Thread: Family Rivalries (Alexander and rwinrich)

The man sometimes felt a little guilty about his role here. His little setup in the marketplace was innocent enough, trading trinkets and forged goods. But that wasn't where the money was, no, not at all. Even right here in the king's capital, there were the roots of insurrection, and with a disgruntled populace, came a want for arms and weapons. None of that was on display here, unless perhaps you wanted to count a ceremonial dagger, sharp at the tip but otherwise with no edge to speak of, a glorified needle. But he had connections, he knew the smuggling routes, the sewer paths, the guards at the gates to bribe, and which officials were sympathetic to the cause. It was funny how somebody's role was all a matter of perspective. Sympathy to the cause was synonymous with treason, it just depended which side of the king's favor you fell on. This one didn't like the ruler, no, but he focused more on the prosperity of the situation, rather than the politics. There were a couple... labor issues, it might be best to say, that were affecting him. He scratched at his chin, a tiny bit of stubble forming on it, but never much, always shaved within three or four days. His hand continued a lazy stroke along his neck, bumping into a long strand of hair, very long indeed. There was something that just felt right, about letting his jet black hair grow out. It wasn't always the most wise to his annoyance, he had to tuck much of it back in a band to keep it from brushing against the ground. After all, he wasn't that high up from the ground. He got to look up at most of his customers, his bright hazel eyes peering into theirs, whether he was in front of his stall trying to pull people in with a wild sales pitch, or sitting on a stool behind it concluding a deal. Fae weren't known for their stature, any more than dwarves were known for their even temperaments, or humans for their patience. That last one was what smarted most of all, and led him to his current situation. The king favored hearty workers with strong backs, the builders, the smiths, and so on. It was unusual but true that a simple tasker like a hauler had some respect here, even as beasts of burden pulled carts through the street ten times a man's load. Burton didn't have those things, at least, not usually. Fae had many tricks up their hands, and he preferred to be none too obvious with his own. Hey, Burton. You-know-what's a-comin'. A deep voice broke him out of his daydream, as a stocky man, taller than him but smaller than most humans, waddled towards him. King's caravan. Might be time to clean up and clear out for the day. His friend Mullo was always worrying, as if there was something that they could catch him on in his wares. Fae weren't that stupid, at least, not the ones like him. There's even something special about the carriage this time. It's got a different-colored cover. It was a completely different cloth cover over the carriage, in fact, carrying a completely different person, but with neither of them being attendants at the palace, they wouldn't have known much. Anything escorted by knights was bad news for this pair. Burton sighed. So you're going to run away, just because you've got a witch's cauldron somewhere in your pile of junk? He questioned his friend. The response was Mullo's usual boast. Not just any witch. Mayavra's own cauldron. It took the king 6 years to clear her out. With Mullo's oafish face, nobody would suspect him of performing any witchcraft with it, but keeping a relic of a king's sworn enemy, well, let's just say Burton would have left it in a ditch somewhere, no matter how valuable it may be. Her ghost might come looking for somebody to haunt, and god forbid it be anybody but the king, somebody stealing her stuff might be a good secondary candidate. Also, y'know, the royal executioner might take your hand off just for having anything of hers.