Closed A Leaf in the Wind [Zandelia]

[Markus Andres]

58th-Summer-514

Information.

There were many ways to get information – A simple fact Markus had learnt the hard way. Often the best way was just to be observant. Put two and two together and let the brain do the work. But that method met limitations. Not everything was done out in the open for observant eyes to take notice. Often informants were needed. People who were in a position to observe where one self could not, people in a position beneficial to the trade of information. In Syliras, Markus had the entire Syliran Knights, thousands of brothers and sisters of the sword, a plethora of information if he pulled the right strings. He had never realized how privileged a life he had led.

In Sunberth, he was blind and left without people to trust beyond those who he had come to the city with. People he could trust beyond a doubt. The natives, best kept at an arm's length. Words not to be trusted at any rate. They'd sell their own mothers for a silver miza. The sergeant forcefully pushed the door open and left the establishment in a hurry. Fingers tingling with fury that was barely contained. A wrath simmering just underneath the discipline days upon seasons upon years had instilled in him.

Remember your family. Them first, then you can deal with that vile hive of scum. They'll get their punishment. Briefly forgetting his true mission. Markus could at least cross off that his niece had become a sex-slave. Which had been a minor relief watching the women in there. Their dead or pleading eyes. In time, Markus. In time. Not now. Family first.

Without casting even a glance over his shoulder at the Drunken Fish or whatever the name of the place was, Markus carved a path through a loose group of sailors. A part of him itched to vent his frustrations upon these sailors, no doubt privateers – another fancy word for pirates – no distinction in Markus' mind. One of the pirates felt the unyielding breastplate Markus carried under the loose tunic. The snarl on his lips kept the man from voicing any complaints as the knight continued on his path. Heater shield upon his back reflected the rays of Syna. It was extremely warm to the touch and Markus knew he had an improvised hot poker in case someone decided to mess with him. The Peacekeeper hung loosely on his left hip, joined by its far smaller cousin - A cold iron dagger.

It was clear the knight did not trust the streets of Sunberth. The air he had caught the moment he arrived had also disturbed him. Everyone seemed on edge, agitated by something beyond their control. Markus knew the reason – or he suspected he knew the reason. Which only complicated things. He picked up the pace, pushed himself through the streets to reach the destination he had scouted yesterday. Questions had been simple, brief, to the point. Work for mercenaries, groups hiring mercenaries, terrible employers, who not to trust, slave marked and openings, . The man had not been willing to reveal much and Markus had been too ingrained in his honourable ways to even start considering bribing him. Though he had had a retort, told him to go to his own kind at the Drunken Fish – his own kind, no doubt a reference to the heavy Zeltivan accent. The sailors had been from Zeltiva. They were his first priority. The main problem, Markus realized, had been his own eagerness to find his family. He had developed ideas on the long journey to Sunberth. Tossed ideas back and forth.

Caution. Slow method. Had been chosen. Find a spy, informant – whatever fitted the bill. Break, bribe, hire or somehow convince them into giving him the information he wanted. Thus far, his search had been fruitless. But he had hope that he would find someone, but he knew he only had a day or two in his original schedule before he would try a different route - insert himself into the Sunberth society as a mercenary and try and find out, from the inside, where his family was kept. Who they had been sold to. Be careful with his prodding though, could not tip their hand. Especially not reveal his knightly affiliation to anyone in the city. Or they'd pile on him like rats taking down a lion.

Powerful right arm pushed open the door. The descending Syna was sending her last rays across the city and Markus was happy, for it was way too hot on such a day. He was looking forward to the mug of ale. He sent a cautionary glance around the establishment. Recognized one or two patrons from the day before there were also other patrons. None of those he recognized though. Of those he recognized - One an elderly woman who was nursing a mug in the corner. Probably quite the tale she could give one, but he had not the time. The other a younger man. Looked shifty and his dark brown eyes met Markus' emerald ones and both diverted their eyes at the same time.

Peculiar man. Best keep an eye on that one.

”A mug of ale, please.” Markus said as he leaned against the bar. The mizas in his hand slapped on the table. Zeltivan accent still strong and the hard eyes that focused on him were only softened lightly when he noticed Markus had placed a silver coin more than the price. Markus had not noticed, nor would he have cared if he had. Left hand gripped the mug of ale, slowly rose it to his lips. It was cooler than outside and it soothed his temper, for the moment. Though frustration and anger still lingered in the hard emerald eyes. The focused upon the bartender.

”I am looking for someone. Know anyone who can help me?” Markus skipped right past all the formalities. He was a knight for Sylir's sake. He did not like to hide his true intentions. The probing and scouting prior had given him a, thus far, useless clue, but perhaps the direct method might awaken the attention of someone. Someone who he could follow and shake down for information.

Only have to wait for someone to bite the bait.

[Zandelia]

She had been forced to move her usual haunt of operations to one she knew less well but could still garner work easily enough, she had been here when she had met Vann after all and that had presented opportunity if only for a brief portion of time. The Pig’s Foot was too dangerous at the moment for anything but the casual visit, fleeting and brief in nature. She was being hunted, though the why still rankled her somewhat. It had died down for the most part now, with a few unpleasant occurrences that she was doing her best to deal with and carry in her stride. Still, after a fashion she had enjoyed the change of scenery, the switching of pace and perceptions. It had set her back somewhat, she knew fewer people in the Fish Bowl after all. Still it had presented a challenge, another one. She did so enjoy challenges, first of which had been to gain Manowar’s trust enough that he was willing to point people her way as and when they suited.

Not the usual riff-raff, though they get the bills paid and the expenses for the season required. Food, fuel and so on. No…what he knows I like…crave…is the unique she told herself as she nursed a half-mug of ale hat had been there for too long by half already.

