Night… a tavern?
She could always go to one of the cottages, after all the people here knew her.
But she goes to the tavern anyway, her breathing ragged from the non-stop dash she just went through.
“Right… see ya tomorrow then.”
Cedar climbs down the crow’s nest reminiscing on everything that he has went through. He slowly walks over to his quarters where it felt like hours before he finally reaches the depths of sleep.
Andar doesn’t budge under Dawson’s fit of anger. He takes another gulp of the water.
“The forward payment is for information. No return on information already given. Also…”
He finishes the water in the bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You just have no other choice, man. I’m not the best informant, but dealing with nobility is my forte. Second, you don’t have connection deep enough to know better people underground. Your pocket, too, isn’t deep enough for hiring better one.”
Andar crosses his arms. Dawson might be wealthy, but if he grumbles over 20 silver, hiring someone better tonight just won’t cut it.
“You also have a tight time frame. One night? Really? Just isn’t possible if you spend half the night looking for a new guy.”
Andar leans in to Dawson.
“How about this, you keep your promise and double your payment, and I’ll get you your scrolls tonight.”
She goes in the tavern to see a number of very drunk people, and the tavernkeeper eyeing her inquisitively.
“You look in a hurry. What’s goin on?” He says with a slight of worry in his voice.
“Ya need anythin?”
“…Fine, but if I see one bit of evidence to prove that you have either betrayed or lied to me, there shall be a bounty on your head.” Dawson says staring him dead in the eyes.
“And it will be quite sizable. More than you could ever afford in your lifetime.”
Dawson is unnaturally angry regarding the status of the box, seemingly like an addiction. He emphasizes the necessity that he returns with everything intact with vigor.
She goes straight to the counter.
“Gimme a cup of ale.”
Her despondency by the counter signifies something had happened.
The 'keeper eyes her in suspicion for a moment, but nearly instantly races to get the ale posthaste. He’s very visibly scared by her, or the aura around her. It can’t quite be described other than an unsettling tone exuding from her person.
“Alright, 'mam. No trouble, this one’s even on the house. I’ll even let ya stay in one of the guest rooms for the night for less than I charge most.” Saying the last sentence in a more of a whispering tone as to not unsettle the uproarious drunks.
He’s breathing heavily.
“No problem, no problem. I have my own code, you know?” Andar answers lightly…
Even so, inside, he is curious of this costumer. Is the box so important? Maybe he should have stolen it at the dock after all. Man, the bad luck he has…
“I’ll be charging you for necessary expense. Oh, if I’m not here by breakfast tomorrow, just assume I fail, yeah? You can’t expect much from a rush job like this.”
Andar’s mind starts whirling while he talks. To take something out of a baron’s hold in one night… can’t be anything too quiet. He should hire some arms soon, after figuring where the baron is.
“Thanks.”
She takes the cup.
She can’t forget the boy’s face. A good night’s rest could rest her up.
Something’s at the back of her head, but she was too traumatised to properly think about it.
)The tavernkeeper races away to the wine cellar, muttering something about how he shouldn’t have to be dealing with the crazies like this.
Meanwhile, one of the rowdy drunkards moseys up to Faris, asking her “Hey, lass. You what are ya doing all alone in the cold? Why doshnt’ you join in on the feshhtivities? hic”
She gulps the ale, slamming the cup down. She prepares to get up, but is stopped by a drunkard.
Honestly, she couldn’t bear this much longer. Dealing with drunkards now? Not a chance.
“Not interested. Outta my way.” She stands up and prepares to go up to a room.
The drunkard is in shock at the turnout of events. He stands up, aggressively asserting to Faris that “I’m being nice to you, and this is how I get treated?! The hell is wrong with you you BITCH”
He raises up his arms to seem bigger than he actually is. This man is clearly dillusional. “YOU CAN GO WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT BITCH. NOW COME TO PAPA.”
“You know nothing.”
She proceeds to sidestep past him without a problem [Because he is drunk and she is not.]
The drunkard, trying to stop her, trips and falls flat on his face, knocking himself to the floor. He’s out cold.
Serves the prick right.
“How about a contract to make everything sets in stone? You can read, right?”
Andar takes out a piece of parchment and ink and feather from a drawer.
“Just some simple points. One, I, Andar Alsudi will try to retrieve the box and everything within from Baron Richard Alnen before breakfast in Crown Stag tomorrow morning for a forward payment of 40 silver coins paid by the Client.”
Two, every necessary expense for this mission will be paid by the Client only if the request is a success."
Three, should the request be fulfilled, the Client will pay another 40 silver to Andar Alsudi."
Four, should the request be a failure, the Client will have no need to pay for any expense outside of the 40 silver at the beginning of the request."
Andar writes everything down on paper and hands it over.
“How does that sound?”
Dawson giggles, with a wide uncharacteristic grin on his face.
“I’ll have you know I specialize in contracts.” He says while perusing the document for any obvious loopholes which he may attempt to exploit.
“Of course I understand your reasoning behind the second point, but in order to preserve the sanctity of this deal I will only sign this document provided that the expenses are agreeably necessary for the mission at hand. I don’t want you buying a house in that time. And isn’t that reasonable?” He stares deadpan at the man.
“Otherwise this is a completely fine document and I have no problems whatsoever.” Stated with a smirk.
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