A Midnight Deal
A smuggler named Robert meets with an untrustworthy man to do a shady deal at midnight on the docks of Miraan. It's Renfrau. Seems that Robert is a reasonably good judge of character.
A man waited by the docks under a pale half moon. Though not directly under it, that would be very difficult to achieve geologically, but “under the moon” in a more general, earthen vicinity.
There was a great deal of vicinity, so this was much more achievable.
He was smoking the wrapped leaves from the far off ‘nation’ of Targannon. A popular thing to do in that chaotic collection of city-states, but not as common this far west, on the northern border of Rundell. Targannon was jealous of its most precious crops unless you were willing to pay a great deal of money for them. But this man had travelled far to the east on the northern coasts of Armaviri.
And today, he was waiting in the dock district of Miraan, destroying his lungs with tobacco. He’d already be deep in his cups and a woman, but he needed to be sharp tonight as the person he was waiting for wasn’t very trustworthy.
He flicked the end of his cigar, watching as the embers and ashes drifted to the ground. He looked out over the docks of Miraan, hoping that his “business partner” would hurry up and get here, so he could return to the more important task of drinking himself into oblivion.
Robert felt it was important to have clear priorities in life.
“Good evening, sir!” came a call from nearby.
Robert, lost in the daydream of how he’d rather be sauced and wrapped in the arms of dear Magdalena, jumped in surprise at the nearness of the greeting. As a result of his inattention, he fumbled his cigar, losing an unfortunately expensive quantity of his precious tobacco as the cigar tumbled into the water of the bay.
He looked in dismay as the cigar floated on the water, ruined, and then over at the troublesome small man that he’d been waiting for.
“You know, most people, when they’re trying to conduct smugglin’ business at night, don’t usually sound so damn cheerful about it. Or loud.” Robert felt a great deal of anger about his lost cigar, in addition to his usual irritation whenever Renfrau’s mouth was open.
“Well, I have always found that it is best to conduct business with a healthy degree of positive attitude and respect for my fellow man,” said the slight man with overly neat brown hair, and a manic grin. “You get what you put out after all. It’s the law of reflective magnetism!”
“The what?” Robert had worked on the shady side of the import & export industry his whole life, and didn’t trust people who used scholarly words. Which was an odd thing for him to think, since scholarly is itself a rather pedantic way of describing “big” words.
“Treat people as you’d like to be treated?” Renfrau said with a placid smile on his face. [1]
[1] Nothing ruined Renfrau’s mood faster than having to repeat his material, no matter how terribly delivered it was the first time.
“Funny, no matter how much money I give people out of the generosity of m’heart, they never seem to shower me with gold,” Robert said, with more than a little snark. He found Renfrau’s preaching to be a waste of time and mental real estate, and usually an intentional distraction from something important.[2]
[2] This was an unusually astute observation of Roberts.
“Ah but you have to spend money to make money!” Renfrau said, pulling out a respectably sized purse of, presumably, coins.
Robert’s eyes fixed on the bag. It looked about the right size to him. But he’d learned to be careful about these things. He held out his hand.
Renfrau waved his unencumbered finger at Robert
“Ah ah ah! Where are my ‘goods’?” Renfrau’s manic grin had returned.
Robert nodded, and pointed to a boat tied up off the dock. It was a decent swim out. If one looked carefully, you could see a man on the boat, huddled under a large cloak looking like the saddest fisherman floating on the bay in the middle of the night.
Renfrau frowned. “What good is it to me out there?”
Robert grinned.
“When I signal with my lantern that I’ve received payment, he’ll bring in the boat and hand it over to you to do with as you see fit. And not a moment before. If he sees you stab me and ditch me in an alley, then you get nothing. That's the deal.” Robert said, while crossing his arms and looking smugly at Renfrau.
He didn’t know many “big words” [3] but he did, for some odd reason, understand the concept of insurance.
[3] Except for scholarly, dysentery, arbitrage and embezzlement.
And insurance. The worst of the lot.
A lifetime of navigating the docks of North Armaviri in the company of questionable men and women leads a man to a greater understanding of dubious financial schemes.
“Perfect!” Renfrau said, happily. He upended the bag, and wooden discs spilled out all over the docks.
Robert looked at the ‘coins’ in sad astonishment. People didn't usually blatantly expose their deception like this.
He felt something cold sweep over his body. His limbs seized up and became rigid. He felt… inhabited. Like he was no longer alone in his body, and that something was fighting him for control. He tried to fight back… but…
“Robert” picked up his lantern and signalled the boatman. Slowly the man in the fisherman’s cloak untied his boat from its post, and worked the oars to bring the boat back to the docks.
Jasmine stepped up beside Renfrau and said, “Why didn't you just pay him? We went through that whole scheme of robbing Count Vicaul to pay for this.” She sounded on the lighter end of annoyed.[4]
[4] Which for Jasmine suggested she was in an incredibly good mood, despite the abrupt change in plans.
She didn’t like it when Renfrau changed the plan. Which he did a lot.
Renfrau looked at her in surprise. “What? And miss an opportunity to see you work? Never. This is so much more elegant a solution, as I have an appointment at Braithboyle’s card table later tonight.” He grinned, “Consider the haul we lifted from Count Vicaul my bonus for arranging this rendezvous.”
She snorted, and waited for her prize to come to her. She didn’t really care one way or another, so long as she got what she came for.
She’d probably have to kill Robert and the Boatman though. While Robert probably wouldn’t know what happened to him, she couldn’t take the chance that either one of them had encountered spirit possession before, and would recognize the work of a necromancer.
Rumours of a necromancer in town being spread by gossiping men just wouldn’t do. Renfrau’s “misdirections” were bad enough. Necromancers were a misunderstood breed and tended to be quite unpopular. [5]
[5] Until someone couldn’t let go of a loved one and wanted them back no matter the obvious problems this would inevitably create.
At which point your only options are divine intervention - or necromantic.
Necromancers were usually more affordable.
She didn’t want to attract the ‘wrong’ kind of attention, after all.