The Fox That Makes the Ravens Fly [Arvalyn, Torin]

[Aurin]

7 Searing 121
Adira's Promenade

More than anything, tonight was a confluence of schedules. This was not the first time since Arry's breakout performance that Aurin had taken him out to celebrate, to laud the budding artist he had believed in for so long. Of course, this restaurant was finer and in a grander neighborhood, but while it began as a continuation of that celebration, it was to be other things as well. Arry and Aurin were dressed their best, but with as much nonchalance as possible so they would blend into the august crowd rather than stick out like sore thumbs.

Arry knew Torin would join them, but had thankfully kept barbs out of it so far. Torin had been told to meet them there, dressed in his best, as well. Aurin had announcements and propositions and wanted both of them there. He rarely spent much of his money, and so he was able to spring for a fancy evening. Arry had become Arvalyn, and Aurin saw that as an accomplishment. He had, perhaps, helped the lad more than harming him. And Torin seemed to be growing into himself, learning the confidence that would allow him to have his own forge at some point, and not merely remain overlong under the thumb of his master.

It was an evening where Arry, Aurin, and Torin were not busy and so tonight was the night. There were others who likely ought to be here, but one was busy and the other too shy to be seen out in public and so Aurin did what he could. He glanced toward the door, but there was no sign of Torin. And so he gave Arry his full attention as they sat among the white tablecloths, their white napkins laid over their laps, and fine drinks chilled at their fingertips.

He smirk-smiled at something witty Arry said. His ear caught something someone said at a nearby table. So perhaps Arry didn't have his complete attention, but he had the lion's share.

"Do you think you could become accustomed to this lifestyle?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn sat upright in his high-backed chair with his hands resting in his lap. Good posture was a default for him, now, though it used to be something he had to consciously remind himself about. The fitted, cap sleeve doublet he donned helped things, with the stiff crimson and gold brocade fabric clinging taut to his narrow form, accentuating his shoulders with padded shells. The high collar that rounded his slender neck kept his chin up, even as he drew his cocktail glass to grinning lips for a delicate, relishing taste. He resisted the urge to gulp the cocktail down in artless swigs, delicious as it was.

"Do you remember the first meal to which you ever treated me?" Arvalyn replied, in an altogether different dialect of Common than the one he'd spoken that fateful day. "When I practically unhinged my jaw to devour everything on the table but the salt shakers in some Antiran dive?" He chuckled, "We've come a long way and, to answer your question, I'm not keen to go back. So..." He gestured broadly to their surroundings, "Now that you've introduced me to how the other half lives, there's no going back."

He lowered his hands to his lap, to smooth out the front of his garment.

"But you mustn't tease me, Aurin." Arvalyn chided, "You know I prone to get ahead of myself. I know I'm not a star yet, but it doesn't feel as far fetched as it did a few months ago. Do you really think I could come to be at home in such environs as these? Even knowing how I came up in this world?" His eyes turned from the tabletop to Aurin, and there was a hint of vulnerability peeking through his façade.

[Torin Kilvin]

The spring had been busy, there had been little time for anything but learning business, his new stints at teaching the other apprentices and, of course, actually working. But the Searing heat was beginning to slip into the air and the warmongers and adventurers who had kept him busy at his force through the Glade months were now heading into the wilds to seek their fortunes.

So, it was that Torin had been more than pleased to get the invitation to dinner. With Aurin's help, he had located both a tailor and cobbler that could be trusted not to cheat him or use fabrics that would fall apart in a season. With his wages he'd purchased a new wardrobe that not only actually fit his still-changing body but also contained some pieces that were more than merely utilitarian. He had followed Aurin's advice and then the tailors. He even owned two pairs of boots now, one for working and hiking, one for his days off.

He wore those now; they were soft, smooth calfskin that reached halfway to his knees. His breeches were tucked in and, while they fit him well they did not appear to be straining near to bursting as his previous pairs had. The tawny color matched the summer coat which had only been finished the day before and never worn till he had pulled it on, an hour earlier, as he left his small room. It fell to just below his knees and billowed, leaving only an inch between boot tops and coat flaps. The outfit completed with a new white which, also tucked in. The effect, crowned with his summer-brightened hair, was shocking to anyone who knew him.

