The hangover hit me hard this morning. Had to spend the first hour of the day gagging half my stomach out of me. With some water, and a bucket handed over by the innkeeper, I was able to get out of the building standing mostly upright. As the cold morning wind hit my face, I saw others coming out of the tavern, some I recognized from yesterday. I exchanged some good mornings with them, specially with my equally shitfaced coworker.
“You not going to the port today, kid?” Kore mentioned.
“I got a good feel about the market.” I replied.
“Suit yourself. Best of luck!”
Kore waved goodbye as he walked the other way, disappearing into the crowd of early rising urbanites. And so my day began but, instead of looking for work, I simply walked around the market. The objective was simple, a suitable disguise. Clothiers, their buildings and their carts, were a common sight in this place, most seemed filled with stock and held many different sets on display. Luxurious noblewear was left for further down the market, closer to what are known as the “high streets”, where the well-off members of society lived their day to day. Getting all the way there earned me a few bad looks, but most people seemed to keep to themselves. That was still an issue though. I had to make few laps to not be recognized, so my scouting session was short. I asked for directions a few times to look lost, hoping that alibi would be enough for prying eyes.
“Excuse me.” I asked an older woman walking by me. “Do you know where the Boreus shop is?”
“The apothecaries?” She replies. “Just keep walking through this street. Eventually you will see their medicine and potions on display. They are hard to miss.”
I walked there, didn’t go in, then walked back. But that lap was enough. I had set up a clear mental map of my vicinity. Established shops with buildings and guards were far off my larceny capabilities, so I only remembered the carts with aristocratic-enough robes. All suitable targets in a four block radius, that’s what I had in mind. Now that I knew where to get my disguise, I just needed a suitable opening. An opening I normally could get with an assistant, like Matheus, I now have to either create myself (which is risky) or simply wait for.
So I waited, sitting in different stores by the market, wasting some money on drinks and food to look inconspicuous. But I couldn’t was the day simply enjoying myself.
There it is. Hooded figure, face covered, walking through the main street. Hands hidden underneath the white silk, impossible to tell where they are or what they hold. They have come and gone, back and forth, for half an hour now. My assumption was that, just like me, they were trying to find a target. Although I’d personally take less precautions hiding my identity, its easier to tell when someone doesn’t want to be noticed when they try their best to hide. This tells me they are probably a not very experienced pickpocket, or a very dangerous person with a weapon. Both worked in my favor.
I rushed ahead of them, keeping an eye on them with my peripheral vision. And so, when they finally snatched someone’s bag, I simply extended my leg towards them and caused them to trip. I quickly rushed back as guards and a crowd encircled them. And so I moved out of the way, standing right next to a mostly empty clothier’s stand. What a coincidence!
“Ugh. That looked like it hurt.” I said, hoping to make some conversation.
“You saw them fall? What happened to them?” The middle-aged man replied, looking at me.
“Yeah, they must have tripped with someone’s leg or something. I think they stole a thing or two.”
“Damned criminals. Find an honest way to make money.”
“That’s what I say.” I replied nonchalantly. “Look! That woman with her hands up in the air. She must be a victim.”
As the public surrounded the dweller, the clothier’s curiosity couldn’t be helped. He leaned forward, seeking the woman I spoke of that in reality I hadn’t even seen. That moment was all I needed to slip a bit of his wares for myself. Swiftly moving the cloth towards my backpack, using the crowd to hide the noise.
“You think they are going to beat him up?” I said once the job was done.
“In public? No. But when they throw him out of town they shall.”
And so I obtained two valuable things. First, the information that if I steal I’m thrown out and beat up. Second, the beautiful garments I now wear. These royal blue robes, with silver embroidery. They are not too opulent, which I hoped for anyways, but well made enough to blend into the high streets without getting stared at like a giant red pimple. And so I enter one of these high class buildings, the “Golden Flower”, confident with my step.
