Dalthan regarded his reflection in the polished mirror with a look of supreme satisfaction. Gone was the travel-stained white cotton clothing he’d been wearing when he woke in the Mausoleum. In their place was a black silk shirt and soft leather pants dyed to match. He wore a dark green vest over the shirt, adding some color to draw the eye. Over it, was a black long coat, open at the front with its hem falling to his ankles. A pair of soft-soled boots and a wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble.
Thollok regarded the rogue’s reflection critically. “There’s nothing I can do to help that ugly face of yours. The clothes do make you look presentable. People in the street will walk by without even realizing that you were a dreg earlier this morning.”
Turning to regard the image in the mirror from every angle, Dalthan felt a deep weariness at the dwarf’s words. It had been a long day. He was beyond ready to find his new living arrangements and sleep for about a week. Perhaps two.
Even with the weight of his exhaustion slowing his mind, something the tailor said curled the corner of the thief’s lips into a half-smile. “Are you saying I’m not a dreg anymore, Thollok?”
The shopkeeper huffed and rolled his eyes hard enough that Dal feared they’d tumble from his skull. “You don’t look like one anymore, so that’s a start,” the dwarf grumbled. He tossed a pointed look over his shoulder where the massive blue slaad was patiently lifting shirts from a basket and folding them into perfect squares with exacting care. “You best thank your new friend for that. If it’d been up to me, you’d be watching a tooth fairy gnawing on one of your hairy balls right about now.”
Dalthan turned away from the mirror for the first time in the last ten minutes to give the dwarf an exasperated look. “They don’t really do that. Right? Besides, that would have made a hell of a mess in here. Who’d want to clean that up?”
“The fairy would have.” Thollok said with a smile as menacing as a rusty ax. “They really love nuts. I’ll be happy to introduce you to a few so you can find out firsthand.”
“That’s fucking disturbing. How do you sell anything if this is your idea of customer service? I could be a repeat patron and instead of trying to keep my business you’re openly threatening me.” With a haughty sniff, Dalthan crossed his arms and tilted his head back so he could look down his nose at the glowering dwarf. “I may take my chips elsewhere from now on.”
The dwarf goggled at the rogue as if the man had suddenly dropped trou and shat on his floor. “Are you daft? I don’t want your business. If you hadn’t brought your damn monster with you to strongarm me into selling you some of my clothes, you'd still be dressed like a fucking dreg zombie.”
Dalthan shook his head in disappointment. It was an unfortunate truth that even good entrepreneurs sometimes failed to answer the door when opportunity knocked. He could always walk away and leave the poor fellow in the lurch, but why would he when all it would take is a little convincing for the man to see the benefits of a business relationship? Besides, good clothes were hard to find, and he had no intention of trying to find a new shop to suit his style when there was a perfectly acceptable store right here.
All he had to do was convince Thollok that it was in his best interest to stay on amicable terms. That might have been a difficult proposition for some, but Dalthan had made harder sales on the streets of Wavecrest. Compared to trying to work the folk of Low Town, this would be like selling umbrellas in a hurricane.
“There’s no reason to live in the past, Thollok,” the thief said as he adjusted the broad brim of his green hat. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement that works in both our favor. You need to look past the business I bring personally and consider the business I can bring by directing my associates to you.”
“What associates?” The dwarf took a menacing step toward the rogue. Rage vibrated through the angry dwarf’s body like the lute string plucked by a clumsy hand. His fury caught Vex’s attention, the murder frog halting his task folding the clothes to study the tailor with a pointed stare of its coal black eyes.
Something in the battletoad’s gaze caused Thollok to take a step back, though it did nothing to quell the seething anger radiating from him like heat rising from a stoked forge.
“You mean like the blue monster over there?” The tailor spat, growing more animated by the second. He waved pointedly in the slaad’s direction as he continued his rant. “That kind of associate? Tell me something. Take a good, long look and tell me what you don’t see over there.”
Obligingly, Dalthan turned toward the counter. He watched the slaad painstakingly withdraw one garment after the other from a wicker basket to fold them with meticulous care. If a single crease were out of sorts, Vex would shake the cloth out and begin anew. Dal had no idea how he managed all that with his long, vicious claws.
After studying his new friend for several moments while the dwarf seethed, Dalthan eventually replied. “A professional manicure?”
The dwarf blinked. His lips parted once, twice, and then finally found words to speak after the third try. “By Ancev’s twinkling teeth, you’re a fucking moron. I’ve been held hostage by an idiot and his killer frog. The boys at Polly’s will never let me hear the end of this.”
