Down by the docks, the counting house is a bustling and noisy confusion of appraisers, money-changers, tax collectors, usurers, and shady dealers of all manner. Looking about with a keen eye, you see a good many sneak thieves and pickpockets as well, waiting for an unwary target and an easy score. While most of the building is full of tables rented by private entrepreneurs, the Flaming Fist have clerks toward the rear of the building behind an ornate brass cage guarded by dozens of bruisers.

The writ being issued by a noble house allied with Baldur's Gate, and thereby the Flaming Fist, that's likely the best place to start...

Surveying the area, Kanon's hand slips back down to his beltpouch. He unties it with one hand, unslings his pack, and places it deep inside next to his lockbox.

"Perhaps we shouldn't linger for too long," he says, "I've always steered clear of the docks when I was younger. Never liked the look of the place." He puts his pack back on and nods for Petti to continue towards the Flaming Fist stall. 

Portia heads to the back where the Flaming Fist are located. She manages to reach in under her armor with some wiggling and pulls out a pouch. She keeps it held close while watching the area around her. Once it is her turn she pulls the writ out and hands it over. "I would like this split into four separate coin purses please." She keeps an eye on the person she handed the writ to though she has no mistrust of anyone associated with the Flaming Fist at this point.

Heh. Pettilaen still recognizes a few of the faces. So many new youngsters trying to pick a pocket to earn a living. He'd been there before, and while it was exhilarating when he succeeded, it wasn't worth it, especially when the money was hard-earned. Atop Hazelmane and with Gaia perched on his shoulder, he whispers to her, causing her attention to perk up, as she begins to keep a constant surveyance of their surrounding for extra sneaky folk he might miss seeing.

Accepting the nod, Pettilaen issues his first command to the group, "Keep your coin purses close to you. These are amateurs, but you'd be surprised at their resourcefulness for finding a way into your coin. They're like rats to scraps of food." He moves towards the rear of the building, though a little hesitant. "Portia, perhaps you should take point on dealing with them? Since you have the write, and what not." he remarks, following up with a nervous chuckle.

OOC: Perception of 16 from Gaia.

Zina had read The Colour of Magick probably a half dozen times, but it was one of her favorites so she always kept it with her. Her father had bought it for her when she had first shown signs of magical talent, and she had kept it ever since. It was full of general magic and illusion theory, and it was a relatively common book. The Blackstaff Library alone had four copies. Still, it was a good read that always seemed to comfort her in times of stress.

After about an hour of reading, the illusionist began to get hungry. Zina pulled out the box of berries and nuts that she had liberated from the elf-a-taurs and began snacking. The gnome was prepared to stay there for a long time.

On closer and careful inspection, Pettilaen and Gaia identify, as well as the regular cadre of amateurs, quite a few seasoned professional cutpurses and confidence men in the crowd. They keep well away from the Flaming Fist presence, hanging out mostly toward the area of doors with the intent of following their prey into the city and perpetrating their crimes in the street. Your group draws many eyes, but, given you are both wary and armed, the majority of the ill favored folk sweep past you, seeking easier prey.

Upon reaching "the cage" behind which the Flaming Fist clerks toil, a young half-elf with sparking silver eyes and a tidy coif of curly hair smiles up at Portia.

"How may we serve you, most holy lady of Lathander?"

 "I am Portia Starflower from the Song of the Morning and I have a writ that is to be filled here. I would like it in four equal purses, please." She hands him the writ with a smile.

"Ah, yes, you said the same to the attendant. I just wanted to ensure I'd heard correctly."

He smiles as he retrieves 5 stacks of gold Baldur's Gate "shield" coins from the strong box beside him, counts one stack, then compares the height of each to confirm the final tally. Then he breaks down the 5th stack equally among the other 4, placing the remaining 2 coins on the side. Lastly, he examines the writ, then hands it off to one of the guards behind him.

"It will only be a moment," he says.

You watch as the guard takes the writ to a robed man behind a large desk, who examines it carefully - feeling the texture of the paper, checking for the proper watermark with a candle, and even tasting a small bit of the wax seal of house Kennet. He nods at the guard, who returns to the clerk.

"It's approved," the guard says in a low voice.

The clerk's smile widens.

"You've got friends in high places, m'lady," he says as he folds each coin stack into a square of linen, then dribbles candle wax on each to seal the seam. "Two-hundred-and-fifty gold shields, tax pre-paid by the issuer. Do be cautious, though, the Gate's a risky place of late to be carrying such coin about."

He uses a small board to slide the rolled coins, plus the two loose extras, underneath a gap in the cage so that Portia can reach them.

Meanwhile, back at Neiklot's office, a middle-aged gentleman with black hair streaked in silver and wearing garments of fine silk and satin enters from the city. Siwel jumps from his chair and hurries around the desk.

"Ah, McDonald, sir." Siwel says, his voice smooth and sweet as honey. "Welcome back. Shall I fetch you a glass of wine?"

The man barely acknowledges the grovelling gnome.

"Who's this?" He asks, gesturing toward Zina.

"Ah," Siwel responds, "she's the courier from Candlekeep with the ciphered documents for Neiklot. But she wouldn't deliver them to me for filing, so she's waiting for Nieklot personally. 
I told her it would be some time. You know how Nieklot is when he's working."

"Yes." McDonald speaks plaintively as he tosses his leather riding gloves at Sewil, who fails to catch them, but scrambles frantically to retrieve them from the floor. "I've been especially curious about these documents that all the loremasters in Candlekeep could not read. Fetch Neiklot immediately."

"But sir..."

"Who do you work for?" McDonald interrupts.

"For Neiklot, sir."

"And who does he work for?"

"You, sir."

"Right. So you will fetch him for me. Now."

