[IC] Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

[POOHEAD189]

Amal coughed a bit, a small bit of his cloak around his face now, making him seem even more the bandit. He strode over to the fallen Wightking and plucked the crown out of its dead hand. He couldn't help but marvel at it like Emmaline had, but he spared no time in sliding it onto his arm and going to check on Emmaline, wiping her face of dust gently and picking her up in his arms with even more care.

"Ah my-" she coughed again. "My handsome assistant."

"Let's get out of here." He said, concern in his voice. But she tugged at his hair, whispering 'don't leave the chest' in his ear, hoarsely. He snorted, which turned into a full blown laugh. "You were always the smart one..."

---

The next day they made it to Suderburg with their loot, which, not counting the loot they already had from their previous adventures, was the bejeweled crown, four meters of silk, a brass teacup of ancient design, a broken arming sword with gold filigree and faded runes, and an odd, ruby amulet. The two had stuck the items in whatever sacks they could find amid the broken ruins of the Howling Hills, and kept it safe and secret among their belongings. Once or twice, the two thought they saw horsemen that looked like they might be working for whatever new authority that was in Delbertz, and so they never stayed the night at any inn. They kept walking, sleeping near the road under the trees and buying food from passing merchants before they hit a large river.

"Is this...?" Emmaline breathed, removing her hood for the first time in two days. Her hair shined like gold in the sunlight of the fading day. Amal removed his hood as well, a blanket of dark hair almost like fur covering his chin and upper lip. There were two things that never ceased to amaze him. The beauty of his woman and the sight of a flowing river in the midst of vast green. "It's the river Talabec. Which means Altdorf is just past these trees."

"Altdorf?" Amal said. Such strange names, these northern cities. "Is that a big city?"

She nodded. "It's the capital of my entire country." The woman informed him jubilantly. She stretched, and suddenly let out a groan when she felt the strain on her muscles from the constant walking they had endured. "We can find a seller for some of our treasures here, but we must be careful." Her words were tight as she placed her hands on her back, the comforts of a bed on her mind. "The law here is very strict."

"Will they take your tongue if you look at a magistrates clothed daughter?"

"Not if you merely look in her direction." She said meekly.

"I think we can handle it, then."
@Penny

[Penny]

Altdorf came on slowly as the day wore on, small hamlets giving way to outlying villages and towns until they reached the city proper. Even here where three story half timbered buildings rose to crowd the approach roads they were still more than a mile from the 'city' walls. Like many Imperial cities Altdorf had outgrown its original walls long ago, and then outgrown the 'new' walls which were themselves a century old. Little effort had been made to ring the city in modern times, instead block houses and low star walled forts had been built to control the roads and the river, they bristled with guns and the the bright red and white flags of Reikland. The traffic on the road steadily increased also, artisans carrying implements of their trade, farmers bringing crops and stock to market or returning home with empty wagons, processions of priests leading the faithful in pilgrimage to some shrine or other thronged the road. At one point a troop of Reiksgard Cavalry, resplendent in their shining armor and steel clad horses clattered by, lances held aloft. Although her clothing was by now travel stained, the leader dipped his lance slightly in salute as he passed Emmaline and Amal and she performed a slight curtsey in response. The river too was busy, ships both large and small maneuvered in and out from a series of piers and jetties bringing the vast wealth of the Talabec down river to Altdorf. Small groups of men in livery, customs officials, met each ship, making sure the Emperors taxes, and possibly a bribe or too were extracted from each captain no matter how mean and lowly.

The smell of the city grew steadily also, that peculiar mix of body odor, wood smoke, torch oil and garbage which cloaked every human city since the beginning of time. Emmaline experienced a strange sense of homecoming as they stepped onto the cobbled streets. Hawkers cried their wares from carts or shouted advertisements for local business, a crier bawled out the days news, drunken patrons staggered too and from taverns, all of which brought her back to the time of her apprenticeship a lifetime ago. Once she even saw a bright wizard, his beard crackling and smoldering, ride by but she made no attempt to engage him in any way. Better to avoid the notice of the Colleges of Magic, whose baroque spires peaked above the skyline to the west. There was a feeling of safety that came with the city, not so much because it was less dangerous physically, Altdorf was rife with pick pockets and thugs, but because of anonimity. With the possible exception of Marienburg, Altdorf was the most cosmopolitan city in the Empire. The languages of a dozen lands could be heard in its streets, and Amal would attract no more notice for being Araybian than a foul looking Norscan who stomped from a tavern muttering about the inferiority of Imperial ales.

