Scouting the Superior (Solo)
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2021 6:08 am
Thread Title 
Searing 81, 121
It was early in the morning a few hours after Franky had closed up shop for the night. He didn't feel like going to bed just yet, and so, he'd gone for a walk. He'd been pondering a lot lately, feeling that hunger of his youth growing inside him. That yearning to want more, to want so much more, grew stronger every passing day he was in this land. He knew it was not home, nor would it ever be home to him. He knew he was an enemy here, and unless the city fell, he'd always be an enemy. So perhaps it was time to start thinking and acting like an enemy in a hostile land.
Tempting, it was a life he was more comfortable within anyways.
Franky's boots carried him across the cobblestones in the early morning fog, a cigarette lit and hanging from his mouth. If he were to give in, what would his goal be? It was easy when he was in the Imperial military, they were tasked with a land to take, and they did it. Every action they took, every choice they made, every thought they had, all were dedicated to taking that land. And when they succeeded, they were pointed at another land. It was a simple life. It was an effective life.
Might he take the Knob for his own? While it did obviously answer to the government, to the soldiers that enforced the laws in the streets, it had no leader of its own, officially or otherwise. Tempting. It would make him a target if he succeeded, and he'd have to defend it under siege for the remainder of his life. That sounded tiresome. Franky had been under siege plenty enough in his time at war. No, that wouldn't be enough at all.
Franky found himself leaning up against a wall in an alley, off the main road so as to not be pestered by any guards. If he were to do this, he'd have to do it the Imperial way. He'd have to take the entire city. But they'd never accept him as leader, regardless of how he would prevail. One doesn't simply change a people through force or conquer. So he'd have to take the city but without needing to rule it.
The Imperial way.
There was a thought. Take the city, gift it to the Imperium. It would potentially give them a foothold against the Free States, and he knew the Imperium operated solely on war. Zaichaer certainly wouldn't be an easy conquer, but if someone from the inside could weaken it, garner information, seize influence, until the Imperium could march on the city... It would be a long game, a dangerous game. But it stirred that younger beast within him. It was a game worth playing. Franky smiled, flicking his near dead cigarette into the road, just as a cart trundled by, pulled by a packhorse.
Franky looked up at the driver, "Good morning, sir."
The Hytori man nodded down at him, tipping his straw hat. "Good morning to you as well. Don't get many eyes here to watch my morning delivery." Franky could see that the man was older, probably not too terribly far from retiring age. Franky smiled, "I can go if you'd like, just burning off the midnight ale." Franky turned away, pausing, "Unless you'd like some help unloading. My body is still strong."
The man smiled, shrugging, [b]"Sure, but I can't give you any coin for it. Times aren't easy for an aging elf in Zaichaer."[/b]
Franky turned back, "No coin is needed, we need to help each other in this land."
The man parked his cart, hopping out and moved to the back of the cart. He untied the ropes that held down the tarp, as Franky walked up. "My name's Hortund. And who might my early morning friend be?"
The hobgoblin flashed a toothy grin, "My name's Franky."
The man smiled back and pulled the tarp from the cart, revealing a load of barrels. "You get those, I'll unlock the cellar."
Franky grabbed the first, feeling that familiar sloshing as he hiked it against his chest, following the man down the stony ramp to the cellar. The old man pulled a key from its chain on his neck and unlocked it. He opened the door with a squeak of the hinges and pushed inside. There he grabbed a lantern hanging on the wall, lit it, and led the way into the cellar. Franky recognized the look of it down here. He was led passed crates of bottles, sacks of food, and barrels of drink. Hortund pointed to the back room, "Unload the barrels into there. Be sure to rotate them with those that are already in place."
"Sure thing."
Franky carried it within as the man set the lantern on a crate to illuminate the way. Franky moved the barrels around, making space for the incoming arrivals. It was all stuff he'd done before, as he realized he was in the cellar of someone else's tavern. It was amusing. And so Franky hiked back and forth with the heavy barrels of ale, while the old man tended to his horse while smoking his pipe that puffed green. As Franky finished, he wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt, then returned to the man's side.
"The barrels are loaded up and rotated, the lantern snuffed and returned, and the cellar closed once more."
The man smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Franky. You've done an old man a kind service. I must return home now."
