Legend of Ransera

Valentin Valentin did not react to the engineered appearance of Darus of Haqs, but nobody watching could know whether this was because he did not recognize Aurin or because he did not intend to react. The lawyer's brow furrowed as he finished perusing the page on the log he'd asked for, and only once the room was empty and the reading was finished did he slam the ledger together between two palms, looking entirely exasperated.

"Even the swindles are second-rate here." the lawyer complained, "Even if I were writing these during my 'nightly ablutions', I wouldn't cut the exact same weight from every bale. Zum Donnerwetter! If this were the city I would drag these farmers before the magistrates myself."

He stood, perhaps propelled more by his acute annoyance than any sense of decorum, and tossed the book into a pile, shaking his head.

"They are fortunate that I have thornier hedgehogs to brush." Valentin turned to face "Darius", frowning as he looked Aurin's outfit up and down, then nodding slowly. "Awful. A truly tasteless ensemble! It's a generation out of date, the fit is all wrong, and an expensive foreign thread when you could have bought the like for half the price at home. You'll be the envy of the local gentry."

Looking considerably more cheery than he had at the start of his rant, the lawyer returned to the desk he'd commandeered, pushing various documents and ill-bound books aside without care. At the bottom were a pile of papers he himself had brought- notes concerning the various notables present in the duchy's capital, and most especially those connected to the decedent whose wealth they so surreptitiously sought.

"So, Darus, what's your in? Doubtless you've the money to show up on the scene, but you'll need a story to draw attention and wiggle your way into the Allstead house. Have you an angle?"

Valentin, of course, had never practiced the criminal arts himself- but he'd seen these things play out, again and again, on a hundred different stages. At every level it was simply a confidence game, for if you allowed your scheme to be committed to numbers and paper, even an idiot would soon realize skullduggery was afoot. Doubtless Aurin knew that, but he was curious to see just how the man's mind worked.

"Ugh!" he commiserated in character. "Anything worth doing is worth doing right, and it is so difficult to find good help these days." But he didn't look at Valentin. Rather, he examined the fingernails of one hand, the thumbnail scraping at one of the others under his critical eye.

When Valentin turned his eye to the ensemble, Darus turned for him. The man was a peacock.

"Thanks, it has pockets." He shoved his hands into them to prove this point.

"Oh, you make it all sound so tawdry," he complained. "I don't have an angle. I have a date. With a friend of Herr Schwager. At a party. He'll be there. Soon enough I'll be balls deep in their affairs. I'm too silly and inconsequential for them to worry about... loose lips sink ships and all that, hey?" His eyes dipped to the papers the lawyer pulled from the bottom of his work station. "Are those for me? Homework? I'd adore some light reading."

While in another life, Darus was Aurin Kavafis, impresario of a legitimate theater, both Darus and Aurin would claim they were just the money men, not the artistes. That said, there was a verve to their bullshit. They were a bullshit artist, and sadly, Valentin was the audience. All the other people who encountered the down-on-his-luck merchant were merely players and pawns.

But Valentin would be duly impressed when his goals were achieved and, even if he didn't have a taste for the elegance of Aurin's confidence games, Aurin would walk away with quite a bit of Gelerian currency and the thought of that had him at half-mast in his tight pants.

"Homework? Now you sound like my colleagues, complaining rather than rejoicing when Fortune reveals some advantage to them." The other man's words were arranged like a joke, but his tone seemed genuine. Then again, Valentin always seemed to deliver jests and true complaints alike in exactly the same manner.

The government inspector walked to the window, taking note of the dingy patina of grime in the corner of each glass panel. He might have frowned with displeasure, if that were not already encompassed by his habitual scowl. It seemed that none of the staff here took the barest hint of pride in their service to the Imperium; a fault upon the management. One could not expect the clerks to enter service already enthused, but it seemed that none of the senior officers of the city were interested in teaching them the rewards of diligence.

Valentin shook his head brusquely, pushing away such thoughts. He was not here as an agent of His Imperial Majesty's Government, whatever he might have told these terrified functionaries. He was here to swindle a criminal for a great deal of money. That, and...

"Do you suppose it will be enough?" he asked suddenly, his voice ever-so-slightly higher in register, "To satisfy the- well, to satisfy the notion of justice, I suppose."

Obviously the thought had first occurred to him when he'd met the Kalzasaern man because of the tales bouncing around the Imperium of the rebirth and exploits of Arcas. The whole of the dogma was in something of a state of flux over that, of course- for many months, it had been a discouraged topic, but then when the Emperor had unveiled the armored demigod, a sudden symbol of the empire's righteousness. Now the man and demigod were gone again, and there were only whispers about why.