"Shall we find an inn?" Amal asked, looking around his face unreadable as he took in the bustling throng of the Empire's capital city.

"Lets find a fence first," Emmaline suggested, "I know of one, if he hasn't been hanged yet."

The shop of Nobby Haraldson was where Emmaline remembered it, nestled in one of the run down tenement districts between the main city docks and the Colleges of Magic. It was a two story affair, with a stone lower story set slightly below street level and a timbered upper story which jutted out prodigiously over the streets surrounding it. The roof was done in slate rather than the cheaper wood shingles and shone with a gloss which legend had it was oil that Nobby poured on it to make it too slick for thieves to climb. The pair of adventurers stepped through the canvas flap that had been hung from the door frame to keep dust and insects out and into the interior of the store. It was a single large room with stairs at the back and a solid wooden counter behind which a squat powerful looking dwarf sat cradling a flagon of ale. His left arm was missing, having been taken off in some ancient battle, or accident or act of revenge, depending on which story Nobby was telling and having been replaced with a polished brass cap that covered the stump. Nobby opened his eyes to regard them with displeasure before he started upright.

"Emmy? As I live and breath is that really you?" he demanded. Emmaline grinned at the old dwarf, having disposed of her ill gotten goods here many times in the past. The clutter of weapons, second hand clothing, kitchenwares, art and other items which lined the shelves and tables of the place suggested that Nobby hadn't been having any trouble finding suppliers in her absence.

"I'm afraid so master Haraldson," she admitted as the dwarf stumped over to grin at her through broken teeth before shifting his gaze to Amal as well.

"And you are welcome to sir," Nobby said raising an interogative eyebrow at the thief.

"This is Amal, Amal this is Nobby Haraldson, a buyer of unwanted items," she introduced. Nobby snorted.

"By the look of them he knows a fence when he sees one," the dwarf rejoined and then narrowed his eyes.

"I heard you were lost at sea, so broken up was I about it that I completely forgot about those 'genuine dragon pearls' you sold me." Emmaline coughed into her hand, blushing slightly.

"I was lost at sea, shipwrecked in Araby, rather a long story," she admitted, glossing over the 'dragon pearl' incident as best she could for the moment.

"We are passing through, and I thought I'd look up an old friend and see if he had any interest in buying an item we came across," she admitted. Nobby pretended to appear hurt.

"And here I was thinking you had come for naught but the pleasure of my company," he declared ironically. Emmaline snickered and then reached into her improvised sack to produce the crown they had recovered from the barrow, setting it down on the counter top with a clink. Nobby twitched visibly as his gold lust pricked him.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal grinned when the Dwarf had commented on his bandit-like look. It was strange seeing a Dwarf so deep within a human city. He had dealt plenty with the squat people in his native land, but always by the docks to trade and sell wares before departing again on human ships or the strange steel contraptions they used to go under the waves. He had heard stories late at night on where the Dwarf homeland resided, and he guessed they were simply closer to it here in the Empire.

The Dwarf let out an "Oooh!" when he saw the crown, thick fingers twiddling in the air as if being near the thing brought him tingles. As he lifted it up carefully, Emmaline placed a few of the other items that they had procured down on the table, though Nobby's attention was wholly on the crown at the moment. Amal took this opportunity to peek outside, a horse-drawn carriage clopping past on the paved stone streets. Emmaline trusted the establishment, and he would too. But he didn't trust any other like as not unsavory customers that made their way in.

"This crown is fifteen hundred years old, fashioned by fairly skilled men-folk smiths. Very well preserved..." He turned the circular base of it around, his eyes boring into the make of it unlike any human could. "If I'd hazard a guess, and that's what I bleedin' do, this might be the lost crown of Boris Goldgather." The epiphany had Emmaline gasp slightly at their impeccable fortune if Nobby was right, and he'd never been wrong before.

