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Post by sargepepper on Jul 29, 2013 15:36:18 GMT
Sofur paused for a moment, staring down into the purse filled with coins. This was more money than he had seen in a long time. He knew, in that instant, that there was money to be made with this profession. He thought about the stew that Uncle made and compared it to the stuffed beast that Abu had served up once, it’s succulent flavor and spices making his mouth explode in flavor. He thought of the women he could have, their subtle curves and wicked smiles that promised everything his mind could imagine, plus a few tricks of their own. He thought of many things, of decadence, of opulence.
But then he thought of Basan. Of how the giant man could no longer move as he once did. How his power and influence slowly caved in on itself as people perceived him for what he was. Women only liked him for his money, his fighters for the same reason. People respected his legacy, but not so much the man he is right now. Sofur had noticed that even Abu, with his boisterousness, had to leave Basan’s presence at times as the man grew bold with his statements and accosting in his humor.
And Sofur knew, right then, that at some point, Basan stood here.
He faced this decision himself. Maybe not the same way. Maybe not exactly like this. But Basan made his choice and he chose to fight for money. He had chosen to fight for his own personal gain. Sofur had more than he knew without this money. He knew that. He had his family, his pride. He may not be rich, but he wasn’t poor.
Martuk’s face was shocked when Sofur tied up the purse and handed it back to the shady dealer. He took it, only out of shock and his face fell darkly before Sofur spoke.
“I don’t need it. I am not a smart enough man to figure out who you are really working for. But I do know that in order to make money, you need resources and connections.” Sofur started, leaning against one of the small tables placed around the room. He crossed his arms, fur actually keeping him warm against the cold of the mountain for once. Martuk’s dire expression softened, his trained ear picking up on the hints of a deal. He nodded once, letting the buyer make the baseline agreement.
“That money is better spent on those resources, tracking down why my father was killed those years ago. It’s been a long time, but I’m sure the Low Merchant has a long memory, or else he wouldn’t have sent a friend of mine from so long ago here once he heard my name surface. Part of it goes to making sure my Uncle remains safe.” Martuk nodded again. He began to speak, but Sofur spoke again, surprising the merchant.
“That, is just what I am purchasing with that money, Martuk. Your favor will be remembered. Let whomever you work for know that I am not for purchase. If you align with my goals, I will pursue them with you. But I will not be purchased nor put in someone’s pocket.” Martuk saw the twitch in Sofur’s mustache and realized how serious the young man was. He nodded again, deeper this time, a cryptic smile crawling over his face.
“You are more clever than you give yourself credit for, Young Man. You have enough sense to make your idealism palpable. I will honor my favor when you redeem it and I will relay the message. But be warned, my services will not be bought so cheap again.” He turned to walk out, and stopped, peering over his shoulder.
“I like you.” He said simply. “Integrity is too cheap these days. Don’t sell it cheap. It’s too priceless of a gem in recent years.” And with a small flourish, the Merchant left the doorway.
Sofur was left feeling like he had just dodged a bolt headed for his heart, but highly unsure that he wasn’t hit by it somewhere else.
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Post by sargepepper on Jul 31, 2013 17:01:00 GMT
Winter 2485 AS. February (Chillfern). Horush, Mountain-Top Academy. It had been a few days since Sofur had last talked to Marduk, and now that Sofur actually thought about it, he hadn’t seen the merchant at all for those few days. To be fair, though, the last few days had been a whirlwind of training and practice. Sofur’s shoulders hurt in ways he hadn’t imagined before as Basan’s deep bass voice rumbled through the training area with practiced vigor.
“Harder, Harold, your punches require your direct attention. Stop focusing on keeping your guard perfect.” The fighter in question started hitting the bag in front of him harder, the soft huff of the bag growing more frequent. Basan was the dedicated head coach of the team, overseeing the general training of the group. Sofur and the others hadn’t been told a lot about the setup of this training ground, but Sofur was picking up most of it.
Abu had brought together many fighters and segregated them into groups based off of their origin. There were 5 teams, One from Malvern in its entirety, and the other from cities in Abu influence. Sojo, Ganglir, Barktiel, and Faloosh. Horush wasn’t represented at all, as the city was more oriented toward research and anyone that wanted to fight trained with the monks of the Order. They forbade fighting for sport in their order, so there was no one to recruit anyway. Abu was sensible enough to respect that boundary.
