Terin, you notice a few details on the papers: The smell first of all. Stationary would usually be kept in the offices of a patriar, where over the years, the paper began to take on the aromas of the pipes that were smoked in the office, or of the scented oils and perfumes of the lady of the house. On these papers, the scented oil was there, but almost too much, and underneath he smelled coal. This was likely made somewhere close to the waterfront where the smoke from the ironworks could affect the smell of the paper reams.

Secondly, the seals. They were detailed and showed the right crests, even used the right type of wax. But inspecting the seals, Terin noticed many things uncharacteristic of a real document. For starters, seal rings degraded over time, and needed to be sanded,or recut, invariably leaving some tool marks or resulting in a loss of detail. These seals were too detailed and sharp for that.

Third, Terin noticed the writing. Though the writing on each of the references looked different, the o's and g's had similar arches, very difficult to hide across different styles. Similarly, some of the spellings were consistently unusual. 

In total, Terin was fairly certain that the references before him where very sophisticated forgeries. Unfortunately, he was asked to make an assessment of them. If Mr Caldwell was aware that the letters were forged, he might be using them to test Terin, and Neris was only here to guarantee that Terin could tell fakes from real things, something that would undoubtedly be important for someone curating art. Alternatively, Caldwell couldn't know, in which case, why would Neris have fake papers with her? Why did she need this job?

As Terin's pause draws on, the butler leans in: "Yes, Mr FIllion? What about these papers?"

The quality and means for these forgeries were done too well for such a test from Caldwell. While the man wanted a curator and the job would surely be about noticing replicas and what not, the test was too elaborate. No, this Neris woman was certainly trying to attain this job on her own based on false pretenses.

Terin looked from the papers to Neris though was speaking to the others, "Sir, these references seem legitimate. It appears the qualifications are in order. I am afraid I do not come with such high remarks."

In case you need it;

Deception or Persuasion get the same bonus: 11

"Ah, very well." Mr Caldwell beamed, "but don't fret, Mr Fillion, I may have Need of you yet. After having heard something about you, it is only polite to tell you about myself and the job. As to my Person, my Name is Nathanael Sirius Wellesley Caldwell. You'd be right to assume that my Name is not original Zhivargo. My ancestors had Brelish blood run through their veins, but my forefathers sowed their oats widely, and one errant son happened to choose to stay with his Mistress, even if it meant building a life in the inhospitable snow and ice of the North. He was my grandfather, and he chose to take the south to him, by spending a considerable part of his fortune on rather succesful trading ventures to bring southern delicacies to the North. He then spent much of his personal fortune to save the Family art collection when Breland was drawn into the war. We Caldwell's have spent much of the war on multiple sides of the conflict, and my Father made it his mission to save the most precious art of the old Corphyrean Empire. The Zhivargo branch of the Family seemed like the best option, since Zhivargo had remained neutral, and was closer to Breland than the Western colonies.

Long story short, my Father died ten years ago, having saved many priceless artifacts of cultural significance. But as you are both well Aware of, this own country fell into a tumultuous conflict, and Borogrod itself became a battleground, just as things back in Breland have started to quiten down. This is were you two come in. Now, I am afraid that I Need your utmost discrétion as to this job, for reasons which will become clear soon. 

Miss Neris, if your references do you justice, then you should be well suited to seek and acquire significant works of art for the Caldwell estate.  Mr Fillion, according to your references and Reputation, you are a loyal and resourceful servant. I have Need of just such a man, for you shall, together with miss Neris, make sure that the identified works of art are in fact acquired. Once acquired, I will require your skill as a curator to create convincing copies of these masterpieces, Miss Neris. These will be put on display in the various Museums and art shows, while the originals will be safely transported to Breland. This transport will also be something that I will require you two to organise.

Now, I am fully Aware that accepting this job will put you in a potentially awkward situation with the law, or perhaps even with your own sense of patriotism, but I assure you, my intention is to save the best of Zhivargo art, to preserve it for future Generations. And beyond that, your Renumeration would take into account the significant risks you might be taking upon yourself. A Weekly wage of 20 Denari, plus an expense account for the necessary payments of 500 denari per month. In return, I expect discretion and success on your part. What say you?"

