Three's A Crowd

[Florian]

FLORIAN

18 Glade 122 AoS

Florian was not the most meticulous sort, nor was he very detail oriented. The little things were never that important for most of his life, and it was an adjustmustment coming into an occupation where they were. He was lucky, then, that Brenner was able to explain some of it — and that all Florian really had to do was make sure that Franky knew they were coming down and when.

A letter was hand-delivered by Florian, but Franky had not been there himself, and so he did not stick around to chat much. It was left with the bartender instead. He could only hope that they would actually be ready for the First Minister with the specifications required for someone so high profile to visit — such as the security sweep, and the present bodyguards — but, aside from that, the Undersecretary hoped it would be a normal lunch and a pleasant meeting. Or, at least, a useful meeting, where the beginnings of a plan could be formed.

This was his new chance at a somewhat normal life, and Florian was not entirely eager to disrupt it. He turned away from the window and to Brenner in their carriage, an ostentatious vehicle that made him feel out of place and uncomfortable. They were drawing closer to the Knob, especially telling from the bumpy cobblestones, when there were cobblestones. It was endearingly familiar.

"Are you prepared? Franky should be expecting us. You know, I never learned his surname..." Florian was interrupted by their abrupt stop in front of the pub. Bodyguards exited first for the security sweep, and he sat in the carriage and itched his right shoulder. And then he was out of the carriage and walking into the pub in a much different situation than the last times he had come, which were in the evening so that he could fight his stressors out of him.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Immer bereit." Brenner replied promptly, though it was a beat before he translated for the benefit of the Lysanrin who'd posed the question, "Always prepared." It was an old, well-recycled phrase that found its way onto the heraldry of many an old family who hadn't been creative enough to come up with something unique.

"Do goblins bother with surnames?" Brenner wondered aloud, as he glanced out to a pair of his guards who were manning the door to the pub.

Brenner was still learning his security team, but they were staunch patriots all, from what he could tell. Quiet and dutiful, they carried out their work with the unquestioning precision one desired in their role. His Head of Security was a hulking brute named Hans Heilig, who frightened even Brenner at times, which the First Minister believed to be, on the whole, a positive. His underlings were frightened of him, too, and that meant they worked hard to impress the impassive martinet.

As the carriage door was opened, Hans lurched forth and greeted his charge with a nod, before leaning close to whisper a few updates into his ear.

"Splendid." Brenner replied with a stoic smile and glanced to the guards flanking Frankie's front door. "They may be dismissed. I'll not offend our host by cutting into his income by scaring off paying customers with guardians at the gate." Hans grunted a reply and gestured them away, as Brenner turned to Florian.

"We still have plainclothesmen and a couple of uniformed inside." He whispered, before marching up to the door, which Hans opened for him. Stepping inside, his eyes swept the room appraisingly. Honestly, it didn't look unlike the sort of place he might frequent at the end of a night... At least before he had a prominent position in the government and a king's ransom for a bounty on his head.

His eyes landed upon the proprietor, and he was glad to have done his research as not to be alarmed by the creature's appearance. Without so much as a twitch toward cringing, his smile broadened and he approached with an outstretched (albeit white-gloved) hand.

"Good morrow, Mister...?" Perhaps through this little feint, he might learn the surname that had escaped Florian.

[Franky]

Franky walked through the backdoor of the Gobbler, having just returned from a meeting with his wagoners. Busy morning, always expanding, always preparing. Franky snorted at himself as he grabbed a wooden flagon and began filling it with mead. So much for an easy and relaxing retirement. But he was smiling as he drank it down.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Weston got up from his usual spot at the end of the bar, sauntering over, a serious look on his face. Franky raised a lack of eyebrow. "A friend of yours dropped off a letter." Weston's tone suggested that this didn't seem like a friendly gesture. "Who?"

"That scrappy lad you took a liking too. Florian."

Both of Franky's missing eyebrows raised in mild surprise at this. He knew about Florian's new title, that was an easy bit of news to come by. And he knew about the bounty that Kalzasi had put on the lad. Messy. All very public and messy, this whole affair between the city-states. Franky still wasn't exactly sure how Florian got wrapped up in all this, but that was a pondering for another time.

