Poisonous Fox

The Mercenary Quarter teemed with even more life as we left the training yard than when we had arrived. Almost overwhelming, especially when considered to the months spent in the wastes in solitude. Around us as we went, a cacophony of haggling and clanging metal surrounded us.

I was following Esmerelda as she weaved her way through the throngs of people, their lecherous gazes falling upon her like hungry wolves stalking their prey.

She paid the lechers no heed, however. She merely continued pushing her way through the press of the crowd. Esmerelda did warn me though, "Keep close, Jackie." Her hazel-hued eyes briefly met mine before she continued pushing through the open plaza. "We don't want to get separated. Not after last night, anyways."

At first, I thought she was serious, and she might have been, but any serious tone was lost when she then added dramatically, "After all, we wouldn't want such a chaste young woman such as yourself at the mercies of the wider world."

That had been awfully theatrical. And the way she had emphasized chaste... I frowned at her backside.

"This is about Sir Kate, isn't it?" I asked dryly.

She tsked loudly enough to be heard. "And you didn't even give the poor girl your name!"

Esmerelda was giving mixed signals here. I decided to follow my gut, and in this case, my gut recommended a quip.

"The lady is hardly poor," I retorted. "Part of the upper-crust, really."

"Which is why you should consider the opportunity," Esmerelda responded practically.

Of course, from Esmerelda's perspective, that would make sense.

I merely shook my head and let her have the parting word. Because earlier, her advice had been sound about the plaza. We were under the watchful gazes of several down-on-their-luck sorts. So to avoid looking like bait, I kept tightly to Esmerelda as I followed.

Curious watchers eyed us with suspicion, their faces hidden beneath the shadows of front-brimmed hats, caps, and hoods. With every step, I could feel the weight of their gaze heavy upon me, but I steeled myself, focusing only on the task at hand. Which was what? Esmerelda had never told me exactly what our errands entailed.

When Esmerelda headed towards one of the shop-fronts, I figured out at least what one of her errands were to be.

The shop was called, 'Quarter's Quarry: Shelves of Weapons.' The name was fairly descriptive. The moment we stepped inside, the scent of oil and metal assaulted my senses. A myriad of weapons lined the shelves, from curved blades to spiked axes, some scuffed and worn, others meticulously crafted to inflict carnage. The air crackled with an undercurrent of violence, as if the very walls themselves whispered promises of bloodshed and pain.

I thought I could spot a few old bloodstains on the wooden floors.

Esmerelda scanned the store, her eyes flickering over the deadly implements with practiced ease. When she failed to find what she was looking for, she strode up to the counter, her form cutting an imposing figure against the dim light. She was seemingly more blunt than her usual flirtatious self.

"Excuse me," she called loudly. The counter was unmanned, even though a bell had run when we first came in. "Where did you hide your ribbons?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

A man came hurrying from a doorway behind the counter, weapon grease staining his hands. He let his jaw hang a bit low as he saw who was waiting and ended up clearing his throat. He slipped on an official looking jacket that had a nameplate pinned to it. According to the label, his name was Jake. I wondered how much he cost.

"Come again?" he asked, finally re-connecting his brain to his jaw.

"Ribbons. Where." Esmerelda said shortly. Was this an act, or was she really cross. Was her normally flirtatious self the act? Suddenly, I was unsure where the real Esmerelda lay.

"Like... as in tassels?" Jake asked, still dumbfounded.

"This is a weapons store, is it not?" Esmerelda rhetorically asked.

"This is a--" Jake began repeating exactly what Esmerelda said before catching himself. "-Uh... Battle Ribbon," he paused, thinking. "I mean, maybe? Like those fight-productions some whor--I mean to say, some gals put on? Those really aren't weapons usually if you--"

I wondered if I had found the answer as to why Esmerelda had latched onto the idea of ribbon-fighting so quickly, when all I had done was express an initial interest. I also wondered if she was acting crossly to be taken more seriously in this setting, because I could easily imagine that a beautiful woman ordering a battle ribbon would lead to misleading ideas about our intentions.

"Noted," she said with a narrowing of her eyes. "But we're after a battle ribbon. Emphasis on battle. It needs to be usable for at the very least sparring."

"Ohhhh..." Jake trailed off. "We might have some? In the back? Lemme check real quick, alright?" He finished speaking as he disappeared into the back room.

