My mercenary company in the common room of the inn held no interest for me as I stepped in. I did not bother exchanging pleasantries with anyone and went straight to the barkeep. The barkeep with a few years of experience behind him took an immediate note of my mood and quietly handed me over the key. I took a note of the symbol on the key and quickly climbed the stairs. Once I reached the first floor, I sought out the matching door for the symbol and promptly settled myself in the bed.
The smooth and softness of the mattress did nothing to calm my rage. I was fuming at the recent charade. I wished that I were back on the road, or somewhere in the woods so that I could scream. I needed to scream without worrying about disturbing anyone. I needed an outlet for my anger.
After a long period of raging at myself for being so gullible, the corner of the room seemed tempting. I gingerly approached the corner and lowered myself to sit on the floor with my back facing the corner. I extended my knees upwards while the feet were firmly placed on the ground. My hands were tightly clasped on my knees. The familiar tactician pose. The meeting with Leyandur and associates would be a different sort of battle. A battle that I should prepare myself for. One that does not involve swords but nonetheless is vital for our survival. The livelihood of our odd band, my search for Lyria. Everything hinged on me obtaining the contract with Leyandur.
The sun’s ray greeted me the following day through the veiled curtains. My heart did a cheerful dance when I discovered that the inn left a basin of water for my use. Below the stand which held the basin were a set of neatly folded towels. It felt great to be back in civilisation. I took a small breath to calm myself and enjoy the small assortment of pouches placed near the basin. One of the pouches held a mixture of dried herbs which gave an earthly resinous and minty aroma. The other pouch held a soap. The joy of finding the basic luxury of civilisation lifted my mind from the deceptive experience of the previous night.
My morning cleansing ritual took a longer duration than usual. I took additional measures to tidy and cleanse myself before I made myself presentable in the city. Since the last few days were spent in flight and in the wilderness, a little indulgence was well earned.
When I finally came down to the common room, only Arlene and a few goblins were finishing their breakfast. The chair next to Arlene was vacant and so I quietly occupied the vacant place.
“Do you like the sleeping arrangement?”
“Nothing to complain about there. Thanks for providing me with a bit of privacy. I thought for a moment that you would tighten the coin purse and we would share a room.”
I sneered at her.
“Such a situation would never come to pass, and if things go according to plan, we will soon land another assignment. If all goes well, it would also open a few doors for us. Two or three more successful campaigns and I promise you that we would have our own base. No more sleeping in inns. We will have a place to call our own.” I assured the ranger.
“But why do we need to root ourselves to one place?” The ranger’s disagreement was evident from her words.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself to maintain my composure. She is young and has the wanderlust of a ranger. From her perspective, her opinions were valid on their own. It was time to try another approach.
“Do you know how most mercenaries end their life?”
“In a fight, with a sword through the chest?” guessed Arlene.
“No. some do but not most. In fact, it is a common misconception that mercenaries die in battles. In reality, if outnumbered, mercenary companies will immediately withdraw from the contract. It is perfectly ethical to do so in their circles. After all, they fight for coin. They are not soldiers. They owe nothing.”
“So what does this have to do with owning land?” said Arlene impatiently.
“To answer the original question, most of them end up as drunkards or addicts and die with failing health, mostly in some dark alley. That is the downside when you lead a nomadic life wandering from one battlefield to another. By the time they retire, most mercenaries do not have any anchor to them. I don’t want such a fate for any in our band. Having a home base to call your own will change that perspective.”
“Still, I have never heard of any mercenaries having a base till now.” She still pouted at her lost dream of wandering the wide world.
I, on my part, did not bother to explain the other reason for her evident observation. That explanation will have to wait.
My senses sharpened as I heard heavy steps coming from the direction of the staircase. I heightened my hearing further. Small steps but heavier than what I would hear from the normal goblins. It was definitely Theko. I was unsure, if he had always been like that or if his bugbear ancestry is revealing itself. Theko has the bigger and sturdier body structure among all the other goblins.
On a different note, I thanked the city for the roof and a good night's comfortable rest. The deep slumber washed off my fatigue and my keen senses are back to what they used to be before. Now that my senses are back if I have free time after the meeting, I promised to hunt down that misbegotten halfling from the previous night.
When Theko finally approached our table, he still had the marked package tied to his waist.
“I guarded it all night. No sleep.” He proclaimed proudly.
I instinctively reached out to pat his head but pulled myself at the last moment. That is no appropriate way to show appreciation to an adult. I need to treat him as an adult now. Instead, I opted to verbally thank him for his effort.
I took the offered package and instructed the rest to wait for me. Then proceeded towards the offices of Leyandur and associates.
