Solo The Landlord/Merchant Gambit (Part Two)

[Zandelia]

Spring 10th, 513 AV – Safe Haven Hostel


Rumours were often times ignored by the majority of sentient beings, especially if they were ensconced within the safe walls of a city. It was almost as if living encased in stone offered up a psychological protection that allowed others to ignore potential threats and pass them off as ribald gossip. Zandelia knew better, however, and she knew that there was also one other woman within her season’s dwelling that agreed with her – Vysia. It was to her that she had concluded she would turn to at first light and as the rays of the sun caused her eyelids to flick open the plans to tackle the task at hand – formed the previous night – slunk into the front of her mind. She pushed herself up, energy of the chase filling her with more than enough strength to leap into her dress immediately. Slipping on her leather boots and gloves, pulling the last up to her elbow, she patted her hair into and acceptable state and slipped out of the door.

Vysia has her own collection of knowledge, everyone knows that unofficially. She will possess some knowledge of use, or at least could offer up some clues. I’ll use any resource I need to succeed she told herself as she virtually leapt down the stairs and came out into the main ground floor room of the Safe Haven Hostel.

“Amelias, is there something I can do for you? I am very busy this day so make it quick” Vysia stated, tone distant and cold as Zandelia approached her – she had not had much time to build a rapport with the hostel owner.

“Just some information, if you would”

“Oh I live to serve you foreigners,” Vysia’s sarcasm was muted but evident, “what is it?”

“It’s more of a who really, two of them. Merchants by the name of Keral and Nurey. I have need to know of them”

“Hmmm…been listening to Yeller have you? Wouldn’t have figured you as the sort to help others. Why”

“Perhaps I simply wish to be viewd without suspicion somewhere in this city”

“Of course. Well…they are scoundrels and wastrels. They’re not very successful as they spend more than they make, usually at the Brothel I hear. Used to work with another boy by name of Rebley but I ehar that had a…disagreement”

“Commercial intervention?”

“Just so. Yeller was upset about the whole matter but can’t do much about it – no one can. The Orders have more important things than to chase debtors…so long as they don’t owe us a debt. Why so interested?”

“Need to find a way for them to be…agreeable”

“Oh?” the female Monk seemed to be considering something for a few moments, “take this. If you can read it properly then you will know what to do. If not…well then it’s secrets will remain hidden from all. Goodbye Amelias” and after handing her a miniature scroll of paper Vysia disappeared into the rear rooms of the building.

Zandelia left a small pile of 5 Laat on Vysia’s desk, none would touch them who desired their limbs to remain intact, and slipped the missive into her corset underneath her dress. She had a few other matters to attend to before leaving the Safe haven and setting about the business of the day – she needed help and was not so foolish as not to admit that fact. Foreigners were always looking for opportunity and, for a few more Laat of expenditure, Zandelia fancied that she could cajole a few people into her design. The groundwork had already been made, the evening’s revellers easily passing on drunken slurs of work available from someone not scornful of foreign visitors. She sat in the corner of the Hostel, the seat empty as she had expected.

They were waiting to see who would sit, who they might be able to use. Clever but not clever enough. They will see me as a foolish woman, they will learn that they will do as they are told or get a coin disk through their throat. No…tools the collection of them she mused to herself as she was given her daily breakfast…it was small as the Bountiful Wheat were still weak from the events of Winter. Zandelia was still exploring those historical events for opportunity but, for now, turned her attention back to the matter of the day.

The real question was what type of tool would offer itself up for use in deft hands.

[Zandelia]

As she waited for those with either the courage or the desperation to approach her she pulled out the small scroll she had been handed by Vysia and fiddled with in her fingers – twirling the dry parchment between forefinger and middle finger in consideration. She had been given whatever its contents were as a gift, paid for them though she had not been asked to, yet she was tentative to use them. Her curiosity was great indeed yet she knew a possibly poisoned olive branch when she saw one. Vysia had no reason to try to help her and it meant she would…one day…call in the favor Zandelia would now owe her. Her head tilted slightly as she mused upon her circumstances and came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter – by accepting the item she would be in Vysia’s debt whether she sued it or not.

