Housekeeping!
Becoming the Purveyor’s maid for a month had given Riz, the ever productive, ever nosy little busy bee way too much to work with until almost no one had seen hide nor hare of him for days unless it was specifically catering to business. For one the office was spotless. Every inch dusted, polished and put into order. Extra supplies were ordered when needed, bits and baubles necessary were picked up at the fleet exchange at his usual discounted rate, with the savings making room in his pockets as he kept everything in the books to corrected pricing. Hey, he was doing the maid service as punishment, he never agreed to do it for free.
He cemented Captain Featherblood’s tax rate at fourteen and a quarter percent as if he had been haggling with himself. If he was the Captain he would have made a passionate argument that for the good of Sunspire she had brought them protection and equipment at a great cost. On the other hand all captains worked towards the good of the port in their own way. He went as far as to act out the argument, trying his best to force his vocal cords to mimic the much more feminine tones until from the outside of the office it may have legitimately sounded like the woman was there debating terms and numbers. When he was done, he wrote the whole thing up in Blaque’s script and sent it off by courier for her to sign.
Next he handled a friendly man named Jarred in some kind of black and red uniform. When the man brought up the Atlas Company suddenly Riz offered him a seat and got as much of the story of the business as elvenly possible. The man had been with the company through each of its previous owners, friends and direct lieutenant to the most recent investor and the current commander, Darnath Windere.
More importantly the man came with his own array of paperwork and oh how Riz loved things written up by the books almost as much as he liked when nothing of a paper trail existed ever. He set this ‘Jarred’ at the standard fifteen percent considering two of Atlas’ ships were already documented at that rate, and drew up paperwork that ensured the rest of the fleet were kept at the same numbers.
“Oh, I’m suppose to mention the statue out in the courtyard? What kind of discounts do we get for the commander being instrumental in bringing him back to life?”
That. Was new. Darnath Windere had helped Mavas bring Kurel back, meaning he had knowledge of demons and a skill set that the monk could not account for either by his business, his dancing… (Unless he lap danced Kurel back to life. ...which would be a far more believable story were Mr. Windere a Ms…) but could possibly be accounted for by the number of times Silas Darkmoon kicked Riz off the island just for asking to speak with the coveted dancer. Puzzled pieces, all of them. Though he wondered why he even cared about it a little. As the quartermaster of the Aurora left the office to be straightened again, Riz could only come to one conclusion why it was a lead at all: Mavas didn’t want him to know. Outsmarting his peer, rival, friend, comrade held its own achievements. Beating him at something, anything, proved it could be done on another level someday if it was ever necessary.
He found that the Black Maw still had not made a contract and rolled his eyes. Come on Killian! Riz went about the same sort of argument with the redheaded captain in his mind and mouth, pacing back and forth to mimic his movements. Kept his ears straight and unmoving, head down a tad to keep the cowl covering his face where possible, squared his shoulders in a more stocky, less elven grace and conveyed the man’s boisterous excitement convincingly well. He still set the bargain at the same standard he’d give Atlas and set that one aside to deliver himself along with a stack of noodles when they arrived in port on Saturday morning. They were going to eat noodles by darn it!
Then there was the quiet whimpering coming from the side bedroom and the asset oh so affectionately called ‘the girl’ in most cases. He accepted she probably heard his practice and work at mimicking through the door as a piece of information she could own. She wouldn’t be the first to know, and men and women of more strategic mind had laughed off his jester like abilities without a second glance.
He could hear the talk around her, perhaps not enough to get specifics, but the tone of how she pulled at heart strings and the constant message that she was -oh so innocent- sent a shiver of frustration down the monk’s spine. No one was innocent. Not in his world. Not in his port and after speaking to Aranya he realized why it irked him so. This concept of innocent or guilt, whether of personality or of specific wrongful doings by her mother put her on a pedestal above the rest of them. Whispering that she was full of goodness and didn’t deserve to be in Sunspire meant the rest of them were not in their own ways and only survived off the scraps of the port because their inner selves were tainted and terrible. It was her privilege that pissed him off.
With Blaque out of the office, the linger of shadows telling Riz nothing on his whereabouts, the monk let himself into Feylan’s room, standing against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m gonna tell ya, the same thing I got told when I was brought here. When I had no choice, but makin a life here.” And yet for once, when Riz might normally shift into the voice of the person he quoted, he stayed himself. They were his words now, not just Kurel’s. “Break your chains on the rocks in Sunspire’s bay. Spill your blood in her streets an’ she’s y’home. An if she is, then you are a free woman. Y’get me? Good. Now, if y’want t’start takin y’freedom back. Put y’shoes on, grab a clipboard, an writin stuffs an come with me t’the dry dock. There’s work t’do.”
He started out the door to ignore whatever answer she could give him, but paused, speech not quite over, “Look. I know its scary, but whatever life of comfort y’came from was no less a cage considered y’got bartered in the first place. You’re just realizin now y’were never free. No’ really. I’m offerin you a chance to take y’life in y’own hands. So come with an’ do it or stop with the sniffles cuz their damned annoyin while I’m tryin t’work.”
@mrblaque @feylansilverlight @featherbloodsisters @darnath @shaded-hawke @zaderick @theblackmaw @kurel-andiel @sunspireport