Now I’m in one of the many temples of opulence, a posh tavern. My new performance had to be clever. I had no money, so there would be no way I could simply be a patron and pay more than a few copper per drink. Given the numbers that were passed around by once-well-off peasants last night, not even silver would be enough. There had to be someone I could be that both had a reason to stay there for a long period of time and also wouldn’t be asked many questions.
A waiter dressed in formal dark clothing walks towards me and asks.
“Sir, is there anything you want to be served?”
“No, thank you.” I smile with excitement. “I’m waiting for a date.”
The perfect cover up. What are they going to do, ruin my night even more? An innocent, young bachelor who has clearly been stood up? How sad! I just have to look progressively more miserable as the night moves on. And so I sit, ready to be disappointed by a suitor who will never come. I sit and listen.
“Here, you can have some bread and butter while you wait.” The same tall waiter said, returning with a basket filled with bread and a small wooden tub with butter.
“Oh. Thank you.” I smile whilst containing my hungry eyes from staring at the strangely exotic smell of the bread.
This feels nice. Food looks good, smells good certainly, harmonious music plays in the background, and all this is technically work. Some anxiety and stress sits at the back of my mind, but an amount I’m comfortable with. The life of a conman might be the one for me. Now the play is to keep an attentive ear ready whilst looking like I absolutely hate this night.
----------------------------------------
Two days have passed, and I have had to change my work station a couple of times. The delicious smell from the bread, this thing called “garlic”, has now turned into nauseating miasma. I’m sure it works in my favor that I don’t gorge on it, at least. Eating less makes sense given I’m an anxious rich kid waiting for love, but having spent so much time around it the smell eventually permeates your nostrils. My hair even smells like it, it followed me to my bed last night and it drove me away from sleep far too many times.
Free food is free food, though, it’s just that I’ve never dealt with having too much of it before.
The past two taverns I shadowed were a bust, no valuable information gained, but this one showed promise. Although less concurred than the past two it felt more personal, which I had thought would work to my detriment thanks to having less of a crowd to hide in. Yet it seems like that same homeliness is favored by one of my targets.
By the bar sits a tipsy Boreus brother. Which one, I ignore, but nobles have the habit of being easily recognizable, wearing their signets somewhere visible. His was strange, a silver necklace adorned with an emerald medallion rested on his neck, inscribed with the house’s symbol. A symbol I recognize thanks to having gone to see their store by the market. That’s just luck, but I should have thought about it.
First time I see a seal worn like this anyways, compared to the ones I saw at port and at Havenport’s market square. But I do recall each noble having the freedom of stylistic choice, it’s just that most went for something less… tacky. As long as their loyalty remains public, aesthetics be damned, I guess.
I have given him my back, trying to make sure my face is not remember or even noticed. By now a couple of hours have passed since I first got here, so I should get moving before arising more suspicion. Managing to keep my eyes slightly tearful for around fifteen minutes is the limit of my skills, and that limit is quickly approaching. At least, in my mind, I’ve done a good job looking pathetic, like any young soul with a broken heart should. God knows I saw that a lot back home.
I get distracted in my thoughts, enough to not hear the bartender and that Boreus brother begin talking about ten feet away from me. The first words of their conversation lost, but I manage to catch myself in time to hear them continue talking.
“Yeah, just give me the usual.” the Boreus brother says.
A bread falls from my basket. To outsiders, an accident, but also a natural reason for me to look at my surroundings, specially towards the bar. The bartender picks up two bottles, their shape I attempt to burn in my mind. One cylindrical, the other like a pyramid, both holding crystal clear alcohol. Liquids combine into the same glass, shining with a slight white hue. The man speaks to the Boreus brother as he begins shaking the shot, making it illuminate slightly more.
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“Another hard night?”
“Is it that obvious?” He sighs slightly before continuing. “I had hoped it wasn’t so… apparent.”
“Nah, that’s not it. Don’t worry.” Said the bartender. “You just rarely come here alone if things are going well.”
“Yeah… Sorry about not coming to visit you often.”