"You're most welcome, Hortund. I wondered if I might ride with you for a ways, I would like to bend your ear."
The elf pondered on this, "You may ride until the city gate, then I must ask you to let me travel in peace and security."
Franky nodded, moving around to the other side of the cart, pulling himself up into the seat. He leaned back as the elf took the reins and started the lurch forward. And so, Franky began. "I assume you to be a brewer. It is a safe assumption as I unloaded barrels of ale into the cellar of a tavern. And since you say that you are travelling beyond the city gates, I assume you to also be a farmer. You had no one helping you to unload, so I assume you to have few, if any, workers. Would you say these are fair?"
The old man grunted, "Yes, I suppose."
Franky nodded. "I also happen to run a tavern, over in the Knob. I have suppliers of ale, but I could always use more. So, with your permission, I would like to come to visit your farm some day soon. I would like to look over your operation, sample your products, and then perhaps we could discuss a deal."
The old man nodded, "It is a harmless request I suppose. But I'm not sure if a man of my age could handle an increase in production. My son and wife run the farm, and myself and my daughter run the brewery. Taking on another customer would put me into an early grave. I am happy supplying solely to the Red Dragon. They are steady and Helga has always been good to me."
Franky smiled, "That is very pragmatic of you. Perhaps I could help you more than you know, if only to further help myself. I am more than competent in running my own business, and if I can help to make yours more successful, then a partnership would only make my own more successful. Would you be open to having that discussion soon? No guarantees, all I ask is to have the chance to change your mind."
The old man sat in silence for a long while, as the city gate came close. "Okay. Do not come until midday though, we take our lunch then. We work hard, every day, all day."
Franky smiled and nodded, "Of course. I wish you a safe journey back home. I'll be seeing you soon."
The man nodded, and pulled up his hood as he slipped through the gates, waved through sleepily by the guards. Franky turned away, lighting up another cigarette, tossing the match into the road, and began the now much further walk back to his tavern, so he could open it up for the day. It would be a long day, on no sleep, but Franky had the feeling that it would most certainly be worth it. This was the first step to gifting Zaichaer to the Imperium.
Time Stamp
Searing 81, 121
It was early in the morning a few hours after Franky had closed up shop for the night. He didn't feel like going to bed just yet, and so, he'd gone for a walk. He'd been pondering a lot lately, feeling that hunger of his youth growing inside him. That yearning to want more, to want so much more, grew stronger every passing day he was in this land. He knew it was not home, nor would it ever be home to him. He knew he was an enemy here, and unless the city fell, he'd always be an enemy. So perhaps it was time to start thinking and acting like an enemy in a hostile land.
Tempting, it was a life he was more comfortable within anyways.
Franky's boots carried him across the cobblestones in the early morning fog, a cigarette lit and hanging from his mouth. If he were to give in, what would his goal be? It was easy when he was in the Imperial military, they were tasked with a land to take, and they did it. Every action they took, every choice they made, every thought they had, all were dedicated to taking that land. And when they succeeded, they were pointed at another land. It was a simple life. It was an effective life.
Might he take the Knob for his own? While it did obviously answer to the government, to the soldiers that enforced the laws in the streets, it had no leader of its own, officially or otherwise. Tempting. It would make him a target if he succeeded, and he'd have to defend it under siege for the remainder of his life. That sounded tiresome. Franky had been under siege plenty enough in his time at war. No, that wouldn't be enough at all.
Franky found himself leaning up against a wall in an alley, off the main road so as to not be pestered by any guards. If he were to do this, he'd have to do it the Imperial way. He'd have to take the entire city. But they'd never accept him as leader, regardless of how he would prevail. One doesn't simply change a people through force or conquer. So he'd have to take the city but without needing to rule it.
The Imperial way.
There was a thought. Take the city, gift it to the Imperium. It would potentially give them a foothold against the Free States, and he knew the Imperium operated solely on war. Zaichaer certainly wouldn't be an easy conquer, but if someone from the inside could weaken it, garner information, seize influence, until the Imperium could march on the city... It would be a long game, a dangerous game. But it stirred that younger beast within him. It was a game worth playing. Franky smiled, flicking his near dead cigarette into the road, just as a cart trundled by, pulled by a packhorse.
