Among the small crowd around Corti and Thia was Donar Cleftjaw, a dwarf with Thranish roots, Twitch, a gnomish welder, and Krathgar, a half-orc steel miller. They had met for the first time during today’s events and had stayed together eagerly discussing the goings on and swapping stories, as they slowly made their way back towards the Forge. After about fifteen minutes, Donar suddenly veered sharply to the left, insisting that the group follow him for what was undoubtedly the best 'pie in the district. After a short while, they found themselves under an overpass in front of a small tavern with a handpainted sign above it saying “ The Hammer & Ale”. Entering the establishment, they were first struck by the pungent cocktail of sweat, spillt beer and spat out chewing tobacco, masked by the peppery scent of the praised pies. Around a couple of roughly made tables sat various groups of orcs and dwarves, many of whom had been involved in today’s events, at varying degrees of drunkenness. On one table to the end of the small room stood a halfling bard, drunkenly chanting an offkey versionnof the chorus that Corti had penned earlier today. Behind the shoddy bar in the far corner stood an elderly female half orc, her thick black hair braided to keep out of her face, herlarge hands kept busy by “cleaning” some tankards with her stained apron. At the sight of Donar, her face split into a giant smile. “Donar, what can I get ye todae?” Her accent was thick, betraying her to be a lifelong Forger.

After they made their way away from the tenement building, Tarian stopped and turned to Arc. “Before we go any further, Mister Cannith, I don’t believe we’ve settled the issue of payment for my services. It’ll be ten gold up front to pay for both today’s services and my silence on everything related to your case. I now have quite a bit of information I don’t think you, your house, or Mister Krull want in tomorrow’s paper.”

Tarian shifted her weight and rested one hand on the pommel of her arming sword. “Next, if you want to pursue the case on your own from here, that’s fine; but if you want my services going forward I want another ten gold upon Sylvia Krull’s recovery, and double that if she’s returned alive.” It was more than Tarian usually charged, and about equal to Broad Street rates. Hostage situations were beyond her expertise, so she was going to charge a premium.

“Right now I need a sweet roll, some coffee, and more information. What information I’ll be looking for depends entirely on how loose your purse strings are.”

Arc gives Tarisn a suprised look, looking to see the seriousness of her words. However after a few seconds, he quickly starts laughing, "Tarian, you both suprise me and insult one of us." He massages his eyes from laughter, "Firstly, on the matter of your payment, I asked you to find Mrs. Krull, that portion of the contract is unfulfilled, so attempting to adjust matters isn't the nicest. Though I'm happy to pay you 20 gold for finding her, I have no reason to pay you for doing work that, I mostly did, nor when we are no closer to the objective." With that Arc pulls out 5 Gold, "Secondly, you presume that anything you have learned today would make any major play to the grand scheme of things. While selling such information might earn you a few shillings, you'd be openly committing the very invasion of disclosure that you accused Broad Streets of, only you'll be without stable backing."

He tosses the 5 gold to Tarian, "Lastly, in conjecture with my previous points, I'd say you owe me money, as I was the one to provide all the clues up to this point, but you even endangered the investigation by having us return to Mr.Krull. I'll commend your deduction abilities, but all they have told you us what I was either already aware off, or wasted our time." His previously, amused look, now turns cold and daring, as he stares up at the woman in front of him, "So, before you try to blackmail and make demands of your employer, at least do so from a strategic position of advantage, not at the beginnings  of little to nothing." Sighing, Arc will walk past Tarian, "If you wish to receive more than that, undeserved, scrape I just gave you, let us finish saving this woman's life. Or leave, and go fetch yourself a sweet roll, but you will allow me to finish my work."

"Order what you like, everyone, it's on me," Corti tells the group, "That means you as well, Thia," she adds the last part with a smile. She joins the halfling in song for a chorus or two, banging a rhythm on the table as they sing, before jokingly bowing out and going over to Thia. "So where are you from? How did you get mixed up in all this?"

"Sure thing boss, I'll talk to the Canniths first thing tomorrow morning." Brandt wasn't getting into the Northwards at night and even if he was, a negotiation wasn't something he wanted to handle at night, especially if force was something that was on the table. And besides, his business hours had just ended. He left the room and headed back to Celeste. "How about we go upstairs and have some fun now that I'm finished with my business? Didn't they say something about all work and no play making us dull?" He says as he opens his money pouch. I guess that there are some perks to this job.

The large woman slammed a tablet filled with overflowing tankards and a set of sizeable platters of steaming meatpies on the table. “Tha furst one’s on’a house, Donar here’s saved me boy in tha war, he gets ta eet an’ drink for free heer. An’ wit’ him his friends too.”

