, watching Rebly for her window of opportunity.

A plan was forming within her mind, a plan that would hopefully give her two contacts for the effort of one. A better deal she could not imagine, it was almost too good to be true. All she had to do was make sure it wasn’t. She watched Rebley drink mug after mug, noted with some satisfaction at her people reading skills that each mug was replaced by a maid and never by Yeller. In fact neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge the other, as if there were a foul stench in the air that would be embarrassing to own up to. It was of constant amusement to her how other’s acted over trifles. She shook her head and kept up her patient vigil.

“Alright…off to…y’know” Rebley slurred to his companions, they shook their ehads as he made his way to the door.

There…we…go Zandelia told herself as she pushed herself from her chair and made her way to the stairs.

[Zandelia]

“Amelias!” Yeller caught her as she came to the bottom of the stairs, blocking her exit with his larger form, hands clasped together and wringing them a little absently.

“Yeller?” she stated, the question all too obvious in her tone of voice even if only a singular word was spoken.

“Nothing…bad, right?” he told her, he stared at her in a manner he perhaps thought was possessed of a finality. Sadly for him she had been threatened by far worse than he, once even being bloody tortured…after a fashion.

“I am not a fool Yeller,” she hissed at him, single eyed gaze boring into the back of his skull with repressed wrath, “I finish my jobs and I didn’t end up hanging from a tree. Do not treat me like an idiot just because I come from elsewhere, Nyka does not have the remit on intelligence. Now please…let me do my job” she told him, standing silently and waiting for him to step from her path.

It took but a few moments of the cold tableaux before the intensity of the moment ebbed away and a dispute at the bar caused Yeller to mutter under his breath and leave Zandelia’s vision, one last glance at her face before turning away fully and shouting at some miscreant – perhaps a drunkard from what she managed to deuce from a few second’s rebuttals from other patrons. She swept past them all, her mind upon the task at hand and flipping the information in her mind in an attempt to make it fit together as neatly as she would have liked. In reality she couldn’t just threaten Rebley, nor could she merely beat the Laat out of his wretched hide. As she pushed into the chill of early evening she reflected that to do so would be a waste of a potential resource.

He may be out of luck now, but that doesn’t mean that he is incompetent. Nor does it mean he has no uses. No…it is better to discern whether this is fact or not before acting. To do that I must find hi-…ah she smiled wryly as she caught sight of someone across the street, urinating onto a building whilst barely standing. She sighed and flicked out her spring blade, making sure none we watching her before trimming her nails as she awaited the spectacle’s conclusion.

The sound of passing water ceased, mutters and curses following soon after. She let her blade slide back into its hidden position and watched the figure across the street shuffle about, clearly unable to refasten the thongs on his trousers, before promptly tripping over himself and slamming into the floor. She rolled her eyes as he groaned, padding across the short distance and pushing her heel upon his chest as he tried to lever himself upwards. He attempted to brush her foot away, leering at her as if thinking he could slip his hand up her skirts for a little fun. In point of fact he did this whilst trying to grab her ankle and she growled slightly, glaring knives at his head – he was not in the mental state to comprehend.

“Honestly, such class,” she muttered as she kicked his hand away and bent down to grab the front of his tunic, “here…this should help you some” she dragged him across the cobbles with much effort and protest.

Yeller kept a bucket of water outside, constantly chilled by the elements for just such an occasion. She pulled Rebley next to it and dunked his head into it. She held it there for quite some time as the bubbles disturbed the water. Only one she had counted to twenty did she release the man and allowed him to extricate himself whilst breathing heavily, gasping for air in huge lung fulls.

“You little whore!”

“I’d advise against calling me that Rebley, you are drunk and can’t defend yourself worth a damn”

“No woman talks t-“

“To you like this?” she whispered to him, his silence precipitated by the blade pointing squarely between his eyes, she flicked it back instantly so none would notice, “well I do, and I have a proposition for you if you would like to hear that more than pissing all over yourself and collapsing in a gutter until the Monks bludgeon you awake” she spoke to him, calm and simple – it seemed to get through to him somewhat.

Silence reigned for a few moments as the pair of them faced each other, eyes fixed and bodies ready for confrontation. Zandelia did not flinch, she had being playing this game far longer than he had probably even been alive, she was better prepared and certainly the better fighter if it came to blows. Still, she was relieved when he looked away and into the alleyways around them. She shook his head, wringing out the majority of his clothing as he finally began to stand upon his feet once more.

Thank the Goddess for that… she intoned with feeling inside her skull.

“What…proposition…wait! Yeller sent you didn’t he? Well you can tell him I don’t have nothing to give him. Not after-“ his anger, flashing across his face, had caused him to say more than he had wished.