He unsealed the letter carefully and read it.

"It seems we have an important guest coming to pay us a visit."

Weston's concern only deepened as Franky handed him the letter.

"The Throne Breaker himself is coming here?" in a hushed whisper.

Franky shrugged.

He could see that Weston wished to ask about that little rendezvous they had made with the Imperial forces south of the city, but he was smart and disciplined enough to know better. Franky had that look in his eyes, the one he always wore when it was time for him to no longer be just a simple bartender. "See to the preparations, exactly as they request them. Ensure that the chefs have a meal prepared in full before they arrive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Franky was leaning against the back of the bar as the appointed meeting time approached, a smug look on his face. The security sweep had already been conducted, but the plainclothes stuck out like sore thumbs, at least to him and Weston. After all, they knew their regular clientele, and all newcomers had something about them that connected them to why they were here.

But these plainclothes were too clean. This was the Knob, anyone from here had to deal with the soot and smell of smoke from the Grungeworks. Franky didn't mind one bit, this wasn't his first run in with undercover government agents in the establishment. Hopefully these ones weren't going to use brash, overt displays of magic in full view of the public, like the last batch.

As a mild tease, Franky had the wait staff keep having free drinks sent to them, with them saying it was from a secret admirer at the bar. The uniformed guards were given nothing freely, but if they asked for anything, it was given promptly and properly. The receipts were saved, Franky would make sure that Brenner's office received the bill.

Franky watched as the door opened, a guard doing another visual sweep. Franky hadn't bothered dressing in his best suit, not for this meeting, not in his tavern. No, he wore his usual bartending garb, a loose, long sleeved white shirt, rolled up at the forearms and untied at the chest, and a simple pair of slacks. Unassuming in his role. After all, this was a "god" of Zaichaer coming to a meeting of a commoner in the Knob, might as well look the part.

Franky approached, under the watchful eye of Weston. He found himself wondering if any of these security guards recognized or remembered Weston. He was sure Weston would know some of them, the man had a sharp mind for faces and names. A hand and a greeting was offered, and Franky grasped the gloved hand firmly with his right hand, a single polite shake.

"Good morning, sir. Franky's just fine. Welcome to my humble, little tavern, Minister Dornkirk."

Turning to Florian, he smiled and nodded at the lad, "Welcome back, Florian. You're looking well." The lack of an arm was not lost on Franky, but still, the lad looked better in the face than he had the last time Franky had seen him. Franky stepped to the side, gesturing over to an empty table, which was flanked by at least two of the plainclothes at adjacent tables, and watched from overtop a flagon by Weston.

"I hope you're hungry, my chefs are quite pleased with the early season produce. Quite bountiful this year."

Platters of food were carried out by the kitchen staff, which were all goblins of varying types, and Chestnut, the Fae, which was obvious to most because she had more curly red hair than was physically possibly for anyone. The foods were not foreign. Locally recognized and loved ingredients and meals, done up to perfection under the watchful eye of a former personal chef to the Goblin King himself. Once the meal was dropped off, the staff went back to their duties. Franky could hear Chestnut now, pestering the goblins about who the big shot was.

"What can I get you to drink?"

One of the uniformed guards was at the bar, and would watch Franky prepare any drinks that the pair requested. He made sure to only pull from sealed bottles, in plain view always.

He sat down, a flagon of his favorite mead in front of him. Looking over at Brenner, "What can I do for the state, Minister?" Cutting right to the point. After all, they were here for a reason, time to hear it out.

[Florian]

Florian liked Franky, and he liked the tavern. He would have to visit it more often, even if that meant bodyguards tagging along each time. If he was going to be a token — or a symbol, as they said it — he was still going to come visit the one person in Zaichaer who didn't seem to want to change too much. Who didn't get wrapped up in happenings and misery, or so he hoped. Even if he wasn't able to fight in the pits on the weekends anymore. He smiled at Franky when he was greeted.

"Hey Franky." He replied, and then he walked over and sat at the table gestured to by their host. Florian felt a touch awkward being here with so much fanfare, even if the fanfare was just the food being ready early and obvious looking men trying to blend in with the apparent goal of keeping them safe. With the food out, Florian grabbed half of a sandwich from a neatly arranged platter of them, though he didn't start eating yet. He figured Brenner would do most of the talking unless he or Franky asked him a question directly. Truth be told, he had asked if the First Minister was prepared, but he wasn't sure if he was prepared at all.

