"Oh, but sir!" Arnold seemed to freeze in mid-declaration, chilled out of his patter, perhaps, by Halence's cool, unremitting stare. It was some seconds before Arnold's stumbling tongue managed to once more regain its patter, Halence's silent gaze fixed upon him all the while.
“Ah yes, these are hard times, sir. And costs aside, I would hate to deny such worthy gentlemen the means to protect what they most hold dear. Very well then, one silver eagle and seven silver talons, and I can only hope that said discerning customers can but remember with fondness the generosity extended to them at Arnold’s Elegance when times are better and they wish to purchase exotics to brighten their lives and help celebrate our benevolent delivery, may it come soon.”
Halence simply nodded, cracking the barest of smiles. "Done then, merchant. The strongbox with the additional latch and steel loop for one silver eagle and seven talons." With that, Halence paid the once again beaming merchant his silver and prepared to lift up the chest.
"Oh no need for that, my lord. My servant would be happy to assist! Orug? Come here hence. A customer has need of your burly back!" At which point a rather massive figure lumbered in from the next room, wearing thick boiled leathers and holding a rather large looking hammer in one of his hands. Huge of frame, casually scratching one muscular shoulder with a burly hand, he stared at his master with a vacant mindless expression, which, combined with his shaggy hair made him look like nothing so much as a dazed grizzly, to Sorn's mind.
It appeared that he understood his instructions, however, though he said not a word, immediately dropping his hammer which landed with a thunk sharp enough to make the merchant wince with an apologetic smile to Halence as Orug deftly picked up the chest with one arm, holding it close to his body, returning his vacant stare once again to the merchant for further instructions.
"Very good, Orug. Now accompany us outside while I flag down a carriage for our noble customers!"
"Excuse me, merchant?" Sorn quickly queried, seeing as they were obviously about to leave the store. "I couldn't help but hear the smithy you have behind your shop. I take it you do smithing here as well?"
"A thoughtful question, young sir! Indeed, more than ever I am pleased to have made the acquaintance of such insightful customers! In point of fact, yes, I employ several young smiths for minor works of craftsmanship catering to the more modest price range of our less elite clientele. They are journeymen, but rest assured, they are masters in the making, of that I have no doubt."
Sorn nodded his understanding. “In that case, good sir, I don’t suppose you have any slim rods of iron available?”
Arnold looked a bit surprised by the request, but his thoughtful nod indicated he was more than willing to provide for what had been, after all, a very lucrative customer. "Indeed young sir, let me get right on it." He returned moments later with a well-built young man, whose reddened face, stout frame, and work-scarred hands left no doubt as to his profession
“Here are some various rods, sir,” said the young smith in a somewhat timid voice, opening one hand to display several rods of iron of varying degrees of thickness. Sorn took a slender one and nodded his thanks.
With that, the four left the shop and soon enough Sorn and Halence found themselves in carriage once more.
“I’ll be candid, Halence, I thought you would haggle that merchant down a lot further than you did. Feeling generous today?”
This elicited a chuckle. "Hardly, lad, hardly. It all boils down to opportunity cost, dear Sorn. The time I spent haggling that merchant down another two talons is time I could spend netting us another thousand gold crowns! You do the math, Sorn. Where is my time best spent?"
Sorn could only shake his head. "Wow. Good point. I can see why you make such a good merchant, always considering all the angles of what we are doing. Furthermore, I guess I owe you significant thanks as well"
Halence smiled. "Think nothing of it, lad. You did, after all, save our lives the other day. Indeed, were it not for you, this venture would not be possible at all. The least I can do is give you the added assurance that your well-earned wealth will not be misappropriated. And since I implicitly trust my crew, let's just say it pleases me to give you and I both added piece of mind."
"I take it you already have your, strongboxes in place, Captain?" A grinning Sorn queried.
Halence laughed. "No need to worry on that account, my young friend, no need to worry on that account! Speaking of which, I will have chains and locks brought down to your quarters for you to secure your chest in short order."
"Thank you, Halence. Once again, I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
"No matter, my young friend. I must admit, though, you have my curiosity piqued! What's with the iron rod?"
