Ladies and Gentlemen. I have decided to post my first Chapter in this fine Guild. Some of you may already have read it, but here it comes again. It probably will take several posts to deliver, so I shall serialise it over a number of days, giving the members a good chance to read it all.
And now, without further ado. I present Chapter 1 of 'From Little Acorns'
It was raining, as was the case nearly always in the city of Relovas. This and the night resulted in most of the population being located in their houses, the local taverns or in the great foundry, where it was nice and warm. On the evening in question, we shall focus on an inn by the name of ‘The Pewter Mug’. Inside this high class establishment (there was still a large quantity of furniture still fulfilling it’s primary purpose and even the staff had made an effort to make themselves look presentable), there was a rather large and wealthy looking man, covered in rings and other associated paraphernalia. He was sitting opposite a young, attractive lady who had a symbol comprising of an anvil around her neck. She was either a devoted follower or a member of the priesthood of Nirlepip, the god of smiths and artificers. They were currently having a discussion.
“You realise the risks of this job?” the man drank deeply from his tankard, not spilling a drop. Clearly, he had had a lot of practise at this particular task.
“What difference does it make if we don’t? If we die, then you just go and hire someone else to do our job instead.” She retorted. The merchant raised an eyebrow at this.
“Were that it was that simple, my dear.” He tried unsuccessfully to suppress a belch. “Pardon me, but the caravan travels a long way through uncivilised territory, meaning that it would be rather difficult to replace you on the fly, as it were.”
“I understand the risks, and so do my comrades. How much are you willing to part with in order to see your cargo adequately protected?”
“One hundred Gold Kronep for each person accountable for at the end of the journey.” The merchant patted his vast gut, as a small brandy was deposited at his table.
“One hundred gold each at the end, with fifty each in advance.” The merchant nearly choked on his brandy upon hearing this. “This cargo is worth a lot, as you say, so I’d like to make sure we are all prepared” The merchant placed his glass on the table, followed by the flats of his hands.
“How many people are we talking about in your little cohort?” He eyed his opposite number cautiously
“I shall supply you with seven eager bodies to do your bidding regarding the guarding of the caravan for the duration of the journey.”
“Very well, I shall return momentarily.” The merchant stood up and carefully, in the way that someone who has had too much to drink but does not want to show it walked toward the stairs. A few minutes later, he returned with a small pouch gripped tightly in his hand. He extended his arm out to her, proffering the pouch to her.
“Three hundred and fifty, as agreed. Dawn in three days, or some of my friends will be after you for repayment of the ‘loan.’ Do you follow me, Miss Junra?” The girl stood up, took the pouch and placed it in her knapsack.
“I gave you my word. You shall learn you can trust the name Eltran Junra.” She smiled at him and turned, leaving the wealthy merchant to foot the bill. He just sat there, sipping his brandy in silence, like a chess player planning his next move.
His next move had already been carefully planned and was currently being played. You see, my friend, as an observer in these situations, I can let you into a few secrets which some of the protagonists cannot see. For example, as Eltran left the Pewter Mug, she was completely unaware that someone was following her. For down a back alley, there was a quiet clatter. The sort of clatter made by someone who wishes to keep the noise down, but didn’t take into account the hazards of travel by rooftop. Roofing tiles have a habit of looking like they are firmly nailed down, then jumping from under your feet as soon as you set foot on them, no matter how gingerly. Fortunately, the tile had bounced off a cart loaded with very damp hay, meaning the last few feet of its journey had caused the crash, and not the sixty odd feet between the floor and its original home. The figure following Eltran jumped to the next rooftop, clinging onto a chimney stack to assist his balance. Things like that allow you to remain slightly ahead of the game, so keep an eye out.
The huge chimneys of the Great Foundry loomed out of the mist, like a giant burning castle. Eltran marched off towards them, as if she had to be there as soon as she could, possibly sooner. Her marching speed was quite fast, causing her follower to curse and reconsider his rooftop position. Still jogging after her, he unwound a coil of rope, found the grappling hook on its one end and dived down into the night. He slid deftly down the rope, flicked it and caught the grappling hook as is came flying down. He stuck his head out of the alley and checked the distance to his quarry. While rewinding his rope, he ran after her, stopping occasionally to check on her from the safety of a doorway or alley of some kind. His patience and periodic hiding was rewarded when she turned off the main street down a side street.
