Legend of Ransera

"Firstly- I think the term is 'earnest money'?"

With a flourish, Valentin produced a small leather-bound book and slid it across the table to Aurin. It was handwritten in a neat, precise type; a moment's perusal showed it to contain general information about Aurin, his official businesses, and almost a decade worth of notes, observations, and rank speculation about who was or wasn't on his payroll and what manner of international crime he might be involved in.

"Your dossier." the lawyer explained, putting down his coffee cup and carefully polishing the back of his hands with the provided napkin, tapping the corners of his mouth to ensure that none of the shortbread biscuit had stuck. "A replica, of course. To show that I'm serious. This is everything his Imperial Majesty's service knows about your operations--well, everything I have access to, at any rate, doubtless an Inquisitor could do better--which I'm certain you will find amusing and, perhaps, even useful. I trust it will also explain why I think you entirely qualified for the job."

In a sense, such a document was useless. Some spies liked to boast that they knew a target better than the target knew themselves, but it wasn't literally true. Aurin would learn nothing regarding his own businesses, with the possible exception of one or two exploits he wasn't actually responsible for.

In another sense, though, it was invaluable. Knowing what an enemy knew meant that you could figure out which of your operations were untrustworthy or compromised, and which ones were yet safe. It could even, with some work, help you discern how they had learned such things, and knowing who was spying on you was, if anything, better than not being espied upon in the first instance.

Valentin stood, depositing the cloth on the table, and inclined his head towards the waiter, placing a handful of copper avens down where they could see it as a gesture of gratitude.

"When I travel to Dardouen, it will immediately alert people there that an investigation is ongoing, though I trust they will not know it is of them. I will depart shortly thereafter, and--if all goes to plan--they will never see me again. To all appearances, that will be the last of my involvement in anything to come. My presence would raise hackles and close doors, for virtually every person of property in the Duchy has something to hide from His Imperial Majesty's Revenue Service."

"But I understand that you are a student of Traversion. By that magic, then, I will continue to assist you during your stay in the Duchy, and provide any aid which is incumbent. How does this plan strike you?"

After a quick brush of his short ginger beard, Aurin reached out to take the dossier. He sat back in the little cafe chair and began to read even as Valentin continued to speak; on the off chance that he snatched it back, Aurin wanted to consume as much of it as possible. He actually laughed at something that had been attributed to him 'with a low margin of error' that he certainly hadn't done. This was a treasure trove, in fact, though he was the only one for whom it was so valuable. They thought he was much worse than he actually was, though he supposed he could fleece them more legally if they assumed he was hiding dark deeds in darker corners of the Imperium.

When Valentin stood with a jangle of copper, Aurin immediately closed the folder and stood up as well. His little cuppa had sent a static thrill through him, but he didn't let that affect him overmuch.

"As you say, Herr Valentin," he agreed, putting out his hand to shake on it. Honor among thieves, and all that—the Imperium had painted him as a mere thief, but Valentin seemed to recognize his talent for the confidence game. A handshake or a man's word might be worth less than the energy it took or the breath, but what he knew of the man and what the man had gathered about him seemed to support the possibility of a beautiful and mutually beneficial partnership.

"If more face-to-face planning is required, you know how to contact me. Otherwise, drop me a line when you leave for Dardouen and I will meet you there, perhaps in disguise for our charade. Thank you for the coffee. I look forward to moving your money for you."

It was likely that selfsame coffee that had him itching to vault toward the outer duchy, but there were matters to tie up here in the capital before he quit the place. Without a proper timeline, it were best he got to it quickly and expeditiously.

The lawyer shook the huckster's hand; an unpleasant experience for one of them, at least. Some men have hands which are clammy despite the weather, but Valentin's were, if anything, the opposite. Too dry, too scratchy, the texture of a textile worker's leathery palms transported onto the weak grip of an academic. Still, if a bad handshake were the cost of a good deal of money...

"Es ist alles abgesprochen." Valentin said, withdrawing his hand, "I will contact you with details once I find lodging in the Duchy. It won't be long, unless they find me out and string me up beforehand, which I think is quite unlikely."

It was said in a lighthearted manner, like a jest or a joke, but reflected the deepest-seated fear in any Gelerian's heart. The Emperor sat his throne by dint of power alone, which of course made it useful for policies to exist which instilled a fear--verging on holy awe--of that power in every citizen. If anything, Valentin's years of service as part of the Imperial apparatus which fitted every man and woman for their metaphorical chains had helped desensitize him to that fear.

"Once I have the target's identity to hand, it will be child's play to design the mechanism by which justice must be done. I look forward to seeing it happen- and, of course, seeing the fabled just reward of a good deed."

"It was a pleasure to get to know you, of course; a shame that we shall not meet again."

Valentin gathered hat and scarf from one of the hooks outside the cafe's door and tipped the one politely to Aurin before throwing the other over his shoulders and binding it up. It did feel unfortunately like a noose in that moment... but if one was to always have a noose around their neck, better that it be held by their own hand than that of another. He trudged off down the street, breath trailing him in the cold Ashen morning like a plume of smoke.

Aurin had shaken plenty of hands and greased plenty of palms in his time. They said you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake, and perhaps he derived some insight from Valentin's. Perhaps that was bullshit; certainly, Aurin had altered his own handshake at times to give a different impression. He nodded agreement with the Kathalan, then barked a laugh at the lighthearted Common that was almost a joke - of course, the ginger was fluent in gallows humor.

"Auf Wiedersehen," he said politely with the faintest of smirks. But the smirk only deepened as he watched Valentin go. If Aurin hadn't reciprocated with his own earnest money, that didn't mean he didn't have the skinny on Valentin Valentin. He knew where he lived, where he worked, and quite a few other things. He sembled the man until he was out of sight and out of range, thinking perhaps someday he might be able to track him through the slipspace if necessary. He knew his aura well enough now, and the rune etched into it.

"The fuck we won't," he muttered, downed the last of his coffee, and departed.

There was work to be done.