Grimsin and Syeira walked down a dark, dilapidated hallway. Their footsteps, and those of four other armed men, boomed through the otherwise silent tunnels. The only ambiance was the dripping of water off the moss covered walls of this temple's inner dungeon. Before long, they approached a door, guarded by two more men, all wearing the same red turbans as those who were escorting the two Blackmarrows. A harsh dialect was muttered by one of the leaders, and the two guards threw open the doors that lead out of the rocky tunnel and into a large open room, lit only by a skylight that illuminated hundred year old brickwork that nature fought tirelessly to reclaim.
"Ah. If it isn't the pup of the prized bulldog Nazir, here to try and seize the fruit of father's labor... Now that he rest in chains for it." The voice came from a chair in the back of the room. In it sat Mansel Garroway, a trade boss who had nestled himself comfortably on one of the many jungle islands in The Cieldalaes.
Syeira clenched her fists and grit her teeth, growling lowly at Mansel’s condescending tone. “Watch your mouth...” she muttered beneath her breath, barely audible to anyone but Grimsin. Her gaze pierced into the Miqo’te’s shrewd eyes.
Grimsin glanced over to Syeira and raised his hand slightly, nodding to her as if to hold her back before she mouthed off in his defense. He folded his hands behind his back and approached slightly. "My father owes his fate solely to his own recklessness. A path, I assure you, I do not seek to follow. However, I do command his assets and can apply them to the benefit of us both."
"Barely," he snapped back, leaning forward in his chair. "Do not try to finesse me, boy. I am well aware Limsa seized all of Nazir’s best assets. Without his sails or his crew, what exactly of his do you think you offer?"
Grimsin grimaced, contorting his lips and sighing slightly. "Perhaps," he said pacing a few steps. "I may not have his galleons or frigate, but I do have a number of more agile hunters... over a dozen guns each and an eager crew apt to defend their holds. Quick, nimble, and able to slip into the darkness without a trace... I also possess all the wisdom our late pirate could bestow upon a son... and that, my friend, is worth its weight in pearls."
There was silence for a time, which was finally cut by a groan. Mansel leaned forward. “And I already have more smugglers than I need with bigger ships and more guns. Quite frankly I think you and your little girlfriend ought to run along now, while I still let you.”
The guards closed in a bit before Grimsin raised a hand and cleared his throat. “Ahem. She is my quartermaster; simple mistake, I’ll allow,” he said hurriedly, trying to blurt out his point before being forcibly silenced. “But it is my understanding that one of these very same carriers was recently set upon by a band of pirates... is that not correct?”
The room was silent. The guards, Mansel, Syeira, and Grimsin were all frozen in time for a few long moments while his ace card lingered in open air. Like the ticking of a clock in a quiet room, the drips of water splashing into puddles below were all that could be heard echoing through the empty room. Suddenly, Mansel’s voice broke the silence. “I am most curious from what source you ascertained that information.” He leaned back in his chair, speaking with a thick layer of ire and placing his fingertips together.
“It is simply word on the street... every unscrupulous hideout for malms has its whispers. A kink in the supply has the addicts stirring.” Mansel growled but said nothing, and so Grimsin continued. “Opium, was it?” he asked curiously. “How many did you lose, a dozen cases?”
“It is under control,” Mansel hissed, the Miqo’te’s eyes narrowing and ears flattening against his head. “However... I will make you a wager. Retrieve my stolen cargo from the Jackals, 20 cases in all, and I will reconsider your usefulness to me. Fail and should I happen upon you again, I will have out of you what sources whisper my affairs into hungry ears.” Mansel leaned heavily to the side in his chair. “You would do best to hurry. The captain of the raided ship is also quite motivated to see it delivered in its entirety as well. He sails as though his life depends on it.”
With that, Grimsin and Syeira turn and leave with the particulars of their new mission, hurrying unabated back through the tunnels.
Syeira looked over to him, her expression puzzled as they ran through the halls. “How did you...” she trailed off, completely dumbfounded.
“Easy. I didn’t,” he responded without her needing to finish asking her question. He grinned roguishly. “I simply made up a rumor, and he took the bait by adding truth to it. I kept adding vague bits until he rounded out the whole story for us with all the details we need. Now, we go and retrieve his stolen cargo and build ourselves a name, simple as that,” he said with a warm, reassuring smile as they burst out of the tunnel and made a break for their ship waiting on the beach.
Syeira’s bewildered expression shifted, a devilish grin playing on her face. “I like the way you work. But what if we can’t get the cargo?” she asked as they approached the boat.
“Well,” he began warmly, reaching out his hand to help her into the boat. “Then we make it a point to never stumble upon this island again for awhile.” He chuckled confidently, incredibly carefree despite all possible danger.
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