Part 2: The meeting of paths

Katrin looks at Savich, then scoops the coins off the counter, slipping them back into her pouch. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Thank you, again." She picks up the padded tunic, nodding to the old woman. 

Zachary H. said: "Traveler I learned it from called it a hee-row , or some such other thing," the man says. "Me, I call it deeee -licious!" He takes a thin-bladed serrated knife with a slight backwards curve to the blade and carves some of the meat off into a piece of thick, flat bread. He makes several passes, revealing the distinct layers upon layers of cooking meat. He ladles a bit of a creamy sauce onto it, wraps it in paper, and hands it to Lilli. "Two silver," he says, holding out his hand. "Hee-row..."  she says slowly to test out the new word. "Thank you."  she fishes out a handful of coins from one of the pouches on her belt and selects two silver pieces, which she hands over to the man. She looks at the others with a sly grin and takes a bite of the hee-row. She was immediately impressed by the rich, savory meat, but then the strange sauce hits her taste buds and it was like nothing  she'd ever tasted before... especially on meat. It was at the same time complimentary and countering to the meat, but it was good. She takes another bite before she'd finished swallowing the first as she smears a good portion of the sauce across her cheeks as she tears into the food. 

"Well damn, you must be starvin'," he says, chuckling. He looks at the rest of the group. "Anybody else?"

Ascian looks from the food in Lilliana is holding to Ember, whose eyes are rapt on her hands. Though the thought of food left him with vague distaste, Ember clearly had a different reaction. Reluctantly he turns back to the man to say, "Just meat. Please. Can you do that."

He grins. "Yeah, my dog likes this stuff too. Just one silver piece for him." The man turns back and slices off a long strip of the layered meat and puts it into a rolled piece of oiled paper. "What's his name?" he says as he hands the meat to Ascian. "What breed is he? If I didn't know better, I'd say he was purebred wolf!"

"He is," Ascian deadpans, exchanging a silver piece with the man for the wrapped meat. He tears off a chunk of it to throw to the wolf beside him. "His name is Ember. He won't bite."

The man's eyebrows climb halfway to his hat at Ascian's answer. "Ember? Well, this is good ol' Buckaroo. Been with me for near a decade now."

Ascian looks to the dog and back. "Is he always attached to that wheel."

The man chuckles. "Nope. C'mere, Buck!" The dog hops off the wheel and dutifully sits at the man's feet, looking up at him. "G'boyyyy, Buck. Gimmie your paw." The dog offers its left forepaw, which the man shakes. "Do a spin." The dog seems to chase its tail for one rotation, then goes back to sitting. "Lay down, boy." Buckaroo lays down with his head nestled between his paws. "Roll over!" Buck complies, and then sits up, looking at his master eagerly. The man lays a cooled strip of the meat on Buck's nose. "Wait...wait." Buck waits patiently, licking his chops in anticipation.  "Geddit!" The meat is gone before the word is even finished. The man leans down and scratches behind the dog's ears. "G'boy, Buck. Go free."  Buck wanders back over near the wheel and lays down beside it, keeping an eye on both his master and the newcomers.

Thezra arrived at the eatery in tow behind Ascian and the others, and spent the whole walk warily watching the boy and, more concerningly, her draconic friend. While he so far had had no overt reaction to the wizard's inclusion of the kid, she knew he must still be harboring some measure of resentment towards him over the previous night's events. Neverthless, she found herself quickly distracted by the savory aroma of meats that permeated the air both inside and out of the shop, and suddenly found herself longing for the similar scents of Ore'agah. There, freshly hunted meat hung out over butcher's stalls daily, whether boars or bears, the smoky haze of firepits would often linger for hours after each meal. This was not quite the same, but she couldn't help but smile at the thought of a well-cooked bit of meat for the first time in a while. "That is an impressively trained dog, you should be proud," Thezra approaches the counter with a smile for the dog on her face, then places two silver coins onto the counter. "I would have one  hee-row  as well, with as much meat as can be fit within."

"He's smart." Ascian watches the man interact with the dog, methodically continuing to drop pieces of meat for Ember to snap up. "I've never asked if Ember knows any tricks."  His voice trails off as Thezra places her order and he turns toward Ember fully, kneeling down to ruffle the wolf's thick neck fur; she hadn't said anything to him when he'd first arrived and nor had Akiran, but the air felt tense with the weight of the silence. It was going to shatter, even with Thrandimir here to play peacekeeper; it was only a matter of when.