"So. Some certain women use ribbons to put on shows?" I asked Esmerelda, a fraction of my worry and ire coming through somewhat intentionally.

"Yes," she said, before deflating slightly with a sigh and regathering herself. "Just trust me. Some tools serve multiple purposes, weapons included."

I noticed her lips curled up, fractionally. And the way she held her bust emphasized her chest. She had been avoiding those subtle cues with Jake, but not with me. Regardless of her true feelings on the matter, I still had to reply to the statement. I had to let her know how I felt about these possible female arts that I absolutely wanted to avoid.

So, I gave a somewhat venomous scoff.

She rolled her eyes.

Jake returned with a wooden crate which turned out to be filled with an assortment of spooled ribbons packed in sawdust.

Esmerelda lifted one of the tougher looking ribbons, made from more linen than silk, noticeably thicker than the other ribbons, attached to a plain wooden spool with nearly no gripping material; the wood might have been hickory, or it might have not. She sneered at the shoddy looking battle ribbon.

"Is this the best you have to offer here? I thought you promised weapons, not--" she made a sound of disgust "-these."

Jake, unknowingly being played by Esmerelda, gave a weak defense.

"It's what the bosses got stocked," Jake said. "And most of 'em look better 'en that one? Not sure 'bout war ribbons..." he trailed off in more of a grumble than anything comprehensible. He took on more of an accent now than before.

I knew that Esmerelda was playing him, and using a negotiation tactic of some sort. Because despite her playing hardball, Jake was correct. Plenty of the ribbons were better than the one she had knowingly selected, likely as an example.

My eyes were naturally drawn to the gaudiest and most expensive of them. The ribbon was obviously fine and valuable, thinner than paper, with a spool and grip more akin to a gilded rapier basket than anything else. The silk itself was a deep crimson with edges that faded to azure. It glinted silver. Valuable, my instincts said. Though by how much, I was unsure.

"Got this show piece," Jake said, pointing to the very one I was looking at. "Don't know how good for fightin' though. Then there're these ones," he said, pointing at a ribbon that was almost made of hexagons, sharpened along the edges. "Looks more dangerous to the wielder than anything. Who're you buyin' for?" he asked.

"Why does the 'who' matter to you?" Esmerelda asked, voice almost accusatory.

"Easy, easy," he said, waving his hands out and backing off slightly. "I'm just askin' lady. 'Cuz it depends on what they want an' how much risk they plan on swallowin'."

The ribbon with the scaled honeycomb of blades did appear harmful. One misstep with that could lead to self inflicted injuries that I would much rather avoid. I decided to step in. "The weapon will be for me," I claimed. Esmerelda failed to dispute that claim. "I have stomach for little risk. Preferably, none." Especially considering I had only picked one up for the first time that morning.

"Ah. For shows then?" Jake asked, back to being confused.

"No," I said, frowning.

Esmerelda smirked and answered at the same time, "Maybe."

I shook my head more vehemently.

"No shows," I insisted.

Esmerelda narrowed her eyes slightly, then smiled at me. "If you say so, Jackie dear."

Jake, uncomfortable from the exchange between Esmerelda and I, pointed out one of the mid-range ribbons, made from silk, a painted black grip, and a gray everything else. The handle looked like it could double as a blackjack.

"The tag says it's six feet long... That work for ya?" Jake finished asking.

I had little to no frame of reference if that was too long or too short.

Esmerelda hummed and tapped her lips. "What other sizes do you have?"

He pointed at the fanciest one with a basket hilt, "twelve feet, if you believe it. And four feet," he pointed at one of the more basic ones. "Up to you, but the longer ones cost more. Seems pretty wasteful too. Can't imagine they're easy to use."

"I'll take your opinions into consideration," Esmerelda said, finally softening her voice. Showing a reward for Jake's helpful advice then. I would need to take much more care around Esmerelda in the future. I had not realized she was so adept at the craft.

"Very well," Esmerelda continued after a pause, pointing at the six-foot battle ribbon Jake recommended. "Would you like this one, Jackie dear? It is a bit longer than you are tall."

Jake moved on the spot, clearly wanting to say more, but resisting the urge.

"I think so," I said, not really certain how much use I would get out of it, and hoping I could avoid disappointing Esmerelda without debasing myself by putting on any show. The very thought left me feeling sick.