The boy looked like a man, with his wide shoulders back as he walked, as though he were no longer afraid of his own height. He did not know these things, he just liked the way the coat moved as he walked and how his feet didn't hurt. He did not have a mirror in his room, had probably never seen all of himself at the same time in his life.

His entrance into the establishment caused a minor stir as nobility and the well-off wondered who this massive youth, looking like a prince from a mists-story, was, and where he had been hiding. Torin failed to notice this as well, inquiring with politeness bordering on deference for directions to Aurin's table.

The man stationed at the entrance to greet guests led him, after a moment of confusion, halfway to the table before gesturing with bored precision.

Torin made his way over with the care that those who knew him would recognize as his fear of breaking anything smaller or more delicate than himself which, in this place, appeared to be everything.

"Hello." He said, bright grin flashing helplessly at Aurin. It had been difficult to find time to see his mentor more than once a month for the whole season and his adoration was as plain as the new muscle on his arms. Sitting down he greeted Arvalyn with a lesser version of the same. Their first meeting had not been friendly but it also hadn't ended in blows so he was unsure where they stood, if they stood anywhere at all.

"Sorry, I'm late." Was directed to the table generally, "A customer took longer than I expected and I had to wash the forge off before coming... here." The hesitation covered him glancing around the room, taking in the ostentation.

"Why are we here?" He wasn't inquiring as to Aurin's purpose, rather, why this location had been chosen for it.

[Aurin]

"Patience is always in season," he noted with a smirking smile, "but I think you fit in quite nicely here. And what have I always said about the art of the con...? If you believe it, the people around you will be keen to believe it as well."

Aurin himself was dressed to the nines, though he wore it like it were nothing special. There was an art to that as well. Rich leather trews disappeared into knee-high boots, and the cream of his shirt peeked out appropriately from where the panels of his hanbok coat were laced together. The front of the coat was left rakishly open, as was the loosely laced deep collar of his shirt, revealing a smattering of auburn chest hair. It wasn't unseemly, but it wasn't uptight either.

He heard Torin's arrival before he saw it, attuned to the ambient noise of the room. Torin disrupted it and Aurin smiled to see how far he too had come over the past couple of seasons. He had lain low for so long, it felt like an achievement of his own to have helped Arvalyn progress in his chosen career, and now Torin as well.

"Well, hello," he drawled, smirking from blond to blond. The simplicity suited Torin just as the artful suited Arvalyn. They were all playing roles, and it was good to know for which one was suited. Perhaps because he knew there was some strangeness, some tension between the young men, he was only too happy to answer the question.

"Another round," he said to the waiter swooping in; the man nodded and swooped away. The ambient chatter of voices and clatter of flatware made him feel comfortable enough talking plainly to them. He and Arvalyn had enjoyed the first round, and he knew Torin would appreciate something being set before him to enjoy rather than having to pore over a menu or, worse yet, improvise an answer to a waiter's question out of nothing.

"So," he said. "We came a little early to continue celebrating Arvalyn's solo work, surely a prelude for good things to come. We are here because we all have the evening off. And we are here because we are all moving up in the world. I have business to discuss with you both." He cleared his throat. "When I first arrived in Kalzasi, I had nothing. It was awful. But I worked my way up slowly. Bought my little cottage... but after that, I was accumulating money and not spending it. I was laying low, but I needed something to be working toward. Anyway, rather than spend my money on fripperies, I began to invest it. The benefit to having lived in many places, I suppose, is seeing how different places do business. I started investing my money in other businesses. Not enough to own them, but enough to help them expand. People owed me. Favors, money, etc. It's good to be owed by a lot of people. You can pull in different favors for different things. You don't want anyone to owe you too much because then they could grow to resent you. Sometimes resentment can fester into violence. In any case, there are very few people here I trust." He looked from one to the other. "The two of you are among them. Back in Frost, Torin overheard a bit of conversation and told me about it. For several months now, I've been following some threads. Shifting favors about. It might be too early to bet on it, but I might be able to swing it within the season to acquire some interest in the Golden Peacock."

He paused for Torin to remember the tip and for Arvalyn to digest the implications.