At this Sorn gave an enigmatic smile. “Let’s just say locks only go so far.”
It was only after Halence and Sorn were back at their ship that they allowed themselves a moment to revel in their growing fortune. "This, my young friend, is how legends are made," said a smiling Halence, handing Sorn his third of the first installment of Lord Salsbruce's passage fee. Thirty-three gold phoenix and four royals. Halence, ever considerate to his partner, made it a practice to round up in Sorn's favor. "Incidentally, it hardly seemed like you were straining at all when we carried your strongbox aboard. Truly, you were not exaggerating when you said your family came from strong stock."
"Legends?" queried a bemused Sorn, in high spirits with gold in hand, despite subtle misgivings about the means by which it had been acquired. "I thought that was reserved for heroes of virtue performing remarkable deeds of valor." Sorn pointedly ignored Halence’s other comment.
"I mean in the circle of trade, dear Sorn. Rest assured, lad, for anyone who even dabbles in trade, from factors to merchants, to sea traders to nobles, we are definitely a legend in the making."
"Ah yes," Sorn smiled. "The legend of the golden fleece."
Halence couldn't help chuckling. "Indeed, Sorn, indeed. I imagine we will both be able to buy a lot of fleeces when all is said and done. So tell me, how does it feel to be the owner of nine hundred gold royals? You have to admit, this beats any other profession hands down!"
"Well, my cousins would definitely agree with you on that front," Sorn acknowledged. "And as for owning more gold now than I could have possibly conceived of a handful of days ago, I have to admit it feels pretty good."
Halence gazed at his young protege in fond bemusement. "All right, Sorn, I have to ask. If you could do anything you desired right now, beautiful ladies aside, what could top making gold crowns hand over first?"
Sorn's smile was grim. "Ah, that's an easy one, Halence. I would be turning that bloody Empire into its own funeral pyre."
Halence roared with laughter. "Of course you would, boy! I would expect nothing less of you. Foolish of me to even ask such a stupid question." Halence shook his head warmly. "Ah, the arrogance of youth. I suppose we all thought we were immortal at fifteen. Though in your case, I'll grant, you come closer than most. Still, lad, there is a major difference between a pair of cutters and fifty thousand battle hardened troops equipped with siege engines and massive crossbows. But I digress, young friend. Come. Allow your enthusiastic cousins the pleasure of holding onto yet another purse of gold phoenix while we go out and make some more money. Since, after all, taking down opposing armies is something we are going to have to forgo for the time being, we can at least console ourselves with more gold, can we not?"
Nodding, Sorn went off to his cabin to hand his cousins yet another bag of gold. "You sure you guys aren't too bored or cramped on the ship?” Sorn asked a smiling Fitz, just for form’s sake.
Fitz, for his part, gave Sorn a very quizzical look that made Sorn realize just how silly his question was. "Sorn. You have given us nine hundred and eleven royals worth of gold; ninety gold phoenix and eleven royal crowns. How could we possibly be bored? Just hear those coins jingle! Hanz is already trying to compose a song for it."
"A song already? Ou
r hoard isn't that big!" said a bemused Sorn.
"Well I know that, but you know Hanz. He really jumps into things."
"Shut up, guys! I'm composing." And Sorn could see by the intent expression on his gifted cousin’s face that an irked Hanz was indeed attempting to make a song.
"Sorry, little cousin, I don't think we have enough gold yet for you to be tapping into its ethereal. I think you might just have to settle for jingling."
Hanz, for his part, simply gave Sorn that jaded look that came so naturally to all artists everywhere, and went back into his trance-like state, his psyche already casting for ethereal musings.
"Now if he would just focus that hard on his spells, I would soon have some serious competition," Sorn wryly noted.
"Ah, yes cousin, but you see that's not ethereal, that's arcane. Different branch altogether, right?" noted Lieberman.
"Wow! Gold really seems to have brought out the deep philosopher in everyone this morning. I'm impressed. But the fact is, many arcane magics, including our ability to fly, do tap directly into the ether. But I digress. You sure you guys aren't getting too restless cooped up on the ship?"
