The streets weren't exactly filled to the brim with people like some large metropolitan cities Markus had traveled to, but there was a more than healthy amount of trade and activity. Tobaro was likely quite wealthy when all was said and done, even if there was a stark contrast between the rather austere locals and the profligate reputation the city had accumulated over the years. He imagined Klaus would find the history of such a place quite interesting, but Markus had told him to stay on the ship, more for his own safety than any worry he would leave the crew. Money was money, and once the scholar got his share, Markus saw the complaints fleeing his mind. That was a very piratey way of viewing things; they might make a buccaneer out of him yet. 

Markus felt the heat of the glassblower as the muttonchopped man continued his work, the mercenary only standing idly for a moment, too deep in thought to really give much attention. A fish monger called for anyone who wished for Tilean caught Swordfish or Blue Finned Tuna from past the Rocks. A few Dwarfs stumped past the crowd, parting them like a wave as they marched northward. Glancing at the skyline, he saw towering spires of smoke drifting upwards from where their destination likely lay. Sketti would be over there finding a good deal. 

"Markus! Markus Flintbrook!?" The Captain heard from behind him, a singsong voice he had not heard in years. He spun, unsurprised to see the tall, conical and well plumed helmet that so often accompanied elven warriors and dignitaries, though it was a different helm than last time Markus saw this elf. With an easy smile and eyes full of cheer, the slim elf approached the swordsman, holding a scepter of some significance in his left hand The majority of his form was cloaked in robes, though he still donned a breastplate and sweeping pauldrons. 

"As I live and breathe," Markus said, before calling his name. "Galadel! What in Ulthuan brings you so far eastward?" 

Markus wasn't a short man, but once they met to the side, the elf stood nearly a head taller than him. He would be slightly taller than Halfdan, likely. Though far lighter, of course. "I should ask you the same question, my friend." The elf laughed, a sound that brought up the spirits of any that might hear. Many elves had a darkness to them, but Markus had never seen that side of Galadel, though he knew somewhere Asuryan's wrath lurked if pressed. "I haven't seen you since we were in Kislev. Don't tell me you're involved in the wars of the south. Is Lilea here? or Lieutenant Fiedwell?"  

Markus flinched at the mention, shaking his head. Those names were from what seemed a lifetime ago. "The Lieutenant was killed after we left Kislev. And I haven't seen Lilea since Ostermark. We didn't exactly part on kind terms." He cleared his throat, seeking to change the subject. He felt at a loss, being caught off guard by his old comrade's sudden appearance. "Actually, I'm captain of a ship now, an... Imperial vessel. We're just here to trade. But I'd be more curious to know what you're here for, friend. This is a strange city for an Elf of Ulthuan, especially considering you were a banneret last we spoke."

"You'll have to tell me more about that, and yes, I am here guarding Prince Aluryon of Avelorn." He explained, glancing at the crowd, a few passersby staring his way. Markus had to admit they seemed an odd pair. An elf is resplendent white, blue, and gold, whilst Markus had on an admittedly important yet bedraggled captain's jacket, shirt, and breeches. The only thing remarkable about Markus's effects was his sword. "Sometimes we must accept human invitations to retain good trade opportunities. There are more Druchii on the seas now more than ever, so we travel protected to safeguard our interests." 

Markus made sure to keep his sword hilt covered by his jacket. He didn't want his old friend to think less of him. "Yes, I've heard there are increasing attacks by your dark kin. I hope your journeys have been safe. Is there a place we could meet later? I'm a bit busy at the moment." 

Galadel smiled, inclining his head gingerly. "I was hoping you would ask. Tomorrow there is a banquet at the Duke's villa. If you're a Captain, you do have the right to attend if you've done some trading. I will be there, as it's where the Prince shall see the Duke. Would you have the time?" 
[i]
Minutes later...[/i]

Markus wondered if it was truly a good idea to agree to that, but he had. Though he felt he was caught between his desire to take the opportunity to steal, or to make himself a legitimate partner to the aristocracy of Tilea. It wasn't out of the ordinary for pirates to steal from ships that flew certain flags and protected others. But that would require him to announce himself as a pirate, which could go south very quickly. Around him, he found himself in a lower end part of town, opposite the dicks but still framing the great engineering works, with the Duke's Palace sitting opposite next to another line of coast. 

Though clearly there was less wealth here, it still seemed everyone was well off enough to have a fair time of the day. No buildings looked run down, though many alleyways were cut off and filled with wooden shacks where peddlers and sellers of knick knacks. Many of the stalls were covered with brightly colored carpets, and music wafted through the air, though where it came from he couldn't tell. All around it seemed. Tilean women danced and smacked jingling tambourines as men talked and ate, though some played the flute and glided between and around the women and independent lovers who had found the area inviting. 