"Boris Goldwhat?" Amal remarked curiously.

"Boris Goldgather." Emmaline corrected. "He was an infamous and unpopular Emperor in the distant past. He died of plague, apparently. Buried in an unknown location." Amal had already started laughing before she even finished her next statement. "Which means we beat the shit out of a dead Emperor."

"You did what?" The Dwarf asked incredulously.

"How much is it worth?" Emmaline asked while Amal tried to get ahold of himself. By his perspective it was quite funny, traveling to his girlfriend's home country and robbing her ancient liege lord. Amal would be in high spirits all day. Nobby scoffed at the very question, raising the crown up again to admire the fine craftsmanship.

"Normally it would be around sixteen hundred gold peices, but considering the historical value? Likely thrice that, though it would be hard for even me to sell it on that premise. The Reiksgard would be at my door in an instant. As for the other stuff..."

The Dwarf spent the next minute appraising the items, which came down to the pendant being of elven make and costing around eight hundred gold coins, the brass teacup costing three hundred silver schillings due to historical significance, and the Emperor's arming sword costing around one hundred and fifty gold, though if they found the other bit of the blade it would quadruple in price unless they sought to give it to the Imperial academy. The silk was standard but well preserved, easily being a twelve hundred silver schillings. It seemed they had a lot to think about, and if they wanted to sell all of them to Nobby they would need to wait a day while he procured funds.

"While we think, what's the situation been like in Altdorf?" Emmaline asked her old friend.

"Oh, you can call this city an authentic Dragon Pearl if you catch my meaning." The Dwarf said, causing Emmaline to blush. "Old Franz sent most of the army north to handle those Chaos boys in Archaeon's horde. You'd think that would give us a bit of a reprieve but the good Marshal Ludendolf and his Reiksgard have the streets under strict watch, and there's even some White Wolves sniffing about. Not that is stops the gangs, only now they're getting more dangerous. Thieves in this city used to be respectful to each other. Now they kill one another on sight so the witness doesn't tell anyone willing to pay who stole what."

It sounded like an exciteable win win to Amal, particularly because they'd double their riches this time tomorrow.
@Penny

[Penny]

"This is genuine isn't it?" Nobby asked, looking up at Emmaline with sudden suspicion in his eyes. She spread her hands in a guesture of mock innocence.

"You wound me Master Dwarf," she protested, lips curving into a smile. Nobby scowled at her and tapped the ruby with a finger, verifying to his old miners senses that it was the real thing. Emmaline couldn't blame the old fence for being suspicious, certainly she had passed enough fake coins and faux antiques in her time to recognize that his suspicion was well justified.

"If I find the real stuff I don't need to fake it," she told the dwarf. Nobby grunted and reached under his desk to retrieve a heavy purse which clinked satisfyingly on the bench as he slapped it down. The dwarf was careful to keep his meaty fist gripped around the throat of the leather bag.

"I have eight hundred marks for the pendant, the rest of it will take time for me to pull together, find buyers you know," he told them bluntly. Emmaline arched an eyebrow, to be able to part with eight hundred marks meant her old acquaintance was doing better than he let on.

"I'll have to arrange to have someone test the crown of course, plus it will take time to find a buyer," the dwarf rumbled, sliding the pouch across the counter to Emmaline who pulled it open and ran her fingers through the coins with a satisfying clink of gold. Nobby gave an amused chuckle.

"Don't worry, I know better than to try to pass fake coins to one of your kind Emmy," he chortled. Emmaline smiled, but tested the coins with her magic anyway. Someone had scraped their edges a little, but you would be hard pressed to find a coin in circulation that hadn't been shaved down at least a little.

"We are on our way to Marienburg," Emmaline temporized, wanting to move the process along if she could.

"Suit yourself, but you know the crown wont fetch the same price there, historical interest here in Altdorf and all. A half dozen noble families would kill for the crown, so they can trot it out and claim some kind of link to the throne. Emmaline frowned, not having thought of that.

"Well I suppose we aren't on any real schedule, we can wait to have it tested," she conceded. Nobby nodded agreeably.

"I can hold on to the valuable until I can arrange it if you like?" he offered. Emmaline was already sweeping the valuables back into her rucksack.