In that group, Abu had dedicated head coaches for each group. The personal coaches for each fighter followed helped come up with a personalized training regimen, but the lead trainer dictated the pace and overall progress of the fighters. Basan set a brutal pace. Sofur had never trained this hard before and his body was feeling the effects. So were the other fighters. It had only been a few days and already Sofur had seen more dark circles under eyes and fatigued stances than he had seen in a long time. Even with himself. Angelina had been there the whole time, and had done a remarkable job of fending off the advances of most of the men... and a few of the women there. She was focused on Sofur, making sure his body wasn’t tearing itself apart under the training. It had been a common sight so far to see Angelina at the end of the day with a bag of snow from outside and a kettle of tea for Sofur.
“That’s enough.” Basan said simply, indicating the end of the training session. It had been a grueling few hours. “Eat your meals and we will meet later for personalized training.” He clapped his hands as several fighters started sagging, breathing hard and pour with sweat, even in this colder climate. Even sofur was breathing deep. He looked over at Kardesh, who seemed to know what he was thinking. “Moutaintop. Air is thinner. Harder for you to breathe. Forces body to work with what it has.” He slapped his chest once as though he were proof and nodded to Basan. “For an oaf, he knows. Once you are done and down the mountain, fighting will be easier; you will be stronger.” He smiled slightly and nodded to the shower. “You smell. Wash off and eat. We’ll talk later.”
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Post by sargepepper on Aug 9, 2013 15:13:13 GMT
Sofur grabbed his lucky towel and walked toward the showers, muscles aching with each step. This regimen was grueling, he thought as he absently walked forward. He was stretching his arms when suddenly, he felt someone slam into his shoulder, pushing him out of the way. He stumbled forward a step, snarl in his voice as he came back up, looking to the offending party.
Mina's eyes only dismissed him as she walked by, her perpetual sneer almost making it known that he was in her way. Sofur just sighed and shook his head, straightening up and walking toward the showers again. Ever since he had taken her out, Mina seemed to be going out of her way to do shit like that. Angelina noticed it too sometimes, she was starting to get pretty fed up with it, rambling on for hours about the pulling that bitch's hair out, but after Kardesh took her aside to talk to her, Angelina shut up about it. It didn't stop the harsh, pointed looks, but Angelina didn't rant again. Sofur just kept walking. He figured either Mina was trying to regain some of her pride from that lost fight, or she was just an ass. Either way, it was better for him just to concentrate on himself and getting better at what he does.
Mina kept walking away this time, heading for the female showers, Sofur was bumped again, but this time, the bump was more of a clasp. It seemed friendly, and once Emuel's face came into view, he relaxed a little.
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Post by Timeon on Aug 15, 2013 11:54:14 GMT
"Emuel?"
The shaky question touched Sofur's childhood friend, who responded to it with squinted eyes. "I guess it really is you, Sofur."
"Wipe that dumb mule's look off your face, Emuel!" Sofur laughed, wrapping his arms around Emuel's bulky frame. "It's good to see you."
Emuel hugged back half-heartedly, causing Sofur to tense up. "I had a feeling you would be here in Horush, Sofur."
Sofur pulled away, hands clasping Emuel by the shoulders. "We have a lot to talk about, it seems. First of all, how is your mother? Your brother?"
"They're all fine." Emuel said with a shrug. "But yes, we probably have a lot to talk about. Come with me, Sofur."
When they finally found somewhere more private, a small window overlooking the crags below, Sofur leaned against the wall and contemplated his friend.
"You don't sound too enthusiastic." Sofur remarked with a disappointed click of his tongue. "What's wrong, Emuel? Working for the Low Merchant rubbing you the wrong way?"
Emuel rolled his eyes. "Shut it, Sofur. We both know why I'm here. I'm being used against you, because of our personal connection. As soon as you ran away all those years ago, I suddenly ended up in the Low Merchant's good books. My family got everything they needed, and I got a job. Why? Because I knew you."
It was like a slap in the face. Sofur had tried to bury his past, and avoided talking about his father or about Sojo. He focused on the future, on fighting, on his prospects - and here was an echo from his memories, mocking him frankly about subjects which hurt. "Used against me. So nobody is being subtle about any of this, then. He wants the necklace. And he's come to get it?"
"Pits if I know, old friend." Emuel said with a slight smile. "I don't really give a damn about any of this, to be honest. I'm just here to fight. Same as you, I'm guessing."