Suddenly Thollok’s heel smashed down on the floor like a child throwing a tantrum. “No! What you don’t see are clothes. Your associate isn’t wearing any clothes! Do you see the problem here?”
Now it was Dalthan’s turn to blink. His emerald eyes closed slowly, his dark brows furrowing in bewilderment. “Is that speciest? He could wear clothes if he wanted to.” The rogue turned toward the quietly working slaad. “Do you want an outfit to wear?”
“No,” Vex said simply, not bothering to look up from his idle task.
The look of triumph on the dwarf’s face, when Dal looked back toward him, was almost enough for the thief to punch the tailor in the face.
Luckily, Dalthan was the veteran of more than one hostile negotiation. The key was to deflect and confuse. Rule thirty-one of the handbook said that everyone was greedy, it was just a matter of finding the right kind of coin to capture their interest.
“You’re assuming that Vex here is the only associate I could introduce to your fine establishment.” The rogue said calmly, dousing the dwarf’s simmering rage with a facade of nonchalance.
“You just got to the Hub this morning.” The dwarf crossed his arms with a scowl. “How many people could you have possibly met?”
Dalthan’s lips curled into a smile that promised to make Thollok’s wildest dreams come true. “Are you familiar with my friend Lady Belial?” The rogue’s voice was as comforting as a warm quilt on a cold day. “I wonder what would happen if she were to encourage her friends to stop by your fine establishment. Word of mouth is a fantastic means of advertisement, after all.”
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Dal felt Vex’s gaze snap up from the clothes he was fiddling with, but the rogue never looked away from Thollok’s face. A series of emotions rushed across the dwarf’s features, beginning with anger, shock, and finally denial.
“You’re going to have bigger problems than me if you pretend to know The Lady of Shadow and Strife.” Thollok glanced furtively about as if he were worried about being overheard. “I wouldn’t try that trick again, [Rogue]. Everyone who wants can see your class, so most will expect you to stretch the truth. That kind of shit is fine in the Hub. But the clergy will take offense. When they do, it’ll be far more unpleasant than getting your balls fed to a fairy. Trust me.”
Throughout Thollok’s speech, Dalthan’s smile never wavered. The sight seemed to unnerve the dwarf even more. “I’m serious, lad. In a way, the entire Hub is a grand temple to Balerik. Their clergy doesn’t just guide the evil in this world, it guides the evil in all the worlds. Do you understand? They are not to be trifled with.”
The rogue tipped his head in a nod, which immediately drew an explosive sigh from the tense dwarf. “Alright. It’s good to know you’re not completely soft in the head. Now, let’s get these clothes paid for so you can get the hell out of my store.”
Dalthan strolled sedately across the small storeroom, finally coming to a stop near a set of vases that held feathers of assorted colors and sizes. Taking his new hat off, the rogue began checking the vases for the perfect accessory to provide the finishing touch for his new outfit. He first checked a fluffy blue feather before quickly discarding it in favor of a sleek red one.
“There’s only one problem,” Dal said over his shoulder as he continued to peruse the store’s stock. “I really do know Lady Belial. As soon as I’m done here, Vex and I are going back to the Well to find her again. She’s going to show me to my new apartment.”
No sooner did the words slide past his lips than the bell above the door chimed with a merry little ring.
“Damnit Drago! Why are you so late for your appointment?” The dwarf spun toward the front of the store. “I’ve been stuck in here with this fucking madman and his pet monster. You take care of the frog behind the counter and I’ll-”
Though the dwarf’s lips continued to move, his voice trailed off into silence as his brown eyes took in the store’s newest arrival.
Dalthan turned toward the door as well, though he had a strong feeling about who he’d find there.
It seemed that this place was bound by some of the rules he was familiar with.
Wavecrest didn’t invest heavily in its education system. The noble brats were privately tutored to take over their parents' portfolios within the aristocracy. The less fortunate were shipped off at a young age to apprentice underneath anyone who would have them. Their lot in life was carved out at a young age, with little input from the child in question, but such a fate was still better than what awaited the last group. The one Dalthan had been a part of. Those children had to find a way to survive on the streets and failed lessons usually yielded deadly consequences.
With no formal education, a kid learned some of their most important lessons by way of anecdotes and urban myths. Dal had learned the importance of washing his hands by listening to the women at Low Town’s bordello talk about avoiding the green pox. Ol’ Sloefoot had taught him about the dangers of drinking alcohol in the cold by sharing a story of the Deepndrinks, the gnome. Even his father had managed to teach him something. Sharing a frightening tale of angels and devils one night when he’d been three sheets to the wind. It’d been a strange tale of an angel falling in love with a human. The details were fuzzy, worn away by the years that had passed since that night in the Low Town shack they’d shared.