"You! Hey!" A voice rang in his ears to his left, and it took another call for him to grasp that it was his attention the voice sought. Markus saw a woman sitting cross legged atop a carpet, an opened, unlit hookah before her. She was cloaked along her entire body, save for her exotic eyes. A slim hand slid out of the wrapping to beckon him forward. Briefly he considered telling her to piss off, but in the end he decided to humor her. Seeing Galadel had made him thoughtful, and it wouldn't hurt to watch someone try to swindle him. 

"Have you ever had your mind read?" She asked with a practiced whimsy. 

"Why would I pay you to read my mind?" Markus inquired dryly. "I can do that for free."
 
"You misunderstand!" The woman replied, holding a hand up. "Our minds are muddled and filled with conflicting desires. The aches and cares of the world intrude constantly, yes? Sometimes we do not even know what we want. I only offer you the truth to your own mind. Your own troubles...I will show you what you wish for most, not what you need, but what you desire as a man."

Markus knew magic was in the world. He was a casual practitioner, when it was suitable. Having fought the hordes of Chaos in the north and the beasts and dark elves in the sea, there were certainly strange things occurring in the world they inhabited. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to humor the woman and toss her a silver schilling. "Very well, how does this work?" 

"You do not need to do anything, my friend. Just relax-" she said, indicating Markus take a seat, which he did. "-And I shall show you what it is that haunts your soul..."

She produced a flint and tinder and began to light the hookah, which made Markus nearly scoff. He could begin the flame without any aid of tools. Thankfully, within just three strikes, the hookah was alight. She reached down and grabbed three vials that were behind the base of the instrument, muttering all the while as she filled it with whatever substances were within. It was curious to the swordsman that the hookah was not connected to anything to smoke from, which became obvious when she instead placed her hand atop it and unscrewed the stopper, allowing the smoke to billow forth like a summoned djinn. 

"Look..." She said in answer to Markus's skeptical eyebrow. "Look at the smoke and simply breathe. You will see what it is you desire!"

For many moments he sat there, trying to be as patient as he could. He breathed, keeping his heart beat steady as his old master used to tell him. As usual, it paid off, for the smoke began to take shape and form. He watched curiously as it warped for a brief period and coalesced into the form of a shapely woman, arms crossed with her tongue sticking out childishly. Markus squared his jaw and concentrated.

"Aha, there is a woman in your life I see! You understand now, that- wait...What!? That is impossible!" She yelled as the image changed to a man, strikingly similar to Markus, giving the killing stroke to a nameless male figure. The smoke struggled within the boundaries it had been set, but it was clear. Even as he watched, the dead man in the smoke dropped a coin purse, and Markus caught it. The fortune teller scrambled to place the stopper atop the hookah. "No one can change their desires! That is of the heart! How did yo-" 

"You need a new job, wench." He spat, gathering himself to his feet and striding away. The woman was speechless as she watched him, utterly intimidated at the force of will. Markus needn't move aside for anyone for the next five blocks, the menace in his eyes brooking no challenge from anyone who valued their life. He knew the smoke had produced Emmaline, but he had other worries and cares. The damned woman was lucky he didn't slit her throat for wasting his time. As he reviewed his thoughts over and over, trying to decipher what might have led to that utterly incorrect image, he bumped shoulders with one of the locals absentmindedly. Paying no heed, he continued onward until he realized the crowd around him had grown noticeably silent. Markus knew a dangerous situation when he found himself in one, and he took his time in turning to face the man who he had yet to sense attack. 

A mustachioed fellow, wearing an open vest and jewels on every finger watched him with hard eyes. With his left hand, he drew out a castle-forged rapier, and then placed the point at the ground and tapped it expectantly. It took him a moment to understand that the idiot wanted Markus to prostrate himself, or at the very least kneel. The Captain made no move to perform either service to whoever this was.

"I see you are in need of an education!" The duelist declared, Tilean accent dripping with every syllable. He flourished his blade in a salute. "I am Il Conte Raphael Mondego, and I shall duel you here and now! If you do not fight for honor, fight for blood! Fight for-..." He gasped when Markus drew out his black sword, suddenly unable to find any words for a brief moment. "Fight for your sword! I will kill you for your insolence and relieve you of such fine a weapon! And if you defeat me, you will be known as the man who slew the Whirlwind Crow of Tobaro!" 

Markus thought of the smoke just after it dissipated from Emmaline's visage, and he wondered if the smoke had been right. Maybe not the the first time, but the second. [i]Maybe both[/i], he thought, but it nearly made him wretch. Clearly he was taking too long of a time for Il Conte Raphael Mondego, for the man saluted once more and leaped with all the fury his name entailed. He waited for the last moment to pierce Markus so the Borderlander could not block in time. His victory was assured, though the Whirlwind of Tobaro wondered why the world was suddenly spinning. He would have felt pain if his nervous system was still connected to his head, but even as he hit the ground, he saw his body fall to the pavement strides away, and the swordsman stooping down to take the jewels off his fingers.