Barely a month to the day, Tristaan was once again back on the Pier in Old Rose Harbor. He couldn't shake the feeling that this time, however, things were very different. A lot had changed in only a few weeks, or had it? The two-day boat trip by river from Vienda was much more pleasant than the ocean voyage so uncomfortably burned into his memory. It was almost relaxing, save for the occasional planning conversation to remind the passive that he was in town again on business. Dangerous business.

After a warm enough farewell to the captain and crew of the Niner, Tristaan and the doctor found themselves standing on the docks in the early morning sunshine with their belongings, the beginning of things currently only spoken in words ready for action.

"Well, doc," the swordsman grinned from under his well-worn hat, adjusting the sword over his shoulder and glancing about the ships that surrounded them, "Here we are, then."

He swept a hand dramatically at the weathered skyline of Old Rose, usual sense of humor sparkling in his gray eyes, "Welcome back, I s'pose. What's first on our tour for you?"

Ivan inhaled deeply, and was careful to keep a look of distaste.

"Ugh, yes, here again."

In truth the harbour felt to Ivan more like home than Vienda. The rotting seaside reek, the colourful array of inhabitants ranging from dangerous to psychotic, and the cheap, cheap dope. That was a point - they would need some underworld money.

"Well first we're going to need some currency, then to put these crates in storage. After that we'll sort out accomodation, then what do you say to a drink?"

Tristaan shrugged; it sounded like a decent order of business for the moment. He glanced about warily, remembering that last time he was on these docks, he was almost impolitely coated with fish guts.

"Oes, sounds t'me like you hardly need a guide, but I'm sure once we get settled, we'll both be ready for a drink or two." The passive grinned teasingly, "But I s'pose th'benefits of my services will be apparent enough sooner rather'n'later, doc, knowin' th'Harbor." His grin faded a little into a smirk as he hooked a thumb in the strap that held his blade as usual, indicating with a nod he was ready whenever Ivan was.

"Believe me, if things go wrong, you won't be bored. You've not met Silas' henchwitches yet."

He shuddered a little. Even if he got the drop on them he could at best manage one of them, and even that was an unsure thing. There was only so far human tricks could get him. Ivan wanted to see Tristaan in action before he made any rash decisions about their combat potential. Perhaps tonight there would be a brawl - he could think of no better way to blend in.

"Right first things first, some money. Here's two concords - enough for a few days walkabout money, not enough to raise suspicion. In that stupidly lavish house at the end of the pier," he pointed, "is Cilius. He's the currency exchange in these parts, and friend to every boatman that travels 'tween here and Vienda. He knows my face, so you'll have to go in there for us. Should get the equivalent of two birds for that, though I don't know how the wick exodus has affected the market. Flattery's his weakness, if you have to barter."

The passive arched a slim eyebrow underneath his hat. He didn't like the sound of that. Wicks weren't bound by the same kind of intricate codes of conduct that the galdori had constructed for themselves around spell-casting, and Tristaan knew well enough from his time with the Crows what the skillful ones were capable of. Regardless, a good bit of steel between the ribs tended to stop anyone in their tracks, indiscriminate of their magical abilities, given one could get close enough. Then again, he really didn't think they'd be getting themselves in that much trouble ... how much attention was Ivan going to end up attracting anyway?


Tristaan chuckled, accepting the coins and following the doctor's extended finger in the direction of a rather impressive house for this area of town. While he'd heard of the man, he'd never bothered to pay him a visit, "Flattery, eh?"

He thumbed his nose thoughtfully before adding with a grin, "We'll see what I can come up with if I need to. Don't wander too far while I'm gone then, doc."

Pocketing the coins, he tipped his hat and wandered off casually in the direction of the house, wordlessly finding himself curious as to how recognized the doctor really was in the Harbor. Who didn't know this human's face when it came to the unsavory, Brotherly-connected types? His apparent reputation would make things interesting. Putting these thoughts aside as the passive sauntered nonchalantly up the steps of the well-kept, spacious porch, he took a moment to glance around. Obviously, Cilius had all the protection he could desire at his disposal, with a house this ridiculous so close to the unsavory docks.

This ought to be an entertaining return to the Harbor.