————————

Celeste looks at Brandt with a sorrowful look: “Sorry dear, I had fun last time but I can’t today, I’m on bar duty. I can arrange for another girl though?”

I’ve gotten far too used to dealing with Duskrock’s underworld. I have to remember that threatening isn’t the only way to negotiate, especially if dealing directly with a client. Not everyone is going to be as forgiving as that rich couple from Uptown.

Apologies between me and Mister Cannith would be pointless, though. From either side, really. So an olive branch of information. If he wants to take it and run, so be it. I’ve now got enough coin to last a few more days, and the reputation of a freelancer in the Docklands isn’t something that could drop much lower anyway.

 Tarian took a deep breath. Focus on the work.

“Mister Cannith, what we need right now is the nearest café or tavern to either Mister Sparks’s home or workshop. Since you mentioned him specifically to Mister Krull, we need to eliminate Sparks from the list of suspects first, before Krull tries something stupid.” Before Arc could comment on how stupid her reasoning was, Tarian raised a hand to stop him. “The fingers were cut clean and even, in a single strike. It’s a strong, practiced cut. A butcher’s cut. We need to know if Sparks has a connection to a butcher—present or former—with more building than business. Like Thorbek, this butcher would be making side money that would pay for other things, perhaps like how Thorbek had an excess of jewelry, or how his shop is a decent size despite a lack of business. If Sparks is involved, then Sylvia is possibly still with that butcher. So, we ask about butchers near Sparks’s home or workshop that Sparks might have connection to. The locals might know; he is famous. His name was in the paper, after all. And a café or tavern would have locals around this time. The thing is, that’s all I’ve got. I have no idea where his home or his workshop would be.”

Tarian shrugged. “But all that was probably obvious to you before you hired me. I mean, we gained nothing from coming back here, right? You already had these clues. So I’ll take your five gold—being a petty Docklander—and I’ll keep quiet about Mister and Missus Krull. I thought coffee would help on a long night with this case, but if I’ve been slowing you down, I should let you finish your work. Accuracy and efficiency is important in business and in crime fighting, after all. And I’m sure Sylvia, like you, doesn’t have a lot of time. If Sparks is responsible, whatever he was doing was done today, according to the paper. He won’t need her much longer.”

Tarian made no move to leave. Either Arc knew all that or he didn’t. In either case, either she was useful to him or she wasn’t. Either he actually wanted—or needed—her help, or he didn’t. “So, do you still think you need a freelancer at the beginnings of little to nothing, or have I just been wasting your time?”

Milo puts his pipe away.  “Well Mr. Bellows, Ma’am,  I would love to stay but I already have a dinner planned over at the Golden Gears Tavern.  I paid for and requested the Barkeep to get something a little higher quality than just a meat pie.  You are all welcome to join me as my guests.  it would be rude for me not to show up.  We can continue to talk business if you really want, but it’s nice to have a little pleasure; as Mr. Brandt has so eloquently put it. Mrs. Ling I will meet you in the morning and help you talk to your people.  Anyone who doesn’t join me, I hope you have a good evening.”  With that Milo leaves to go back to the Golden Gears.

Brandt is off trying to arrange some entertainment for his evening, whilst Sparks and the union reps take the time to hash out details between them. Milo makes his way to the lower floor, where he takes inthe scene once more, particularly the clever combination of games of chance, skill and alcohol. The games kept the expectations for entertainment low and cheap, whereas the drinks made sure that the house would win most of the time at the tables, no wonder they were so cheap. A neat little system. 

He headed out of the brothel and made his way to the Golden Gear, when he came across the newspaper girl from earlier today. She hadn’t seen him yet, but by the fact that she was still out inthe streets, she probably didn’t have a very successful day so far

Milo approaches “My my, what are you still doing out here?  It’s supper time.  Shouldn’t be working at this time of night.”

« Supper’s not a reg’lar thing fer some o’ us Mister. I dinn’t sell ‘nuff papers.” At that, she hinted at wiping a tear from her cheek. Two smaller boys are near her, with big shoeshine boxes, also looking lost.

“Do you have a home?  How much do you usually make, how much was made today?”

"Sure. And how about you surprise me with this pick? Make me guess." 

Thia would follow the groups lead and take a seat at their table. She’d sit quietly absorbing the atmosphere while everyone settled and Corti sang, the smiles and the laughter contagious.

Before Thia could make an order of her own, the food and drinks were slammed on the table. Her eyes would widen with the generosity offered by her peers, out of habit she’d nod her head in thanks to the half orc. She’d pick up a tankard and hold it out to the dwarf Donar for cheers and mouth the words, “Thank you” amongst the singing and cheering. She wanted to try this meat pie he was gushing about on the way over.