He had not quite grasped the idea yet, he sent her everyone whom looked as if they needed help. Vann had been his man for such things but he had all but disappeared of late - a fact which she found curious but annoying. She had hoped he could be of use to her, to the Scars, yet he was nowhere to be found. She idly wished him well and hoped he was not dead and rotting in a back alley somewhere. He had been fun in his own way. Untutored perhaps, unskilled certainly but…fun. He had presented a nice counterpoint to the mental machinations she engaged in of late, he had offered her smaller choices and much more satisfying rewards - the chance to be half-decent on occasion. She also thought of Fallon, the woman she loved and yet had also let down now. She felt guilt over that, her net of misinformation had failed her.

“Never again, ever” she muttered to herself, she had already drawn up plans with which to provide a better measure of a shield and once their current business was done she’d implement them properly. There would be a veritable wall of lies and deceit that would throw all off of them bar those skilled as herself once she was finished.

So far the day had proven rather dull and she had indulged in the game she often played without other’s consent - that of reading the people and their problems. She had already deduced viable hypotheses upon why the majority of the patrons were drinking within the tavern instead of out in the delightful weather that was Summer. Some were fearful, she could tell by their shifting and fidgeting in between glancing at the door. It was not surprising, activity had escalated in the city. Mage hunts were roaming and the syndicates were fighting another of their bloody spats in their classic on-off manner. Some were looking to forget, they were the ones who just drank and stared at nothing but the rim of their mugs. Others were more difficult but she was a decent judge of character. The man approached the bar and her mind began to whirl.

Decent height, good build and certainly in top condition. Not a mercenary, not the right mannerisms from the pleasantries and the over payment. Weaponry appears decent though the blades are, obviously, hidden. For now. Face like thunder though, angry perhaps? Frustrated? Walks like a warrior yet not a mercenary….traveler? Doesn’t appear malnourished at all so decent life. Foreign by the accent. Where have I heard that before? Somewhere… she pondered the newcomer as her finger traced the rim of her own mug absently.

And then came the magic words and she smiled. He was frustrated, seeking help and no doubt not finding it in the city. Sunberth was wary of foreigners, especially when they were well armed and so intimidating of nature. She doubted he had found anyone to help him at all despite his good manners. She tilted her head in consideration before raising her hand to catch Manowar’s eyes. The man pointed at her and she smiled and inclined her head as she leant her chair back ever so slightly. She would have to test this newcomer of course but if his request proved sufficiently enticing then she could see her way to providing her aid. For a price, there was always a price.

“And how may I be of assistance young man?” she asked him and pointed to the seat opposite her.

“Lost a lover? In trouble with a gang? Looking for work? Seeking something to indulge in? I know much, can tell much. Why not sit a while and regale me with your needs? You’ll find none as capable as myself of that I can give you a guarantee” she sipped from her mug and leant upon the table now, elbows against the wood and hands cradling her face with an expression of expectation.

[Markus Andres]

The knight followed the raised finger - the only response to his question - people lacked proper manners in this city. Nothing wrong with a polite sir when answering a question. Though, if Markus could choose, that was a minor issue compared to what else shyke was going on for the city. Emerald eyes focused upon the figure sitting by the table that the large man behind the bar pointed at. Undoubtedly female, the curvatures told as much, he had not expected a woman. The frustration suppressed the surprise and a small nod was given to the barkeep. He had earned that extra coin Markus and unwittingly given him.

The incognito knight approached the table. Emerald eyes scrutinizing her fixated upon her eyes - no - eye. Emerald like his own. Only the Vantha had prettier eyes than those with emerald eyes. But this woman was much older than himself. A decade perhaps, the wrinkles and touch of a crow around the eyes told him as much. Other than a glance a the broken eye, his fixed upon her right eye. Scars and injuries were common amongst the knights, even horrific injuries as the loss of an eye. He had long ago learnt to keep his eyes away from such scars. It was the polite thing to do. Though behind that singular emerald orb he saw intelligence. She was not to be trifled with and no doubt she were either in the midst of scrutinizing every action he made, or had already analysed him.

Curious. She does have the looks, par the eye, to gather information through her gender. He pursed his lips as he took the seat offered to him. He did not move to respond, at least not until he was seated. Chair creaked under his weight. With his gear, probably twice her weight. Looked slender. More evidence to his theory of how she gathered her intelligence. The recently purchased mug of ale in the left hand. Leaving the right free to grab a blade and end lives should the need arise. The possibility of it being a trap, the gods knew he carried enough upon him to make him a worthy target. The blade on his hip alone was worth a larger sum than most Sunberthians ever saw in a lifetime. But he might have chosen to be caution, he could not risk losing a possible informant or spy. Her questions, many of them, thrown in rapid succession, a part of her sales pitch no doubt. There was confidence in her voice, though borne from ignorance and stupidity or from experience and intelligence, he did not know. He hoped for the latter, or else he might endanger his family. He would have to find out if she could be trusted with this job. Her posture spoke of the same. Both hands above the table, head resting upon them. A nice gesture of trust, but undoubtedly just another part of her calculated exterior.

I truly despise this city. Brings out the worst in me. Mistrusting every action. Every gesture. Petching scum. - Markus nodded slowly. Best to give her a hand and see if she took the entire arm.

"Three. Probably, wouldn't surprise me. Not at the moment, maybe later. The ale is sufficient for now, but thank you." Markus answered the rhetorical questions in the Zeltivan accent he had readopted on this rescue mission. The almost whimsical answers to her questions was his way to test her, without being too obvious. How she reacted to such answers. But he shouldn't play around. Frustration still lingered in his voice, though the promise of qualified spy, if she spoke the truth, did much to hide it from his speech.

"However, I need to find someone. In fact, I need to find the whereabouts of three people. But before I get into that." He raised the mug of ale and took a sip. Eyes did not waver from the lady on the other side of the table. The mug was placed on the table. The knight knew he had other options, but he didn't want to use them until he was forced to. Could not handle the emotional distraction. Not now. The gods knew he had enough distractions in this sordid city. He leant back in the chair, it creaked uncomfortably under him. Two-sixty pounds tended to do that to less sturdy chairs. He levelled his eyes with her single orb.