Franky looked up at the driver, "Good morning, sir."
The Hytori man nodded down at him, tipping his straw hat. "Good morning to you as well. Don't get many eyes here to watch my morning delivery." Franky could see that the man was older, probably not too terribly far from retiring age. Franky smiled, "I can go if you'd like, just burning off the midnight ale." Franky turned away, pausing, "Unless you'd like some help unloading. My body is still strong."
The man smiled, shrugging, [b]"Sure, but I can't give you any coin for it. Times aren't easy for an aging elf in Zaichaer."[/b]
Franky turned back, "No coin is needed, we need to help each other in this land."
The man parked his cart, hopping out and moved to the back of the cart. He untied the ropes that held down the tarp, as Franky walked up. "My name's Hortund. And who might my early morning friend be?"
The hobgoblin flashed a toothy grin, "My name's Franky."
The man smiled back and pulled the tarp from the cart, revealing a load of barrels. "You get those, I'll unlock the cellar."
Franky grabbed the first, feeling that familiar sloshing as he hiked it against his chest, following the man down the stony ramp to the cellar. The old man pulled a key from its chain on his neck and unlocked it. He opened the door with a squeak of the hinges and pushed inside. There he grabbed a lantern hanging on the wall, lit it, and led the way into the cellar. Franky recognized the look of it down here. He was led passed crates of bottles, sacks of food, and barrels of drink. Hortund pointed to the back room, "Unload the barrels into there. Be sure to rotate them with those that are already in place."
"Sure thing."
Franky carried it within as the man set the lantern on a crate to illuminate the way. Franky moved the barrels around, making space for the incoming arrivals. It was all stuff he'd done before, as he realized he was in the cellar of someone else's tavern. It was amusing. And so Franky hiked back and forth with the heavy barrels of ale, while the old man tended to his horse while smoking his pipe that puffed green. As Franky finished, he wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt, then returned to the man's side.
"The barrels are loaded up and rotated, the lantern snuffed and returned, and the cellar closed once more."
The man smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Franky. You've done an old man a kind service. I must return home now."
"You're most welcome, Hortund. I wondered if I might ride with you for a ways, I would like to bend your ear."
The elf pondered on this, "You may ride until the city gate, then I must ask you to let me travel in peace and security."
Franky nodded, moving around to the other side of the cart, pulling himself up into the seat. He leaned back as the elf took the reins and started the lurch forward. And so, Franky began. "I assume you to be a brewer. It is a safe assumption as I unloaded barrels of ale into the cellar of a tavern. And since you say that you are travelling beyond the city gates, I assume you to also be a farmer. You had no one helping you to unload, so I assume you to have few, if any, workers. Would you say these are fair?"
The old man grunted, "Yes, I suppose."
Franky nodded. "I also happen to run a tavern, over in the Knob. I have suppliers of ale, but I could always use more. So, with your permission, I would like to come to visit your farm some day soon. I would like to look over your operation, sample your products, and then perhaps we could discuss a deal."
The old man nodded, "It is a harmless request I suppose. But I'm not sure if a man of my age could handle an increase in production. My son and wife run the farm, and myself and my daughter run the brewery. Taking on another customer would put me into an early grave. I am happy supplying solely to the Red Dragon. They are steady and Helga has always been good to me."
Franky smiled, "That is very pragmatic of you. Perhaps I could help you more than you know, if only to further help myself. I am more than competent in running my own business, and if I can help to make yours more successful, then a partnership would only make my own more successful. Would you be open to having that discussion soon? No guarantees, all I ask is to have the chance to change your mind."
The old man sat in silence for a long while, as the city gate came close. "Okay. Do not come until midday though, we take our lunch then. We work hard, every day, all day."
Franky smiled and nodded, "Of course. I wish you a safe journey back home. I'll be seeing you soon."
The man nodded, and pulled up his hood as he slipped through the gates, waved through sleepily by the guards. Franky turned away, lighting up another cigarette, tossing the match into the road, and began the now much further walk back to his tavern, so he could open it up for the day. It would be a long day, on no sleep, but Franky had the feeling that it would most certainly be worth it. This was the first step to gifting Zaichaer to the Imperium.