"That's right. Some things don't change." Sofur said with a smile, clapping Emuel on the back. "Besides, I don't know why they're going to throw you at me. Not like I'm going to go easy on you just because I know you."
Emuel grinned, punching Sofur playfully. "My guesss is I'm here to keep you busy. Angelina has the necklace, no?"
"What do you know about the necklace?"
"Nothing. Except the Low Merchant is looking for it. That's really it, Sofur. I'm sorry, can't help you any more than that. But I've got two questions for you. One is, are you really willing to die to protect that necklace? Or are you willing to let Angelina die? Second question, is there a good reason why the Low Merchant hasn't just taken it from you by force already? Because I'm guessing there's a reason, Sofur."
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Post by sargepepper on Aug 15, 2013 13:31:50 GMT
Winter 2485 AS. February (Chillfern). Horush, Mountain-Top Academy.
"Emuel, I already know that whatever that necklace represents, the Low Merchant is ready to kill for it." Sofur said a little harsher than he intended to. He saw Emuel's gaze fall a little as guilt crept onto his features, flushing a little from embarrassment.
"And yes. If my father was willing to protect it, then I am too. My father was no fool." Sofur paused a moment to glance out over the craggy landscape presented to them. In some ways, it was beautiful. Horush was by no means the tallest mountain in Sali, but it was just tall enough to catch a view of the sea. He had found several students just sitting and staring over the peaks for hours. Rumor was, the Order had a secret spot to do just that with their morning routine.
The Sea always reminded him of his father, even without this conversation to guide it. He also had found himself gazing over the waves, though not in awe of their splendor, as he knew some who had never seen their white peaks were doing. No, he was watching those waves as a way to see his father again. Those kind eyes watching him and his sister play in the dirt pit outside of their home, his wit as he pulled another one of his insufferable jokes, or even the long distance in his features as he took his children to the top of the Gate of Exploration, the view from the top stretching across miles of deep blue waters. He took a deep breath, forcing himself toward the present, to Emuel.
"As for your other question, I'm not sure. Maybe he was watching to see if we had hidden it somewhere, maybe we were too protected with Uncle, or even that he really didn't know where we were. Thirteen years is a long time for anyone, and whatever he has been planning has been a long time coming." He paused for a moment, pulling at his mustache. The wax had started to come out of it a little, the classic curl starting to pull itself straighter once more. He looked up at his friend and smiled.
"As much as I know it was a manipulation, I am thankful you and your family has been taken care of these years. I must confess, I have wondered about you often since I left. But I want to thank you for being so honest with me. It makes...."
Both heads turned toward a new presence. With the fall of Emuel's face and his sudden stonewall of emotions, Emuel gave it away that whoever this new guy was, he was calling the shots for the Team, maybe even the Low Merchant himself. Rough, sandy hair was just beginning to stretch tendrils down onto his forehead, which launched itself over heavy sunken eyes and a down face. He had long arms and rough, calloused knuckles, speaking of his time in the ring. The man couldn't have been older than 35, but his wrinkles and the cold expression in his deep gray eyes spoke of a lifetime of taking harsh orders and carrying them out. He was a soldier. Maybe not military, but they all carried the same gaze. "Feech." Emuel said simply, avoiding eye contact as though he'd been caught doing something wrong. It was short and terse, but Sofur figured that he was waiting on the hammer to fall. The cold gaze of Feech slowly went from Emuel to Sofur and silence claimed the room as the older man studied him. No words were said, but he knew instantly that this was not a man to be teased or pushed.
"Emuel, Shower and get to coach. You are late." He said in a hard voice. It seemed to be a normal tone for him, but the words themselves seemed to be made of the same stone they were sitting on. Sofur got the impression that Feech didn't speak much due to the weight of his words. With a slight nod, Emuel pushed off of the windowsill and attempted to walk out of the room. Feech, who's frame was taking up the doorway as he leaned on it, refused to move for a moment, looking right at the young man. Emuel, stood there for a few moments, waiting. Finally, he looked up at the man and they made eye contact. Nothing was said between the two, but he could see Emuel's shoulders sag slightly as Feech continued to stare.
Eventually, the man moved, allowing Emuel around before turning back to look at Sofur with that same gaze. But Sofur simply stared back, not moving from the spot he had perched on before. He knew this whole thing was just to size him up. Feech's face brought up an expression closer to a grimace than a smile as he contemptuously pushed off of the doorframe and turned to walk away.