"I would like to know who I am dealing with, but common courtesy dictates I introduce myself first." Markus gave her a shrug after the comment. "Name is Kvist." He would offer his hand for her to shake if she so desired. She probably would reject it, but Markus felt confident enough that he could overpower her if she decided to do anything foolish. "And I take it you are very discreet when carrying out your job. For I would rather not see these people hurt."

[Zandelia]

She watched him with her gaze, not fixing in any particular place but instead taking in the whole. Unfocused perhaps in a way but it was often more profitable to let the focus slip and instead just read what was being projected to you - she knew that well. Gestures could be feigned, actions mocked to suit the occasion but body language could never truly be erased. It would be built upon, shifted into certain lights but it always shone through slightly no matter how good an actor one was. She took her time, he gave her much within which to simply look and contemplate. He used only one hand and that was wide also, wide enough that he could use his weapons. He was clearly distrusting and that spoke well of him, only fools trusted others in Sunberth. She said nothing until he was done, his piece stated and set out neatly before him. It was an interesting one at that, far more interesting than watching drunkards get drunker by the Bell.

Yet vague and filled with more questions than answers. His way of testing perhaps? A wise precaution, one which means he puts the initiative upon myself to prove I am what he seeks. Not combative perhaps but there is a challenge there all the same. What can you do for me little lady? the internal monologue continued as she watched him proffer his hand and she gazed at it curiously. She extended her own confidently and went to shake his hand but instead shifted it without flinching into a warrior’s forearm grip.

“That is how it is done I think with the warrior’s kind” she gave a brief smile at that, she had no need to read his palm today she knew what he was and what calluses would tell her he wielded well enough.

“But yes, how remiss of me, forgive my lack of manners…Kvist,” she paused there, she doubted he used his true name as few did these days it seemed, “my name is Web. Perhaps an apt name I have been told but only results can prove that to one such as yourself I think”

She let the last question linger there as she fixed him with a firm, glittering emerald gaze as the silence grew longer and perhaps slightly uncomfortable in nature as her eye didn’t not leave his own two. He had not even remarked upon her singular orb and that told her enough about him that he had seen blood and gore before. He Hadn’t even cared it seemed, nothing about it had fazed him and her certainly had flicked his eyes to it briefly. It gave a strange counterpoint to the question he had asked about the lack of harm - though truly it had been a statement with a request slipped in between the words. She presumed that meant that whoever he was looking for was of particular value to him. Was it a group of friends then?

“I cannot guarantee in Sunberth that no harm will come, it would be akin to promising you the sun Kvist. I cannot control others much as I might try to at times, even succeed slightly. Yet they remain, the people, always their own. They are at their own whims and I cannot stop what I am not there to prevent. If you mean that I will not harm them through foolishness, you have my word. Perhaps that means little to a strapping man such as yourself but this old woman has fulfilled many bargains to the letter,” she took a sip from her own mug then to quench her growing thirst tough she was salivating internally at what his quest could offer her, “it’s simply good business. You want me to stop what I can prevent then consider it done so long as it doesn’t get me killed. Because that is bad business” she placed her mug down delicately, gently as if to emphasize her point.

“That said you have given me little but the fact that you want three people found. I could ask their names but names are flighty things and I doubt you’d give them to me at any rate. We must all have our secrets…no?”

“Instead I shall ask a more important question of you…why? I have not lived as long as I have by being reckless - though youth has a tendency to make you live with some regrets. I do not desire to tangle with giants in this city without a reason and seeing as you have given me no indication of whom may have the people you seek I shall assume the worst until prove otherwise. It is the wisest course”

“So why do you want them? What are they to you? You might start with that and then perhaps give me descriptions. Genders, ages, hair color, eye color, skills or crafts they have to use. Each of these things can provide a piece of the puzzle as to where they might be and how to find them. Small trinkets to some but then I do not credit many others with knowing my methods”

“Your move?” she asked him almost teasingly, if this was a tactical game of words then she would have him know that she was aware of it. If not then he would likely take it as a business ploy.

Truly it didn’t matter, to her it was the client that mattered most. Whether to accept or reject a job often came down to what the client gave her and what she was able to read within their motives. If she suspected something dangerously subversive in terms of the syndicates she would know she was dealing with more than a simple hide and seek operation. Why he wanted to do this would prove to be more important than he perhaps knew, the descriptive details would simply fill in the flesh around the skeleton which she was seeking to create.

Life is chess, in every respect. Know the player, not the pieces she told herself internally.

[Markus Andres]

The hand slipped past his own and gripped him by the lower arm. He was mildly surprised, though Markus instinctively did the same. Powerful hand gripped her lower arm. There was strength in her fingers he could feel. More than her build might lead one to believe. There was more to this woman than met the eyes. He almost snorted as he mentally corrected it to eye. It didn't worry Markus, but he made sure to remember it, didn't want to be caught off guard by this woman. He wasn't surprised that she had deducted he was a warrior. The shield on his back. The bastard sword on his hip. Both gave away that he was at least accustomed to combat. But neither gave away that he was perhaps the deadliest warrior in that room. The woman had proven confident enough that he could not hurt her, or she had judged his character well enough to know he would not hurt her unprovoked. Either boded well for her abilities.

The knight did notice the pause before she spoke his middle name. As if she did not trust he had provided his real name. In many ways he hadn't, the knight had rarely if ever used the name Kvist. Though it was convenient, as he was by far not the only one in the family who had all but forgotten their middle name. It meant those who had enslaved his family would not know the name and he could avoid them learning a man sharing their last name was beating around the bush looking for them. At the same time, it meant he did not lie and insult Tyveth with dishonesty. The best of both worlds. Though her response had him raise a brow in return. Web. What sort of name was Web. Unless 'Web' had had really shyke parents who hated their child then it was undoubtedly a nickname or alias of sorts. It made more sense. Though it did not matter. If she used the alias in place of her own name, it made no difference. Did not detract from his trust in her, though it did put it under further scrutiny. An apt name indeed for a spy. Or whatever this woman was. Though the tone of voice. The length at which she spoke. The things she felt needed to be aired annoyed him.