“Yes, he did. However, I am feeling disposed to aid you. You can repay your debt, I can help you with your…business…problem. Everyone wins”

“Don’t have no business problems” Rebley countered sourly.

“Of course, you enjoy living in the same clothes days on end, never really washing and drinking yourself stupid until you wake up in a pool of your won filth” she gave him a pointed look.

“Never done…”

“It was an intelligent guess!” she snapped.

“What do you get out of it? Why help us both?”

“Call it whimsy. It is immaterial to you. All I need to know are the whereabouts of the other two and what they have done with Yeller’s money. You obviously don’t have it, so they must instead. Where?”

“Flaxen district, their house is above their shop. Supposed to be our shop but never turned out like that. Told Yeller I stole it all they did, he din’t believe them but is what they say to get outta paying”

“And you played the foolish helper, for them to drop and use as a shield. Yes…an old tactic. Fine. Easily rectified with the right tools. Tell me everything Rebley, what they deal in, personal habits, where do they keep their books?”

“Why?”

“So we can get your money back”

“Won’t help me with nothing”

“No, it won’t. But it will square your debts to Yeller and, believe me on this, by the time that happens you will have all you need to take back from them what they stole from you…and more”

Greed was such a powerful weapon in her mind, often far more powerful. It could move people in ways no other emotions could. If she had threatened him overly much then he would have run. If she had bribed he would have cheated her. And so on and so forth down the list of unsuccessful approaches. No…greed kept Rebley in his standing position, caused the rusty gears of his mind to work out what side he wanted to be on and, ultimately, forced the resigned nod from him that signalled his own small defeat.

Good, that is good. So far so good, perhaps he might even have some decent information. He’s already given me some, but I need more. I need a plan too. I bloody well hope I can follow through of this….this is going to slap me right back on my arse shenoted to herself.

[Zandelia]

“I thought it would be a great way to try and get off the ground you know? Take out a small loan from people we knew, friends rather than from the Heavy Coffers…better rate see.” Rebley sighed as he walked over to the wall of the Sharp Tooth and leant against it, tiredness was evident upon him.

“And I am assuming that this wasn’t how things ended?”

“No” Rebley grimaced visibly, bitterness twisting his features momentarily, “not for me at least. See, the Flaxen District is tough competition. We chose the wrong place…started too high up to cope. We sold hardly anything, squandered the rest of our coin. We thought we’d be rich. Stupid…stupid”

“Yes, you were,” she responded with the correct social contract expected of her, sympathy still lacking from her tone however, “and this led to your being side-lined…?” she queried, seeking to direct the conversation towards specifics rather than hear the whole story from start to finish.

I need facts…not pitiful accountings she seethed inside but remained outwardly composed. She was taking a risk on him after all and did not like having her time wasted.

“Oh…well they waited until I was gone. Barred the door and hired some thugs to kick me about for a bit. Foreigners I think, deniability for them they just said I had insulted them. That was that really. Never managed to get in, they sold most of my things. With me gone they started making a small profit, nothing major. Wouldn’t be surprised if they plan on crossing each other soon to have one less person to provide for” Rebley shrugged, he was truly broken.

She pitied him, in her own way and certainly without much empathy. It was more in principle than anything else – she had known what true loss was, had lived in slavery and with daily raping. She knew what suffering was, this whelp hadn’t even come close. Still, she knew much about betrayal and the bitter sting that it left in the soul – she had been consumed by it utterly once upon a time. It was another life in many ways, yet there were parallels between her and Rebley – slim though they were. She shook her head and spat at the ground with practised scorn, she was about to give him a taste of reality he sorely needed – he could be of no sue to her otherwise.

“By Akajia’s tits man! Are you nothing but a pitiful worm?! A palying piece ot be discarded at another’s whim?” she mocked him openly.

“Now that’s not f-“ he tried, face reddening.

“Fair?! FAIR!? Nothing is fair Rebley, you take what you can and when you can take it! You were pushed out by some two-bit thugs and a duo of failed merchants! Where is your pride? Where is your Nykan spirit, in the gutter or did you throw it into the Aperture?!” she snarled at him, he was visibly flinching now with every verbal lash but his face grew more solid, fixed and set – his jaw squared and told her she was working some magic upon him.

“NO! I tried and got beaten down! What was I supposed to do…kill them?!”

“Yes”

Silence reigned then and the stupefaction upon his face was priceless, his finger raised in mid-waggle at her chest and his chest puffed out like a chicken who had had a terrible morning. She smiled at him and pushed his hand down gently, the point had not been to get him to elicit murder from her, it had been to stoke the flames of his vengeful rage. She had done that and needed little else. She tilted her head, hands upon her hips, and considered him – yes…he would do nicely with some direction.

