Legend of Ransera

By now, Darus' misfortunes were well known, but after escaping Dardouen, he had returned.

His attire was carefully worn so as to walk that tightrope of being fine enough to impress but shabby enough that he was accepted as one of their own, as some sort of temporarily inconvenienced millionaire. In any case, he had managed to turn a small profit on his previous misfortune, and had returned to what he called 'my dear Dardouen friends' with news from Gel'Grandal and beyond, with financial deals to share, gossip, snuff, and all sorts of things to make his dear Dardouen friends act the part.

The job was turning out to be more monumental a task than he had anticipated when Valentin first approached him, but he didn't mind playing a long game. In fact, they tended to be the most stimulating, the most rewarding, and his interest in their endeavor hadn't waned a skotch.

If he was a bit of a dandy, well, he also managed to travel in these benighted times without losing his life, so it was assumed he had a little steel in his backbone, a little skill.

"Ah, Valensier," he was saying to someone as he downed his wine. "You would think people in the capital would be the height of sophistication and class, but..." He sighed. "They are merely wealthy. There's a difference, you see. Even their educations... I do believe their tutors weren't allowed to correct them. So many so well-educated and yet so stupid." He laughed. "Why..." And then he launched into an extended, inventive story about someone or another. They might even have been based upon someone real. Certainly, Aurin spent enough time in Gel'Grandal anymore that he had met people and heard of others.

"Oh, don't mind if I do!" He snagged another glass of wine, depositing the empty upon the passing tray. "Hm, I suppose I will have to teach everyone the fox trot..."

If his eyes strayed toward the doors, it was because he, at least, was hoping to see Herr Allstead.

"But I don't want to share you," he complained, having been flirting with Gertrude for several minutes at this point. All the same, she was pulling him toward his desired target for the evening and he let himself be led. If he hadn't known better, he might have wondered whether she had sembled his intentions and reacted to the same. Or perhaps he had nudged her with an intrusive thought. One never knew with confidence men.

While she engaged with the man of the hour, Darus made a show of smoothing his clothes while in fact he was paying attention to the minutiae of his presence and appearance.

Rather than reciprocate with unctuous charm, however, he pulled a face of affront, gasping.

"How very dare you, ser?!" he asked, just loud enough and strident enough that those nearest them might hear, causing a ripple effect of attention. Darus glanced to Gertrude as if offended he should call her a hag, or perhaps, as he glanced back at the man, he was offended at his homeland being called a backwater. But even as attention began to gather, he instantly dropped the ruse and beamed at the man.

"A jest," he assured him. "Although Gertie is lovely enough for the capital, I think, and Haqs is no Zaichaer, nor a Gel'Grandal. Indeed, I have business in both cities, but I do not begrudge the more rural gems my attention." He winked at the woman, as she was as much a gem as the pocketbooks of the populace to his mind.

"But it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You are, as I understand it, the biggest fish in this little pond." He made a point of being unsure whether to bow or to shake hands, and settled for a continued smile. "Do you also seek the more exciting waters of metropolises?"

"Call me ill bred," he said, "just so long as you don't stop calling upon me." He smiled, apologetic after a moment. "I am not everyone's cup of tea, sir; occasionally, I am a shot of harder spirits. And in my line of work, leaving an impression is often more important than whether 'tis a good one or not. Zerapesh, aye; Zythura, nay." The last was for Gertrude's benefit.

"Well," he continued after Allstead had said his peace, raising his glass, "a crook and a roustabout are more fun at a party. And... as the Kathar are in their kennel for the night, I will admit that I find some of the Imperial tax code rather onerous compared to other nation-states'. So, perhaps I am a crook and a roustabout myself." Certainly, he had made a cuckold of Gertrude's husband by now, but that wasn't--insofar as he was aware--a crime, but rather an entertaining secret.

Darus wondered if perhaps the Empress were comely and whether cuckolding the Emperor were a crime. Then he wondered whether there even was an Empress at the moment and, if so, whether she were of child-bearing age. He wouldn't kick a silver vixen out of his bed, but he did draw a line at child-brides. Such was one ethical standard this unethical fellow held to.

Per the man's request, Darus told a story. It had elements of truth co-opted from one of his misadventures in Antiris, names changed to protect the innocent and the guilty, and embellished upon for effect. A good story always had some embellishment; call it lying or call it artistic license.

In any case, he did his best to set the man at ease and perhaps give the impression that he could be pulled into nefarious shenanigans. He could, but one just couldn't say so out loud and plainly.

Darus certainly recognized something in Allstead--perhaps a kindred spirit. From time to time, the man might have caught a calculating glance from the ginger-headed man, but it was less predatory than considering, as if wondering whether they could get into some crookery together. It was a sort of flirtation, though perhaps not the sort of flirtation he had with Gertrude.

He beamed, preening like any fop at the admiration.

"Ahhhh, alas," he said, commiserating with Gertrude. "I have also made some investment in Zaichaer. They were certainly unready for the Eclipse on the heels of there other troubles. I had thought the Emperor would move in, annex in order to help, but I suppose the Imperium needed to see it to its own borders. Do let me know what you've lost and I can make inquiries the next time I pass through." He patted her hand with his.

"Varying degrees of terrible, varying degrees." He nodded. "To the point where the Order of Reconciliation began recruiting witches if you could believe it! Strange bedfellows, strange indeed. But their Kindred druid witches... well, they know how to make things grow, and so they haven't starved, though this unending winter continues. Do you know, they say there is a new god of winter? This is not how I would go about enticing followers were I a suddenly deified Darus." He laughed at his own sally. "Or perhaps next year we will have dreadful doomsday winter cultist types to deal with too... oof..." That needed a good strong pull from his drink.

"But much seems to rely upon the availability of moon- and dawnstones, and the government's willingness to move resources to protect and succor their people. I have tried to do my share of good while also turning a profit. Not profiteering, but nobody else is going to look after poor Darus but Darus himself."

Darus laughed genuinely at Frederick's joke. He would have to repackage it for the witches themselves; some of them had senses of humor. Well, they all had sense of humor; it trended toward gallows humor, which made sense given that the rift and the eclipse were just the latest trials and tribulations for them. He wondered idly where Imogen had gotten herself off to and, of course, what she was likely to look like naked because hew as a terrible person.

"How are they spinning the apotheosis of an Avialae?" he asked. He knew, of course, but was curious how far the propaganda machine actually reached, how degraded the signal became farther away from the capital and even lesser capitals within the Imperium. "Had him on a collar for a moment, I think, and then traded him to the divine Solunarian seraglio or so I heard?"

But when Frederick gave him The Look™, all other questions became lower priority.

"Well, we needn't spoil Gertie's night," Darus ventured, "but at some point, either later tonight or at a later date, we could share a drink, a smoke, and a business venture. Or policy. I haven't the slightest political power here, but I do have some idea how policy dictates pecuniary interests."

His smile was, of course, avaricious, but he was honest about that. He liked travel, adventure, and making money; that was to be lauded in a merchant.

"And Gertie... I'm going to have to teach you how to listen to boring local news to glean the bits and bobs that might prove salaciously entertaining or at least profitable." He winked.

"What say you, Master Frederick?"