"Now, from what I gather... the ownership and management are more complicated than they appear. So I'm working that for an angle. Fortunately, things move slowly there and I can afford to be quick when the time comes. But if I make this work, then I want to turn my little holding company into something bigger. Financial services. Offering an alternative to the Bank for deals that need to move more quickly than the Bank's logistics will allow. And if I get myself a place in the Peacock's power structure, I'll be a legitimate businessman, you know? I can open doors for Arvalyn's career more directly... I might be able to invest in a forge for Torin when he's ready. And because I've developed a taste for secrets and all... I'll be dealing in those behind the scenes as well. It's a gamble," he admitted, "but I wouldn't be saying anything to you if I wasn't hopeful about it. And because I want to share my wealth with the people... care about... I will want to hire the both of you to listen.

"Torin listening got me the lead on this whole deal. He'll be rubbing elbows with artisans and tradesmen, warriors and lords. Arvalyn knows how to listen too. Between the Cabaret and the Peacock, you'll have access to another set of citizens. My other prospective employees... you'll meet them... between all of us, we could really build something here. I just need you both with me on this."

Into the thoughtful silence that followed, the new round of drinks was delivered and while the blonds considered all he had said, he ordered an amuse-bouche and an appetizer for them to share in due course. He wanted to skip questions and go straight to an eager toast, but he slowly spun the delicate stem of his glassware between his thumb and forefinger, waiting to respond to them.

[Arvælyn]

"Well, I daresay self-deception is my foremost talent..." Arvalyn quipped with tilt of the head and a minute sip of his drink, which he held by the stem of the crystal vessel- pinky out. He started to place the cocktail back down onto the table, when his gaze followed Aurin's eyeline to the approaching Torin. He paused the downward path of his drink, and lifted it toward unconsciously taut lips which he parted to down the remainder of the contents in one, graceless gulp. He placed the now-empty receptacle down onto the white cloth and suddenly grew very attentive to a fold in his sleeve. He didn't glance up from it as Torin offered a less than enthusiastic salutation, which was met with a light, tenor grunt in lieu of a verbal response.

He did actually regard Torin as he claimed a seat and posed the question of the hour, right out of the gate.

"Straight to the point, innit?" He sniggered, glad to hear Aurin lodging another drink order even as he subtly gestured to the waiter and mouthed that his own should be a double. Poncey cocktails were all well and good to whet the appetite, but there came a point when a more practical pour was called for.

With Aurin claiming the proverbial floor to address his reasons for assembling these strange bedfellows, the elf turned his full attention from his sleeves to his red-haired tablemate. He adopted a faint smile at the nod to his recent artistic successes, and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the praise and promise broached. He retained the faintest upward curl at the corners of his lips as Aurin went on in great detail about the stage he'd been setting and the act to come.

Much of what was said was either already known to him or had been hitherto outside his realm of concern, so he found himself curious as to how much of this was meant for Torin and how much would come into play for him. That is, until the Golden Peacock was mentioned and an intrigued eyebrow arched upward. From there on, things grew clearer as did his place in the proposed mix.

"Impeccable timing." Arvalyn said with a nod to the waiter toting their drinks. "For it seems congratulations are in order." A tumbler was placed in front of Arry, who raised it, "To the birth of Aurin's new empire. Long may he reign." He clinked his heavy glass gently against Aurin's delicate coupe, "Allow me to be the first to swear fealty." He proclaimed, before tasting the potent spirit with relish.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin listened, brow furrowed as Aurin launched immediately into their purpose. It was not an answer to his original question but it was quickly forgotten in the landscape of new information being laid out before him.

He had spent what little spare time he'd had trying to learn to listen in the way that Aurin wanted him to. He now knew the personal business of everyone on the street the runesmith's shop where he worked was on, and a myriad of random information about everyone on the adjoining streets. None of it was what could be called useful, but he was learning to sort information quickly, to put pieces together from different sources, to glean.

Aurin explained things well, it was one of the fundamental draws of their relationship. The smith let himself listen and absorb, filing things away, silencing his one objection, until the mastermind was finished. Drinks arrived on the heels of the speech, in tiny delicate glasses that Torin was almost certain he should not touch. Watching how Aurin held the glass he very carefully followed his lead and took a sip. Not making a face was a challenge. He drank ale, whiskey, wine on occasion, but this was none of those things. He had no idea what this was. He swallowed and set the glass back down with slow care. He would have been grateful to know that it made him look graceful, showed off the control that went along with his strength.

Resting his chin in his hand he leaned forward and let the elf make his comments first, listened to them as well.