"I know unforeseen shyke can happen, Web. I only asked for discretion. That you're cautious in the investigation." Harsh discipline kept his anger in check. Kept his voice under control although he wanted to lash out at everything that reeked of the city and its corruption. His eyes did notice how slowly she drank the ale. Small sips. Careful and guarded. Did not want to get drunk and slip up. She was professional enough, he deemed. Her words, although lengthy and primarily to guard herself, spoke of it as well.

"I do not have the faintest clue where they are or who is holding them. I do know who sold them, however." His anger was getting the best of him. He'd have to remain calm. Disciplined. Keep the fury under wraps until he found those responsible for the miserable journey. Markus soothed his anger with another gulp of ale. Feeling far outside his comfort zone in this bar. Both eyes levelled on her once more. Debating whether or not she could be trusted. She had done much to make sure he didn't up and leave. Given him a clear boundary she would not cross in the pursuit, but that was to be expected. His right hand twirled the edge of his moustache. A habit, a bad one at that, he had picked up as the beard had grown longer. If his family had been sold as slaves, it was paramount he got them saved as soon as possible. This woman, this Web, might help him. Pros and cons. He gave it careful thoughts. Long ticks passed before he sighed and relented.

"So I do not know if you'll be investigating any of the larger... organisations - though there is a distinct possibility they might be involved." Markus spoke, as a matter of fact. If he was to start trusting her, he should give her a reason to trust him. Put the cards on the table one by one. By admitting this, he was not endangering anyone. Though he knew he had to come clean, answer her questions truthfully as Tyveth demanded. He came to the simple conclusion that trusting her now might ease his further investigation and rescue mission.

"They are family." That was all the reason she would get. "They were taken last winter. Late winter. Might have been here since early spring. So it has been a while, that would probably complicate things for you." Markus explained. Though if this woman was as good as she led others to believe, she would have little trouble making up for the difference. "Two women one man. One of the women is in her mid teens, the other early twenties. Blonde hair, green eyes." Markus looked at Web, taking in her features a little more directly. Realizing he was in fact describing younger versions of her. With the genes Markus had and her hair and eye colour, she could as well have been an Andres. Much like Rachel - though Markus consciously pushed that thought far far away.

"The male is in his early forties, share the hair and eyes. Smaller than me in stature. He is, or rather, was a merchant. My own investigation has led me to believe he has been sold as a slave along with the other two. The older of the women is a seamstress the younger had no trade." Markus' finger twirled the moustache again, contemplating giving their names. He had already given a full description, better to give her the full details. "Their names are William, Johanne and Helen." Markus was about to take a sip of ale when he realized a very important piece of information had slipped his mind. He lowered the mug slightly. "And Johanne is pregnant. Should be visible by now." He took the drag of ale he had been about to take and the mug was placed on the table.

"You going to look for them?" Markus asked. Hoping for a clear yes.

[Zandelia]

He was angry she noted, though he clearly had a right to be as his story unfolded. Or rather a portion of his story, the rest was likely far longer and filled with more that could be considered of interest to her. She liked to know her clients inside out but she was also a patient women when the occasion called for her to be. She would learn of him, was already learning of him, but she knew when to push and when to ease back to prevent un-pleasantries. His anger was a danger to both herself and her business. He was well armed and well armored and as such a confrontation would prove to be a pointless exercise. She would be able to distract and outrun him no doubt but out fight…that was up for debate. She would not risk herself for such a trivial thing as her own curiosity. Still, there were ways to tease out further things without giving rise to wrath perhaps.

“Do not misunderstand me Kvist, I do not seek to cause anger but merely to point out that I can only promise that which I have control over. Many come to me but do not have your understanding, they expect me to work miracles and I am no Goddess to do so” she stated simply over the rim over her mug as she sipped once more.

She wondered, briefly, whether that was a good thing or not. She could do so much more with such power but then where would be the challenge? The thrill? If everything were easy where was the drive to actually do anything? She suspected, in her depths, that that was why the gods seemed so flippant about the world of mortals. Nothing was challenging, everything was pointlessly transparent. What could be attractive about such a state of affairs? Still, she turned her mind from philosophy with regret and once more focused it upon the man, this Kvist. She considered his words in silence, gaze becoming unfocused as she ran through the possibilities, the dangers and the methodology required for what he was asking. It was no easy task to be sure, finding people with little facts to draw upon.

“A thorny problem indeed, to find people in this city when you have little knowledge of where to start. I can see why you need people to help you. And yes….yes I will assist you wherever I can. However, you speak everything of what you want out of this arrangement and offer little in the way of recompense. Price/” she asked simply, she did not expect him to answer immediately and thus moved on to the problem and allowed him time to ponder upon what he was willing to offer.

Always get them to offer first, it gives you an idea of both their mentality and their desperation. Gold means they consider things worthy of such mean offering. Favors means they care more. More means they a re desperate. A sliding scale of offers to give and which will he choose? she mused as she pulled out her pipe and thumbed some tobacco into the bowl before lighting it from the candle upon the table.

She let it breath for a small portion of time before drawing it in through her teeth deeply and breathing it out through her nose - the familiar buzz beginning to take hold almost immediately. She watched him over the wooden pipe and weighed up the quest she had just accepted. It had been easy enough to accept and she imagined such a quick acceptance would throw him off - that was good, he would begin to think rather than just act perhaps. His predicament had also stirred within her a sense that, in a feebly distant way, he was a brother of sorts. She had vowed, long ago and more recently, that if she could save others from her own fate - from Fallon’s - she would do everything in her power to do so. She doubted they were unspoiled but, perhaps, with her intervention they would not suffer years in captivity as she had suffered.