Thia was just about to dive her utensil into the meat pie For her first bite, but resisted, waiting for others to begin first, and to respond to Corti. She let out a little nervous chuckle, “I honestly don’t know exactly where I’m from, but I was raised in seclusion. My teenage angst pushed my parents to agree to send me to the city to learn.” She forced a smile on her face, “as everyone else, I got swallowed up by going through the motions of living the war life.” She’d finally take a bite of her meat pie, savouring the flavours since it’s been a while since she ate. “Study, work, eat, sleep repeat.” She’d shrug and take a swig from her tankard. “I live to learn. I work to earn.” She’d pause, “Like many others I suppose.” Thia would look around the room then back to Corti, “I’d like to ask you the same things.” She’d smile, “To hear your story.”

Arc, glances back and shrugs, "Need is a strong word, I will say, that if you can find anything, simply bring it to my family's estate here in town, I'll see to it you're rewarded. Otherwise, you're a free woman, do as you will, it's been a short pleasure meeting you."

Arc will give a small nod towards Tarian, then he will start making his way to the Cannith Estate to contact his family's contacts to see if they can dredge up anything, before going to bed.

Tarian shook her head as she watched Arc leave.

Well, if Mister Cannith believed Sparks to be a Forge rival, I should probably check someplace in the Forge for information on him. Corti’s name stuck in the back of her mind from the mention of her earlier, so there was only one place Tarian could think of to go. May as well head to the Golden Gear. I might get a light supper before my sweet roll and coffee. And I could probably use the music right about now. I’ve got a headache.

With that, Tarian rushed through city streets to the Forge district and the Golden Gear.

"'Live to learn, work to earn,' you say?" Corti says, taking a tankard for herself, but not immediately drinking, "That's near poetry, Thia, you could be doing my job." She laughs and then looks down, seemingly remembering her tankard. She frowns slightly, the first of the day, and takes a sip. "My story isn't much. I was made, and then sent off to training, but my mentor thought it'd be more useful if I learned to read music then if I learned to fight, so she taught me."  Corti pauses a moment, glancing nervously at Thia and then continuing, "I got sent off to the fight anyway but I was, um, decommissioned early. Music was all I could think of to do with myself." Corti stops trying to steel herself for the topic, "It can hold people together when nothing else can. The war's over, but it seems like there's more fighting than when the guns were still firing. If I can cushion the blows even a little, then I do." She watches Thia carefully for her reaction.

The girl looks up at Milo: “I usually stay at the shelter, but it costs five silver to get a spot, an’ all I sold were five papers. I had to get sum food too, so I don’t even have a silver left.”

————————

Celeste smiles at Brandt: “I’ll find you someone. She’s interested in you after all.” With that, she let Brandt head upstairs and get ready. After a couple of minutes, he heard a knock on the door.

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Arc was heading up to the Northward, running through the day’s events in his mind. He silently cursed his family with tasking him with such nonsensical managerial tasks when they knew fulwell that his talents lay elsewhere... The curse of the dragon mark, everyone’s expecting him to be a polymath, evoking either envy by competitors, or disappointments when he’s unable to fulfil the unrealistic demands that people placed on him.

The walk would be long and through some of the shadier parts of the city, so at the first possibility he hailed a riksha. “To the Cannith Estates, Northward”.

“Hmmm, is that the same story for this two boys over there?”  Pointing over at the show shines.  

Insight check on these kids, are they being honest or playing me for money.  I did give her a gold earlier.

13

”Do you know of any gangs or criminal enterprises here in town?”

Thia would genuinely laugh along with Corti, “I suppose it is. Though, any one can rhyme. It takes real talent and heart to smith words into poetry.” She’d smile to encourage Corti.

Taking bites of her meat pie, Thia would watch Corti as she spoke. As Corti was finishing her last statement, she would slightly lift her mug to tap it gently to Corti’s, “I can cheers to that” Thia would nod in agreement before taking a swig to wash down the last of her pie. Anything to calm the violence in this world, Thia was for. “There are still plenty of wounds that need healing in our world that no medic can mend.” Thia would look down at her palms.

“Today you showed us the power of true passion behind music, and what it can really do to motivate people.” She’d half smile. Being on the other end of chanting today was a little intimidating...

“You’re one of a kind Corti” Looking back up at Corti, she’d smile her full smile, “I think your mentor cared enough to make you unique, and you remained true to that. That speaks volumes.” Thia would nod, agreeing with her own statement.