"Master Haraldson," she said with an air of mock injury, "I know we humans are short lived compared to your folk, but I was not, in fact, born yesterday."

[POOHEAD189]

"Well he seemed nice." Amal remarked.

The two had gathered their things, having told Emmaline's friend farewell for the day and now had the herculean task of finding a nice one bedroom in the middle of Altdorf. Sure they had the money, and it seemed they were about to no less than quadruple their current riches, but it wouldn't do to advertise themselves as people with means. Not yet anyway. The streets were robust and the buildings were towering, the top floors leaning over the streets as if they were about to crumble any moment to Amal's foreign eyes. Emmaline seemed to know where she was going at least, breathing in the air as if it was refreshing.

"He is, in his own way." She replied. "He's helped me out of a few tight situations now and again."

"He and I have that in common." Amal grinned, the blonde blushing and eyeing him, trying to decipher if that was a jab or not. Seeing Amal was being cheeky but not mean spirited, she merely gave him a nudge with her shoulder.

"Where are we going?"

"The only place we can go to in this city without being found or searched." She concluded, halting before the next road. The sun had yet to set, but it seemed the lights of the lanterns and the festivities of some sort were brighter and more loud than anything else in the city. Two to three story buildings, mostly made of wood though some were ostentatiously wrought with various brass or gold trimmings or filigree on the architecture. It was clear that nearly every building here was a place to find a drink or a bed to sleep in. "The Street of a Thousand Taverns."

"It sort of reminds me of home." Amal admitted.

"Let me show you around." She said, taking his arm in both of hers.
@Penny

[Penny]

The Street of a Thousand Taverns felt like home to Emmaline as well, running north to south at a right angle to the Talabec the quality of establish varied in direct proportion to their distance from the docks. Down by the waterfront the dives and drinking dens existed in a perpetual state of riot. Bottles shattered and pistols fired into the air, brawling men clashed in quarrels that might be about nothing more serious than a spilled drink but might leave a body floating in the river. Bouncers, often armed with coach guns, crouched in doorways, though there primary concern seemed to be to channel the belligerents out into the street and prevent fires from catching in damp thatch. The top of street was almost respectable, the kind of place a noble might frequent if they were in the mood to slum it. The middle section was packed with the vast breath of the city of Altdorf. Scribes and students of the Colleges of Magic rubbed shoulders with the clerks and lay functionaries of the Temple of Sigmar. Shop keepers and grocers, farmers and tradesmen all thronged the street, drinking and carousing with dwarves, Kislivite mercenaries, even the occasional halfling.

The whole place had a smell of ale and cooking food. The sun was beginning to sink and the evening meal was being prepared, soups simmered on pots and bread baked in oven. Grilling meat, beef, pork and even goat smoked on open flames, chickens, turkeys and pheasant roasted by the dozen, turned on slow spits by the children of the tavern keepers. Uniquely among the streets of major cities no hawkers crier the charms of particular taverns and bars. It was cheaper to hire street children to pelt such criers with rocks, eggs and other improvised missiles than to keep up the service. The crowds were rife with pickpockets and thieves of all stripes who sort marks amidst the unwary. Twice Amal had to smack away children who tried to slit his purse, shoving them more or less good naturedly back into the mass of humanity.

Emmaline selected a tavern three quarters of the way up the street that hung a sign depicting a golden harp. The inside of the tavern was warmed by a trio of fireplaces each heating crocks of soup. It was clearly a gathering place of mercenaries and soldiers, weapons hung from the backs of chairs and there was a smell of steel and oiled leather. There was a slight quiet as the entered as hard faced men looked up from games of cards and tankards of ale to size up the new comers. There were a appreciative glances at Emmaline but by and large the eyes went to Amal and his weapons. Conversation began again as he evidently passed muster. The presence of so many men who wore their skills in scars and battered faces meant that the place was less crowded than other taverns, which was why Emmaline had chosen it. It also meant that it wasn't a place likely to be frequented by anyone from the colleges of magic, which was certainly as she preferred it. They sauntered up to the bar where a buxom woman, handsome but aging was polishing a glass with a dirty cloth.