If Neris is nervous about the situation, her body language and facial expressions do not betray it. At Terin's assessment, she makes a quick and subtle nod.

 Focusing her attention fully on Caldwell, she listens with great care. At the mention of Caldwell's expectations regarding the creation of copies, her eyes briefly widen in surprise - but she almost immediately composes herself.

"Sir, just so we're on the same page here... You're saying that we will take Zhivargo's art out of the country, without permission? And you require our discretion because if they knew you were buying the art, they may suspect your intentions?" Neris wrinkles her nose, as if reacting to some unpleasant smell. "You're right, that is some significant risk. What happens if we get caught - can we count on you to bail us out, or are we on our own?"

"You'll have the protection of a patriar who is known to collect art and do business abroad. You have considerable financial resources at your back, and should you land in a court, will be able to fall back upon the best lawyers within a hundred miles of Borogrod. That is what I'm willing and able to provide."

Neris raises an eyebrow. 
“That’s quite some resources, sir - this project must be pretty important to you.” She draws a sly smile. “Preserving the art for future generations, I mean - very noble of you, sir. My discretion you shall have,” she taps her nose knowingly, “and those wages I shall happily take.”

She eyes Terin up and down. Fancy looking bloke - Neris can’t help but wonder why he would need this job. And how will she make this work, with him breathing down her neck? A problem for another day.

She stands up, glad to be out of the chair - too soft  for her taste - and extends her tiny rough hand towards Caldwell.

“It’s a deal then, sir?”

Mr Caldwell gives a broad grin: "Very well doing business with you, Miss Neris. How about you Mr Fillion? "

The haughty looking Half-Elf looks to Neris again and back to Caldwell, "It would be my pleasure to put my services at your disposal. Consider your endeavor safe and valued." He bows slightly.

"Very well. I shall host you here again in one week, tea time. I expect a report on promising art work, or on means of getting my present collection to Breland. In the meantime, Alphonse will have prepared your weekly wage, and he will  present you with a letter of credit, for the 750 denari. You'll be able to draw upon it by going to the money house and exchanging it there, should the need arise. Just know that I will have your expenses checked. If there are no more questions..."

With that he heaved himself out of the chair, and was ready to show them out towards the atrium, where Alphonse, the butler, had arrived with two sizable coin pouches.

OOC: Uncle, I think Parker is still waiting for your response

Uncle scowls at the half-elf minding the shop and turns to make sure the door is latched. His stooped walk straightens as he approaches. "Good. We agree on one thing - yer closed." He reaches up scratch the grey stubble under his chin and then absentmindedly smooths the grey-white hair circling his bald head as he takes in the scene. "Well, seems you do have 'urgent' business', huh? Ya musta lost somethin' real important, right? Look, I don't care what yer really up to - I just need info on a man calls himself 'Magnus'. Look like you already did the rummagin', so less work fer me." Uncle stretches his back and resumes his bent over posture. "So, whatcha find?"

He is um... a client, an i just need some more information from him to finish his request. plus get payment naturally

turning towards this newcomer with his hand on the hilt of his rapier.  his voice speeding back to its prior speed but his eyes narrow slightly

now how may i help  if you want papers notarized you will have to wait for the resumption of business tomorrow, if not speak quickly

Uncle grabs a chair and settles in slowly. He pulls out an old dagger and begins peeling a raw potato. "Oh, I don't do much quickly anymore. I just need anything you got on Magnus - seems he likes hiring people and then not paying." Uncle pops a wedge of potato in his mouth and talks while chewing. "Got any salt on ya? Suppose not. Anyways, I ain't lookin' to rough him up or anything. I'm just lookin' fer anything that helps the cause, so to speak." He carves off another wedge. "For example, sometimes real pretty handwritin' is needed." Uncle places the last potato wedge on the counter. "'Scuse my manners, that one is yers. Now, seems we can help each other, right?"

Parkers eyes narrow more

"Whadda you mean not paying.  That isnt proper. One needs paying for "services"  otherwise that would upset the order.   If you must know i was just setting off to try an meet him at a barge he says he owns"

Neris approaches Alphonse and swoops up one of the coin pouches with flair, winks at the man, and heads for the door.

"Coming, Mr Fillion?" she calls behind her, as she strides towards the exit.