“Family, I will assume you mean real family given their descriptions, and not figurative family” she sighed as she puffed away slowly, considering, “that makes the matter more urgent I presume? Quick and clean will be required. Freedom first, vengeance later. Though I would not blame you. Believe me, I know how you feel” she stated, there was truth in her tone though he would not know exactly why as she drummed her free fingers upon the table's surface, "family name? First names are harder to follow and less unique in my experience. I can hear of many first names but few enough of family names" she asked.

She stared into the mug upon the table, the hidden shadows created by the rim and frowned. Slavers, how she hated them. They were like a disease to the city despite the coin that they quite ably generated. She knew that they drove a lot of the economy of the city, building the foundations of blacksmithing on a scale that making nails and able wear could never match. Still there had to be better ways and for every person given an occupation they stole three for their own gain. This presented an opportunity. She had dabbled with slavers before, when she had been younger and far less skilled. In the present she could come across the ways and means to truly hit them where they hated it most - their coin purse. Literally and figuratively.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult to find, their eye color is rare. At most tables at least,” she nodded at him and met his gaze, “the girls will be easiest I think. Their ages make them wanted at the markets and usually much discussed. The man…the man may prove more difficult. But…far from impossible”

“You say you know who took them, do you have a name? A description? Something with which to hunt them?” she asked simply.

“And one other question, an important one. Do you wish to do this with me? Or do you wish me to do this alone and then report? I ask because if you will be coming with me I need to know you have restraint and if you are not what investigations you will be making of your own. We do not want to scare these slavers away now” she puffed away and paused briefly to drink a little bit more.

[Markus Andres]

Kvist let a involuntary smile cross his lips when Web informed him she were not a goddess. The knight had already assumed as much, since any goddess or god would surely steer clear of such a rat hole. But the smile soon was replaced with the soft frown that hid the anger from everyone. He offered a nod in return for those words. He didn't expect miracles. He only expected results. Hints. Clues. Something that told him where his brother and nieces were. He was a reasonable man, but anger chipped away at that reason, but discipline maintained a degree of control over his impulses and Web gave him enough assurance that she could get the job done, or no one else would be able to. A professional pride probably and a way to bring in the clients. The honesty was refreshing. Or what he perceived as honesty. He had come to expect every person to be dishonest and swindlers.

The emerald eyes gazed at the woman. Still had not agreed to take the job. Yet asked what the payment would be rather than dictating a price. It was odd. Often the seller stated the price, not the buyer. Despite his upbringing, he was still the son of a merchant and he suspected she was testing him. If he offered an unreasonably high amount, she would undoubtedly purr in happiness. If he went too low... She had people she could sell the information that there was someone in town looking for particular slaves. Kvist considered what he could offer. Gold was obvious. But the quantity. How many pounds of coins was he to turn over to what, in Syliras, would probably have been a criminal. At least her methods would have been frowned upon. The woman suddenly shifted the subject, before Markus could reply and he raised a curious brow. She did not want to know what he would pay? Or had he failed the test by being too slow and not give her an offer right away. Markus only nodded to her almost rhetorical assumption about it being actual family and not a sense of familiarity and belonging that made him consider them family. That feeling was reserved for the knights and the knights alone who were his family in all but name.

Kvist's right brow raised again. Someone who called themselves Web had just informed him that first names were not unique enough. Markus had met his fair share of crazy names over the years. Kreig, Fallon, Xalet, Imass, Ball, S'Essy, Pulren... Some parents almost specialized in giving their children strange names. He could not risk it, they knew his family name, no doubt. Their safety while he attempted to rescue them was paramount. Could not risk anything. Though there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and the mentioning of their eye colours - before the wrath also chased that away. Markus shook his head gently as he opened his mouth to speak. If she could postpone the discussion of payment, so could he. Though her last offer was rather interesting and he spent several long ticks contemplating the offer as he spoke.

"I do not doubt your discretion, but I do not want to risk those responsible skipping town when they find out someone is snooping around looking for my family." He spoke frankly. His absence from Syliras had been long enough without those responsible going underground or leaving town adding more time to his stay in this god-forsaken city. "I only have the name of one of them." Kvist looked around a little, looking utterly bored as he did so, an act, before he raised the mug to his lips and drank. Checking if anyone was listening in on the two. It also had an ulterior motive, give him more time to think about trusting this informant enough with what he knew. Might be pumping him for information before she returned to her masters with information.

In for a copper in for a gold. He thought as the emerald eyes found her ageing visage again.

"Simonsen, Alan Simonsen. First mate of a saique, I believe. I do not know the name of the ship. Though that ought to be enough to find the ship, assuming it is still in harbour." Kvist paused. He had come to the last two items she had mentioned. The two that bothered him the most. Payment and if he wished to join her. Markus was far from stealthy. His size and armour made sure of that. Nor did he have the agility and grace of a criminal scum fleeing from the law. He might endanger the mission. And there was the other side of the coin. What if she in addition to feeding information to the guilty also could lead him into a trap. So many hidden petching aspects. Still. She had said it, time was of the essence. He wanted them saved even if it meant he had to run some personal risks. Being a knight in Sunberth was a tall enough risk on its own. Still. If she spoke the truth and he could come with her and get a firsthand view of the situation. He would be much better off to make his decisions. For trusting her word alone would be hard. The taint of Sunberth was all around her.

"I can keep my anger under wraps. I won't do anything foolish, if that is what you're asking. But would I not be doing something extremely foolish by accompanying you? My size does not allow for me to move unseen or unheard. If the task requires such discretion I can't help. But I would like to be a part of it if possible. Your call." Markus paused and hid the pause with a sip of the ale.

"Twenty-five gm next time we meet. Additional seventy-five gm for each of the three you find." Markus offered. In total Web could earn a hefty sum of 250 gold mizas if she found all three of his missing family members. His calmly looked at Zandelia as he leaned back on the chair. Waiting for a counter offer or perhaps a glimmer of surprise in her eyes. Markus might not care about the value of gold like most people did, but that didn't mean he didn't know the value to other people. And two hundred gold was a lot. Enough to survive several seasons - perhaps a full year if spent correctly. Markus was a wealthy knight, had plenty of gold to spend. Especially if it meant his family would be safe. Though now she would know he was either very wealthy or that he was willing to spend everything to find them again. If she decided to just pocket the initial twenty-five GM when they met again and not take the assignment, he wouldn't care about the gold. Only the lost opportunity.