“See? Not so hard is it? Now…are you ready to tell me where their weaknesses are? Where they are soft and can be torn? They will not die but they will lose, you will gain everything they own. This I swear if only you agree to do whatever I might ask of you in return?”

“Anything! I want those petching thieves to pay their own damned debts!”

“Good,” she stated, drawing the words out through pursed lips for a while, “tell me…where do they keep their ledgers? Which suppliers do they use and when are the deliveries? DO they have any friends…enemies other than yourself?” the questions came from her and Rebley did his best to answer them.

This continued for another Bell perhaps, Rebley being exhausted of information. She had given him the same 5 day’s time period for completion as she had given Yeller. This was no coincidence, she needed to slink into Nyka with speed and precision, she could not afford to get caught in a protracted battle for her desires. The foundation needed to be made as quickly as possible – with that done she would have more licence for time.

She made her way towards the Safe haven Hostel, musing upon what she had just learnt.

[Zandelia]

She sat in her rooms now, the day’s events slipping slowly through her mind, the visions recalled by her memory being analysed behind the darkness of her eyelids. She sat ensconced within her battered wooden chair, its high back suitably comfortable enough to lean into as her fingers latticed across her abdomen. A small smile played across her lips as her feet, braced against the corner of her rented oak desk, kept her chair resting upon its rear two legs as she considered how best to go about the work to come. She had set herself a task, two tasks actually, to complete within 5 days – it was no mean feat of accomplishment. She opened her emerald eye and gazed upon the map, spread across the desk before her and weighed down by various items. Two small red pins were placed into it, their tips penetrating the wood below the parchment.

One in the Flaxen, the second the Sharp Tooth Tavern. Two simple locations, but once attained the beginning of a much larger web. But…how to do it? The trick lies not in doing both, but doing both at the same time she let her legs fall and she rushed forwards into the desk.

Her elbows leant upon the surface, palms supporting her temples in her quest for clarity. She had sifted through various scenarios already, had dismissed many of them. Using force would lead to rebuttal or only the money gained. Taking the business through cruelty or death would solve Rebley’s problem but perhaps not Yeller’s – the Innkeeper would use the lack of money returned to call of their terms of agreement whilst still gaining the most of his vengeance. No…she had to preserve the business and sweep away Rebley’s former business partners. Killing them would be all too easy but would lead to far too many questions. She sighed out a breath and pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, rubbing the tension there away slightly.

“What did Rebley say? About how the acted? Arrogant…” she muttered, slinking through the list of opportunities for manipulation to see if anything jumped out at her glaringly after the hundredth repetition.

They were dismissive and abrasive, but desperate for custom and slippery to the point of sweating waxy oils from their pores. Arrogant and….wait….dismissive. She thought it through a few more times, making the link between arrogance, desperation and dismissive inclinations. They were poor weren’t they? Their business failing despite ejecting Rebley and his needs. They might soon be at each other’s throats….now there is a fissure worth slamming a wedge into. Rebley said he suspected them of some more illicit tendencies, not enough to get the attention of the Monks but enough to damage their reputation irreparably – price fixings and a failed attempt as a racketeering project Rebley had mentioned, though he had had no proof. Still, something worth looking into further over the next couple of days.

Yes…tomorrow I can make a visit to the store under the pretence of a purchase, they won’t dare turn me away and I can study the interior. Study their behaviours too. I’ll need a thief…or two? Neilles at the very least she began to formulate the vague skeleton of a progressive series of plans.

She would gather information and then bring in outside help to see if she couldn’t get her clutches fastened around some evidence she could sue against them – ledgers would be good, business agreements better. Receipts would even be of use if they revealed something damaging. All she ahd to do was tease out a way to gain access to them. At the very least she would find a way to shove the partners further apart…perhaps trigger a violent response she could take advantage of. Five days would be enough for that – one for study, one for theft and three for further progression. Yeller and Rebley would get what they wanted, and they would give her what she wanted in return.

“The start of Nyka” she whispered to herself as she returned to studying the map upon the table, making advance considerations based upon her success in her current gambit – there was no other option but to succeed after all.

Planning ahead was the order of business, even if she had to create the pattern herself from nothing. She would have her own damned way in the end.

My way…or the high way. If I can’t have what I want peacefully, well then we will see how far Sunberthian tactics can take one’s self in this pious city she told herself as she continued her plotting, well into the depths of the night.

[Abstract]

Hi Zandelia! I can't post up your grade, since you have yet to update your ledger! Please do so and I can give it to you. Thanks!