As Shades makes his way to Gramult's House of Mastery, he spots a wealthy patriar ignore a crippled veteran looking for some coins to buy his next meal. Timing his approach, he comes around the corner just so that the patriar has no option but to bump into him, with both of them falling over. The patriar's guards are quick to push Shades off, who humbly apologises before heading on, quickly turning right into the next alley, and left into a narrow sidestreet, out of sight. There, he waits a minute or two, before hefting the heavy bag of coins he's lifted of the patriar. Looking inside, it contains 12 guilder, 5 shiners and 7 reds.

Once the air is clear, he passes by the beggar and drops one guilder into his hat, nearly producing tears of gratitude in the veteran's eyes. He knows how hard settling back into civilian life can be.

After a couple more minutes on foot, Shades reaches the House of Mastery.From the outside, the tall building was leaning precariously into the street. From here, it looked more like a tavern or an alehouse than a martial arts school, but by the grunts and commands shouted inside, he can tell that he's in the right place. Pushing open the heavy oaken door, he indeed finds himself in what looks like a tavern, but beyond the bar, there's a large clear area layed out with straw mats, where two dozen men and women are training with wooden sticks. In front of them, with long flowing silver hair that reaches down to below their shoulder blades stands a human instructor, still standing tall despite their old age. 

"Parry left, no- higher. There, that's it." "Watch for the feint John, he's got you like that yesterday." Liz, parry with the back of your blade, unless you want to spend the week after sharpening out the nicks." Their voice was firm, fitting for the hard and lean person you find before you. As they make their rounds, Gramult says, still with their back turned to you: "Welcome stranger. This is a place for warriors or those who want to become one. If you want to rest or drink, you first got to show me you have what it takes."

At that, the others stop their sparring, and spread out to the sides of the mat. "Choice of weapon is yours. Land a blow, and you're welcome to stay." With that, Gramult turns around, a lopsided grin on their face, and eyes lit off for the joy of a sparring match.

Looking around the room I notice the weapon rack while moving towards the weapon rack I survey the room looking for any faces I recognize and do a head count.

Reaching the weapon rack I quickly grab a wooden sword with my right hand and a dagger with my left and move onto the mat with gramult. “Sounds good. Let’s find out together. Ready?”

Initiative 7

Gramult gives loud yell, and jabs forward with their quarterstaff. Just as you're going in to block the attack, Gramult shifts his weight, and brings the tip of the staff smacking straight across your face. Before you recover, Gramult swiftly rolls to the side, grabbing a shield lying on the floor, and smacking the staff right into the small of your back, before spinning around and bashing you with his shield. You see the shield coming though, and manage to duck just in time for Gramult to miss you. They give an appreciative whistle, and drop into a defensive stance.

20 vs 14 for 1,  26 vs 14 for 4 and 15 vs 14 for 2 blunt damage.  

PS: Remember that you can make two attacks when using only light weapons.

A bit taken aback by the swiftness of the barrage. I rub my nose with the back of my right hand from where the staff hit it. Giving a brief grin, being taken back to my time in combat. “Nicely done.” I say, closing in on my opponent. Leading my assault with the short sword following up with the dagger.

With a swiftness you'd not have given someone half their age, Gramult quickly tries to parry with their quarterstaff, knocking your dagger aside with ease. You had waited for a reaction however, and just barely manage to land a glancing blow agains Gramult's right wrist. A look of surprise, followed with a wide grin is Gramults answer. Then they quickly drop below your guard, put the quarterstaff between your legs and then slam their full weight into your chest, sending you tumbling back. Before you get a chance to regain your balance, Gramult doubles up with a doubleheaded strike against your right shoulder, before bringing the tip of the staff up and striking you against the jaw from the other side.

Before you know what hit you, the world goes black, and you go crashing down to the mat.

9 vs 14 for 1, 16 vs 14 for 3, and 8 vs 14 for 4

It takes you several seconds to come to, but when you open your eyes, Gramult stands atop of you, smiling widely, and offering you their hand to get up: "You showed guts to grab the weapons in the first place. Then you showed skill to land a blow, even if you're laying here now. I can work with guts and skill. You're welcome to train or drink here anytime, friend."