“That’s alright, I have a boring job if you don’t drink.”
The shaking stops, and the shining drink lays in front of the brother. I’m forced to lose visual on them, can’t spend forever looking for bread under the table. Switching seats or walking to the bar might not necessarily arise suspicion, but I’d prefer my face to be kept out of the brothers’ memories until I have a plan laid out. So I sit back and continue listening.
Glasses clink behind me, and a few “bottoms up” follow thereafter. Nobles have less proclivity for inebriation, at least from the few days I’ve taken part in their community, so there’s not as much noise to be distracted by. What interests me is how rarely any high society walks alone into a bar, and the Boreus brother was treated nonchalantly by the barman too. Being referred to so casually must mean some level of comradery, I gather. The bartender and him must know have some relationship. Maybe old friends, maybe simply they see each other often enough here.
“Do you want me to get started with the next shot?” The bartender says.
“Yeah. Thanks, Dev.” He answers, loudly gulping down the drink.
Well, that is one name, at least. I must have missed the brother’s, but at least I got the bartender’s. It was said carefully, like it meant something more than just the usual thanks. How many times does one dramatically mention the other person’s name, unless you meant it by heart? I might be overreaching, but it’s a clue to consider. Perhaps him and Dev have a closer relationship than most barmen and their drunk.
“Hey, how’s the wife.” The brother says.
“Haven’t seen her this week, she went back to her parents for a bit. Pretty sure she’s planning to bring them for the year’s end.”
“Oh, alright. I’d really like to stay for the festivities but… seems like I’ll be aboard a ship.”
“Doesn’t sound like you had a choice.” Dev says as the sound of polishes glass can be heard.
“You know I didn’t.”
“And where are you going?”
The conversation is interrupted by awkward silence.
“Don’t tell me…” Dev says, loudly putting down a cup.
“Going back to Syrlia.”
I really wish I could see what the scene is like. The silence might mean Dev is looking at him incredulous, like he just saw a ghost, or that he decided to look away to hide his true emotions. Is it fear? Concern? Is Syrlia a dangerous place?
“You are not going to see her, are you?”
“I do need to speak to House T-”
“God damn it, kid.” The brother is interrupted, the sound of wooden shelves violently being opened and closed further hides his words.
“Look, it’ll be fine. My dad has been trying to expand to Apophis and you know how people are there, it’s not like he can go himself. Someone needs to be there with the shipment, show some proof of concept that the alchemy is sound, and then shake hands. She’s probably not even going to be there, no reason for her to get involved in the minutia of the business.”
“It’s just… Why you? I’m sure you aren’t the only one without knife ears in all of your family, no?”
“I know, but it’s… You know how it is, it’s not my choice.”
“Yes. I know.” Dev sighs. “Here, give me your glass, this one’s on me.”
“You don’t even know the worst part yet.”
A sudden moment of silence adds to the drama.
“Don’t tell me your brother is g-”
“My brother is going.” They both finish the sentence at the same time.
“Fuck…” Dev says.
They stay silent for a few moments. I can tell, by looking around me, I’m not the only person interested in this exchange, the entirety of the tavern is being wholly entertained. Some gossip and mutterings can be heard around me, but they are whispers difficult to make out.
“It’s just-” Dev says, stopping himself for a second. “Why would your brother even go?”
“I said the same thing, man.” the brother says.
“Wasn’t he not interested in this stuff at all?”
“Yes. He can barely mix sugar and tea without making it too sweet, even less create a potion by himself.”
“So? Why? What’s the point?”
“Dad wants… Dad wants to get him back into the business.”
“Not again.”
“He said something like ‘it’s your brother, you both ought to stop fighting and take care of the family when I’m gone’, and it’s not like he’s wrong.”
“No, he is. He is wrong. Is this even necessary? You are not starving, are you?”
“I wouldn’t be paying you five gold a shot if I was.”
“See, you guys are fine! What’s the point of doing so well financially if you are tied to the money like an animal. Have you talked to your brother?”