"Then we'll take it," Esmerelda said to the merchant.

Jake winced, "wise choice, wise choice." For some reason, when he spoke that, his voice sounded trite and disingenuous.

***

The flickering lamps cast eerie shadows across the worn wooden tables of the tavern. I wiped my hands on my crisp black apron as Marianne and I worked together, serving the well-to-do and middle-class patrons who stumbled in.

During the few off-moments that our paths crossed near the bar, Marianne and I exchanged news and idle chatter to help the hours move faster.

"Heard you had a fun time today with Esmerelda," Marianne said.

"It... was something," I said, unsure how much to say. Several patrons were eavesdropping. They sat at the bar, minding their drinks. I had caught several watching me earlier, and I had no doubt that one of them was working up the courage to speak to me, despite the fact Marianne was serving them. I finally settled on the basics, "Combat training." I made sure to shudder visibly.

"Hm," Marianne hummed. "I heard you got a new toy too. A fun one."

A new toy? I wondered.

Marianne continued, "You know, some of the girls here practice variations of ribbon work here--though it's more focused on knots."

That was not a toy. I also doubted that Marianne meant knot work in the overtly sexual way, because normally, Marianne hated what she termed 'night-work,' or the brothel side. But here she was, I was fairly certain, referencing one of the more salacious ways to tie knots.

"Knot work?" I asked, taking the bait to try and figure out just what she meant.

"Yep!" She answered in cheer.

The patrons were definitely eavesdropping now, one of them looked about to fall from his stool, so hard was he leaning towards her to listen.

"I've seen them practicing in the vanity rooms before," she said. "It looks complicated."

"Ah..." I led off, not wanting to add anything at all to that. But I had to say something. I felt as though I were putting on a show at this point for the tavern-goers. A show I would really rather not. Finally, I said neutrally, "It might be useful? But I intend on putting the ribbon to a more martial use."

She nodded slowly, before decelerating to a stop and frowning, as though she just had a profound and less than wholesome realization. I wanted no part of that realization of hers, and I was about to take another pass of my tables, when she shuddered and shook her head, then changed the subject on her own.

"And what's this of a paramour of yours?" Mariane asked, taking a coy and teasing tone.

I winced. I definitely needed to take another pass at my tables. The situation was awkward and dangerous and not at all what I was equipped to handle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said as I hurried off.

Despite the fact I was walking away, I could not help but overhear several patrons at the bar talk to Marianne as she served them drinks.

"The girl's taken?" one of the patrons overheard, ribbing his drinking buddy. "Hear that, Colt? You're too late! No guts, no glory. 'S what I say."

"Pfft," his friend waved him off. "She ain't married yet."

"Really?" the first asked, sounding shocked but also amused. "You lookin’ for a marriageable woman here?!"

"Aw, go lick a god’s cunt," the friend cursed.

The clamor of the tavern intensified as the night wore on, patrons sharing raucous laughter and boisterous banter over mugs of ale and cocktails. Marianne and I exchanged good-natured barbs as we worked, our camaraderie helping the night to pass just a little more quickly. I was finding that I liked the girl more and more.

At one point, Marianne paused me with a serious expression on her face.

"See that one?" Marianne nodded towards a young woman seated at a corner table, her cheeks flushed an alarming shade of crimson on her otherwise brown skin. "She's at your table. And I know you probably already did this, but you cut her off already, right?"

The girl that Marianne was referring to was indeed one of mine. She was leaning into a man's shoulder and the wall, looking quite plastered. The man seemed pleased with it, though I wondered if he was more of an older teenager with his scruff and acne. He had not been at the table originally. Or at least I failed to remember him entering with the girl. But from the familiarity there, the girl looking up and smiling at the man with a dazed smile, the two of them must have known each other.

"That is..." I trailed off, trying to understand how that had happened.

I had only served the girl a single drink. The man had not entered with her, but was with her now. She seemed happy with it. Was this a meetup? Had she taken some sort of drug? I lacked a lot of context here, if it was even my job to police this in the first place.

"Something feels off about that," I said.

"You're just now noticing?!" Marianne said reproachfully, before groaning. "Now we might need to host her tonight."

The way she said that made it sound like a problem, but I thought that hosting intoxicated damsels was part of the tavern’s policy.