"Just water, please." As much as Florian had a propensity for drink, now wasn't really a time to get drunk, and he knew if he had one drink, he might want more. Even if it could take the edge off of his anxiety. But his anxiety wasn't terrible, and his eyes stayed their neutral shade of blue. It wasn't until Franky came back with the drinks and addressed Brenner directly that he took a bite from the sandwich.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner offered a slight shrug accompanied by an impish smirk to Florian, when Franky deftly evaded the prompt to produce his surname. Casting icy blue eyes back to Franky his smirk became a smile.

“An Imperial Bitter would be just the thing.” The First Minister replied matter-of-factly as he claimed the offered seat and crossed his legs. He wasn’t altogether comfortable, but he looked perfectly at home. This being the sort of dive toward which he gravitated at the end of a night, he was able to focus on the familiar and let the comforting sights, sounds and stenches put him at genuine ease. He addressed their host in Kathalan:

“Also… Ich weiß, dass Sie aus dem Kaiserreich gekommen sind. Meine Mutter ist auch Gelerisch geboren, deshalb als Kind habe ich die kathalische Sprache gelernt. Leider, unser Florian spricht es nicht, obwohl er so ein gelerischen Name hat. Schade…” (So… I know that you hail from the Imperium. My mother is also Gelerian born, and thus as a child I learned the Kathalan language. Unfortunately, our Florian doesn’t speak it, despite having such a Gelerian name. Pity…)

“So, let us conduct our business in Common, as I answer your query in earnest.” He leaned forward a bit, “The Kelgarde Regime, unlike our predecessor, recognises the pivotal value of our non-human citizens. People like you and Florian are essential in the endeavour of paving a path to a more civilised Zaichaer. Our office is committed to improving the lots of a minority that has been disrespected… even denigrated for far too long. Many of the races have an unfortunate history with magic that has poisoned popular opinion against them, but Zaichaer must accept all citizens who are committed to an enlightened society wholly free of the imbalances created by witchcraft.

“What the State asks of you, Frankie, is to use your platform…” His eye twitched slightly as, perforce, he recalled how that platform was used to spread inconvenient truths about himself.

“To help us toward advancing the non-human minority as we usher in the next Zaichaeri epoch- an Age of Integration.”

[Franky]

Franky poured Florian some water from a sealed, corked bottle. This water was chilled in Franky's ice box, but it was some of the cleanest, purest mineral water. Franky bought it from a Moratallen that lived in the caves who controlled a spring down there. The water that flowed through Zaichaer's plumbing was enough to sustain life, but it tasted of iron and coal. The pure water was a necessity, Franky felt, for the cooking and drink making here, but more over, it created a standout impression for people.

As for the Imperial Bitter, Franky deftly tapped a fresh keg, without so much as losing a drop in the process. While Florian's water was in a glass so as to hold the chill and display the brilliance of its clarity, Brenner's was put into a ceramic mug, of the light loamy color of the common mugs back in the Imperium. Many of these mugs were seasoned over generations of drinking, adding to and holding and otherwise enhancing the flavor of drinks across time. Franky gave it a smooth pour, a girthy head on it, the distinct color that always made it easy to identify the Imperial.

He set the drinks down from the right for both men, then sat down himself. Brenner slipped into the Imperial tongue and Franky's focus shifted automatically to match. Franky wondered why Brenner bothered to introduce the Kathalan tongue at all if his companion couldn't understand it. Was it an attempt to bond or show shared heritage? Regardless, Franky would've scoffed had it been anyone in a less influential position. It was a disingenuous attempt to find common ground with someone unknown.

Franky sipped his mead, moving past the attempt without skipping a beat. Let the politician take the lead. No need to compete with him. He came to Franky, after all. He felt that either Franky was necessary, or at the very least, cost effective. That was fine by Franky. Practical even. Franky knew what his own value was, after all. It was, in his opinion, the most important piece of information to know about one's self.