Zachary H. said: "Well damn, you must be starvin'," he says, chuckling. He looks at the rest of the group. "Anybody else?" She looks at him, mouth still full as she chews away and offers a messy smile that crinkles her nose a bit and she nods. 'Less starving and just having a better appreciation for the little things in life.'

The man piles as much meat as he can into one of the flatbreads and passes it to Thezra, collecting her money as he does so. He looks at Ascian and Ember. "Well, it's never to late to teach him!" He looks at Akiran and Thrandimir. "Y'all want one too?"

Emma H. said: Katrin looks at Savich, then scoops the coins off the counter, slipping them back into her pouch. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Thank you, again." She picks up the padded tunic, nodding to the old woman.  Now familiar with the route to the old woman's shop, Katrin makes her way back towards the guild hall with ease. The padded tunic has been wrapped and tucked inside her bag, and as she walks, she's assailed by the sounds and smells of the city. Coming to the edge of the Amber Market, she glances around the bustling square, her eyes sharp for certain familiar faces she knew would be there. After a few moments of searching, she spots them. It is hard to miss them after all. We do stand out, don't we. For a moment, she just stands there and watches. And the weight of what she has agreed to do sits on her shoulders like a mountain. Despite that, she straightens her shoulders, resolving to not be a stick-in-the-mud. Not right now, anyways. She weaves through the crowd of people, coming to a stop beside Thrandimir, just catching the shopkeeper's last question. "Changed my mind," she says simply to the others. "Turns out I am hungry. I'll take one," she directs her last statement to the man selling the meat. 

Tasagrad pokes his tiny head out of Thrandimir's robes and squawks at Buckaroo. "Are you kidding? I want two ,"  the wizard jokes back. "The question is if they'll fit. What do we call you, friend?"

Akiran's scales ruffle as Thrandimir appears with The Pale One in tow. Any Dragonborn or even just a being who spent time with the clans would notice a clear and near blatant sign of the sell sword's displeasure. Remark after cutting remark bubble to the warrior's snout, but with a glance to the wizard. And in break from tradition Akiran swallows the insults and chooses silence. He needed Thrandimir, the man wields powerful magics, is intelligent, and most importantly is a natural born survivor. He would need him to kill the Beast, and for reasons unknown to Akiran Thrandimir enjoys The Pale One's company. Tilting his snout up Akiran unconsciously falls into the habit of his people, his eyes refusing to note the pale one's presence, no words of greeting or acknowledgement to his presence. In any way that mattered, Akiran acted as if he simply did not exist.  His good mood from the morning spar with Thezra diminished, Akiran follows in silence until they reach the food cart and the delectable smell. Holding up one talon he fishes two silver out of his pocket, handing it to the man. 

The man spins up four more of the hee-rows and hands them out. "My name's Germaine," he says, looking curiously at Tasagrad.

Tasagrad squawks again, now at Germaine, and fluffs up his feathers until he looks like a tiny ball of angry fluff. "Well then. Thank you, Germaine! " Thrandimir adds, 'toasting' with his hee-row to the vendor before digging into his food.

Finishing their hee-rows and bidding Germaine goodbye, the Fireblades make their way across the Amber Market. The tension amidst the group is high, even with the undercutting of the sounds of the busy market around them. Silence stretches long as they head first to Ale'ken to pick up Akiran's armor, and then back to the market square to find a tailor.  Eventually, they find a storefront marked with a pristine bronze statue of a woman wearing a beautifully ornate dress and a man wearing a rather dapper doublet. The sign above the door reads "Formal Affairs." The party enters into a showroom floor with lines of wooden mannequins wearing dresses and doublets. Ornately embroidered tunics, vest, cloaks, and robes as far as the eye can see.  The mannequins flank a weaving path through the store, with no other alternatives, seemingly so potential shoppers must look at everything before reaching the counter. They eventually do, and are greeted by a wizened old gnomish woman. She greets them, her thick Capean accent offering almost a dismissive tone. "Hello, friends, and welcome to Formal Affairs. I am Donnica. What can we dress you in today?" She claps twice, and two waifish human attendants appear at her side, waiting for instructions with neutral expressions.

