Re: Chapter 2: The Border Principalities
Figgario's house was situated in the Northeast corner of town. The buildings there were nearly all constructed in a Tilean style, whitewashed exterior walls, with red, barrel tile, roofs. The merchant's house was built in a square, with an open interior courtyard complete with a fountain, tiled floor, and numerous lanterns hanging around the exterior walls, to give the evening some light.
It was here that Figgario, a rotund man with curly black hair, met with Nikolaas. There was a table set with wine, a rarity in much of the empire, and various unrecognizable food stuffs from Araby, Cathay, and Lustria.
"Ah, Count Richtgraaf, the savior of Akendorf, and of my own soft hide. It is an honor to meet you." The merchant bowed low, an awkward gesture thanks to his weight. "Please, join me at table. It is a Tilean custom to never discuss business without at least a little bread, and to always take a meal with a potential partner."
He trundled over to the table, sat, and tore a loaf of salted, crusty bread in half. Setting one portion on his own plate, and gave another to a servant, his slithered around and offered it to the count. There was a faint hint of rosemary that wafted itself to the nostrils. "You dip the bread," and here he smashed a piece onto a plate with some oil and pepper "before eating it. I'm sorry if I condescend to you, Count, but one can never be sure of the customs of the... coarser Empire. So I thought it best to share mine."
He went on to ask the count of the battle and his dealings with the mayor as the meal progressed until, about half way through, got down to business. "But enough small talk. I have been sizing you up, and I like you Count. You are... a desperate man, but also an honorable one. The former leads me to believe you will accept my proposition, while the latter leads me to think you will carry it out."
"So, here is what I propose. I will give you a wagon load of ale. Four barrels, to a total weight of about 600 pounds. Of. Bugman's. Ale." He said the last three words carefully and clearly, poking his finger at the table with each word. "I don't think I need to tell you how rare, and coveted Bugman's is. There is little of it left in these parts. People, especially orcs and some deranged Dwarves would kill to have it. As would some power hungry functionary who's heard of the brew but never tried it. Getting it out of Akendorf shouldn't be all too hard, and that avoids excise taxes if nothing else, but getting it past the road and into Brovska is another matter entirely. Just because you defeated one gang of orcs doesn't mean there won't be more. The stuff gives them a narcotic power trip."
He sat back in his chair a bit and picked up a confusing looking fruit on the table. "If you will transport this cargo, I will hold Two hundred and fifty Crowns ($5,000) in escrow and will send along the ale, and a note to my man in Brovska. Upon delivery, my man will return your two hundred fifty, and pay you another seven hundred and fifty crowns ($15,000). What do you say?" He seemed uninterested, but Nik cannot help but notice the man's eyes, extremely bright and fixated on him, not blinking.