Tristaan put on his business face and rapped on the door firmly with the strangely intimidating (but still tastefully impressive) brass knocker. And waited.

There was a voice from within, a rather light voice which sounded sort of busy.

"Come, come! It's open." As Tristaan entered, he would see the room was light with orange phospore lamps. There was a rich red lounge and a table with stacks of differant currency on it. Potted plants adorned the room and lounging furniture popped up all over the place. Right at the end of the room was a long table, with only two chairs. And in one chair sat a fat, buttery looking man eating a lavish feast, hands and mouth currently greasy with chicken fat. He had little mousey brown hair, and slicked the rest down in a comb over. He wore a burgandy robe and had gold rings on every sausage finger. A couple of rather inviting looking blonde girls walked the room, serving him wine from a gold chalice and generally acting like they adored him. Cilius spoke through his chicken.

"Ah, what can Cilius do for you Mister sailor type?"

The passive did his best not to object to being labeled a sailor-type, especially by a man who obviously had difficulties distinguishing between the right time to chew and the right time to speak in front of company. He stood in the entrance, not wanting to assume he could sit without being invited.

Tristaan tipped his hat politely, offering a professional sort of smile to the man, "Forgive me for interruptin' your meal at this hour. I've been out of town for a while and seem t'have found myself in need of your esteemed financial services. Accordin' t'what I hear, you come highly recommended, of course."

Cilius laughed so hard he seemed like he was choking. Taking a large, messy mouthful of wine, he sighed.

"Ahh, interrupting my meal? Thats funny." He took another drumstick from the table and started inhaling it.

"So you need to change some Heads into Kings? Let's not dally about with the pretty talk. Everyone knows what I do. It's not a surprise, unless your a clueless golly from up the way." He guffawed through his chicken, pulling a cleaned bone away and dumping it on the plate in front of him.

"Let's talk at my business table, like civilized gentlemen." He wiped his hands on a towel and stood, lumbering over to the lounge, sitting in front of the table of currency. One of the blonde girls brought over his wine and a bowl of grapes, which he began to much on noisily.

It was a shame Ivan could not pay Cilius a visit - he was a vile man to be sure, but here vile was a relative term, and he had sometimes even enjoyed bartering for exchange on his many export trips to Vienda. Still, as soon as Cilius saw Ivan the game would be up.

He rubbed his week-old beard, let down his locks that went just beyond his shoulders, and ensured his clothes were suitably ruffled. Before, he had maintained a clean-cut look so as not to be confused with a low down Brother. This would work greatly to his advantage - his dropped hair concealed his profile and features to all but very close observation, and it was a very common look in the area. He would spot someone who knew him long before they would spot him.

Now Tristaan had left, Ivan was free to look as pleased as he liked, and he inhaled the happy, rotting atmosphere.
He cast his mind back to why he'd left this life. He was much freer at the Harbour, respected, useful, at ease. But it wasn't him anymore. He could never go back.

The passive managed to keep a straight face, even if this man was bordering on the greasily disgusting side.


Tristaan didn't laugh, but he did offer a crooked half-amused smile. While the man's humor left much to be desired, there was something about his sloppy, over-sized movements that was strangely entertaining in a disconcerting sort of way.


Following the man, the passive took a seat across the table, carefully slipping the blade off his shoulder for comfort and leaning it against his chair within easy (but non-threatening) reach. Resting his hands on his knees instead of digging out his coins, he arched a slim eyebrow and studied Cilius carefully, "So how much has th'mung law an' laoso mess in Vienda affected th'goin' rate of exchange?"

Cilius chomped on his grapes, flicking his gaze up at the blonde girl who'd served him as Tristaan moved his sword. The exotic looking, flimsily dressed girl looked pointedly at the passive and very slowly pulled her skirt up to reveal two short, curved daggers tucked into garders on each thigh. Taking a gulp of wine, the obese man smacked his lips.

"Now we have that in order, we can talk exchange rates. Currently, i will give you a bird for a concord, without my commission of course." He grinned slickly and chewed more grapes.