Franky listened closely as Brenner spoke. Let the silver tongues speak volumes, he'd learn more while silent. The new regime wanted to unite the city against magic, not "magic races". Franky certainly found no fault there. He was more than willing to live a life without magic being involved. He'd seen his fair share of what magic could do, both in the hands of civilians and when being controlled by the government.

Some powers were best left to no person.

Then came the eye twitch. Franky had played more than enough poker to recognize that tell. This was a man coming begrudgingly but for, at face value, a good reason. Franky could only assume that this man was probably just as bigoted as many of the Zaichaeri humans, but held his patriotism higher than his racism.

Better than most.

If this man could come hat in hand and swallow his racial pride, Franky could help him, to help himself and the people of the Knob. After all, they shared the pathway to different goals. His face was not the jovial, warm, and comforting one that Florian had known in their limited actions. No. This was the one he bore in the Imperium, serious, deep lines of age and scarring.

"This platform is growing. People love to follow a hero, and a successful one at that. I'm sure some of your neighbors have managed to find a copy of the paper through their housekeepers and carriage drivers." Franky's hand left his mug and his fingers interlaced atop the table as he straightened up. Habits from the military once more.

"But in order to better help the state, the people on this side of Willowby Road will need help from the state. In the name improving the lives of all Zaichaeri loyalists." Franky gave a hard gaze into Brenner's eyes, "If you truly wish to have the whole of Zaichaer against magic and those who wield it to harm the people here, then you need to ensure that magic is the biggest concern of the people. Not by inflating it into an unbeatable monster that only a hero can slay. No. When you have children who are starving, the worries of magic are deafened. When you worry that by walking to work while bearing the face such as mine," then he nodded to Florian, "Or his, you'll be accosted and assaulted by those called protectors of the state, magic is never on your mind, except as a means to end your own suffering, through escape or revolution."

Franky decided it was time for a pitch, one he'd been setting up for a while since his discussion with the Bank a while back. He hadn't expected it to be now, but Fortune had brought this to his doorstep. He had to seize it. "The people of the Knob and the Grungeworks do not want handouts. Handouts make people weak. Soft. Make them see enemies where there are allies." The harsh line of his mouth upturned to the slightest smile, "But perhaps we can offer them opportunity. I can get the bank to fund projects within the Knob and Grungeworks, to create more work and wealth for the people here, to elevate them beyond the lowest service class and permanent entry level work for the regime."

Franky relaxed his posture now, "If the state is prepared to help push forward some public works as well, the Bank will see the area to be even more ripe for investment opportunity." Franky stood up slowly, "If you'll indulge me."

He walked over to the bar, poured a clear flagon of the local tap water. A few particulates, the smell of iron, and he set it between his seat and Brenner's. "Did you notice the bumps in the road on your way over? The streets are in disrepair because the state hasn't fixed them since they were first cobbled. And no company here is wealthy enough to be able to do it themselves for the people and still survive. And while the bumps might seem like a mild annoyance to the aesthetics of some, they represent the potential loss of wheels, wagons, goods and time to the people here trying to make an honest go of it." He gestured to the water, "If this was served at a meeting of government officials and the wealthy on the other side of town, what might they think?"

His smile upturned more, "What I propose is this. Create an agency tasked with improving the public works and utilities of the Knob and the Grungeworks. Make the head of this agency a human to soften the blow to those who might struggle with this... Age of Integration, but give them a council of non-human advisors and aides. I will serve as one of these councilors, to help guide the improvement of these areas. I will work with the Bank to invest in more private ventures to continue to raise the lives of those here."

Franky leaned back in his chair, "Give the people something more to lose and they'll fight for whatever you wish. Food in their belly, a home of their own, happy and healthy children, they will have all the time and focus in the world to worry about the dangers and evils of magic."

The grin softened just a bit, "And I'd recommend removing the unofficial ban on promoting non-humans within the government and military. Allow them to earn their way. Nepotism is a slow killing poison, and the previous regime was full of it, with the wealthy families and the racial bias."

Franky sat back upright, "These things would certainly be looked very favorably upon by the population, especially when well represented in my platform. Selling honey is far easier when it is real."

[Rune]

R E V I E W

Lore: 8 Eacn

Points: 10 Each

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: