Patronizing trialogue

I recorded the dialogue:

——I——

Daag sits, you sit… Papak sits as well, conspicuously scraping the heavy chair as he does. You can only see a dark silhouette of him in the candlelight. No features at all.

Go on, dive straight into the bit. No need to talk about the swamp thing at all. He’ll take it up he wants to. Pretending like he doesn’t want to hear you tell of it.

An ugly little thought worms its way into your head. Sweats break out as you remember what it felt like having a bossy… thing in your head. Hearing voices that are not really there.

——You——

I find considerable difficulty in starting the discussion. Drugged stupor, perhaps, or something else. Can it be fear of what I might find out from my past. I lick my lips feverishly and cast a quick glance towards Papak. From what I can learn of his expression I know that I need to act soon or he starts making trouble.

— Thank you for receiving me, Master. I excuse this intrusion but I haven’t really been myself lately and I have faced multiple problems. Problems that have originated from different sources.

A notable break here. Perhaps too notable even. A man of his intellect must have understood it easier that I meant him without saying it. I continue still.

— But I am here to exhibit an item I brought back from my arduous journey.

I take the simple pouch with a satin interior and peel the crystal from under it. It is a dark lump in the candlelight, not quite as big as the original but almost at the same color. The counterfeiter did a great job with it.

— A cult object, most rare indeed. Do we strike with the normal deal, ten percent for you and you can organize a meeting with the buyer?

A side glance towards Papak reveals him signaling me to continue, to ask for more. But I dare not, not yet at least.

——I——

Daag watches you for a moment, but then seems to shrug his shoulders and lean forward to observe the stone better in the candle-light. He reaches for the stone, expecting to examine it to get a sense for its nature. You can see no immediate recognition in him, but his eyes do stray between you and the jewel, as if expecting a trap.

——You——

I instinctively pull it a bit backwards but interject immediately.

— It shouldn’t be touched with bare hands. As you see I have it wrapped in this satin. Trust me, it is for a reason. It is a cult object with …. attributes.

I shudder. Even though this is not the jewel that is not to be touched, I am pretty sure I can fake the feeling well enough. I have enough experience of what it means.

——I——

— Oh, a magical artefact… Daag muses. — Does it have a name, then? What is its provenance?

He seems willing to entertain your pitch for now.

——You——

— You know I am not a man of magics or ancient lore. I do not know of its origins, but I know it is a relic of a time most inhuman. A pure artefact of evil and doom. You must know already that I brought it with me back from those cursed jungles. You must know because you sent Fox there after me.

Papak probably feels I am rushing things. I know I am rushing things. Blood in my veins is rushing anyway. Perhaps he could blurt something that could set some light into the dark spots of my past.

——I——

— Oh, well, Daag intones to reserve his place in the conversation. You can actually see him relax a bit when you acknowledge what you know. It takes him no longer than that to seize the topic: — You wouldn’t happen to have brought back anything else from Kiho aside from the gem? One jewel, rather than several? I take it that you met the expedition I sent to aid in your venture… Left them behind, though, which surprises me. Did you know that your old friend, Papak Vicente, led the expedition? I would have expected you to return with the rest, truly.

Apparently your look has the right mix of incredulity and impatience, as Daag deigns to continue:

— Fox, yes. You know how she likes to take on bounties. See the world, match her wits with exotics. I might have told her to make sure you help Papak’s crew find the jewels. I would have thought that you would be happy to see a friendly face out there. No need to look so smitten, surely? You two have so much in common, and you have to admit that if I wanted you to actually listen to Papak, they needed somebody who could make you listen.

Either Daag’s fucking with you, or he really has no clue whatsoever what actually happened in the Jeweled Swamp. At least he’s smart enough to guess that your encounter with Fox wasn’t exactly amiable.

——You——

It seems almost impossible not to vomit everything I have to him. Even though I know what he is. Druggedness plays a part, surely, but it is not everything. One thing I know for sure is the fact that my body language doesn’t betray me. I need not to tell lies even though I am not telling everything.

— I was lucky to get back alive. Part of me at least did. With this jewel and nothing more. At least nothing that can be bargained for money. Do you know anything of the priests of that particular sect that I was following when I left? You must have made the research yourself as well, being able to send those escorts after me anyway.

——I——

— Hmm, sounds like those jeweled ferns were a miss after all… Daag muses aloud. You can see how he doesn’t really care. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t need to work himself up about a lost expedition. It probably was just another power play for him. And he expects you to forgive and forget, just like that.

