TERROR FIFTEEN - MERCHANTS

I walk up the steps leading into the Merchant’s Guild and pause as I see that both guards by the door are staring at me. “Hello,” I say. “I’m not sure if this is the right place, but I’m looking for the offices of Mister Javier Juárez. He’s a member of the guild.”

“Ask the receptionist,” one of them says.

“Right, thanks,” I say as I scoot on by.

That was surprisingly easy. I’m not going to complain though.

The interior of the Merchant’s Guild reminds me a bit of home. Lots of stone cut in straight angles, plinths and pillars along the sides of the room, and a large wooden desk by the front. I can’t see any more guards here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. Not that I can imagine much of a need for even more guards. For all that the place is imposing, it’s not opulent. There’s none of that gold gilding and pretty art I’d expect from a noble’s place. Just a few potted ferns next to some benches on the sides.

The receptionist, a young man in a nice suit, looks up as we move closer. “Greetings,” he says.

“Hi. I’m looking for the office of Mister Javier Juárez.”

“I’m afraid that Mister Juárez is... currently indisposed.”

“Oh, I know,” I say. “I heard that he was arrested?”

“The Guild prefers not to feed the rumour mill when we can avoid it.”

I nod. “That’s fine. I still need to see him. But if he’s indisposed, are there people he worked closely with? A secretary, a partner? We usually do all of our business through him directly, you see, so I’m not too sure who to contact about my concerns.”

“I understand,” the secretary says. “And of course, business must go on. I can put you in contact with another merchant that can service your needs, perhaps even at competitive rates?”

I keep my face neutral. My hood hides most of it, but sometimes people can sense that kind of thing. The secretary doesn’t look like a mage...

[David Escrivá – The Greeter]

Adept Primus Secretarius

An adept? I guess that even secretaries will level up eventually, but he looks pretty young to be an adept. Maybe I’m underestimating the guild. David here seems to be trying to fish business away from Mister Juárez while he’s away. That’s pretty cutthroat.

“Maybe,” I say. “It would depend on a few things, notably how long Mister Juárez will be indisposed for. Which is something I’d like to discuss with someone working for or with him.”

The secretary nods, a deep, near-bow sort of nod. “I understand. Mister Juárez does have an office in the Guild itself, most members of good standing do, but he conducts most of his affairs in Santafaria from his estates.” He turns and casually walks to a drawer which he opens, his fingers skating across the top of a dozen files before he opens and unfolds one, then eyes it for just a moment. “Do you want the address for his estates?”

“Sure,” I say. I take note of the numbers and the street name he gives me. The same as what the man at the inn noted down. That’s a confirmation, at least.

I thank the guild secretary for his time, then exit the building with Felix next to me. “That was a little boring, and somehow really tense at the same time,” Felix says.

“That’s how a lot of things are, I think,” I say. “Not that I’ve been to too many places like this. Or, um, any of them. But I’ve read books.”

“You haven’t been to too many places?”

“Well, there’s not much to explore around my home. Plenty of rooms and hidden nooks in the castle, but there’s basically nothing outside it. So I might be just a little inexperienced when it comes to, you know, people and such. But I’ll be fine. I read a lot of books just to get ready.”

“You’re doing alright, I think,” Felix says. “I think that a lot of people expect nobles to be a little strange, so you’re not too suspicious.”

“I’m strange?” I ask.

“You talk weird.”

I huff. I do not talk weird.

“By the way, where are we going?”

I stop, then sheepishly fish out the note in my pocket and look at the address on it. “I have no idea,” I admit.

We do end up finding a guard patrol on the street, and Felix approaches them to ask them where the address is. They’re very polite and point us down the right road without even making a fuss about us. I guess two lost girls in the better part of town aren't that strange. My clothes might give me an air of nobility, and Felix looks plain and unassuming.

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Juárez’s estate is a modest one, at least compared to some of the more lavish homes we’ve crossed. Then again, none of them seem all that spectacular to me. They’re two-storey villas, with balconies on the second floor and gardens partially hidden behind walls that anyone with a bit of athletic skill could scale.

Juárez’s place is similar to his neighbour’s, a tallish home all in the same pale beige stone. The entrance is gated, but there’s a pull-cord next to the door that, after verifying we’re in the right place, I tug twice. A bell rings inside, and I step back.

“Let’s hope that whoever is working with Juárez has an idea of what’s going on,” I say.

“The books are more important, right?”

“Well, no, the temple being burned is more important. Books are nice, really nice, but they’re just a hobby. The temple, that’s important. But I was sent here for the books first, and taking care of those is a whole lot more manageable. I don’t even know where to start with the temple stuff.”

“What would you do about it?”

“I don’t know what I can do,” I say. “Was it just an insult, was it an act of war, was it just something petty? I’m not a god, so I don’t know. M-- the Dark Goddess will decide what to do about her temple.”

After I deliver all of the books, of course. Accomplishing my first ever mission properly, and bringing back a whole heap of important news all at once. I try not to grin too hard. I haven’t finished yet, so it’s hardly the right time to start imagining how proud Mom will be.

Someone opens the front door and scurries over. A housemaid, in a long dress with an apron before it. “Hello?” she asks.

“Hello,” I reply. “We’re here to speak with. Well, whomever is home.”

“Ah, I’m afraid now isn’t a good time,” she says.

“It’s really important.”

I can see the maid weighing it for a moment. We’re just kids though, at least to her, and she dismisses us with a smile. “I’m sure I can pass a message along.”

I don’t grumble, because that would be immature. A message though. I don’t know what to say. It needs to be something that’ll convince someone to let us in, and I don’t think I can just flash gold around and expect to get a proper welcome. That would be too suspicious.

“Can you... can you tell whomever is here that a messenger has arrived? From... Luciana Malvada.”

“Is that your name?” the maid asks.

“No,” I say. “It’s the name of the person whose message I have.”

“I can deliver it,” she replies.

I shake my head. “Please just tell... whomever is there that it’s a message from her, delivered in person. I can’t just speak it aloud.”

“As you wish,” the maid says. I can sense a bit of reluctance there, but she heads out with a slight bow and darts back into the home.

“Who 's Luciana Malvada?” Felix asks.

“My mom,” I say.

“She sounds very important. Is your mom a noble?”

If it was anyone else, I’d think she was fishing for information, but I think that Felix is just genuinely curious. “She isn’t, actually.”

The maid returns a moment later, looking a little red in the face. She starts to fiddle with the latch keeping the gate shut. “The master will see you now,” she says as she ushers us past. “Up-upstairs. To the right.”

“Thanks,” I reply. I barely have time to take in the entrance lobby, all done up in tiles and with stucco walls.

We climb up the stairs, and I notice a door held open to the right, leading into an office.

A man is standing there, tall and a little rotund around the tummy, with nervous hands and feet that can’t stay put. He sees us, and I feel as if he’s seeing right past my hood before he drops to the floor, uncaring that his suit is getting crumpled.

“Lady Malvada, please forgive me,” he begs, forehead pressed to the floor.

“Um,” I say.

I think there may have been a critical misunderstanding.

***