Droplets of condensation formed on the cool brass cup of beer, collecting in a ring of water on the polished wooden bar of the Royal Whale. Farek’s fingerprints filled with water when he lifted the cooled drink to take a sip. It was a hot day, as the rainy season took a brief hiatus and the sun beat down on the city of Soros.
Farek’s first important conversation after his return from Noress-That-Was had been held in Jannia’s office. He had explained to his sister that he had discovered the origin of the assassin—the House of Kiaraka. But of course, the Mazaar had done her best to convince Farek to stay in his office, counting coins, and send paid adventurers to seek out the mysterious estate.
Another mouthful of beer went down. There was still no sign of Thrane, and Farek could only think about his persuasion of Jannia, that he was the only one trustworthy enough to handle this mission. He’d also asked Jannia to keep an eye on things in his absence, in particular that Thrane left Viotro alone.
The bar of the Royal Whale was half of a square, and from Lord Gallendris’s squeaky stool, a few departing patrons were easily visible. A particularly tall man hunched his head to get through, then held the door as another entered. Dorgan Thrane moved with his chin up until he spotted Farek. His eyes glared across the tavern, and the Lord’s pacing changed, bringing him to the stool adjacent to Farek’s. “Farek,” he muttered.
The younger man smiled. “I have some news on your mysterious assassin, if you have any news to share with me on Mavagar.”
“Fine, but you share first,” Thrane retorted. He tapped the bar and pointed at Farek’s drink when the bartender gave him only raised eyebrows. Thrane’s sweat, from the scalding afternoon, was masked by an overbearing musk.
Farek shrugged. “I’m still in the process of finding out more, but from what I’ve learned so far,” he explained, keeping his eyes peeled on the barkeeper’s movements, several feet away, “We have a high possibility that an underground syndicate of highly skilled assassins calling themselves the Organization are breathing down our necks.” When a second brass cup came from the keg to their section of the bar, Farek fell silent. After their privacy was restored, he added, “I do so enjoy having secret friends that want to kill us…”
Thrane leaned closer, sliding his elbow along the bar until the cup was nearly at his elbow. “The assassin did mention he was hired from a group… And I recall tales of this from spies before.”
“I’m more worried about who they will target next.” Farek lifted his cup. “Which would be relatively easy on their end since we won’t see it coming.” The hopped beer swished around his mouth as he considered its masterfully brewed flavour. He didn’t get quality like this on the Var Nordos highway, nor even at Norrey’s Pub.
“Oh my,” Thrane replied. “I had the impression their interests were monetary, renting out their services to the highest bidder. But if such an organization had other goals…”
A man and woman brushed past their position at the bar, before taking seats far enough away to restore the silence at this corner of the bar. Farek watched them from his peripherals as he regarded Lord Thrane. “What have you got for me?” he asked.
Thrane frowned. “Another ship set out, carrying another load of Mavagar’s coins. Another investment aboard, it seems.”
“Do we know who, this time?” Farek asked. The first time had been an announced donation to the Grey Brethren, after all.
His fellow lord shrugged and took another drink. “We know barely anything, this time,” he murmured. Farek soon matched his consumption, and they emptied their beers together before Farek left the Royal Whale.
He met Silea in a public garden on the south slope of Coin Hill, where they ate a small picnic together. They had been nearly inseparable since Farek’s return home. As they navigated the vines and fruit-bearing trees amidst a handful of other lordly couples, Farek thinking about the days to come. He’d be leaving soon and the voyage would be long. From Soros to the Great Isle, he’d take one of the nearly daily departing passenger ships, and then sail into Copper Cove by charter, to the city of New Mallam.
“And I’ll be going with just my guards,” he explained to Silea.
The dark-haired beauty frowned. “Can I please come with you?” she asked. “I’ve always wanted to travel more, and you’ve seen before… I can protect myself!”
Farek sighed. He’d only been home for two weeks, before leaving again. On a much longer journey too. “It’s too dangerous for a couple’s venture,” he explained. “Next time we can do something fun, I promise.”
“Very well,” she said, pouting. “But I’m coming to see you lots before you go.”
Farek grinned. “I’d be disappointed otherwise. Though I need to speak with my travel companions a couple times, and have at least one conversation with Simisar.” He’d ask his sister to spend more time with Jannia and with Silea in his absence.
“I guess I can spare you for a few minutes,” Silea said. “But I’ll need to take advantage of the time I do have.”
She leaned in for a kiss, and Farek didn’t refuse it. When they pulled away, he noticed a gardener staring at them. As soon as the workman recognized Lord Gallendris, he averted his eyes and disappeared behind a groomed blackberry bush. Silea giggled and leaned closer for another.