Crafty wench…I think I’m starting to like her… she told herself as she frowned and unrolled it, eye flitting across the delicate script within.

1) Rebley is a naïve fool but honorable. Would make good addition if fruitful.

2) Yeller has been crotchety of late. Something about an old incident and its sting. Must investigate.

3) Ledgers show business is in name of Keral…not the other two. Why?

4) Nurey’s father complained yesterday, stated the Monks should protect one of their own. He must mean Feradan

5) Business is failing, foolish activities. Rebley shown the door. Thugs attacked him – not to find them and make them talk.

6) Thugs have no names, only foreigners. No descriptions. Both large male’s though. Perhaps fled city already. Nurey and Keral had nothing to do with it. Who funded?

Investigation…ongoing.

~ Vysia




She let the parchment curl back up and simply stared at it, her hands resting upon the rough surface of the table, for a few chimes. None approached her for now, perhaps her face was too frustrated for them to wish to risk it. She slipped the scroll back into the folds of her dress and tried to make sense of what she had just absorbed into her mind. They were mere fractions of whatever was truly coalescing in the state of affairs. She had thought it to be a simple matter of pushing a couple of young boys from their business and reallocating it. Now, however, things had taken a turn for the more mysterious and shady. The notes smacked of intrigue and a more personal agenda at work, if true, and she saw no reason for Vysia to have lied – she had no stake in it as far as Zandelia could see.

I’ll have to begin investigations into some other…matters then. I can’t risk roping in connections that might end up exposing me… she thought, interrupted by the appearance of 3 burly men only slightly smaller than Ximal was these days.

“Mornin’ missy…we hear you need something done. We could do it for ya. For a price!” the middle hunk of flesh drawled at her, presumably the ‘leader’ of their disreputable party.

“Is that so? We shall see. Sit” she indicated to them and watched with some amusement as they tried to wedge themselves into the seats opposite her.

“What is it that you are all…capable...of might I ask?” she enquired of them once they were settled and had stopped cursing.

“Anything missy, anything. Fella can’t be choosy if ya take my meanin’. You got coin we can dance for ya. Or…if yer offering more satisfyin’ things we can take that too” he grinned at her, their eyes very much upon her bosom. She snorted back.

“Not going to happen so take your eyes off of my breasts before you lose them”

“Fiesty!”

“You have no idea. Coin though, coin I have. I need you to…investigate…something for me. A shop of sorts. Flaxen District. Two boys really playing at being merchants”

“Investigate? What?”

“Locations of money, ledger, papers. If you can get them talking about their business enough to let things slip then I could use that too. Simple things, I don’t expect them to be too intelligent”

“Planning a raid eh?”

“Perhaps. I just want information. Get me that and you’ll get your coin”

“How much?

“Ten Laat for eah of you. Perhaps more if you do well. A bonus you could call it”

“Twenty or we walk”

“Fifteen”

“Done! Now…specifics”

With that she revealed what little she thought was necessary to get them to be selective in their searching – she was far off revealing everything of course as she wanted to keep things as seamless and smooth as possible. It took about half a Bell to rattle off the facts, figures and list of things she wanted to know, or know the location of. After she had finished the three men merely looked at each other – presumably happy to have an easy take – and left without further comment.

Let’s hope this works… she sighed inwardly to herself as she sat and tried to ponder out the secrets of the riddle she had been handed this day. Things were never simple, she should have known better.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia tried to sit still, focus her mind upon the riddle before her, yet she could not being herself to do so. Something was niggling at her, in the very recesses of her mind, and trying to bring her attention to something of grave importance. It was the feeling of déjà vu and its accompanying shiver up and down her spine that alerted her that something was missing…she had missed something. It was frustrating to say the least, to know one had made a mistake – misread something – and to not be able to puzzle out what exactly it was. Yet she had experienced these types of frisson multiple times through the seasons and she knew the way to make them leaver her – logical deduction. It always led her to the end goal, the apex that her subconscious tried to inform her of. The only variable was how long it usually took to do so.