"You still haven't answered me." He pointed out to the informant/spy.

[Zandelia]

“I did answer you, you merely did not like the manner of the answer” she retorted just as stoically.

She watched him carefully, it was something she was quite good at. Noted the raised eyebrow and the frown, the soft smile and the glitteringly hard gaze that spoke of stone beneath. Stone that was under stress she thought, would he be eroded by the city inch by inch as all the others were over time? She did not know but his manners and the way he spoke were enough to tell her he was an honorable man. Or thought that he was at least, she could not be sure that he was not playing at being one. She was a decent judge of character and, ultimately, it mattered not whether he was or believed that he was. Both were the same really, just from opposite perspectives - the end result was the same. She drummed the table absently, or apparently absently as she drew upon her pipe again - almost gone now. She smoked sparingly but quickly these days. The convenience of taverns indeed.

“Curious,” she almost purred, “you tell me that they are family and you offer gold yet you shy away from getting involved. Are your morals so different from mine? Oh I understand the mentality of the practicality. But then practicality is usually the virtue of those who have had people to do their work for them - or at least where not getting involved is concerned. Interesting” she spoke around the stem of her pipe and drew the last of the smoke in before tapping out the scant embers and secreting it about herself once more.

She leant in and stared at him for some time, quiet and contemplative. Attempting to read him, read his face and his mannerisms. The way he held himself and the way he responded to her words. He was indeed a strange fellow and she doubted that he was a common sell sword. All vestiges of such thoughts were burned away now. She did not care if it made him uncomfortable she did her job and did it well. Half of it was knowing the client and not what they desired. Desires were fickle things, the person behind them possessed far more substance in her mind. She leant back after a time and grinned broadly, he seemed to dislike that she thought - the veneer of jovial comradeship.

“I believe you to be richer than the price you state,” she began slowly, watching for any tells in the face - a most silently conversant companion, “but…I will accept. I have my own reasons. Now all that is left is to seal the bargain. You ask for life though not information and that…that requires a different kind of swearing. I will not spit on my palm over that” she stated as she pulled out a dagger from her boot slowly.

“Oh don’t worry, it is not for you. Well….not the blade,” she stated as she sliced her palm neatly with a slight wince and left the blood on the blade as she slipped it back, “by my own blood I hereby contract to save the lives of your kin. If I am able. I will not work against you, nor sell you out. Bad business you say? No, honor. Even of you don’t believe it. I have had my fill of slavers” she spat at the floor then and a dark smile crossed her lips.

“And no need for a raised eyebrow, it was done to show you my resolve. If I sliced my palm over everything I wouldn’t have a palm left” she rolled her eye a little then.

“But! But if you are to stay here for any length of time you should learn more than just distaste for this place. It would be a shame to have such a good client find an…accident…in the night. You come here and wear armor and you loathe this place. Oh I do too yet I can mask it. People here would as soon as kill you just for thinking Sunberth was a shyke hole…which it is of course. I fear not for my life, I am safe. You on the other hand…not so much perhaps”

She pushed herself upwards and looked at him as she tested her balance and poise, she had drunk but not so much to effect her skills. That was good, she would need them for what she had planned this day and this Kvist would help her or her name wasn’t Zandelia bloody Sansom. She rolled her shoulders and clicked her neck with a satisfied sigh before looking down upon him once more. She wondered about him, did he seek her out because he had nothing else? Had he failed in his own methods? Most likely she presumed, and because of that she presumed to teach him something even if it would likely be passively. Cracking her knuckles was the last of her preparation before speaking once more.

“One name is good enough. For me at least. But I will take my first twenty five now and offer you a barter in return. Investments should receive and advance after all…and insurance. I want gold, you want to know that I am capable. I could use a tall and threatening man for the first step”

“Will you follow me into the jungle Kvist? Please do, it will be good for you. And…you will learn the whereabouts of this Alan Simonsen. I can all but guarantee it actually, his ilk are so close minded. Oxen and dogs the lot of them. Me? I am a spider, and I know here to place my venom” she offered him her sliced hand with a firm look.

He could refuse, he could look away or he could snort in disgust. The one thing that he could not do, she was testing, was turn away the knowledge he wanted when it was promised within a falling of Syna. She would show him just how to press for what was wanted here and in so doing would show him she was a worthy ally. In her experience it was pointless to talk, actions spoke more than words ever could. If he learnt how to work the streets then all the better, she needed fighters who knew what they were about and if they were educated then it was a bonus.

“Of course, if you want me to go and learn it all by myself you can sit here and drink whilst I get closer to your wants and you stay where you are. Might be…fun?” she flicked her gaze around the ragtag patronage wryly.

[Markus Andres]

The brows did not raise as the woman spoke this time. Though there was curiosity hiding behind those emerald eyes of his. Curiosity and confusion mingled as he pondered when during their conversation that she had given him a clear answer. She had hinted, often, repeatedly, during her probing questions that she would accept the job. But unless there was a special sunberthian way of accepting agreements, he did not know, he had not gotten confirmation since telling the price he would give for finding his family. A confirmation he still sorely lacked despite her reassurances that he had been given an answer. It bothered him. He was used to clear and concise answers within the knighthood. Either you did the job you were told to do, or you gave an explanation as to why you were incapable of carrying out the assignment. No dilly dallying.