"No worries, cousin! Counting our gold coins isn't all we do. Only most. Sometimes we go up and practice with the crossbows they practice with. Sebrie says that with a little bit more practice, we will have gone from bad to poor!" Fitz said this with complete sincerity and, it seemed, no small amount of pride. "We're already past terrible, and you're still at appalling, Sorn."
"Ah. I'm so glad you guys were keeping score on that. I still think there must have been a wave or something when I fired."
Fitz only rolled his eyes at that. "Sorn, the target was on the ship with us, not on the float.”
"Yeah, Sorn," Hanz said, immediately snapping out of his ethereal musings. "And it wasn't even the target posted on the stern. This was mid-deck! Sebrie is still amazed you managed to miss the ship entire. That takes skill, he said, though he shudders to think what kind."
"Ha, ha," a suddenly red-faced Sorn murmured to his cousin's grins. "Anyway, what do you guys think of the strongbox?"
"Not too bad," Fitz allowed with a knowing air. "It's only made out of steel, not a trace of mithril, and not especially conducive to anchoring any arcane wards, but for a hunk of base metal, it looks pretty good."
Sorn favored Fitz with a lopsided smile. "I am so glad you approve. At least with the pig iron, we have an unpickable lock for whenever we leave the room, not to mention the fact that it will be hard for anyone to drag the sucker out without hacking up the entire flooring."
Fitz nodded. “The iron rod was a good idea, Sorn. Their locks here really aren’t that sophisticated, so I’m glad we don’t have to trust them for our gold’s safety.”
Everyone nodded at this, the iron chain Halence had supplied them with having been looped around the large underboard and secured to the steel loop on the chest as well. The iron chain was fastened in place not by locks, but by pieces of pig iron, softer than steel but still extremely strong relative to most things. After first cutting the iron rod into several pieces with Lieberman's mithril saber, Sorn had managed, without expending too much effort, to bend the pieces so that their ends overlapped, forming, in essence, a crude ring which he used to secure both ends of the chain to itself and the steel loop respectively. The last piece of pig iron could be inserted into the extra clasp hole on their metal chest normally meant for a lock, and once again bent around so as to form an unpickable lock that would not be breakable save via superhuman strength, or the tools of a blacksmith.
Giving his cousins an affectionate hug, Sorn prepared once again to accompany Halence as he made their fortunes. "Enjoy the gold, guys. Halence and I are out to make more of it."
Sorn then paused to snap his fingers rather theatrically, much as he had seen Halence do earlier. "Tell you what. Assuming you and Sebrie can keep your cute little comments to yourself, perhaps we can get some fencing practice in this evening when I get back. I think we could use the exercise since flight is, of course, out of the question."
The triplets for their part were all too happy for this change of pace, near identical heads bobbing in synchronicity from their various positions flopped about their quarters. Almost as pleased with the prospects of working out with his cousins this evening as he was at dipping once again into the deep purse strings of Caverenoc's wealth, it was a contented Sorn who made his way off the ship in the company of Halence. Off to their next victim, as Sorn so wryly put it, a description Halence was at pains to disagree with.
"Just a joke, Halence, just a joke. So where are we off to now?"
"Lieland," Halence said with a smile. "He's a widower, three small children. An easy mark, err… enthusiastic customer if there ever was one. The man already knows just how brutal life can be. He shouldn't be too hard to convince that the threat coming is real and that the only shot he and his children have of a future less bitter than their past is on my ship."
"All right," Sorn sighed. "Can we just agree to one thing?"
Halence raised an eyebrow, inviting Sorn to continue.
"No matter how ripe a plumb they are, no matter how desperate we make them, promise me we will never pluck them for more than half of whatever wealth they can bring with them to start their new life with, okay? I fear we are skirting a fine line between being saviors, or just pirates of a different sort."