"We will need a room, probably for several days," Emmaline called over the buzz of the the background chatter.

[POOHEAD189]

There were three types of taverns throughout the Old World. Ones that were so safe that no one fought. Those where fighting was so common no one batted an eye. And those where no one fought, because the environment was too dangerous to warrant it. Any scuffle would turn too brutal for any establishment to handle. Amal could see this was the latter as clear as day. That was likely why he spotted no bouncer. He would have spotted even a disguised one. The wood was stark and well laminated, with only one board he guessed had an old bloodstain, likely from a quick kill a long time ago. All this he gathered in a matter of a moment from a glance, keeping his hands on the hilts of his daggers, both framing his trim hips.

"Several days?" The lady innkeeper mused as she chewed on some form of tobacco, placing the cup on the desk with a soft 'clack'. "Rich enough for that, are you?"

She openly appraised Amal and continually gazed back at Emmaline, though whether because she was attracted to Amal or because she could see two rogues a mile away, it wasn't clear. Without further conjecture, she spat out the substance in her mouth and nodded, taking out a sheet of cloth parchment and produced a quill pin from behind the counter, marking it with a swift and sloppy movement of her hand. Emmaline payed her with two gold crowns and five silver schillings, by Amal's keen eye. The barwoman slid the paper to them as a mark of temporary ownership.

"The room is upstairs to the left. Breakfast and dinner are discounted to residents here, even to foreigners." She specified.

"Am I not just special?" Amal asked, though Emmaline was already pushing him towards the stairway.

Half of the hardened mercenaries and toughs in the common room were playing some form of cards or dice in various forms of unscrupulous wagers. The others spoke in tight knit groups, speaking with the occasional chuckle or threat, lacking the boisterous nature of a lot of establishments. Only one man was drunk in any real capacity, almost leaning back in his chair a bit too far, nearly bumping into Amal. The Arabyan caught him, causing the entire table to halt their conversation he caught a few sentences of, and glare at the dark man. Amal made no move to engage them, he simply pushed the man back into place as the fellow chortled, sputtering a thanks. Amal and Emmaline made it to the stairs, stepping up two steps at a time until they were on the second floor.

That was when they began to hurry to their room, Emmaline fumbling for the key, cursing and then dropping it onto the floor in that order. Amal caught it before it hit the ground, grinning. They made it inside a moment later and shut the door. Amal locked the door, his dark hair now disheveled.

"You've got good ears." They both said at the same time.

The room was spacious for such a small establishment, with a moderately sized bed with linen sheets, and a window that overlooked a portion of the bay. There was only a small fireplace, used for heating the room rather than being something to lounge besides. That coupled with a desk and three chairs, and two oil lamps that Emmaline began to light. The gold lust was mounting in Amal. "You know there's no way they would let us join their little plan. We'd need to sabatoge theirs."

"Without them seeing us." Emmaline replied.

"In broad moonlight." Amal concluded, placing a hand to his finely shaped chin and openly roving his eyes over Emmaline. "You'll need to be a bit less beautiful, you might stand out." Not deigning to comment on the fact that he was an Arabyan in Altdorf.

[Penny]

Emmaline took a seat one one of the stools, absently gnawing on a lock of hair as she thought about what she had heard. A robbery in the Imperial Palace itself. The very concept was insane, the Imperial palace was protected by legions of guards, wizards, priests, not to mention the ceaseless activity of the palace staff. It seemed impossible that any robbery could succeed, and even if it did the Imperial authorities wouldn't rest until those who tried such an audacious scheme.

"Maybe..." she pondered, "maybe we don't stop the robbery." She stood up pacing the modest length of the room as she thought about the problem.

"Maybe what we should do is wait for them to pull it off, and then steal the spoils from them," she said, warming to the idea as she formulated it in her mind.

"That way the Reiksguard can hunt to their hearts content and we would never be implicated."

"Of course we don't know what they are stealing, or when, so we should go down try to listen in a little more," she continued and then flashed a smile.

"A great excuse for you to buy me dinner!"