Siwel makes no verbal response, but sprints toward the doors behind the large desk, dropping one of the leather gloves in the process. He turns, grinning sheepishly at McDonald, retrieves the glove from the floor again, then rushes around the desk and through the door on the right.

"Why does a rich merchant care so much about deciphering these scrolls?" Zina asked curiously, closing her book and staring at the man. She had to admit, it was satisfying to watch Siwel have to scramble around. "I'm Zina, by the way. Zina Strifelaughter." The gnome hopped down from her stool and approached the human, extending her hand out in greeting. "i'm not actually the courier from Candlekeep, that was my friend Kanon. But he angered Siwel, and I'm a wee bit more stubborn than he is. Besides, I started working on the scrolls while we travelled here, and I made some progress so now I want to see what Neiklot can do."

McDonald nods, barely acknowledging the extended hand.

"Well met, Zina Strifelaughter," he says, his voice a droning mix of ego and ambivalence. "Rich, you say? Merchant? I'm a good bit more than that on both counts."

He crosses the room toward the door on the left.

"Would you like a glass of wine while we wait? Perhaps mead? I have a fresh shipment of Dead King's Gold from Dambrath. It's a delight if you've never had it..."

Portia carefully takes the coins. She hands one roll to Pettilaen discreetly. She puts two rolls and two loose coins in a safe place, but looks like she is adjusting an issue with her armor. Then moves close to Kanon and whispers, "You keep this one safe." She slips him the last coin roll.

She nods to the man behind the cage window. "Thank you, sir, and good day to you." She smiles.

She looks about the room as she steps away from the window and waits to make sure her friends have secured their coins.

"No, no, no..." Kanon whispers to her, "I can't possibly accept these." He tries to push them back to Portia as she's pushing them forward. Perhaps Tymora felt like having a little fun that day, as the roll tumbles out of their hands and onto the ground. The impact of the roll on the ground causes Kanon's heart to skip a beat.

It all happens in slow motion. The roll impacts the ground and the seal pops, but the coins peek out only slightly. Kanon's eyes go wide and he dips down to scoop up the roll as quickly as possible. But without his pouch he has nowhere to put them, so he's content with clenching them in his fist. Looking about, he has paranoia written all over his face.

"Rich, you say? Merchant? I'm a good bit more than that on both counts," the famed McDonald replied.

"Well, Guy-Who-Owns-Most-Of-The-Sword-Coast-Thanks-To-A-Trading-Empire is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?" Zina said, unfazed. 

At the mention of Dead King's Gold, the illusionist couldn't help but shudder at the memory of her hangover from the other day. "I'm alright, thank you for the kind offer though," Zina smiled. "How long have you been working with Neiklot?"

"Let's get out of here!" he shouts, after helping Kanon pick up his gold. "It might be best if you leave it with me. I can safe keep it better than your clasped fist can." He smiles, trying to reassure Kanon, though it comes across as mischievous and dubious.

Regardless of whether or not the offer is accepted, Pettilaen mounts Dawnlight, and with Gaia scanning the crowds once again for cutpurses and other thieves, he guides the group back to Neiklot's store to give Zina her fair due.

OOC: Perception of 21 from Gaia. Persuasion of 9 to Kanon.

Kanon is more than happy to get the coins out of his clenched fist and into a secure place, so he almost rushes to hand them over to Pettilaen. Following close behind, he starts to feel a sense of relief as they clear the docks.

"Did you see the way they were looking at us? No wonder Zina is so paranoid about people wearing other's skins." He speaks quickly, as if panting each set of words out, "I've never been to that area of the Gate before. Wow.  What a rush!" 

Portia shakes her head at them and gets on her horse once outside the building. Thankfully those were still there with nothing missing. She makes a quick pace where she can through the streets back to Neiklot's. She had too much time to think though and found it amusing the bard couldn't even organize himself right to carry coin, freaked out over it, and she was sure Pettilaen was thinking he could keep that portion to himself. She would make sure Zina knew it had been split into four parts and Pettilaen had the extra because Kanon was a dunce with money. It wasn't like it was a huge fortune because all of it wouldn't even come close to get her platemail to wear let alone chain with some magical bonus to it which would be preferable in the long run.

LEAVING THE COUNTING HOUSE:

As the group leaves the counting house, Pettilaen and Gaia note that two of the more veteran thieves peel off to follow them. They're coughing and clearing their throat, but, as one fluent in Thieves' Cant, Pettilaen recognizes the ruse for what it is. They're signalling someone...

Looking about and leveraging both the vision of Gaia and his expertise as a rogue, Pettilaen notes approximately a dozen seemingly innocent bystanders "casually" closing in on the group in response to the signal. They look like little more than thugs but 14-to-3 is bad odds.

Pettilaen can almost hear the voice of his mentor telling him "If you  can't avoid an ambush, charge toward its weakest point."

IN NEIKLOT'S OFFICE:

McDonald nods as Zina speaks, but he doesn't seem to be paying a great deal of attention to her words.

"I've had all manner of experts in my employ for decades on end," he says, opening the door. "If you will excuse me, however, I believe I will have some wine. If the linguist and his gnome arrive before I return, kindly tell them I will not be long away."

He steps through the left door and closes it behind him.

Pettilaen's mind races with ideas on how to resolve the conflict without bloodshed. It would be so easy to kill them. Unfortunately, they aren't on the road between Beregost and the Gate. A Sleep spell would to little good, since any random stranger would just awake them. He merged with Gaia, and scanned the crowd for their associates. Knowing Gnommish is spoken amongst the party members, he tells them, "We've got two thieves trailing us. They look like veterans. They're trying to signal someone. I'm looking for whomever they're working with. Any ideas on what to do?"

OOC: Natural 20 on Perception, for a total of 25.