The sergeant forced himself to blink when she began to speak again. Look interested while not too invested in the words she spoke. For he was once again amazed by the mind that hid behind that singular emerald orb. Spoke of a calibre of intelligence that he could not compete with when it came to this particular kind of things. She seemed to skip and leap through clues and reach conclusions that hit too close to the truth. If he did not put out some smoke screen she'd undoubtedly figure out that he was a syliran knight. A fact he was not ashamed of - however the pragmatic side of him knew that if he was a known knight he'd be the target of those opposed to everything Syliras stood for. A simple fact he could not afford while the lives of others depended upon him. Was he alone... He might have succumbed to the desire to draw the blade and purify this establishment of the vile touch of slavery. Markus gazed calmly back in the eye of the spy. Contemplating if he should argue the point. He did not like that the expert, the spy, the hireling, questioned his motives and his commitment to finding his family though he recognized her attempt to make him reveal more of himself through the answer. Admit he was in a position to order people around. Though that particular way of asking. Indirectly. Did leave him the opportunity to throw out a smokescreen. Though that would be in direct violation of Tyveth and he would never consciously betray the great god with such an insult. Markus shrugged at the probe about his stance in life.

"I know it is best to let it be at the expert's discretion who they bring along."

Markus responded. Careful not to give too many clues and at the same time not wander over the line that meant he might disrespect the realm of Tyveth. The knight would enjoy going with the woman. As much to get some first hand experience with such matters. Might be useful in the future if he had such field experience. What the woman would see was the ever-lingering anger about the entire situation. He could not keep himself entirely calm. Eyes were hard and unforgiving in the light of the slave-bar. There was no outside sign that he reacted to her second probe. The silent confirmation that she knew he had more gold stashed away. It didn't matter. Her eye had not sparkled with greed when he had stated the price. Nor did she argue the price, which the lingering merchant inside of him noted as an indicator that he had offered too much gold.

Doesn't matter. If it saves my family, I would gladly give her thousand gold for each of them. Petching city.

Kvist felt a weight lift from his heart when she finally gave him the clear and concise response that he had been seeking. She accepted the deal. Continued to talk, something she enjoyed and she did hold a certain eloquence with the words spoken. Undoubtedly she had the mind behind that tongue to say exactly the right thing at the right time. Though when she reached for her dagger, the warrior's instinct in him reacted. One moved to easily draw his own dagger. The other hand tightened the grip on the mug of ale. Nothing like a mug of ale to blind someone in a pinch. Assurance was given and Markus' eyes lingered upon her blade. Would be a strange time to kill him. Especially given that she could have done so any time since he gave her the name of the first mate on the ship. What she did next astonished him. Eyes went wide as he stared at the dagger slide up her palm. Create a gash where crimson started to flow from immediately. Words accompanied the gesture. Strong words. They struck a chord in him and the rational woman he had assumed her to be suddenly brought herself forward in a new light.

How someone with such strong emotions keep them hidden is a riddle. Self-discipline Wysar himself would be amazed by.

The sergeant felt the hatred for slavers behind those words. The spit on the ground confirmed it. He had found the perfect informant. They shared some values, which surprised the knight most of all. He could trust her until the job was complete, then their shared enemy was no longer around. Then again, neither would he, most likely, be around in Sunberth. But he silently thanked the gods for leading him to a trustworthy Sunberthian who could aid him. He trusted her promise. That she would honour it to the best of her abilities. He had found a woman like Revy in Sunberth. Honour their contracts 'til it is over. A happy smile, genuinely happy smile crossed his lips. Drove away the anger for the time being. His position had just improved tremendously and now he was even given advice on how to survive in the city.

"I thank you for the warning." He nodded his head a little. He would probably not follow the advice, wearing a mask at all times was not his thing. Felt like an insult to Tyveth. If she loathes this place, why does she stick around? What compels her to stay in this shyke-hole... What or who? Family of her own? A husband, children? Eyes did not waver as he mused to himself. Her form, did not look like she had given birth. Though he was far from experienced enough to judge such things upon looks alone. She confided in him, put her trust in him that he would not reveal that she too hated the city. Something she had just revealed got people killed. Her hand was offered to him. Bloody from her self-inflicted wound. Without hesitation his right hand moved past her bloodied hand and gripped her around the wrist. Cared not for the blood she would smear against his own wrist.

"I'd rather get lost in the jungle than spend another chime with these people." He spoke, the venom dripped from his voice. "I will gladly help where I can. So show me the jungle, web." Her continued attempts at bringing him along was enough to tell him that she felt that his presence would be a boon for the operation and not detrimental. He did not share her confidence entirely, but he wasn't the expert. His left hand reached into his cloak and produced a pouch with gold rimmed mizas. He dropped it on the table before her. He wondered if she would trust him enough to take the pouch at face value, or if she would meticulously count the content. He knew it matched the price. Unless someone had managed to pilfer directly from the pouch. Though despite the anger, he felt the excitement that he was finally getting to do something active to find his family. He released her wrist and looked to his own now bloodied wrist.

"You should get that wrapped up before you leave a trail of blood from here to wherever you're taking us." There was a bit of concern in his voice. It would be horrible if she succumbed to infections now. He was almost prepared to bringing her to S'Essy to have it dealt with, but despite the worry. It had been her choice and he might trust her with his own life and trust that she would carry out her job. He did not trust her with S'Essy.

[Zandelia]

“I have bled enough in this city that a little more won’t do much but as you say, better to be safe than sorry. I would call it concern but then you don’t know me enough” she shrugged as called a barmaid over and procured a clean rag - a gold given in exchange before she wrapped tore it in half and wrapped it around her palm. The cut was not deep enough to be a detriment but she tied it with the aid of her teeth all the same.

She had noted the smile, a true smile it was and those were rare enough in Sunberth outside of the darker arts and promiscuity that she found herself slightly taken aback by it. She tried to hide it but then some of the startlement was likely to slip through for a moment at least before composure would slide back into place. She had done it to make him trust her enough to come with her, she had not expected to get such a warm response, along with the grip of the wrist once more. He was unconcerned by blood, that was good. He would need to be if he was to see this endeavor through to the end. The gold was offered and she took it quickly, secreting it into her own belt before it was seen by too man eyes, it was a large portion of coin after all.