—That stone, though, I’m sure we can move it. An exotic item, going to take a few – his musing is cut short by the creak of the door, and a slice of light cutting into the room behind Daag’s chair.

The parlor beyond is awash in light, making you blink momentarily. Daag half-turns at the interruption as well.

— Now now, Sit-Fence; what’s keeping you sitting here in the dark? Either send the fellow on his way or introduce us! We still have much to discuss, you and I.

The interruption comes from a large man. You can mostly see a silhouette against the light, but the way the imposing figure wields a crystal goblet, and the way light reflects off his dark velvet doublet, you can see that this is a man used to commanding respect.

Monster roll: ‘1’

Hero dice: 4, 4, 2, 6, 2
Monster dice: 4, 4, 3, 1
The Match continues.

——You——

Backing towards the corner is instinctive. Nothing I can do to stop it really. Happens as automatically as breathing or heart beat. Luckily I manage to keep my hand-blades sheathed still.

Nonetheless it doesn’t look good. Me holding the jewel up in one hand, covered half-way with satin cloth. Wild look in my eyes. Wild look in Papak’s eyes as well.

Better let Daag hande this. It is his manor, anyway.

——I——

The chair gives out indecorous screeching as you jump up. Daag looks at you and then follows suit, standing up himself.

— Very well, honorable Vansittart; why not introduce you, indeed? Daag says, stepping out of the way as the man takes a few more steps into the room. Daag does not give out panic signals, but then the man has ice in his veins; probably commits to death every morning like a philosopher of old.

As you would expect of him, Daag doesn’t stumble in his words:

— On my left hand here we have the honorable master of the household Gabaldon, Vansittart the first. His gracious guesting at the Sunken house has been so rudely interrupted by a man of his own merit, one Derak the Puppet, a titled endsman of the City and a newly-minted venture captain recently returned from the distant Bagsea. Derak’s recent venture brought about certain business concerns that he felt urgent enough to bring them to me at my home, at night.

The newcomes comes up to the table, and the candle-light. He slides his fingers upon the smooth, expensive tabletop instinctually, as most do when coming upon such finely-crafted furniture. His hands are large and hairy, the skin Longax-pale. As he grins, his teeth are unnaturally white and straight for a middle-aged man comfortable in his strength.

— Oh, this is Derak the Easterner? Tonight proves fortunate indeed. I am in your debt, Daag Sit-Fence, for I, too, have some business with the man, even as we have been missing each other recently. He has proven surprisingly hard to pin down, which I suppose must be expected of the pre-eminent endsman of the City.

—Well… Daag begins, and it is most unnatural to hear him cut into the conversation with care, respectful of the other speaker. — In that case, I suppose I should invite both of you gentlemen into the parlor?

——You——

Longax family indeed. I feel like a rat put in a maze that is too difficult for him to navigate out of. Still I might try. I bow with almost perfect form (I am still holding the jewel in my right hand, although I instinctively bend it down and behind my right hip as I do so, to take it out of the immediate spotlight).

— Honored Sir. It is with most regret that I have had to postpone your gracious invitation. As I told in my letter I am still unable to carry out my business as usual. I can’t hold it off from a Honored Gentleman like you: an utterly failed expedition, partially due to outside forces that were pitted against me. A glance towards Daag. Perhaps I can make the two cats eat each other and thus leave the mouse unscathed.

I have to find a way to put the jewel out of sight gracefully before entering the parlor. Perhaps when one of them speaks next time…

I don’t see Papak in the chair. It feels weird. Where did he go?

——I——

The parlor is well-fitted, comfortable and cozy, a place where men of taste may discourse in peace while sampling the finest of amusements at their pleasure. Rather the opposite of the milieus where you’re used to seeing Daag: to you (and you suspect, to most of his business associates) he is a street tavern man. Flanked by a bodyguard or two at all times, yes, and with a secretary on his tail, but nevertheless similar to any old man nursing his pazzine or beer in one of the Crook watering holes. Dressed sparsely and honestly, without these robes and ruffles. This is all a rather different place, and evidently one where honorable men might see fit to rest their backsides on stuffed-soft chairs and divans.

You stumble as you enter, realizing as you do the leaden weight that is starting to envelop your limbs. Whatever the alchemy of your drug load tonight, it seems to be wearing off, leaving you in the lurch at a bad time. Perhaps merely embarrassing, perhaps something more. The best you can do for the moment is to move up to a deeply-backed armchair and lurch down, crossing your hands over the crystal on your lap.

