Leaning against the wooden wall, shadowed by the eaves and an old, empty wine keg, Farek was nearly invisible. He was impatient, while waiting for Diaren to get the nobleman drunk. They’d been in New Mallam for far too long, with only a few words of Kiaraka from the Ageless Academy and not a peep from anyone else. Farek’s money was running out, which had led to the hatching of this hair-brained scheme. He tapped his head back against the wooden boards and counted the days in his mind.
They had heard tell of a shop in Arunahn known as the Emporium of the Bizarre, a place that would surely offer an item to satisfy the Academy for a price. But their weeks in Mallam had drained almost all of their money, save the reserved amount for the return voyage to Var Nordos. Besides, Farek had learned, in a market across town, of an auction being held for a week beginning on the 25th.
Why buy from a distant Emporium, when they could avoid the voyage and stay in New Mallam?
But in the meantime, they needed coin to buy anything. Farek looked past the wine barrel. Matek and Sievus sat on a bench down the street. One was whistling, but they were far enough away that he couldn’t tell which.
At last he saw Diaren stumble through the front door of the tavern, arm-in-arm with a drunk lord. Farek and his men were lucky—most of the festivities had already ended after the Baron of New Mallam had declared the lords and any interested able-bodied mercenaries or men would be joining him on a venture inland. It seemed the Barons of the Great Isle were as interested in warfare with one another as rumour suggested. In the meantime, the lords and ladies of the city took their last opportunity to enjoy one another’s company, and provided a somewhat stretched opportunity for Farek and his men to relieve them of some coin.
Diaren steered the grey-haired nobleman down the street as a few errant raindrops scattered upon their foreheads. Farek rose from his lean, but kept his distance under the eaves and shadows of the storefronts.
Just on time, Matek and Sievus rose from their bench and the whistling cut short. They positioned themselves in the street, arms folded and boots spread. Diaren shoved the lord down between them and a loud cry echoed the street. No guards were in sight, for a few blocks at least, but a few pedestrians had been spotted a few minutes earlier.
“He’s a cheat,” Diaren added, kicking him. “We’ll take the clothes off his back and give him a good beating.”
They dragged the poor drunkard back against the wall of a nearby building. Farek stood in the street a few paces back, quiet and withdrawn for a few moments more. He waited until his men’s attempts to pat the poor fellow down had really sunken into the man’s mind a vicious attack. And then Farek marched forward, boots loudly echoing the cobblestones. He tapped Diaren on the cheek, and sent him stumbling away, crying out as though he’d been stricken.
“Get him, boys!” Sievus cried, his attempt at a thug’s voice truly awful. He took a slow swing at Farek, only to be struck by the flat of Farek’s sword in a fluid movement. Sievus’ shout wreaked of melodrama and any sober onlooker would not have been fooled.
Farek grimaced, certain the lord would see through their ruse, and gave Matek a harder strike, to get a more real reply. Instead, Matek stumbled back a pace, stopped and glared at Farek, and then fell to one knee as though hurt. Farek rolled his eyes. “Run, you fools, before I gut you,” he declared.
They made off swiftly, cowering from his offensive. They’d reunite in the next street over, with Farek, whether he was successful or not. Farek stepped closer to the lord. “Are you well, sir?”
“Ruffians,” the lord panted. “Scoundrels.”
“You’re fine, sir,” Farek said, smoothing the man’s clothes down. “You’re fine now.”
“You saved me,” the man mumbled, his words slurred.
“Those bandits could have slain you, sir,” Farek added.
The man nodded, his eyes squinting at Farek’s plain clothes and sheathed blade. “You saved my life,” he realized. “Here, something for your trouble.”
As the drunk nobleman lifted his coin pouch from his belt, he started to loosen the synch at its neck. Farek put his hand on the whole pouch and smiled. “Thank you, my lord,” he replied. “I serve how I can.”
The man blinked, held his pouch a moment longer, and then released it. “Indeed,” he mumbled. “No price on life.”
“Very good, sir. If you wait right here, let me get my affairs together, I’ll escort you home,” Farek replied.
“Wait right here?” the man asked. “In these streets?” He shoved Farek aside and started to tilt down the street, dizzily scuffing across the cobblestones. Farek let him go—after all, he was going to let the man wait right there all night.
He tossed the coin pouch and caught it again as he wandered through the alleyway toward the next street. They were going to be going to that auction at least. Hopefully some trinket or treasure befitting the Ageless Academy would be on sale for a fee as lowly as the contents of this hefty pouch. Farek would need to mock the foolery of his warriors at least, and that was all the reward he needed to make this evening worth it.