In the daylight, the city had a different charm. True to its multi-cultural status, the architecture was a medley of various styles combined into a harmonious pattern. Buildings of limestone, granite and wood of various sort garnished Sarenthill. The rays of the rising sun gleamed through the dome-like structure which crowned some of the buildings.
The administrative buildings were predominantly High-elven architectural style in nature. Limestone and marble were their preferred building blocks with huge pillars on either side of the grand entrances. In stark contrast were the dwarven buildings. Practicality took precedence over aesthetics. Dull greyish granite along with alloyed metallic segments served as a reminder of the dwarven engineering skill. Human buildings on the contrary seemed to be a potpourri both the styles adapting to whichever they found appealing.
I made my way quickly through the entrance gate. The sentries from the previous night were replaced by others. The cobblestone pavemented street snaked its way through the city. I raced through the city towards my destination.
Upon reaching the offices of Leyandur and associates, I rang the runic bell again and was promptly allowed entry. I ignored the cloakroom attendant and urgently made my way to the reception area. An elegant human woman with a warming smile quickly approached me. I provided her with my name and in turn, was offered a table with refreshments.
She returned as swiftly as she left with an elegantly dressed elf behind her.
“I take it that you are the Leader of the Aberrant Irregulars. I am Silvaniel. One of the Partners here and I am Nemeash’s client,” introduced the elf.
“I am Rylonvirah. Just Rylonvirah. No other names.” I kept my introduction short.
“Pardon me. But your name seems familiar,” said Silvaniel with a deferential attitude which only someone in his line of work could muster.
“Yes, I am the infamous, ex-Matron, But I am here at Nemeash’s request. Nothing to do with my past.”
Silvaniel’s expression became nonplussed for a brief moment but he regained his amiable smile fast.
“Ah Yes. Understood. If you would please follow me. We could discuss this in private at my office. Please.”
Silvaniel opened the door and held his hands with a practised motion of someone who is well-versed in bedside manners. The inside of his office was bright and airy. A huge bookcase stood on one side of the wall. In the centre, a huge wooden table with artistic designs served as his work table. Only the bare minimum stationeries including an ivory inkwell, a silver letter opener, two obsidian paperweights and few neatly piled papers stood.
There were no ink marks on the table. So he most definitely has assistants to do the paperwork and the inkwell on his table is meant for signing the documents. Which only means that the elf before me is a senior partner.
Silvaniel himself was not tall but he still gave the impression of someone who is never looked down upon. He was impeccably dressed in a lime green shirt with an anthracite colour vest and matching pants. Even his sleeve garter was golden and contrasted well with the lime green fabric. Overall, as expected from a senior solicitor, the elf made a sharp impression.
Silvaniel offered a seat and waited till I settled myself before he took his place. As soon as he sat down, I passed the marked package to him. He casually took the offered package, but his eyes still gleamed at the seal making sure that it is not tampered with before opening the package. His hands deftly opened the small cylindrical tube and twisted the top of the tube in a particular pattern.
“A safety measure,” said Silvaniel.
“I am aware of that. Drows. We invented those.” I added while returning a polite smile in equal measure.
The tube contained a small parchment which Silvaniel took with urgency. He read the parchment silently with the attention of a lover who at last received a note from their paramour.
His expression did not waver as he absorbed the information contained in the message. I waited patiently to make sure that he completed the reading.
“Can we talk now?” I asked.
“You have our thanks. Pretty competent skills, if I may compliment. Nemeash was thorough in explaining the role your mercenaries played.” He relaxed his shoulders and gently rubbed his palms together as he praised.
“Now if I understand, there is compensation promised for your services. I will see to it that you are suitably rewarded for the service you provided.” He gave his most professional smile again.
“I am not here for a reward.” I flatly refused.
Silvaniel was quick on processing my words and immediately jumped a step ahead.
“Let me phrase it this way. We are really grateful for your help and I mean that sincerely. But we are a legal firm and foremost, we represent the interests of our clients. We cannot arbitrarily decide.” He still held the same professional calculated smile.
“I totally understand. In fact, what I suggest would run parallel to the interest of your client.” I assured him.
He sat back as if providing me with his full attention.
“I would request a contract in fact. As a security correspondent for whatever quest Nemeash is on.”
“Your band would be an ideal option for such a service. Sadly, we cannot make such an offer. As I mentioned, we prioritize the interest of our clients. A contract such as the one you proposed would run counter to what we stand for.”
Silvaniel was again as vague in his explanation as he could make it sound. Nevertheless, it was evident that the elf would not trust us any further. Now it was time to step into the shoes of the diplomat. The same negotiation tactics which I have honed through my days leading the house.
