[h3]Gullian - The Faded Lantern, Late Afternoon

[color=7ea7d8]Lucien Beaumont-Dubois[/color] [/h3]

The inside of The Faded Lantern was mercifully cool compared to the swelter of the city that surrounded it, but the smell was ultimately no better Lucien had decided. From the moment its almost black oaken doors set with panes of opaque smoke stained glass swung inwards, the dockside armours of tar, salt, and sewage was instead replaced by the stink of sawdust, stale sweat, and spilt beer. The uneven floors and low timbered ceilings gave a sense of claustrophobia to the warren of darkened taprooms, lounges, and snugs that made up the ancient tavern. But dark and dirty were a boon to Lucien right now, after all, he was trying to be inconspicuous. 

As he walked into the largest of the public bars Lucien surveyed the room. It was relatively quiet, the lunch time crowd were long gone and the evening rush had yet to begin. A few old drunks sat solitary or in pairs at the small tables that littered the corners and sides of the room. A group of four sailors on shore leave were dicing at one of the trestle tables that took up the centre of the stone flagged floor. Aside from this the only other soul was a dour barkeep with a face the colour of boiled meat who stood behind the counter wiping away at a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag. 

Lucien sauntered up towards the bar in as relaxed a many as he could muster under the circumstances, whistling somewhat tunelessly as he did so. When he reached the expanse of darkly polished wood he leaned upon it with one elbow, wincing slightly as he felt the the fabric sticking to the surface. These were his nice clothes. The barman set down the rag and glass at his approach, Lucien gave him one of his better smiles.

[color=7ea7d8][b]"Greetings, my good sir. Would you be so kind to tell be whether his Lordship frequenting your venerable establishment this fine afternoon?"[/b][/color] 

The barkeep looked at him like he had taken leave of his senses. Was Vargas not in? He had been laying low these last few months, but surely Lucien thought that someone would have notified him if Hell itself had frozen over. Vargas was always here. As he stared longer at the blank look of complete and total incomprehension the realisation dawned on Lucien. Oh Gods, he thinks I mean an actual member of the nobility doesn't he? As if a an actual fucking noble would drink in this piss pot. His smile strained slightly.

[color=7ea7d8][b]"By which I mean, Lord Vargas, of course. I believe he is a most loyal patron here?"
[/b][/color]

A spark of recognition lit in the eyes of barman who began to nod his balding head most vigorously. As he raised his head Lucien noted that he could see directly into the his upturned nostrils, which bristled with long protruding hairs. 

[b]"Oh aye, Vargas'll be round t'back."[/b] The barkeep stuck a thumb behind him to a small dim corridor that snaked its way off round the side o the bar.

[color=7ea7d8][b]"Thank you most kin-"[/b] [/color]Lucien began but he was cut off before he could continue.

[b]Course I'd wait a while, til' he's done with whoever's in there now. Hav' a drink." [/b]The smile died on Lucien's lips. He had no love for this place, the sooner he finished his business with Vargas and left the better frankly. It served piss as far as he was concerned. Maybe he future he would be more careful when passing out compliments, he would hate for anyone to actually think he liked this dive.

[color=7ea7d8][b]"My pleasure... A glass of your fines-[/b][/color] Lucien's fingers began to rummage through his coin purse, it was rather light. [color=7ea7d8][b]"Ahem... your cheapest wine."[/b][/color] 

There probably wasn't much a difference in a place like this really. 

The wine came in a glass tumbler, which wasn't as clean as Lucien would have liked it, but certainly looked cleaner than the rag hanging out of the front of barman's apron. Small victories he supposed. He slid a silver bit across the bar and perched at the nearest stool. As he sipped at the glass of mostly vinegar that he had ordered, Lucien heard the doors to the bar swing open and young three men enter in some conversation. 

[b]"Of course everything's been in the air since old Delaney filed for bankruptcy. Poor bastard's been dealt a bad hand these past few years, what with the market like it is and the insurance on his cargo not coming through last year when the Julia sank. This was just the final nail in the coffin."[/b] 

They were better dressed than your average dockworker and significantly more so than your average sailor. Maybe warehouse clerks or some other kind of junior port officials. When he heard what they were talking about he turned his head the other way and took more than just a sip of his drink.

[b]"But I don't understand how he got mixed up in all this crap."[/b] Another one of the trio piped up. [b]"Delaney was a wool trader was he not? Local goods mostly, how did he get into these silk trader bonds that are causing so much trouble?"[/b]

[b]"Some huckster pretending to be a noble with high up friends in foreign ports. Ran the same the thing on half a dozen merchant men that I know of and probably twice as many that I don't. All local traders who wouldn't know squat about the silk markets. Most of them could take the hit, but Delaney was leveraged up to his eyeballs as it was and sank everything he had left into this scheme in the hopes of it paying off big. Looks like it didn't for anyone other than this 'Bowman-Dunbar' or whatever his name was. Fucker is probably long gone by now anyway. Beer?" [/b]

The conservation turned to ale and girlfriends as the barman served each one of them in turn, and in time they made their into one of the snugs across from the bar where they carried in slightly more muted tones. Lucien downed the rest of his vinegar and rubbed his chin in some consternation. He had quite liked Delaney, shame the old man hadn't had a head for business. His chin and cheek were rough his stubble, had he forgotten to shave this morning? Wait no, he had pawned his razor two days ago for the measly collection of bits currently in his coin purse hadn't he. Paying off big indeed. 

He thought of ordering another drink, but at that moment a darkened figure slid surreptitiously out of the corridor that led to Vargas's snug. His afternoon appointment was now free.Things were looking up, he was sure that a change in fortune was right around the corner if his business with Vargas went well. He felt good about this, in fact, he felt positively lucky today. Lucien 'Lucky' Beaumont-Dubois gently lifted himself from his stool and began to saunter into the corridor where Lord Vargas awaited, whistling as he went.