“We don’t talk anymore.”
A loud gulp. A thud of glass against wood.
“Give me another one.” the brother says.
The gossip has grown a little louder, but most people seem to have lost interest. Heads have now turned back to the luxurious plates and drinks in front of them.
“So… Is it true?” Dev says.
Heads turn back towards the de facto scenario. The public’s interest peaked, with subtlety out of the window.
“Don’t ask me that.” The brother says angrily.
“Look, I-”
“You know I wouldn’t do something like that. How could you even ask me?” The brother interrupts, his voice getting louder.
“I just wanted to hear it from you, that’s it.” Dev says. “I trust you, I trust you.”
The entire place has turned almost completely silent. I doubt the two main actors wouldn’t notice but, if they do, they willingly ignore it.
“No wonder you looked so miserable when you walked in.” Dev adds.
“You piece of shit, you told me I looked fine.”
“Look, I was trying to make you feel better, alright?” They both share a small chuckle, calming down the tone of the conversation. “But this whole dance, again? It hasn’t even been that long.”
“It’s been a year or so by now.”
“Guess time passes quicker when you get older.”
“You are not that old, man. You’ll live longer than I anyways.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The sound of the seat scraping against the wooden floor signals an exit.
“Alright, I have to go. I just meant to have a quick drink and get out, have quite a bit of paperwork to get done.” The brother says.
“Alright man, have a good one.”
Please say the name, please say the name.
“Wait.” Dev says.
“Yeah?”
“Just don’t overdo it, alright? Not all fights are worth winning.”
“Sure, Dev. Be ready to make me another one of those lightpunches tomorrow, alright?”
“It’s the one we hold in stock the most.”
“True, I forgot we did that. Alright, bye.”
“Have a good day, man.”
Despite the brother not having left yet, most people are loudly discussing what had just transpired. Some of them repeating the same rumors the nobles at the high streets spoke of a few days ago. Seems like this whole ordeal is well known among these circles, unlike shame is.
An old woman walks towards me, leaving some steaming hot drink on my table inside a small white cup.
“Oh… No, thank you. I have not ordered.” I say, sniffling a bit.
“No, little one. I just wanted to make you some tea.” She says in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.
Shit. Cute old lady you are so nice, thank you so much, but I really need to lay low. I see the Boreus brother willingly attempting to ignore the conversations going on around him, but I don’t want him to find a reason to look back at me.
“Please, I understand what heartbreak is like.” The old lady says.
People are turning towards my table now, the brother one of them. I need to act now if I want to remain unknown. In one movement I get up shaking the seat I was using, cover my eyes and face with my long robes, and dip my left hand inside the hot drink for a second, before lifting it back up. I’m hoping the pain makes me tear up.
“No. I’m not heartb-” I say.
Still covering my face with my right arm, I run away from the shop. A minute or so after, I stop in the middle of nowhere. A few pedestrians gaze in my direction, but there are less intruding eyes. I just hope the people inside the bar didn’t get a clear view of me, probably just seeing my pained self more than my normal face.
I’m also embarrassed, but that’s of less importance. Thanks Matheus for being rejected when we were children. If you were not, I wouldn’t have had any idea how to act.
I sit down and gather my thoughts for a moment. It’s late, somewhat, with the sun still up but about to fall into the ocean. Possibilities race through my mind, what to do, how to do it. Have I spent too much time not putting anything in motion? Is this information enough? Is there a winning play that’s escaping me?
People walk back and forth and speak nonsense I care not for. I just need a plan. I look down at my signet, hoping for another epiphany to strike. It’s useless, what can a taxman do in a situation like this. Boreus must know their taxman like they know their children, anyways, I couldn’t fool them with that. There has to be some way I can talk to that brother one on one. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to go. Both of them don’t, it seems, and surely with only a little push they will throw in the towel and not go.
My heart begins racing. A smile. It’s there again. The euphoric feeling of being unable to stop myself from smiling is back.
I know what to do. That entire shipment will be mine.