“Your concerns are perfectly understandable, Silvaniel,” I used his name directly, “ But let me provide you with an alternate viewpoint. You, no doubt, by now known our combat prowess and capabilities and your unknown adversary has enough resources to muster trained forces at short notice. Most importantly, I take it that your usual contact in Westerleygates is currently unavailable.” I made a brief pause to gauge his reactions. Silvaniel still maintained his austere smile.
“Here is the advantage for you. The first one obviously, by employing us, you have a secure channel for communication with Nemeash. Secondly, Nemeash will be protected. So that would serve you the trouble of finding another seeker and Finally, we have fought the adversary, twice. Not Once but twice.”
“Surely, you must be exaggerating. Nemeash, in his report, mentioned only once.”
Disbelief was painted across the elf’s face.
“You don’t have to take my word for granted. Ask your contact within the Justiciars. They would verify. Ask what happened within a day’s journey from Sarenthill. Especially with the outsider’s involvement.”
I was gambling on the fact that an open summoning of those summoned creatures would have definitely attracted the attention of either the Justiciars or Sapiarchs. Failing which, the road was a well-used one. Certainly, some of the travellers would have noticed the carnage and reported them to Sarenthill.
“So you are telling me that your company not only fought once against trained soldiers but a second time close to Sarenthill against summoned creatures. This is preposterous.”
“Silvaniel, You do not have to take my word for it. In fact, I am asking you not to take my word for it. Verify it yourself. The evidence is right within your grasp. “
“The Justiciars act independently according to their ideologies. We have no connections with them.” Finally, the denial came. Just as expected.
“Please, not this. We both know this statement is not appropriate here. I will not remind you about my former status but I did not get to be where I was by accepting things as they are presented and with all respect, not are you the type. So let us not continue this charade. Agreed that the Justiciars act independently but please do not deny the lack of contact. I am here because I need to earn my living. My blade is all I could offer to put bread on my table.”
“I sympathise with your present situation, but our hands are bound.” shrugged Silvaniel.
Silvaniel is stubborn and it is time to switch to another offensive tactic. My past experience has been that Silvaniel’s sort, for all their civil composure, do not appreciate of a threat and it was for this particular reason that I decided to reserve it as a last option.
“Let me make a point you in the direction of an alternate fact then. In case you overlooked it. The moment you pay us, the agreement I made with Nemeash is fulfilled. I have no other ties with you or Nemeash. I am as inclined to take an offer from you as from your mysterious adversary, should they approach me.”
“Is that a threat?” Silvaniel did not bother controlling his anger and his previous controlled composure vanished without a trace.
“I am sorry if it came out as a threat. Please see if from my perspective. You and your adversary are the players and we are just one of the pieces on the board. By providing us with an employment contract you would not only be gaining a competent service, but also deny your opponent the strategic advantage in gaining an important piece in the game. Does that make sense?”
The elf had a pensive expression on his face. I got him thinking. He is exactly where I needed him to be.
When Silvaniel finally spoke, his words were cautious and deliberately slow as he uttered, “It is a nifty position as I explained before, we strive to protect the interests of our clients.”
Clients. and not a client. Plural. The answer was fairly obvious. Other dark-elf houses are what he was implying.
I gave him a knowing nod.
“I assure you, I have no intention of getting involved in anything. I prefer to keep my head low and a chance for that is all I am asking from you.”
The message was clear. Silvaniel beamed a smile, satisfied with my answer.
“Thank you for understanding, but we cannot officially offer you a contract as that would lead to a conflict of interest,” declared Silvaniel with a grimace.
He has something up his sleeve.
“But there is a workaround.” Now comes the loophole that he would exploit.
“Though we cannot employ your services, We do not have control on who Nemeash deems necessary for his quest. Should he decide that the services of a whole mercenary unit are imperative, then he is free to avail the service of one and naturally, the cost of such a service would be added as an extra cost incurred during the quest.”
He grinned as he completed his explanation. I, on my part, had to give it to the elf before me for his pathfinding skills.
“Please return by tomorrow. I will have someone prepare the new terms for you and Nemeash to agree on.”
Ah, yes, the lawyer in him. Always contracts and legal bindings.
“Sure, if you can give me the preliminary draft by the evening, I will have one of my confidants go through the terms.”
Silvaniel seemed genuinely surprised and irritated at the same time with my response. I would rather accept a gift from a dremora than sign his papers without reviewing them.
“Provost Vitalia would gladly work with you people in reviewing the draft,” I added.
“Provost Vitalia?”
“Yes, Provost Vitalia of the Vernal Equinox academy.”
And as Silvaniel heard that last sentence, his professional composure vanished without a trace from his face.
