Legend of Ransera

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.

"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.

"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."

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..."