The part Dalthan remembered most was that the easiest way to summon a devil was by saying its name.
There was no surprise on the thief’s face when he saw the familiar dark elf striding confidently into the tailor’s shop. Thollok could not say the same. The dwarf had been struck dumb by the descent of a veritable goddess into his humble abode. With a regal bearing and a beauty that made her a living, breathing work of art, the drow looked as if she belonged on a throne with her every whim catered to by an army of retainers.
“Where is this dangerous madman?” Lady Belial began her voice a sibilant whisper that slithered through the air like the lick of flame across dry tinder. “And what, exactly, do you intend to do to him?”
The poor dwarf tried to mumble an unintelligible explanation that sounded like something Cross-eyed Chris would say after he got hit with the hammer that’d left him with his namesake condition. Dalthan, ever the good samaritan, decided to pity the poor tailor.
“Thollok’s an old friend, Belial. One of the first people I met after I got here. I could even go so far as to say that without his intervention, I may never have met you.” Dalthan slid a bright orange feather into his hat band. “After the chore you sent me on, I simply had to have a new set of clothes and the good dwarf here is one of the best. What do you think?”
Dalthan felt a tingle of apprehension as Belial’s ruby-red eyes slid across his body with the intensity of a wolf watching an isolated fawn. “I wouldn’t go that far, Dalthan.” The woman spoke in a velvety purr. “My Lord has had his eye on you since you came here. I do not believe that his plans for you would have depended on this tailor.” The dark elf spoke her last word with such caustic venom that you could practically see Thollok’s skin sizzling.
A flick of Belial’s eyes dismissed the dwarf with the same concern she would have shown to an ant. A spark of interest shone in the depths of her blood-red eyes as she looked toward Vex with a measuring gaze. “Who might you be? The slaad collective has no claim on this human. Or are you a servant of the dwarf?”
Vex stepped around the counter with a shuffle of its short, powerfully muscled legs. “This blue slaad is called Vex’sakan’ilopupanawa. I am bound to the Human Daalthaan.” The [Rogue] winced as Vex’s nerves brought out his gurgling accent. He’d put in so much work to get the slaad to say his name properly. One look from a pretty woman and it went up in smoke.
To be fair, Dalthan had trouble keeping his wits about him the first time he’d met Belial. That was due to a very upsetting morning. Zaplixel was clearly to blame for the dark elf’s effect on him earlier.
“I see.” The dark elf murmured, turning to face Dalthan for the first time since her arrival. “The outfit does suit you, though I’m not sure if it was worth keeping a lady waiting. We can be vindictive creatures, after all.”
Dal smoothly reached out to take hold of her hand. The [Archpriestess] didn’t resist as the rogue gallantly lifted it to let his lips brush lightly against her knuckles. “You’ll have to forgive me, m’lady. I could not bear the thought of traveling the streets with you in anything less than my best.”
“Hmm…” Before he could release her hand, Belial extended one index finger to drag its tip lightly against his cheek. “I’ll expect you to make it up to me later.” Dalthan had to resist the urge to shrug out of his coat beneath the to escape the heat he felt from her smoldering gaze. “Now,” she continued, “if there’s nothing else, let’s be on our way.”
“I just need a moment to pay my friend Thollock for his fantastic work.” Dal offered with a smile as Vex unceremoniously stepped into his shadow. It was disconcerting to watch the massive frog fall through the floor. One moment he was there in all his blue-skinned glory. In the next, he was reduced to two black eyes peering from the pool of darkness attached to Dalthan’s heels.
It would take him a long, long time to get used to this.
Mulling over the logistics of his new relationship with Vex, Dal almost missed the way Thollok slunk over like a whipped dog. The crass dwarf was dry washing his hands and staring at the floor. When he did finally speak, he barely lifted his eyes.
“Think nothing of it, my friend! Consider it a gift! I hope you’ll come back to Fine Threads and Haberdashery for all your clothing needs!" Thollock finished in a rush, as if the words were a stone block that he was desperate to get off his chest.
Or, maybe, he was eager to escape the withering gaze Belial was directing his way. The stunning drow was watching the dwarf as if he were a particularly bothersome breed of slug. After weighing her desire to step on him versus the task of scraping his slime off her shoe, she decided to spare the dwarf and instead focused her attention on the [Rogue] by her side.
"Enough of this," she murmured as she slid one of her slender arms beneath his to hook their elbows together. "There's so much of the city to show you."
As they stepped back out onto the street, Dalthan took one look at Belial's gleaming eyes and wondered if he hadn't been safer in Thollok's company.