Tristaan rolled his eyes and held up a hand defensively, dismissing the need for such a revealing threat by a shake of his head. He was only making sitting in a chair actually possible, although a little bit of intimidation never hurt anyone. It was difficult for the passive to feel threatened by the scantily clad blond, but he kept his expression from revealing any amusement.


"Oes, it's good t'hear that it's still business as usual, then." He leaned back a little in the chair, reaching his previously lifted hand to his chin, narrowing his gray eyes shrewdly as if preparing for a proper bit of bartering if necessary, "An' what would your commission be on say ... two concords?"

Cilius grinned widely and steepled his fingers, elbows on the table between Anaxas, Mugroba and Underworld currency.

"Ahh, usually I would charge twenty five percent, but I like you. Out of the generosity of my heart, I will only take twenty percent. So two shills." The fat man said smoothly, smiling like a shark. The other blonde had come and replaced his grapes with what looked like a quarter of a cheesecake, also topping up his wine. Picking up a gilded fork, Cilius ate delicatly, making little pleasurable sighs every now and again.

Tristaan chuckled with only a hint of humor, seeming to settle comfortably into his chair with almost a friendly air, both hands returning to his knees, "Twenty percent? Dze, your kindness seems to overflow such that you'd give any sad-eyed sailor fresh off a ship that kind'o'service. I might believe you really liked me as y'say if you were willin' t'charge fifteen percent instead."

Cake flew out in a burst as Cilius laughed loudly. Banging on the table, the man was red as he tittered. The blondes, twins it seemed, discretly cleaned up the cake bits as he calmed down.

"Ah your plucky! I knew a man like that once, plucky." He looked at the girls as they moved about.

"They used to be plucky too. Always screamed silly things at me like, Oh please let us go! and Our father will kill you for this." His blue eyes became a little strange.

"I fixed that though, cut their pretty tounges out. It was for the best. Now, they love me, and keep quiet. Isn't that right precious?" Cilius asked the closest girl. She kissed him on the cheek, smiling at him with adoring lavender eyes. Waving her away, he leaned forward.

"Fifteen, but only because I like you." He agreed.

Plucky.

Tristaan delicately concealed his distaste for the word behind a distracted smile. He let his gaze drift briefly to the blonds with a new and unique sense of pity. Cilius was as devious as he was disgusting.


The passive allowed his expression to falter into a smirk, "Now, that was rather easy, eh, kov?"

Obviously a little too easy.

He lifted his hands from his knees and pressed his fingertips together thoughtfully, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. Arching a slim eyebrow, he let his smirk widen into a roguish grin, "You hardly know me, not yet anyways ... I'm gonna go out onna limb and say that you're really this nice t'everyone an' we've just been goin' through some pleasantries. Now I can see what a cautious, calculatin' kov y'are, and we've had some nice time t'get t'know each other."

His hands came together and he kept his grin, "While I know friendships aren't made in a day'r'nothin', you seem t'have an interestin' way of judgin' character." Tristaan looked to the blonds again for emphasis before narrowing his eyes with a strange mix of playful shrewdness, "If I were in such a privileged position as yourself – which I obviously ent – an' wanted t'make a friend, I'd be offerin' ten percent instead."

Cilius' smile evaporated immediately and he looked at Tristaan with a sort of sad clown face.

"Oh now really, when you agree on a price, you really shouldn't try to change it." He sighed heavily, taking a drink of his wine. In a split second, Tristaan found one of the blonds with an arm draped across his chest, her mouth by his opposite ear, and her other hand pressing one of the daggers lightly to his throat, arm tensed ready to slice his throat. The girl stroked her fingers lightly on his chest and leaned forward to bite the top of his ear playfully. It was obvious any sudden movements would be his last. Putting down his goblet, Cilius smacked his lips and smiled.

"I'm sorry, the twins don't take to rudeness very well. Makes them nervous. Tell you what. I will do you ten, if you can do something for me. Then I can consider our friendship." The indulged man looked down, eating the rest of his cake.

Tristaan startled but he didn't let his smile fade. He sat in silence for a few moments, watching the man eat his cake, trying his best not to pay attention to the woman and her sharp object. It was a challenge.

Was a favor something the man had in mind all along?