Akiran nearly struts into the store, his swirling silver cloak thrown back to fully display his finely forged and dearly missed armor. The Dragonborn's second skin nearly glowed, it's intricately forged patterns shined to a majestic gleam. With his armor obscuring the Monster's mark from view, Akiran allowed his oversized confidence to swell even further. From exile, to sellsword to having been personally invited to break bread with a king & too top it all of he he hadn't drank or gambled away his pay yet. Life was good.... as long as his mind continued to shove the horrors from yesterday as deep as it could manage. Shifting his snout into humanoid smile, Akiran flourishes his cloak and meets Donnica's eyes. His voice booming & falling into the fanciful style of speech he employs when dealing with those of a higher station  "My name is Akiran of the Fireblades, and I've heard tale that you are one of the best designers in the Crossroads" Leaning closer to the merchant, his voice nearly dripping with pride  "Donnica I am to dine with the king tomorrow, and I would like to wear one of your designs. But..." Gesturing to the robes, vests, & tunics displayed throughout the shop "I need a custom piece, something worthy of the occasion ." Allowing a bit of challenge and amusement to fall into his silver tongued speech he adds "That is if you believe your talents up to the task?"

Thrandimir leans on his staff two steps behind the dragonborn. "We all are," he adds with a wry smirk. "Although I'm sure that I can find something suitable amongst your collection."

Donnica looks unimpressed with Akiran's announcement. "Ah, yes," she muses, walking around the counter. "I'm sure we can find something for all of you." She claps again, and her assistants leap into action. One drags a wide stool over to Donnica. The other hands her a tape measure. She looks Akiran up and down dubiously. "Are you to wear these fine clothes over your armor?"

Looking about the finery in the shop with equal parts curiosity and skepticism, Thezra cocks her head down to meet the gnomish tailor's gaze. "Personally I'd prefer my armor were  my fine clothes -  if that's possible," she adds with a shrug.  

Donnica scoffs under her breath, just loud enough for Thezra to hear. "If you wish  to wear armor over your clothes, so be it. But you must be measured without it." She points to a couple doors on the wall to the left of the counter. "Go. Change. When you come back, we can discuss what you're looking for."

Donnica's question throws Akiran for a moment, he had just gotten his second skin back. The thought of being without it again sends a waive of apprehension through the Dragonborn. But the thought of standing out in a King's court for the wrong reason, inspired absolute dread. Slowly shaking his snout "Unless you have an inspired design that can include my armor, I think it best go armor less."  Fixing his eyes upon the designer, Akiran forces his snout into a human smile and turns on the charm "I want a that piece that will make both of names the talk of the town." Thinking for a moment "I want it in silver, with emerald highlights. Something that compliments my scales. But other than that I trust ya & I'm willing to pay for the best."

Donnica studies Akiran for a long moment, her tiny eyes seeming to look down on him despite her diminutive height. Akiran wonders for a second if he has lost his touch, or underestimated the gnomish woman, but then her face creases into a small smile. "You," she begins with a chuckle, "have good taste, my dragonborn friend. Go change, quickly, and then we will discuss your design." Her gaze moves to take in the whole group. "Anyone who is in armor should go change."

Ascian slinks to the corner of the shop and slumps into a crouch in the corner by the door, watching Akiran warily and absently stroking Ember as he waits for the others to finish.

One by one, most of the group is measured and made to try on various items of clothing until a few of them wish that they were back in the clutches of Krutaelis. Eventually, they exit Formal Affairs, neatly wrapped parcels of clothing in hand.

As she clears the threshold of the shop, she places a quick hand on Thrandimir's arm, drawing him back slightly from the others as they make their way back to the guildhall. "I need to speak with you when we return. Alone." She says in a low voice.  "Bring Ash as well. You're the only ones I would trust with what I have to say." She lets go of his arm, and continues to walk as if nothing had happened.

Thrandimir nods quietly to Katrin, before hanging back to watch for wherever Ash might be sneaking off to next.

Most of the Fireblades head back to the guildhall, with Thezra heading to the workshop to begin the process of engraving runes on her sword. Ash, Katrin, and Thrandimir meet up in a corner of their rooms in the guildhall.

Once she's sure they're alone, she pulls the padded armor she'd commissioned from Miranda Savich the day before. "Got you this," she says to Ash and Ember, giving the wolf a ruffle of the ears. Setting it aside, she takes a moment to compose herself.  "I need your help. Both of you. I went to visit the tailor who made that for Ember. She's having a dress made for me, and she asked me to do something for her. Something along the lines of espionage." 

"Espionage?" Thrandimir echoes in faux shock, allowing himself to fall backwards into an armchair in a small explosion of billowing robes. "Katrin, I'm impressed. I love espionage. Please, elaborate."