[POOHEAD189]

Amal smiled back, not being able to argue with that logic. "I guess we should eat. I could also use a good bottle of arak." Then he stopped, realizing the probably did not serve that here. It didn't matter, he'd drink what she did. In all the taverns north of Sartosia, he generally followed Emmaline's lead when it came to cuisine and drinks (at least if they were unstolen goods). Amal then smoothed his thick head of hair and approached Emmaline.

"But before we go down, I wasn't kidding or trying to get you into bed." He informed her, helping her take her coat off. "Not yet anyway. A beautiful woman always draws a bit too much attention, and your hair lights up like the midday sun."

"Unless she's worked as a turtle dove." She replied.

"What?"

"It's a lowtown term." She explained, fixing her hair. They both knew if they wanted to go back down they needed to have unburdened themselves of some of their belongings and dress more casual yet with a presentable air, lest the customers see them go into their room and come back out with no change in their demeanor. They would wonder why the two went up there in the first place. "For girls who act as maids, find a nice house, and rob them blind."

Amal had taken off his cloak and jacket as well, looking much closer to the thief she had first gotten to know back in Araby with a simple shirt and loose fitting trousers. Of course he wasn't barefoot now, nor was his shirt open to see his chest and abdomen, but close enough.

"Well my little turtle dove, let us, um...ascend?"

"Descend." She corrected patiently.

"That, yes."
@Penny

[Penny]

A minute later they had taken a seat at a table of polished oak. At Emmaline's insistence they took a table on the far side of the room from the plotters. If Amal thought it a strange request he didn't mention it and instead drew her chair out for her with a graceful flourish she took a seat on the battered wooden chair with a smile and a moment later a buxom serving woman hustled over to the table, casting an admiring glance at Amal before her eyes flicked a trifle jealously to Emmaline.

"What'll be mien herr," she asked in a voice that had a slightly unpleasant nasality to it, probably because she was attempting an Altdorf accent that was at odds with whatever part of the empire she was from.

"Stew and bread," Amal responded promptly. The smell of baking bread and simmering beef stew was mouthwatering and Emmaline whole heartedly agreed. He arched an eyebrow at her inviting her comment.

"Wine as well please, a bottle of whatever," she replied dismissively. The serving woman made a slight curtsey and then turned to fetch their food.

"You have a plan to listen in somehow," Amal stated and Emmaline nodded, she leaned in close as though kissing him but instead her lips moved in a quiet chant. A moment later the sound of conversation, soft enough that only they could hear it began to emanate from the window beside the table.

"There is lead in the glass," she explained, making a discrete gesture to a similar window beside the would be thieves. It wasn't a difficult spell to work to transfer the vibrations, but it did take a rather devious mind to think of the application in the first place.

"Huh," Amal commented and Emmaline giggled and turned the subterfuge into a real kiss.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal grinned in their kiss, endeared at her cleverness as always.

Their serving woman had returned, tense at witnessing the obviously loving kiss and set their food and drink down as amicably as she could manage, turning to give Amal a nice look at her rump as she walked away. Had it been before Emmaline he might have, but he was already too focused on listening in to the would-be thieves discussing the tail end of their plot to one another.

"-takes the Griffon Seal off the third floor of the princes palace. Me and Hef'll be waiting there in the carriage we got from ol' Baggsy. You got all the papers Hef?"

"We don't need 'em remember?" An equally coarse voice replied. "We already gave the guards more'n their fair share of gold. They'll let us go easy as that."

"You, you idiot! The papers for passage on the river barge. We need to be out of Altdorf in two hours or the entire city will be in an uproar. Give 'em a short drop and they'll be able to tell Lanse and Heinrick here weren't servants, and Deterik isn't a guard. We need to be out of sight, out of mind. Get it?"

"The Seal of Magnus" Emmaline breathed, blinking. Amal wasn't privvy to such knowledge, but the Seal of Magnus was a golden brooch that could turn almost any blow and keep the wearer from harm with powerful protective enchantments. Though of course, its real value lay in its significance. You couldn't sell it in the Empire without being detained, but any wealthy border prince, tilean city-master, or sartosian despot would give their weight in gold to be able to claim such a prize.