He knew nothing of the elf's success but made assumptions about Aurin's involvement therein. What had come of the secret he had overheard a season ago had been discussed in brief as things had happened, so he had some idea of what was going on there already. The business sounded promising, useful, perhaps even helpful for those who had needs that society didn't recognize as legitimate. He would have considered investing in it had Aurin not been captaining the effort, as it was...

"Of course." There had never been a question of following Aurin. Torin was his man, as loyal as the oldest nobles' retainer. Having a job had never occurred to Torin since his future had been laid out for him since he'd been a toddler, but he was already doing the work. If it became more directed now to aid his closest, really only, friend, all the better.

"I thought I was working for you already." There was something playful in his tone. He distinctly didn't say 'working under', but blushed slightly anyway. He also didn't say that he was fairly sure he had enough saved to get his own forge running now, or would have by the time he was actually ready for it. In another season he would be released from his apprenticeship, given his journeyman rank in the guild. He would be free to do as he willed. As they willed, he corrected, meeting Aurin's eyes. The knowledge that the fox-like-man wanted to provide for him was more than enough, it made him safe.

"Would what I do change?"

[Aurin]

"It lends a certain balance," he said, acknowledging what Arvalyn said about Torin's directness. He smiled. If the two of them were never to get along, that might be out of his control. At least, he wasn't going to force them to be friends. He trusted they would work with him, though, and at least be civil to each other in his presence. Well, he hoped so. Torin was more compliant than Arvalyn, but when it came down to it, Arvalyn would make the right choice.

"From your lips to the Gods' ears," he said, making a pious gesture before taking a sip of his drink. He noted the heavier pour and thicker glass in Arvalyn's hand, and the reaction on Torin's face. Well, artisanal cocktails could be an acquired taste. But Aurin noticed things as he had tried to teach both of them to notice things. Knowledge, cleverly applied, could be quite powerful and people rarely saw it coming.

As for Torin's question, he was just glad he was asking them. Arvalyn's instant support was gratifying, but he knew Arvalyn would question him every step of the way if he had questions. Torin's question was gratifying because while there were times where instant compliance would be helpful, he also wanted the burly young man to go into things with his eyes open.

"Of course," he said. "You are. As I said, the lead came from you listening for me. And I know you have enough saved up that when your master declares you a journeyman, you'll be able to start your own forge. However, I would like to formalize an arrangement whereby you both bring me information and I can give you alternate lines of income. If I can give Arvalyn a break at the Peacock, I'm confident that he will build himself into the performer he wishes to be, and even the socialite. And I'm confident that if I can help you out early in your career, you might be able to afford a better forge with more trappings to make your success a bit easier. It won't hurt either of you to have extra income, even if you choose to sock it away in a bank vault or invest it otherwise. Gods forbid something happen to me... I want you taken care of."

He breezed past that admission with a sip of his drink.

"But no, nothing would change, exactly. You keep smithing. Arvalyn keeps singing. You both have a bit more urgency in bringing me profitable news. We all make money, which gives us a tool to shape our lives into what we want them to be. And... we are here, at this particular place, because nobody is likely to know us, it's a treat, and I've already heard a few interesting things since we sat down."

[Arvælyn]

"If you say so." Arvalyn muttered into the rim of his tumbler on his subsequent sip, as his gaze darted between Aurin and Torin with their bloody rhyming names. Annoying. But not enough to get in the way of the all-too-pleasant fantasy Aurin had just invoked at his mention of claiming a stake in the Golden Peacock. If Arvalyn had aspirations beyond a starring role at that venue, he hadn't come to them yet. Such was, in the time he'd come to know Kalzasi, his ultimate goal in life. The sum of all his professional aims. And, after an already encouraging few months, here Aurin was to present him with just that opportunity in exchange for things he already did without expecting compensation. It sounded like little more than a formalisation of existing arrangements, coupled with the promise of recompense and remuneration.

He'd already ceased accepting new private clients, but he wasn't yet solvent enough to completely retire from the erotic end of his work at the Velvet Cabaret. This opportunity could finally push him beyond that chapter in his life, so he could tuck it away and erase it from his personal mythology as he had so many such volumes.

He was half listening at this point, as his mind wandered to visions of the life to come. To finely hewn costumes that he wasn't expected to patch after the moths got at them. To a bigger, broader stage and a crowd accustomed to material that bore gravitas. To a honing of new talents and the ability to focus more upon them.