Halence chuckled. "My dear Sorn, is that what's got you so prickly? Not the eloquence of my stories portraying the joys under the Empire's rule, true as they are, but rather the price I charge for salvation, seeming so steep? Rest assured, lad, even with numerous assets tied up in land, houses, horses, and so on, even if they only withdraw half of their liquid resources, our esteemed passengers will still be taking wealth aplenty. No doubt their trunks and persons will be carrying many times over what they pay us in the form of jewelry, platinum, gold bars, or just large sacks of royals. Take heart, my young friend, our doves here are the richest plums the city has to offer, and plums whose wealth is locked in trade or coin. We are not taking advantage of any land rich but penny poor nobles here, Sorn. Not at all."
Sorn could sense Halence's sincerity, which did much to assuage Sorn's niggling conscience. In fact, as the day progressed and the warmth of the morning sun was replaced by a gentle breeze pleasantly felt in the shade of more than one lord's garden, Sorn found himself increasingly enjoying Halence's skillful performances. He had a masterful touch, Sorn observed, his original queries as to the health and well-being of a lord's family gracefully lowering the lord's guard, bringing out both the man's pleasure and pride in his loved ones. This, of course, suited Halence perfectly, as it enticed his hosts to think about what they held most dear, to cherish them in their mind's eye.
It was then that Halence would gracefully steer the conversation to the siege, and in a very short period of time Halence would strip his hosts of all their comfortable delusions, and the stark gravity of their situation would hit them with all the force of a hammer blow.
All too often it was none other than their neighboring city-state Svalentia that served as the cornerstone in the bedrock of their confidence, being regarded by many as a sister city, one more impregnable bastion against this incursion from the south. Halence, of course, quite skillfully shattered this cornerstone with ruthless efficiency.
"Didn't you hear? Svalentia fell." He would say this with a calculated abruptness, his voice suddenly cool. While they were reeling from the impact of his words, Halence would show them the reports giving evidence to the Empire's tactics and ruthless efficiency, together with the eyewitness accounts that served as testimonials to the horrible brutality suffered by the survivors of the siege.
The message was all too clear. They and their city were doomed. Within half an hour their aloof confidence in the durability of their city was shattered worse than the walls of Svalentia had been, replaced with a sense of growing horror as to what was to become of them and their families. It wa
s as if they could already see in their mind’s eye the utter destruction of all they held dear. Stripped of all wealth and titles, reduced to the status of beggars in their own homes, brutalized and treated with contempt, lucky for even a single bowl of gruel and a clout on the head from their brutal masters. Worse still was the realization that they would lose even their own children. Their sons would be clamped in irons and forced to work until they either died of exhaustion or poison in the Empire’s coppers mines. Their daughters forced to suffer brutalities unimaginable of a different sort.
It was then, after so eloquently orchestrating the destruction of their confidence and inciting feelings of dread and despair, feelings that were all too appropriate in any case, as Halence had pointed out to Sorn more than once, it was then that Halence would make his offer of salvation. The decidedly one-sided negotiations became all the more so when Halence made it known that any bid not commensurate with how much they truly valued their children's lives, and Halence's own in coming here, would be seen as a grave insult. Their one last ray of hope would walk out of their elegant foyers without a second glance, and they could decide for themselves in the weeks and months ahead how bitterly they regretted their decision.
Having stoked their anxieties to a fever pitch. Almost no lord dared offer Halence less than a princely sum for fear that this mercurial captain would take instant insult, turn on his heel, and leave them to a fate as grim as death with nary a parting word nor a second chance.
Two things became increasingly apparent to Sorn as the day wore on. The first was that Halence was an excellent judge of his customer, though this came as no surprise to Sorn. However, it also seemed that Halence possessed a most knowledgeable set of contacts to have found so many clients that possessed both liquid assets and an emotional vulnerability that Halence could exploit, and so very quickly. With some it had been fear for one's own life, as had been the case with one middle-aged well-to-do widower who, as it stood, already had family safe in York already and had been dreading the siege before Halence had even made his appearance. With most, however, it was fear for the lives and well-being of their loved ones, as had been the case for the three individuals prior. In either case, they were near panic stricken when they made their jaw-dropping offers of unquestionably astounding sums in exchange for safe passage out of Caverenoc. Sorn could only wonder how Halence managed to know just which houses to go to, and what levers to pull.
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