"You make it sound like you don't want to host her," I said. "You hosted me just fine. You also served me until I was blackout drunk. Remember?" I referred to the very first time I had visited Ma’RItz.

Marianne glanced away. "That was different," she said.

The girl in question laughed far too loudly at something the boy said. Whatever was happening there was likely benign. I decided to set Marianne's concern at ease.

"It seems like they know each other," I said, nodding towards the boy and girl.

"I don't like it," Marianne mumbled, before shaking her head. "But that's no excuse, missy!" she wagged a finger at me as though she were scolding, but it was meant to be humorous, to perhaps lessen the sting of a reprimand. It might have also been a mechanism for her to save face. "Why have you been serving her so much that she's that drunk?!"

I grimaced very slightly. That was the part that was confusing me.

"I've only served her the one drink, the darker ale.” I explained. “That's what seemed odd. It shouldn't have affected her that strongly. Her drink's still more than half full."

Marianne furrowed her brows, discreetly glaring at the couple.

"Sometimes... sometimes, patrons sip off others' drinks.” Marianne sounded more like she was thinking aloud. “They aren't supposed to do that, but we only really step in when they've had too much." She gave a small little nod of her head, as though she had just made some divine ruling.

"Should I keep my eyes open then?" I asked, throwing her ego a bone. It cost me little to do, and if it made her happy, then the investment would be worthwhile.

"Yeah," she said. "It's for their own good, most of the time." She gave another of those little nods. "You'll see."

Eventually, the girl in question left with the boy.

I mentioned it to Marianne, to ask if we ought to stop them from leaving, but Marianne declined and shook her head.

"Not unless it looks forced or we're wrapping up for the night," she said. "Otherwise, we'd get in trouble." She frowned, "there miiight be a slight stigma about girls staying here, even if it's just to sober up."

"Good to know," I said. Then I remembered that I had spent the night at Ma'Ritz to sober up. It was my turn to frown.

As the hours slipped by, the tavern's atmosphere grew heavier with the stench of sweat and spilled ale. The raucous laughter of drunken patrons melded into a cacophony that just would not end. My muscles ached from the relentless hustle of serving drink after drink, but I could hardly afford to stop.

Athleticism: 4/9 (+1)

When my right arm tingled and burned, for a moment I worried that I had unlocked some worthless talent or skill for bussing tables. Fortunately, that was not the case. But the way the night was going before that, I was worried I would be too exhausted for my guard duty.

Besides the fatigue, my tavern duties went smoothly.

Some patrons paid well, others did not, but things were mechanical: Guide guests to their seats, take their orders, deliver their orders, collect payment, and so on and so on. There were a few odd questions about the current kegs and about Cook's special that night, but for the most part it was easy.

It let me glance over an assortment of people entering.

I might not have known exactly what I was looking for, but I knew that I was on the hook for locating Emboru's sibling, and I hoped that one of the guests would shed some light on a clue.

But nothing obvious happened.

It is only the second night, I consoled myself.

It might take several weeks for something to turn up. And it was not like the tavern was my only vector into Southbridge. Every time I moved about, I had a chance of finding them. And if not here, then at the Academy. And if not there, then when I broke free and explored the underbelly of the city. I kept telling myself that, over and over, that locating Emboru's sibling was an inevitability.

I repeated this mantra, not only for my own emotional well-being, but also in case my false-arm was somehow listening to my thoughts. I doubted it was possible, but the false arm could perceive my nerve signals, and this world had magic, so anything was possible, really. Even as I thought that, I focused inward where my flesh met the false-arm.

Nothing responded.

That time.

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

Eventually, Marianne interrupted my routine once more, this time with a more deliberate chat. The evening had been winding down, allowing some down-time. She met me at the bar.

"Jackie," Marianne called, her voice tinged with concern. "You seem... so serious. You've been frowning at yourself for a bit there."

"Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed. I forced a weary smile onto my lips. "Just thinking about some things."

"Ah," she nodded knowingly, her icy blue eyes piercing my very soul. "Your paramour, is it?"

"Don't remind me," I groaned. That had not been what I was thinking of at all.

"Listen," she said, wiping down the bar with practiced efficiency. "It's alright to..." She trailed off.

"It's alright to do what?" I asked, uncomfortable with what I suspected that she was getting at.

"You know..." This time she blushed slightly and turned away.