The passive exhaled slowly through his nose, "I s'pose I ent in any more a position t'argue as I am t'say flattery's a talent'o'mine. Neither would be true, an' lyin' makes for a bad start t'any relationship." Especially when it's undeserved, he kept his real thoughts to himself, tone of voice still even enough.

He eyed the coins on the table before settling his gaze on Cilius carefully, "I tend t'believe I'm a friendly enough kov. What could I possibly do for you?"

As pleasant as the time perched at the pier was, Ivan couldn't stave off the growing sense that Tristaan was taking longer than was reasonable to get a halfway decent rate for two concords. He wondered if the twins were still working there. They were such sweet and damaged mutes - it was such a shame to have them waiting on that odious lump.

Ivan would have considered raiding Cilius' place of business, but they were technically friends, and besides, he never stored any real quantity of concords on site unless he knew big trade was coming up - a measure that had prevented substantial financial loss in the past. This would be their last stop on the way back, too.

Cilius put down his fork and waved away the blond with the dagger. She withdrew instantly, but hovered behind Tristaan. The blue eyes of the fat man became strange again, almost distant.

"I am looking for a man, and I ask you, while on your merry little way around Old Rose, to keep and ear and an eye out. He dissapeared a long while ago, but we have some...unfinished business." He reached out and picked up a gold coin, turning it in his fingers.

"Find out the whereabouts of Bad Mother. I will take your offer if you can do that. And don't think about skipping out on me before you leave Old Rose. I'll find you."

The passive smirked at Cilius' request, but said nothing right away. Instead, he removed the two concords from the doctor from his belt and set them on the table between them. Inwardly, he was more than a little disturbed by the request. He had his suspicions as it was, but this was quite a wrench in his thought process ... or was it?

Removing his calloused hand slowly from the coins to sit up again, he shrugged, "I ent one t'leave a fight once it's started. There'll be no need t'chase me down."

Tristaan spoke plainly, meaning what he said regardless of the cost, "I ent plannin' on stayin' here longer'n'I have to, but I won't leave you hangin' without a word, either. If I have somethin' t'say, do I find you here, then?"

This could be an unpleasant twist in their current plans. The passive couldn't shake the feeling that this man was making quite the weighted deal, and it was not necessarily in his favor at all, especially considering he'd heard the name before ... from Ivan.

Cilius watched the coins from the moment they left the passive's belt to the moment they were left deposited on the table. He reached over to the stacks of Kings and withdrew one bird. Then he moved over four stacks of pennies, which when counted, each contained fourty coins. He pushed the entire lot over to Tristaans concords.

"Two concords minus a two shill commission. Thats one bird and one hun'and'sixty pennies." He sat back, looking around. His second twin walked over carrying a plate of sweet rolls. Picking one up, he gestured.

"Count if you like."

Tristaan glanced down at the coins and felt that for him to count them all may take an embarrassingly long time. Words were one thing, but too many numbers and the passive found himself in a little over his head. He was pretty sure he could trust the man and his counting, and decided it might even be considered rude to count in his face regardless of being invited to do so.

"Ne, I'll forward our friendship with a bit'o'trust on your part."

He grinned roguishly, gathering the coins and slowly tucking them away. Once finished, Tristaan placed his hands on the arms of the chair and made a motion to stand, "Mujo ma for your service. You already know you'll be seein' me again."

Cilius snatched up the concords and nodded to Tristaan, chewing heavily on the sweet roll.

"Good lad! Excellent doing business, and please, do drop in anytime." With that he lay back on the lounge and sighed, looking at the twins.

"Why don't we have a little playtime before lunch girls?" He said with a glint in his eyes. The twins smiled and began to approach, already removing their clothes.

Not desiring to stay any longer than he had to, the passive was quick to excuse himself from the man's presence. He had absolutely no desire to witness whatever scene was about to unfold and gladly let himself out of the door and back onto the street without a second glance back, more than a little disgusted at the thought.

Practically fleeing down the stairs to the porch in a couple of quick steps, Tristaan paused in the street to glance around for Ivan. He decided to keep walking; standing around looking lost was not in his best interest. Picking a direction back towards where he last left the doctor, he assumed the man would catch up.

It was hard to contain a bit of concern at Cilius' strange request from creeping into his expression under his hat.