Well at least he trusts me more now, despite the reaction to the blade. Clever of him to grab his mug of ale too, I wonder if he truly does know how to fight dirty. If so he might survive better than initially thought she mused to herself as she nodded in response to his words.

“Come then, I will show you where slavers gather and where they think they are safe from harm,” she stated softly before turning on her heel and talking over her shoulder, “and as to the ship it should be right outside. Good place to begin I think”

With that she strode to the door quickly, better to get out into the world where there were fewer confined places to be trapped in than the tavern. Eyes were always watching, though unskilled many were they were still a danger if their matching tongues found the right ears to whisper into. The light of day greeted her as she stepped outwards, as piecing and warm as ever despite the lengthening of the shadows towards the evening Bells. She looked up briefly and was satisfied, there was enough time to get a small task done, a stepping stone onto the path required. Looking about the nearby markets were as bustling as before she had entered the Fish Bowl and the pier, though activity was wearing down for the day, was still an ant hill of laborers and ne’er-do-wells. She smiled, she liked those kinds of people, always willing to sell others out if there was profit in it for them. She heard the door open and close behind her, the tread of the heavier man. She twisted her head to her right.

“I called this place a jungle and it is, a wooden one of a different kind to trees. Deadlier in many ways though I hear stories of Myrians and animals too dangerous to face alone. A nice dinner in comparison to this city. The animals don’t wear armor or swing steel. And Don’t get me started on the random assortment of improvised death. I love it here at times, there is a certain freedom in knowing you are a walking buffet for foolish thugs don’t you think?” she lips twisted darkly at those words - truer than perhaps Kvist knew.

When they can do anything to you it means you can do anything to them. No rules, no limits, no mercy. I don’t enjoy violence but being able to do things without law enforcement around to intervene means you can get further, quicker. Gods I hated those bloody monks she told herself as she gave the signal for him to follow in her wake.

“You called me an expert, then listen well to my words if you believe it. Though this is a jungle with deadly things around most corners blood is usually detrimental to the cause…except with certain circles. You can get more with a nice smile, entirely duplicitous words and a giant hulking warrior at your shoulder,” she spoke as she led them towards the Seaside Market nearby and to one of her occasional informants, “which is why you will be surprised that in this case you will be more effective than I ever could be. Try to look menacing now when the time is right. Use that scowl you used on me and should be fine” she continued in a merry tone.

She was merry at that, not from the ale but from the thrill of the hunt. Not the kind where you collected pelts and butchered a poor animal for its meat. She collected a different kind of pelt, she collected what others thought were dull things. Useless things words were, unless you were giving your word over a bargain and even then they were generally mistrusted. But with the right words, the right contents of a journal and you could open doors that a hundred swords would never batter down. It never ceased to surprise her how easily people gave in to words, if said right and used well enough. They were insidious things, creeping weeds perhaps. For now she kept her gaze open until the stall came into view, a small and ramshackle thing but good enough for her eye. She stepped into is lee and leant upon the rough wooden counter.

“Ballack, so nice to see you now. Been a while hasn’t it?”

“Web!” the man turned quickly and stumbled backwards slightly, “what…what can I do for you? I’ve not said anything I swe“

“Stop there before you make things fact that have been forgotten,” she interrupted solidly, cutting him off before he could reveal anything to the world at large, “I have come for something else. A business transaction you might say” she smiled at him warmly, it did not reach her emerald orb which pinned him visually.

“What kind of business?” eh asked her with suspicion lacing his voice.

“The kind that means you don’t get killed and walk away a little richer. The best kind. My kind. It is known I am a fair dealer to the right people,” she stated sweetly.

“Who’s your friend?” the man’s gaze was flickering between them now and that was just as she liked it, confusion and fear - powerful tools.

“Ah! I forgot entirely, where are my manners? This is my friend, his nae you do not need to know but he is an impressive specimen wouldn’t you say?”

“Looks like a damned walking armory!”

“Yeeees…he rather does, doesn’t he? I can’t say that I noticed. Now, if you would like this bastion of steel o walk away then yo-”

“You can’t threaten me a tmy own stall!”

“Can I not?” she paused, her face went blank and neutral now, “oh well I suppose that I can’t. What Ican do is tell your wife of the little brothel around the corner that you like to visit. Working late a lot these days?”

“I wouldenver!” he protested vehemently.

“Of course you wouldn’t, an honorable man is Ballack,” she snorted and looked at Kvist considering before rolling her eye and turning to the merchant again, “but then it doesn’t have to be true. Does it? I hear that your woman is quite short tempered…”

“What is it you want?” he snapped at her then and she suddenly leant in to ram her nose against his enough to cause him to lean back slightly, “I want a name and description. Boat came in with slaves to sell. Alan Simonsen’s ship. It’s name and what the crew get up to when they aren’t sailing the damned thing. Preferably a quiet place they go to…if you catch my meaning?”

“Friend,” she slapped Kvist on the shoulder then companionably, “this is Ballack. He knows much about people who come and go in the dock area. He will answer our questions…or he will answer to me in other ways” she looked at the merchant then pointedly.

“Farald!” the man squeaked, “I don’t know the ship’s name but I know Farald comes to buy goods sometimes. Decent customer and he mentioned working under a Simonsen. Gods, not slavers, keep me out of it…please?”

“Where? Appearance? Now”

“He likes to sit on the bridge over the river and drink, small wiry man with a mighty ginger beard. Dresses like a beggar and he spends all his gold on wine. That’s all I know I swear”

“Good, that is good. If I have to come back because you have lied then I will make things uncomfortable” she finished before walking away from the stall and into the crowds.

“So…what do you think? Not bad for a handful of chimes no? Think you can handle an unarmed scoundrel of a man brave yet mercilessly menacing warrior?” she asked in a sing song kind of tone, “I expect you have questions. Feel free to ask them. I will be as honest as I can, for a given value of honest. I have one thing to ask though, when we see this Farald I’d like you to knock him out so we can get him somewhere less public. You can do that right? You know where the Warehouses are?” she asked, curious to see if he knew much about the city at all.