"I know, shocking," Katrin says with a smile. "She's asked me to place a scarf somewhere  the King goes often. A study, or office maybe. Somewhere...innocuous. Where it won't be noticed."

Thrandimir's brow crinkles in thought when Katrin mentions the scarf. "May I examine it? I'd like to know what it goes first."

Katrin purses her lips. "I'm picking it up with my dress tomorrow. You're welcome to come with me and examine it then. But maybe not while we're in the shop. I don't want anyone else knowing I've involved the two of you. This could very well end badly."

"With Ascian to do the deed? I find that unlikely," Thrandimir scoffs. "Sounds like a walk in the park for you," he tells the pale boy with a grin.

"Or a jump through a window." Ascian looks up from where he'd been buckling the armor around Ember, blinking from Thrandimir to Katrin. "Where do you want it. Can I access it from the outside."

Katrin's brow furrows. "Maybe. It seems likely.... but it will largely depend on the layout of the palace itself. The tailor didn't give any information on that particularity."

"Helpful," Thrandimir notes flippantly, before changing tack.  "How much are you getting paid for this?"

"Well," she says, twirling a lock of blond hair around a finger. "She's doing my dress free of charge. I was going to pay for it. But she insisted." She sighs, her mind already playing through the responses she would've gotten from Akiran, and even Thezra. "Don't underestimate how much I hate throne. I wasn't thinking about payment. Just...my hatred."

Thrandimir arches an eyebrow. "You can hate the throne and still get paid. Getting paid to do what you would have done for free is very rewarding. The dress isn't bad, but this job is worth more. It does make me wonder about the company that our friend the tailor keeps though..."

Katrin gives a faint smile. "This is where you and I differ, then. Among other things. I can speak to her tomorrow about payment however, if it matters that much."

The wizard answers with a nonchalant shrug. "It's your business. I'm just helping a friend."

Ascian fixes the last buckle, hands slowly dropping from Ember's fur. The elixirs at his belt feel heavy again, and Barnes' face comes to mind. "We should get money. We may need it."

Katrin looks at the boy thoughtfully. Eventually she nods. "I'll ask. Don't expect much, but maybe there can be some additional compensation. This will be dangerous, after all."

Thezra retreats back to the forge following an uncomfortable fitting session with the fussy tailor. She’d gone in requesting a sensible bit of acceptably formal armor and come out with some inexplicably defenseless, silky fabric one piece that draped down the length of her body and completely hindered her movement. The idea that human nobility saw such an outfit as ideal seemed entirely foolish, but against her better judgement she’d held her tongue and paid the woman. Rather than worry about that, she filtered the dinner with the king out of her mind and turned her attention to her blade. The scroll she’d purchased from Ale’ken unfurled before her as she took to the forge. Quickly she set to work on the engraving process, and it wasn’t long before an immense sense of comfort washed over her, the kind she hadn’t felt in so long since leaving Ore’agah. In the alien world she’d found herself in, runesmithing suddenly seemed a beacon of familiarity, and she allowed herself a sigh of contentedness as she made short work of the engravings and etchings.  Before long she picked the sword up once more, running a hand over the cool metal to feel each ridge and groove of the new, faintly glowing marks across its guard. At first she started to frown, noting the blade itself did not start to glow as the script had promised, but realized she’d need a demon around in order to test it truly. With a sigh, she instead gathered her things to make her way back to the suite. For once I actually wish Duar’ken were here,  she chuckles to herself. On the other hand, that wizard has always seemed odd. And then there’s Ascian…

The Fireblades spend the rest of the day lounging and training before heading to bed. The next day, Katrin, Thrandimir, Ascian, and Ember head out to the little tailor shop that Katrin had found. The interior of the shop is cool despite the summer heat outside. Savich is sitting in her customary place, on a high stool behind the counter. She eyes the group as they come in, her eyes eventually alighting on Ember in his tunic. "Oh my," she says with a smile. "Look at this handsome fellow. He looks just dashing."

Katrin smiles, giving the wolf a scratch behind the ear, before walking closer to the counter.  "Doesn't he just? It's perfect." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, almost distractedly. "This is Thrandimir and Ash," she gestures to her friends.  "I trust them. Completely."   

Thrandimir leans on his staff, his eyes glinting with curiosity as he inspects Savich. The wizard smiles when Katrin introduces him and Ash, nodding slightly to the tailor in greeting.