— Regarding the earlier matter we were speaking of, Daag, the man Vansittart starts talking like the master of the house. — While it is not entirely unrelated to my ideas regarding master Derak here, I would nevertheless prefer to hold these matters separate for now. These things take time, and the role master Derak would be to play here requires certain finesse.

Daag merely nods meekly, sitting down on a chaise that to your amazement is actually smaller than the massive chair Vansittart has chosen for his own. And then Vansittart turns his infectious grin on you. Your eyes feel pretty bleary by now, but it is easy to see him revealed for what he is: a hungry, up-and-coming prince of the tradeways, eager to play the game of the senatorial seats. Who knows, maybe he wants your discreet hand on the dice cup in the coming elections; it would not be the first time you have participated in those games.

— Master Derak? Are you there? This is no time to fall asleep, Vansittart says and gives you a bump on the shoulder. — We should keep this meeting of the minds short, for master Derak seems to be losing his attention.

He leans towards you in conspirational whisper, even if there is no way Daag wouldn’t hear what he has to say:

— Presenting the crystal to me would be to your health, master Derak. You know you took it out of turn. Just some friendly advice. A show of good will, if you will.

——You——

I try to keep my eyes fixed on the man. To keep my wits about me through the haze. Perhaps this is why Papak is gone, the Bending Spirit must be wearing off.

— Honored Sir. I am sorry about my state just now. I ran into some kind of a trouble just recently, and disposing them caused a bit of consequences. If we are to commerce, then it is good for you to know, that I am capable of many things when forced.

Got to play boldly. As boldly as I can. I order a drink and mix some Bending Spirit into it. Good way to put the jewel out of sight in the meantime. I try not to look too hasty, even though I battle against falling asleep. Try to be careful with the dosing of the Spirit as well …. I am next to useless being overly jumpy.

— Honored Sir. You were interested in the jewel. Do you know how I came to be in the possession of it? How much would you be willing to pay for it? You know that a lowly tool such as I, as much as I am an expert, operate through currency alone.

——I——

Seeing you function, Vansittart lets go of your arm and leans back. He grins at your words, understanding the greedy premise.

— You misunderstand me, master Derak, he says, picking up his own crystal goblet. — What you possess there is but a triffle to the concerns of the virtuous men who rule this City. I will not haggle for it, as I expect you to relinquish it willingly – or perhaps in a bout of stupor, considering your condition. Either way, you should be setting your sights higher than that, for there are new ventures about, ones that have the potential to brush off any defeats a man might have experienced in foreign lands.

Better to keep your mouth shut right now, while waiting for the spirit’s updraft. Mumbing something unintelligible would just make you seem all the more vulnerable.

Vansittart turns to Daag then.

— Master Daag, it is obvious that I should have come to you first thing when my attention was drawn by this remarkable man. You have a working history with him, after all. No doubt you understand well the best ways to talk to him.

— Well, I do like to think that Derak and I have a long and friendly working relationship, yes, Daag agrees readily, seemingly willing to talk himself up when given the opportunity. — I have to say, though, that I would prefer for you to let me work things out with the Puppet. He is a shy and reticent man who works best with considerate care. An idiot savant, if you know what I mean. There are other endsmen, some would say better ones, if you need an agreeable person full of initiative.

— You mean the Thousand Blades woman? None else surely matches his accomplishments.

— Well yes, although it is true that she is out of the City at the moment.

— No matter to me either way; the very idea of a female assassin is ludicrous, and regardless unsuited to the task at hand. My mind is made up, and the Puppet shall have the honor of wielding his blades to my design.

You’re seeing vague shapes of color amassing beyond the chairs of the two men. They discuss you as if you weren’t even there, and the drugs – or is it the wine – are making you feel ill.

— Yes, Vansittart considers rubbing his fine-shaved chin. — I think that you both should attend my coming masque, at the end of the week. I won’t hesitate to admit that it is mainly an opportunity for like-minded men to meet in the security of my house. Meet and plan.

He looks at you with something approximating disgust.

— Master Derak may not be of a presentable rank per se, but if you, master Daag, were to choose him as your personal escort, decorum might well be kept. It might be the most pleasant circumstance to go over the plan in some detail.

I’m cool with stopping here. Your Go next.