Ah yes, Mezzar. You had to love a good city like the free city. He chuckles to himself. Such a thought was amusing to him really. He loved cities like this because they tended to cover up what was screwed up about the city with nice looking homes, laws, and rules that made them look civilize. Then they had the place like an arena for a man who may not have gotten any due process. 

He knew how the system worked. Granted he might have deserved to be placed behind bars if you’re going by the laws of these civil savages, but back in the day he would have, and had been praised for many of his actions. Look at these penises in their helmets, guarding a god damn gate like they were important somehow because they barked orders at the common folk.

He stuck to not being seen. Despite being part of the Order there was some mixture of resentment that he didn’t fooking hang that day and reverence because he was part of the Order. They needed him for some reason. He didn’t really see how. Maybe he would have perhaps seen the purposes of keeping him around if they didn’t already have their own alchemist or assassins. But really he was being kept around because he knew boats.

That or they were worried the alchemist were getting their tips stuck in their bottles and the assassins were using their grappling hooks for some unsavory business back where the sun don’t shine. He jest to  himself with such depravity.

He didn’t really think much of these knobheads. They’ll always tell you in their finery for clothes, their well constructed buildings, their civil manners, and law abiding citizens that they don’t have some dirt. But everyone had dirt. The ones who tried to cover it with the nicer shit were often the ones with more blood to hide than the ones who were earnest about skull fooking you.

The rampants thoughts he was currently experience would not be the for the faint of heart in this city. The free city. The name got a laugh out of him. It seemed ironic to him that a city be called free, but that freedom was paid the price of fear. Free and fear were similar in their contextual sums. 

Just like that they didn’t really check the back very well. Probably underpaid, they just lifted the flap up of the merchant’s caravan. Did a quick scan of the goods and sent the merchant on their way. For sure he could have been a gob shitter showing off his Order badge and waving around that he was a freed man. When civil savages would contest that he should have ever been freed. 

He cracked his knuckles. He was looking forward to this. If you’re going to free a man and give him a sense of purpose he supposed it should be in the Order. Who took on more stray cats than old woman in a leaky hut. He had been working with them for what seemed like ages now. On some hand he resented the Order. He prefered the liberty of leaving and coming when he pleased. On another hand he had met some interesting folks.

Hans was the type of man someone on the islands he hailed from he would have been asked to kill. While Daveon would have probably been given an offer, not too much unlike the Order, to join the high seas and do some overseas plundering and murdering especially in spring time.

 While that elf, Shay, how the fuk was it pronounced? Well he had nothing against elves. Some fled the mainland to join the Fellows in the past. But he did have a problem with an elf that forced him to sit in a way that his legs didn’t go and to think of god damn daisies and meadows. 

He wondered which pricks he would be working with this time around. He meant that as a compliment. Though few would probably see the compliment in it. He looked forward to working with whomever, as long as they were capable or had proved themselves capable. 

Stepping out of the caravan and careful to not be seen, Clive shuffled off with his bag of ingredients and slipped into the crowd. He took in a deep breath. The free city. Got a chuckle out of him every time. Free city his ass. 

He scanned the market. Busy and crowded, but the Order’s outpost wasn’t too far from this location. As he continued to skulk around the crowds, little pockets of market commotion. Broken up by a wandering soldiers presence. 

It wasn’t too hard for Clive to pick out the one thing that didn’t fit. Daveon making his way through the market as well. Clive just wore a crooked smile and meandered through the crowds as if it were a natural thing anyone knew how to do.

Clive cleared his throat, “Daveon.” was all he greeted with.