But what stuck in Valentin's mind was not the distantly-glimpsed face of some prince of the peacock kingdom, but the pleading face of the spectre in the archives, the final whispers of the decedent whose money they were chasing. She'd wanted something, but could it really be as banal as just taking the ill-gotten gains from her murderers? Perhaps...

"Nevermind that, stupid question. It will take me only about a week to set up the accounts so that once we have the money, it can be quickly transferred to your associates back in the city. I daren't stay longer than a few months, myself. Can you part the fools from their money so quickly?"

An eyebrow rose at the slight, but it hardly pricked. Aurin was a workhorse when in pursuit of something he wanted; the mask he had crafted for this business, however, was a merchant who pampered himself and so he was acting the part. In any case, it didn't take a sembling trick to know the frustrations weren't with Aurin but rather with those of his counterparts here in the outskirts of the Imperium who didn't share his diligent spirit. The confidence man could understand that, and so he remained unruffled. One of them had to be.

"I cannot in good conscience give you a proper timetable until I have met the players," he admitted. "I could part the fools from some money quite quickly, but the amount you desire, enough to hurt and to balance the scales, that might take longer. And I haven't yet discovered whether this man is a fool. So far, after all, he has evaded notice from all except your critical eye." He paused for an inhalation.

"But I will share all intelligence with you so that we can, together, determine the best course of action." After all, if Valentin had wanted him to just handle it, he would have sent him to Valensier alone. "Customer satisfaction guaranteed."

He winked, insufferable as Darus of Haqs.

"And I have met the so-called god of justice. Let us just say that even his vaunted sense of the word is narrow and self-serving. Justice is a subjective concept, my dear Valentin. I will ask you at the end of all of this whether you believe it has been served or not."

"As you say, Darus, as you say." Valentin sighed, putting all his literature down on the table. "They account pride greatest of all sins, you know. Pride? Feh! It is self-absorption which ranks highest. These people slot like gears into the machinery of things--society, economy, law, justice--but they have only their own good in mind, and they gum everything up!"

A little rich from the bureaucrat who had just stolen confidential tax information in the interest of a payday? Well, yes, obviously. But hypocrisy was a venial sin of poor taste; it could not make his righteous complaint unfounded.

"Speaking of self-interest, those clerks cannot still be so confounded by my directions, can they? By every Divine, they've no standards for hiring in this provincial hell."

Valentin Valentin made towards the door, as if to chase after them himself, before pausing. It was not easy to maintain a façade which was so near to his own essential truth. Every time he postured outrage about the poor workings of the government here, he found himself steaming in truth. He'd never been an actor, but he had expected his years of toadying before the courtiers of the Imperial functions to suffice for training. Evidently not.

"Listen. Let's meet again after you've made your inquiries and inroads, shall we? I think it's best for now that I cement by alibis, rather than blunder about trying to gather new intelligence.
I know, at least, what I'm good for."

With that, the lawyer exited the room in earnest, intent on harassing and haranguing the clerks before they could find hidey-holes and grow complacent therein. Better to catch them and put them on the defensive than let any of them collect themselves enough to remember that he and Darius had been in the same room for a long time. It was most essential to the plot, after all, that nobody catch on to the fact that they had ever been plotting.

"As you wish, Master Valentin," he said smoothly, amused but mostly hiding it. While not classically educated, he had heard people argue about sin and vice. After all, he had grown up among murderers, thieves, and whores, managed the Velvet Cabaret, and the like. He didn't opine on the subject, however, lest he further ruffle Valentin's feathers.

The man was playing his part almost too well, and Aurin wouldn't be around to perform any sort of damage control so it were best they parted for the nonce as he suggested. Thus, if anyone grew suspicious of Valentin, they wouldn't be connected and it wouldn't damage his chances of discovering the data they required.

"Best of luck!" he called after the retreating man. "It seems as though they are trying to be unhelpful here."

Darus of Haqs put on a show of waiting impatiently for a while, and then he departed in a huff. He didn't need any information the clerks were likely to bring him, and being difficult with them was in character. Soon enough, he would be at the party, charming Herr Schwager and hopefully growing closer to the connections he needed to fulfill his side of this bargain with the Imperial tax collector.

It certainly seemed as though it were more complicated than anticipated, and so it might be a long game. It was a good thing Aurin liked to play.