Okay…let’s start from the beginning. We have Yeller…and Rebley. Tangled together in a contract seemingly to do entirely with the debt owed she told herself, getting her mind right back to the very beginning of her mission.

She had met with Yeller and Rebley, in one night and upon one singular hunch that there was something worthy of profit for her – though not in monetary value. That was, however, besides the point. They had both confirmed the same story, with minor additions in different places from both parties…but not enough to give much indication that either of them was lying to me. Rebley is a coward and he just wants to make money, whore and drink himself stupid – there was no façade there unless he enjoyed pissing in himself for it. At any rate he stood to gain little by deception and everything by the truth – even Vysia’s note pointed that out.

“And yet…that’s what is so strange isn’t it? Why hate Rebley if he has no stake or debt to pay? According to Monk notations at any rate…” she mused, running her fingers gently through her blonde hair in careful thought.

Yeller was angry because he was owed money…or at least that was what he claimed he was angry about. Yet he had no reason to be wrathful towards Rebley as the debt had been taken in the name of his partner – Keral. That was, at least, what Vysia would have Zandelia believe judging from her notations upon the mess of human foolishness that the case was rapidly becoming. So Yeller should be angry at Keral, but he isn’t…so is he just angry? Or lashing out from an anger connected to the mess? She toyed with these questions as she tried to piece together the information for better assimilation and actualization. No, there was something more at play, something personal she was beginning to think. The other notes seemed out of place unless they were placed alongside the point stating Yeller had an aged axe to grind.

Sooo…Yeller has an axe to grind with someone. He lent Keral the money owed so that would suggest it has something to do with him. Yet…he is so young. Perhaps his family? Or a friend? And this business about Nurey’s father and Feradan…is Feradan a Monk? Wait…Rebley mentioned a Feradan to me – Keral’s father. Is it the same man? she asked herself as she sipped from a cup of water that had been placed upon the table whilst she had been distracted by thought.

She frowned at the fact she had been approached without her noticing, yet was appreciative of the beverage enough to not think much upon it. She merely went back to her deductive process and set about lining up what she knew – or thought she did. To her it seemed likely that Keral’s father was a Monk by the name of Feradan. He was not openly aiding the boys for some unknown reason and that was interesting in and of itself. Rebley was a casualty and not a central figure to whatever was at play either, he merely had poor luck that he resented bitterly. Nurey seemed to fill the same position as Rebley from what she knew also, yet had not fallen afoul of matters as of yet. Then there were the thugs to consider, they had been hired by someone and that someone had stood something to gain in the way of threat.

Yeller perhaps? Would he even consider risking everything for something so foolish? What was this slight, and was it motivation enough? They can’t be ahrd to track, these thugs. Large, mercenary, brutish…stupid enough…to attack…a citizen of…….petch! her mind finally triggered what it had bene keeping from her.

The THUGS!

“Vysia!” she all but ran to the counter where the startle female Monk now looked at her with shock and wariness, “the thugs!” she hissed at her, pitching her voice for Vysia alone to hear. “I found them…I think. Give me a Bell..or two…and you might have your necks for the noose”

“Oh? That’s very generous of you, all of that for nothing? Come now…what do you want? What do you seek to gain by helping the monks? Special favors? That is unlikely to say the least…you aren’t even a citizen! You’re but a foreigner!” Vysia scoffed back at her.

“A foreigner willing to do the dirty work for you…Monk! And I don’t want anything, or nothing that you can give me”

“Oh, such scorn” Vysia laughed, “you remind me of me at times. Very well…go find these…thugs. We shall see what you can do. Who knows, perhaps there are other tasks hmm?”

With that Zandelia swiftly made her way to the door of the Safe Haven…she had little time to overturn her foolishness. If her suspicions proved true that was. Still, she knew the rules – assimilate, assess and adapt. No one like me can live without such a mantra.