"Fianna," says the Half-Elven woman. Then, as an afterthought she adds, "of the line of Gwydion."

It's hard to determine her age, her overly large blue eyes give her an almost childish appearance while her hair is fully silver. Her smooth fair skin, marred only by a few light freckles across her nose, might indicate late teens or early twenties but it's always so hard to tell with the longer-lived races...

She wears a simple linen shirt, leather breeches, and stained riding boots. Her leather armour is well-cared for, well worn, and looks as if it was originally made for someone else. The rapier sheathed at her hip has a simple, unadorned, hilt which fittingly matches an equally plain belt and baldric.

"I suppose I'm meant to be your wagonmistress."

Fianna stands for a bit, then fidgets for a while, then begins to wander around the room examining the objects just a bit too closely for comfort given the warning to touch nothing.

"So, why are you all here?"

"I am here because I am in need of coin. I am fortunate that I was hired" says Bram. He waits patient for the elderly gnome to return.

"Very well met indeed sire. Should you find yourself eastward on your travels, know that my father's estate is always open to a student of history." Rolas gives Xoben's hand one final firm shake and stands to his feet.

He takes a look over Fianna, fixating particularly on the scuffed boots, and raises his hat to her in place of the exuberant handshaking he'd offered the others. "I need not the coin, but the connections. Father wishes for me to bring his ventures westward and Master Davender seems a figure of some renown. I am certain a partnership with him could open many doors."

"And how does your beloved feel about you being sent away?"

"Ma'am, I think it would behoove you not to pry into a gentlemans marital affairs within five seconds of meeting. My family are quite accustomed to my comings and goings." he says, turning on the heel of his boot to flounce away, aghast, and examine some of the display cases here in the Hall of Magic. He pays particular attention to those that hold simple trinkets or seem little more than magical toys.

"Mom always used to put on a brave face for dad and then worry herself sick until he got back," Fianna says seemingly to no one while furrowing her brow at an unfamiliar object.

"What do you think this does," she asks Xorben.

“An interesting item and one I’d need to look at more in-depth to be able to give an educated guess I’m afraid.  A very interesting collection for sure”, replies Xorben.

”I’m here for the joy of history and antiquities.”

"So money, influence, and pleasure. Looks like all the usual suspects."

She cocks her head to the side, "what do you suppose happens if we touch something?"

“I suppose you would be in a bit of trouble!”  

You turn to see an aged man with a long white beard and a mostly bald head.  “I have asked you all to join my team to acquire fantastic and often valuable artifacts from the ages for us to study and display here, so new generations can learn from our past mistakes, and to inspire the love of learning to our youth!  It is important work and good for our city and society as a whole!”  

“My name is Nigel, your employer.  And I have a very important first mission for you.”

"Can you tell us the details of the job and what are we after?" asks Bram as he focuses on getting as much information as he can for the upcoming job.

“The details, of course!  Well, to be honest, this is more of a personal matter… an initial test, perhaps?  You see, long ago, before I came to Waterdeep, before I started my studies of the arcane, I was a boy in a small village.  Life was sometimes hard, sometimes good, but one thing that was always excellent was Grammy’s Apple Pie.  To this day, I don’t know how she did it. Unfortunately, this small bakery was overrun by goblins and abandoned by the locals.  But I was recently reminiscing with someone else who recalls trying these pies, and he says that Grammy had a printed copy of her recipe, probably lost to the ages and the ravages of generations of goblins.  I want you to go see if you can find this recipe and bring it back to me.”

He shows you a hand drawn map to the village, and more specifically the bakery, which is a mere 4 days travel southwest.

"I am willing to take on this quest, but what would our reward be if we can fine the recipe" asks Bram

“Why, the most excellent pie!  And you may keep any other items of value you may find… I am only interested in the recipe. And if you do well, the real jobs will follow.”

"Great! Sounds easy as pie!"

Looks around at the others.

"What? Somebody had to say it."

Bram lets out a chuckle "Well I guess I can see how amazing this pie is. I just hope the recipe is still intact" He takes the paper with the directions and puts on his coat "Shall we head out everyone?"

Assuming yes, the gnome you met earlier leads you to the stables, where mounts and camping supplies await.  

Bram pets the horse he has chosen so it can get used to him and inventories the supplies. Then he hops onto the saddle and waits for the others

"What a bizzare and lackadaisical manner these Waterdhavians conduct business," Rolas says as they all troop back out into the sunlight, "He didn't ask our names, no contract, no forms of insurance for us or himself should we be imperiled or abscond. He did not even enquire as to our competencies. Asking us to do a gesture of goodwill to earn the privilege of working for him! What a peculiar sort of arrogance."

Rolas clasps his hands behind his back and inspects the horses. "Now, you must excuse me momentarily while I return to my lodgings. Where I come from it's not the norm to either send hires out on task from the very moment of employ, nor to attend a meeting of polite company bearing weapons and armour unless you bear ill intent or are some sort of thug. I shall meet you all by the gate in an hour." As he says this, he clearly casts a judgemental eye over the party and their decisions to come armed to a job interview. Rolas mounts the horse that appears large enough to support a man of his size once armoured and takes off to go acquire his equipment.

"I need to pick up my pack as well, and a few other odds and ends."

She looks from Bram to Xorben.

"Odd sort of fella isn't he? Why go flashing that ring around if you don't want people to ask about it?"

She looks down at her armour a bit self-consciously.

"Maybe he has a point about the armour though, but dad always said the smart ones want to see a guide's equipment first. Said well-kept kit is the best impression you can make."

She looks over the horses carefully before settling on a yearling filly with a palomino coat, "hey there pretty one, what's your name?"

"So, the main gate," she confirms with the others, "about an hour or so?"