Sofur spent the rest of the day distracted through his lessons as the hard man's gaze kept creeping into his thoughts.
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Post by Timeon on Aug 24, 2013 17:25:49 GMT
That evening, the academy came alive with shouts and the clattering of metal on stone. Sofur was on his way to get cleaned up and prepare for dinner when he heard the commotion. Being in the presence of the Low Merchant's had kept him alert for something like this, and his paranoia had paid off. He ran towards the noise, blood pumping as if he were already in the midst of a fight.
It was coming from the balconies looking north, towards the sea. A place that Angelina liked to frequent. He ran faster.
When he stumbled into the grand hallway in the north wing, the first thing he saw was Angelina, her back to the wall, a knife in one hand. The side of her face was stained red. Somebody was assaulting her, standing in a riposte, dressed in black. Sofur braced himself for a charge, though he had nothing to fight with except his fists.
Angelina's leg flung forward, smashing the assassin in the chest. He flew backwards, but landed in a crouch, both feet on the ground.
Sofur sprinted, hoping to knock the man senseless with a well-placed blow. But he was used to people standing up to him in a one on one fight, nothing like this - the assassin dove under his legs, and made straight for Angelina.
A bolt of metal smacked into the assassin's head, flinging him off his feet. His body landed with a wet thud in a heap.
In stepped Martuk the merchant, crossbow in hand, a look of grave displeasure on his face. "How distasteful. Why would anyone in this world want to harm lovely Miss Heldstrom?"
Sofur jogged up to Angelina, eyes studying her for a fatal wound. Aside from a few shallow injuries to her hands and legs, she seemed to be fine. "Never expected the Low Merchant to be as bold as this." Angelina growled.
"The Low Merchant?" Martuk asked, walking up to them. "Sounds like there's a story behind this assassination attempt. The guards will be here in a second, but I doubt they'll be of any help. If you want to talk, Sofur, meet me in my room in an hour."
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The guards did arrive, and they had nothing helpful to add, as Martuk predicted. They were as embarrassed as they were helpless. Angelina was sent to be stitched up, with Kardesh Moorel watching after her. Sofur was taken aside by the bulk that was Basan Grijj, the once champion. The fat man was absolutely fuming. "Bet you it was the Malvernians, boy."
"Why them?" Sofur asked, blinking away his surprise. Of course, Basan did not know about his history with the Low Merchant, so his suspicions were a lot more poorly placed. Then again, he might be on to something.
"In Ganglir, her team diminished by two people. Two of her fighters, just up and vanished. Since we arrived in Horush, the same has happened. I haven't seen two faces at least. I've been keeping an eye out to make sure. I even did a headcount, but the Malvernians keep to themselves so much it's hard to be sure just how many of them there are."
"Right. Vanishing Malvernians. Didn't the Academy make a head-count of fighters when we came in?"
"I asked." Basan Grijj huffed. "But every member of the staff here has a different headcount. Truth is, we don't know how many Malvernians there are. It would be rude to make it into an incident. Well, until now, anyway. My guess is Valoria is bitter you beat her champion. If you accuse her of this, I'll stand with you, Sofur."
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Post by sargepepper on Sept 3, 2013 1:26:31 GMT
Sofur had streaks of Angelina's blood still trailing down his chest from when he comforted her as Basan's rage seemed to spill over. He was pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed as though the very thoughts running through is threated to collapse his forehead into his eyes. His ample frame was almost rippling with anger as he walked.
"Of course those damned Malvernians would try to cheat like this. Take key players out of the competition!" Sofur cast a sidelong glance at the old warrior, skepticisim on his face.
"Basan, Angelina is my Potur, not a compeditor. Killing her wouldn't make a difference." Basan whirled on him so quickly that Sofur nealy lost his perch on the wall in surprise. For that much weight, Basan sure handled it quickly.
"It wasn't about her, Sofur. It was about you. You shamed a very powerful fighter of theirs; Valoria was fuming the whole trip back and to here. In fact, she's had a specific eye on you. Think about it, if your sister had been wounded or killed right now, do you think you'd keep fighting? Do you think you'd win?" Sofur stood there, ridigly, as the very possibility suddenly washed over him that his sister was just fighting for her life. he realized how selfish the perspective he'd taken on it boiled down to that the man didn't want to fight him one on one. It came down to how the guy was fighting or the technical side of it. It hadn't occurred to him just how close he'd come to losing his sister. Basan saw the realization his features.