"You lost me," I said. I had an idea where she was going with this, but not exactly, and it was always safer to play dumb.

"Fine," she said after a drawn out groan. "It's alright. For two girls, to..." She blushed more furiously. "You know... court?"

"Oh."

That thought had barely occurred to me. I had been busy enough with everything else that the issue of societal acceptance of same-sex relationships had taken a back-burner.

It might have been cultural baggage on my side, but I felt that whole-scale oppression should be applied universally. I would have expected a nation with slavery to have also prohibited homosexuality. But then, thinking on it further, there had been places like that on Earth, at least in the past. Rome came to mind. And maybe Greece. Also, perhaps modern countries, depending on how literal the definition to slavery was.

"Yeah?" Marianne said, picking up on my confusion.

How could I explain my own confusion without revealing far too much? Why would I wish to explain myself at all? I remained silent.

When it became obvious I would say no further, Marianne picked the conversational slack back up.

"But I just wanted you to know that it's alright," she said. "What matters is what's in here--" she finished, pointing at my heart. She sounded like she actually believed what she was saying. It was endearing. Also, naive.

"This discussion is very premature," I eventually settled on. "I would rather not think of Sir Kate Gaurdson’s intentions at all. There is a reason I denied her my name earlier today."

While I could have allowed the misconception to continue, pretending that it really was Kate that had me bothered, doing so would lose me an opportunity. Because, I really was worried about Emboru and locating the other Mucary. It was the threat looming over my head. Especially if I had nothing to show Emboru when she checked in for progress.

I was worried enough that I was even considering asking for help. Though, I would only reveal a fraction of what I needed. If two eyes were good, then four was better? Or so I thought in this instance. Just so long as I revealed nothing sensitive.

"What's got you hot and bothered then," Marianne asked, likely unintentionally adopting inappropriate phrasing. "You can trust me. Was it going out in the city? Esmerelda kept you safe, right? So there would have been nothing to worry about. Especially when you learn how to use that toy." She finished with tease.

"She did take me out into the city..." I trailed off, figuring the best way to word this to reveal as little as possible while taking everything I needed. "But... I was..." Eventually, I decided on a workable strategy. "The trip reminded me of my family."

"Your folks?" she asked, taking the bait, and appearing concerned. "But I thought that you traveled to Southbridge on your own?"

"I did," I said, re-affirming a previous lie. "But, my parents were supposed to meet me at some point..."

"And you're worried about them?" she prompted further.

Inwardly, I smiled. Outwardly, I waffled my hand back and forth and frowned.

"Less that," I answered, "And more that I realized I had no idea how to find them. The city is far larger than I thought it would be."

"It is surprisingly big," she said, "Considering Southbridge isn’t a Marked city."

And what did that mean? I wondered. I would have asked, but I wanted to stay on topic. Besides, it sounded like everyone already knew what a Marked city meant, so I should also know that, unless I wanted to reveal potentially sensitive facts. Not for the first time, I cursed my own ignorance.

"I might be able to help?" she said, after tapping her chin and pursing her lips in thought. "I've been looking around for some people too, and have already got some contacts I can share. Let me think about it, alright?"

"You would go that far, for me?" I asked, a hopeful tone seeping into my voice.

"Of course, Jackie!" she said, smiling. "I'm just wondering if it would do you any good. They don’t know everything going on in the city, just some of the… happenings. But if I see them come in, I'll point them out."

It sounded like Marianne might have a low-key information broker to introduce. That would be very useful, at least if she could deliver.

"Thank you, Marianne," I said, genuinely smiling . "I really would appreciate that."

I would have to remember to ask for help more often.

Sometimes the results were surprisingly useful.

Blessings: Rank (1/9)

Body: 65

Mind: 75

Spirit: 49

Talents:

Athleticism (4/9): (+1)

Climbing I (3/9)

Featherlight I (3/9)

Inversion (2/9)

Stealth I (6/9)

Trackless Tracks I (3/9)

Area Coverage (5/9)

Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)

Eschiver I (1/9)

Evasion I (1/9)

Impending Sense (1/9)

Lucky Break (1/9)

Spells:

Illusion I (5/9)

Touch (8/9)

Guise of the Kitsune (5/9)

Closed

Gifts:

Obsession (3/9)

Closed (0/9)

Closed (0/9)