He was brought out of his reverie by the unexpected assertion that Aurin's concern for both of them extended beyond his own life. A thought which caused his jaw to tense and his grip about the tumbler to tighten. He stayed with Aurin's thoughts, rather than disappearing back into his own and nodded along slightly.

"Well. As you know I've got the ears for this kind of work..." He noted, and shifted them in opposing directions for emphasis before letting them flick back to their default position. "What's our opening gambit?"

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin also tensed at the idea of Aurin no longer being a part of his life. The two of them doing it together was less subtle than either of them doing it alone would have been. He was glad he had put the small glass and its unpleasant contents down already.

He would need help when he was ready for a workplace of his own. As much as he had daydreamed about bringing Aurin over to his workshop/home for the first time and showing him around the boy would need his man's help in finding and then procuring the establishment. Money would probably not be an issue, but location was important, image was important, and Torin didn't understand the city nearly well enough to know where to get either. He would need Aurin's help and he was very willing to work for it. If he also received extra coin, if information he brought in proved worth coin and he got a share of it, he would not object. He knew that, for a time, the money he made at his forge would be needed to keep improving his setup and making his living space... livable. With extra money, he could afford to keep working on side projects, doing tests, experimenting. He would need a reputation as a specialist in a certain type of runesmithing and relationships with many kinds of vendors before he would really start to make money.

He remembered, belatedly, that Arvalyn was a singer, that the first time he had seen the elf it had been in admiration of his singing. It made sense that others had noticed his talent, and that the other talents one built as a performer would mesh well with the type of work Aurin was suggesting.

His own inclusion made less sense, on the surface, which was one of the reasons it made good sense to include him. Why would a man with an established, and lucrative career, in an honorable craft need to barter secrets? He hoped to build a reputation that was beyond repute, for himself, but also to help Aurin.

The apprentice blinked at the last statement. Of course, Aurin had already been listening to those at tables beyond theirs. He wondered if Arvalyn had too. There was still much he had to learn if he was to catch up and be useful, even if his accidental eavesdropping seemed to be the jumping-off point of this whole endeavor, Aurin had been planning for it far longer, waiting for the piece that would tip the scale.

The elf's question was a good one, even if Torin didn't know exactly what 'gambit' meant. The larger boy waited for the answer while trying not to give one-hundred percept of his attention to their conversation any longer.

[Aurin]

Aurin would never admit that cold parts of himself warmed knowing that these two would mourn in a world that didn't include him, but if he didn't leave them with the ability to handle harsh realities, then he wouldn't have done them any favors being a part of their lives. He considered for a moment, flashed a charismatic smile at the waiter who brought their little amuse-bouche and appetizer. The first was an exotic thing that Arvalyn was sure to enjoy, while the appetizer was plainer fare, excellently made but something Torin would recognize and appreciate. And, of the three of them, Torin's work was the most physically demanding. He needed the fuel for his fires.

But the general noise of the place, while not rowdy, seemed loud enough cover that he could speak more plainly.

"The managing director has debts," Aurin said. "Torin discovered this and passed it along. I've been monitoring the situation. There was almost a transfer of interest in the Theater to a creditor, though he had no interest in managing the Theater, only the sum of gold owed him. I spent much of last season maneuvering things around so that I could step in, but then, out of nowhere, she paid him off. Something is off. I don't have eyes in the Bank of Kalzasi. I've uncovered no evidence of a windfall, but I've someone in Cloudhaven and someone in the Low-City seeking out connections that aren't obvious. And I'm investigating myself.

"I might be able to get her into some sort of gambling debt to me, but there's that element of chance there, and it would have to be a large debt to trade for her interest in the Theater. But perhaps if I have her enough indebted to me, I might suss out who bails her out. Perhaps I could even replace her in their esteem if I can identify them and prove myself less likely to require frequent bail for being addicted to games of chance."

He paused to gauge how his boys were enjoying their small bites. For himself, he was mostly drinking, perhaps a little manic with excitement.

"If she's good at one thing," he mused, "Celisa has kept her gambling far from the Plaza of Jeweled Arches, so I don't know that you'll hear anything at the Cabaret, Arvalyn, but I suppose anything to do with the managing director at this point might be helpful. And as for you, Torin... I was wondering if you had worked any variation upon your communication devices, whether there was a way to perhaps create something similar that would allow me to communicate with various agents around the city. My friend in the Low-City is quite shy, for instance, and doesn't like to leave..."