"No, young man. You wouldn't. I see a great fire in you, passion. It's in your eyes. But, you should know what happens to a fire that becomes overfueled, being from Ganglir. The fire becoming too hot to keep fueling, and it burns out too quickly. You would fight anything for any reason, blinded by your fury. They were't aiming to take her out with this, Sofur. They were looking to take you out by making you inneffective." Sofur was dumbstruck. For once, no smart remark came up, no resolute confidence came to his aid. He had been struck a hard blow and he was wavering, his guard dropped ready for the final strike.
Basan moved up and placed an beefy hand on his shoulder, steadying Sofur. His hazel eyes showed a mix of things to Sofur. Compassion, empathy... Basan had been here before too. Maybe there was more to this man than just fat and wasted dreams, Sofur thought for a moment. But as soon as the emotion were there, they were gone again.
"Now, take the rest of the day off. I will try to see if anything is revealed in the Malvernian camp, but your sister needs you right now." He said, motioning to Sofur's blood streaks, indicating that he should clean himself up. Sofur nodded, still reeling from everything that happened.
---
Word spread quickly around the camp of the dead intruder. Sofur was just thinking of it as someone who attacked his sister. But the general surprise came from the fact that an assassin snuck through the Order's patrols... or so it was thought. Rumors spiraled from Dom assassins, to Angelina's spurned lover, and everything inbetween. But as Sofur walked, it became more apparent that this was indeed an inside job. The Order were vicious in guarding their Temple and the Academy. There were stories of simple thieves being beaten to a pulp with three strikes from an elderly monk that caught them and the monks fighting off a riot for three days by themselves to preserve the knowledge in the temple. An assassin would not have made it past the Order.
Angelina was slightly shaken and pale as she sat in her bed, staring at the wall. She was playing with the necklace as she stared off into space, the golden trinket a very complex design that made it look simple, spirals upon spirals intertwining to make intricate shapes, fooling the eye into viewing it differently with each glance. She always played with the necklace when she was worried, and from the way she was biting her lip and staring holes into the wall, she was definitely nervous. Sofur turned to speak, to comfort her a little, when she spoke, her eyes never leaving the wall.
"This is what Father was protecting us from, wasn't it?" She said simply. Sofur noticed that her hands were shaking a little as she spoke softly. Sofur sighed, adopting a lean against the closest wall.
"Probably. I don't know. Basan thinks it's the Malverians trying to get to me, throw me off my training." Sofur said simply, trying not to look directly at his sister. Something wasn't right about her right now nad he was finding it difficult to look at her, the stitches along her head indicating again just how close he'd come to losing her. He left a lump in his throat that he tried to swallow down, but watching her haunted expression turn to face him just made it grow three times, suddenly filling his throat. He shifted uncomfortably at the stare.
"Do you think that? Do you think that the Malvernians would try to kill me? Or was it the Low Merchant hunting us now that he knows where we are? How does he know, Sofur? We'd spent all this time trying to hide, and now, suddenly he's aware of us and a man with a knife and professional training just tries to kill me? I don't think it's coincidence, Brother..." She said, tears in her voice. She wanted to cry, but when Sofur looked into her eyes, they weren't rimmed with the tears he expected. They looked dead, scared, confused.
"It was luckily Martuk was there." Sofur managed to stumble out. He couldn't answer her questions, so he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. He felt powerless all of a sudden, shaken that he couldn't protect his sister like he had always thought he could.
"Yes. Lucky. Convienient that a traveling merchant had a crossbow notched and ready to go in a secure academy and made it there only a little after you did." Her suspicion was nearly palpable as it dripped out of her mouth. Her eyes turned accusatory at his mention and Sofur had an overwhelming feeling that she didn't trust him. He sighed deeply. "We'll get to the bottom of it, Sister." He said, slowly sitting on the bed next to her and wrapping her in a big hug. Sofur didn't know what to expect, but he knew that a limp body laying on his chest with no crying or show of emotion was not it. She just accepted the hug and resumed staring at the wall, playing with her necklace.
---
"Alright, Martuk. You have about three seconds to tell me why you had a notched crossbow in the Academy and why someone attacked my sister." Probably not the best choice of words or even the best way to approach the merchant, but Sofur was pissed.
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Post by Timeon on Sept 4, 2013 19:36:23 GMT
Standing over Martuk, who was seated at a table in his private quarters, Sofur was not sure how his approach would affect the man. Would it show a darker side to the so-called merchant?
Martuk only smiled - his serene demeanour normally amusing to Sofur suddenly becoming maddening.
"Answer me!"
"Sofur, you gave me my own money back to investigate the Low Merchant, to protect you from your enemies. That is what I was doing. Helping you."
"Who were they?" Sofur bellowed, taking a step closer. He wanted to shout at Martuk to stop playing games, but his voice caught in his throat, from rage or suppressed tears of outrage, it was impossible to tell. He would not lose Angelina like he had lost his father.
"I suspect the Low Merchant, of course. I've even spoken with Valoria myself. That woman is up to something, no doubt. But she was appalled at what had happened - she felt it threatened her own security, and the security of her team. I know a liar when I see one, and Valoria was not trying to hide anything from me."
The Low Merchant. That was the obvious answer, wasn't it. It was almost too obvious - but maybe that was just the plain truth. His team was present. They had come for him, at last?
"Tell me about the necklace, Sofur." Martuk said, rising from his table and placing his hands on Sofur's own, in a fatherly gesture. "I came here because such tournaments offer a chance to meet people of importance. Such as yourself, though normally it's politicians. My sense of right and wrong is not in conflict with my merchant practices. Something important is going on here, and I need to know what it is to be able to help."
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Post by sargepepper on Sept 4, 2013 19:44:10 GMT
"Martuk, the necklace is an heirloom, passed to by sister from my father." Sofur needed to choose his next words carefully, as he didn't want to drive the merchant away. Something about the man just screamed untrustworthy. But eh did have to take into account that the man just saved his sisters life. There could be more to it than that, but Sofur needed to make a choice. Sofur took a long sigh, ruffling up his hair in aggravation, before letting a hand fall to his side.
"A man gave it to my father a long time ago. He said he would be back for it, or someone else would be in his stead. My father agreed to this, being a kind man. He gave it to my sister because no one would consider that she would be holding it. We only found out about this this year, Martuk." Sofur carefully kept the Diviner portion of the explanation. If there was something his Uncle had taught him through selling his wares is that the best way to lie to someone's face, is to tell them the truth. Just not all of it.
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Post by Timeon on Sept 7, 2013 6:20:32 GMT
Martuk's fingers were interlaced upon the table as a long and empty minute passed. With a deep sigh he lowered his head, allowing torchlight to light up his face. "This all sounds very tricky. I may have involved myself in something I may come to regret, it seems, if truly powerful people are after what you have. Consider, Sofur Heldstrom, that you may be an unwitting pawn in a peculiar game. I believe it is time we deducted what this amulet is capable of. Or what it is, perhaps. I have dabbled in magic before, and as a merchant who has ranged the Mesegian, I have seen my fair share of relics. Perhaps it is a bound item, created by the spark of a dying spirit? If you bring it to me, I may be able to give you some idea."
"I'm going to take a walk, Martuk." Sofur said, massaging his throat like a prisoner knowing he is to be hanged.
As Martuk strode out, the long corridors of the mountain became something threatening, long gullets, swallowing shadows. They hid something, a secret, and there were people laughing behind his back, somewhere.
After a few minutes, Sofur realised he was not going in any particular direction. He had descended a couple of levels, towards the servants' quarters. Nobody stopped him, or asked him where he was going. A couple of fighters from the other cities dared to watch him pass, curiosity and confusion on their faces, and maybe pity.
At the next intersection, a shadow detached itself from the walls, and Sofur raised his fists to die fighting. It was only Emuel, though young man's brows were lowered with worry. "The game's changed, old friend."
"Doesn't take much to come to that realisation, Emuel." Sofur shot back, slowly lowering his fists.
"No, this is different." Emuel said, his eyes wide. "The Low Merchant wants to talk to you."
Sofur paused mid-breath, quivering on the edge of an abyss in his mind. "In Sojo?"
"No, here." Emuel kept on, trapping Sofur's gaze with his own. "I'd never met him until today, but he's been here the whole time, disguised as one of his own fighters. I don't think Feech knows his boss is here."
"How can you be sure it's him, then?" Sofur said through gritted teeth, contemplating an hour of vengeance.
Emuel grimaced. "I know, Sofur. If you heard him speak, and looked up at him like I did. His presence. It's him. A man like that always ends up in power, and you'll see why when you talk to him."
"You think I'll walk into the embrace of my enemy? Just like that, Emuel? Are you really with me, Emuel, or are you his pawn now?"
"He said he never wanted Radshash to die." Emuel said without quickly and plainly. "Haktil was punished. The Low Merchant said he got duped, and that the assassination was not his doing. The necklace doesn't matter to him right now. He doesn't feel in control any more. And that makes him very, very angry. So he's going to re-arrange the pieces on the board. That's his message to you, Sofur. And if you want, I can take you to him now. He'll explain everything. That's his promise."
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Post by sargepepper on Sept 19, 2013 13:37:57 GMT
Sofur barely breathed. The Low Merchant had been here the whole time. Watching them fight and rest and sharing the very same living space. Sofur felt sick, his stomach suddenly doing its best impression of a wet rag getting wrung out. He leaned on the wall next to him, vision starting to spin as the realizations of just how close their enemy had been for so long.
But to tell him that the reason he had left his home for so many years had been dealt with already... and to have spent the recent years of his life making a new name in Ganglir just to realize that the problem had been dealt with.
No.
It wasn't dealt with. Something had them spooked, but the end game of the Merchant wanting the necklace was not gone. It was just now secondary. Sofur stood up and cracked his neck as though he were losening up for a fight. This was going to be one of the hardest things he'd done in a long time, but he had to face the light of his enemy.
"Take me to him."
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Post by Timeon on Sept 27, 2013 15:35:32 GMT
Emuel led Sofur down, as far as was possible into the bowels of the academy. Each layer got progressively danker and more deserted, from servant's quarters to store rooms, to what were obviously unused areas, dimly lit, if at all. Abruptly, Emuel stopped, head lowered. Sofur's fists were clenched and ready, ready for another assassin, even. He actually hoped it was an assassin, rather than the Low Merchant.
Yet when the giant man strode out of the shadows with a cat's grace, he knew it must be his mortal enemy. Head shaved, skin pockmarked, face tattooed in spirals and rough edges, the man before him did not look much like a merchant - but he was certainly a businessman.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sofur." the Low Merchant said, his voice scratchy, but level. His eyes were grey, his face wrinkled, though it was impossible to guess how old he was.
Sofur remained silent, torn between horror and anger. He noticed Emuel backing away and leaving in the corner of his vision.
After an uncomfortable minute of silence, Sofur cleared his throat and spoke up without lowering his guard. "What do you want?"
"To tell you the truth, or what I know of it. Because an assassination attempt was blamed on me. In the game I play, things like that are very, very serious. Besmirch somebody's reputation, and that has consequences. And if I'm right, the man who sent that assassin just broke every contract and agreement, written or unwritten, that exists in this country."
Trying to wet his dry mouth, Sofur popped the question he had been harbouring. "So, who sent the assassin?"
"Ever heard of the Red Sun Shipping Company?"
It sounded familiar to Sofur, but the sea trade was not something that mattered much to folks in Ganglir. Sofur shook his head slowly, never letting his gaze leave the Low Merchant. "Who are they?"
"The most powerful merchant guild in the Mesegian Sea. They have traders from the Dominion, from the Faloran Republic, from Sali, and even from the Malvernians. One of their spokespeople is Martuk."
The accusation hit Sofur like a hammer against a gong, his suspicions reverberating through his consciousness. "I- I- was sure he was up to something, but-"
"Yes, yes. Shock and horror." the Low Merchant grumbled. "Bet he asked to examine your necklace, too?"
Martuk had indeed asked.
"I was hired by the Red Sun Shipping Company years ago, to get the necklace from your father. There was one very important condition, however. The necklace had to be given over willingly. It had to be a choice. It could not be stolen. That is why your father was never supposed to die. Haktil broke my rules, so I broke his body. The necklace could not just be pick-pocketed from you, or taken by force. That's one reason this assassination attempt was bull-crap. And Martuk was in the right place at the right time, trying to gain your trust, trying to make you hand over the necklace of your own free will. You see now?"
That left many, many questions unanswered. Sofur powered through the confusion and outrage. "What is the necklace for?"
"It's a key, a key to a bank vault in the Plutars. A vault under the control of the Bank of Valin. I don't know what is in the vault. At this point, I don't care. What I do care about is that my employer tried to throw me to the dogs. What do you know about the necklace?"
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