"Tomorrow night then. We meet at the 4th pier at sundown. All goes well, we'll be gone before an hour is over." The thug concluded.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline allowed the spell to crumble, the voices of the plotters, now discussing where they would spend their imagined immense wealth fading away into the murmur of background conversation. The food was very good and the wine was excellent, though Emmaline's palate had been coarsened considerably during her year in Araby where the rough Arak had been the drink of choice. For a blessing the mood in the tavern seemed calm enough. In one corner a very drunk young pistolier was describing a battle he had fought in against the chaos hordes, making exaggerated hand gestures and rhetorical flourishes to describe the battle. In another a trio of dwarves talked in low voices, like the rumble of a distant storm.

Feeling pleasantly full and warm with drink, Emmaline was just about to suggest they retire for the evening when a sudden hush fell over the room. A figure was standing in the doorway, he was heavy set and resplendent in the regalia of a gold wizard, complete with staff and golden chain of office. He paused for dramatic effect before striding over to where Amal and Emmaline sat, staff thumping on the floor with each step. Without waiting for invitation he pulled a chair from a nearby table and spun it around taking a seat facing the two travelers, straddling the seat and resting his crossed arms on back of the chair. He was considerably less impressive up close, bald and liver spotted and with several golden filling in his wide grinning mouth.

"Albrect," Emmaline muttered with a sigh. The eyes of the disreputable looking wizard twinkled.

"My heart is filled with joy to see you are alive my dear apprentice," the other wizard said with an ironic flourish.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal raised an eyebrow, still unaccustomed to seeing someone Emmaline had known in a previous life. The man had given Amal an unpleasant glance for a brief moment, then seemed entirely occupied with Emmaline. Not only in priority, but almost in disdain. The Arabyan had the distinct impression this wizard did not care for foreigners, but maybe he simply was too preoccupied with his seeing Amal's woman.

"Apprentice... so this is the one." Amal declared, fully nonchalant despite the dramatic air of the moment. He had a feeling they might run into him at some point. He'd wait for Emmaline to give a clue on what to do before he made any rash action. Or so he told himself that for the moment. The patrons of the Inn had gone back to whispering and speaking among one another, and Emmaline's magic had shut off from the conversation across the room. Whether it would have been detected by the older wizard or she was simply done with it, Amal didn't know.

"I haven't been so elated to see someone from my past in many years." Albrecht intoned. "You seemed to have ripened into a fine magician yourself it appears, if the fact you are still alive is any indication. You could have easily settled in the brothel life, or become some fool nobles mistress. Unfortunately, I have to bring up a bit of sourness that you might have forgotten about..."

"My fees..." Emmaline mumbled.

"Always a quick one! Yes, your fees. The money you owe me, plus interest." The wizard had a lightly sadistic finish to every word he spoke. "Had it not been so long, I might have given you a discount had you paid me in...other ways. But as it were-"

Emmaline grabbed Amal's wrist, knowing her lover and companion too well to not foresee the knife coming. He had already produced one of his blades in his hand, though his expression had changed only in the subtlest of ways. It was difficult to ascertain if Albrecht had ignited a wall of protection over him or not, but if he hadn't his throat would have already been bubbling with blood. Amal looked at Emmaline, seeing her hand and shrugging, letting the conversation move along. No one spoke to his woman in such a way when he was around.

If Albrecht had sensed the impending danger, he gave no sign. "-as it were I have some fees of my own, and I simply must pull rank and demand what is owed. Surely you have it, my dear?"
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline narrowed her eyes at her former, well technically current, master. Albrecht grinned his cocky grin at her and waved at the bar maid who approached warily with a pitcher of ale and two mugs on a wooden tray. The wizard took one mug and drained it in a single long swallow then took the other and the pitcher and waved the woman off with a playful swat on the rump.

"And how much do you think I owe you?" the blonde wizard asked, gently releasing Amal's wrist in time for the daggers to vanish. Albrecht nodded courteously to Amal and then spoiled the gesture with a belch that rattled the window. Emmaline rolled her eyes, amused in spite of herself that her tutor hadn't changed in the time she had been away.

"Two thousand marks," the plump wizard declared in a matter of fact tone.

"TWO THOUSAND MARKS?!" Emmaline demanded, not realizing until head began to turn that her voice had climbed into a shout and she had half stood from her chair. With an obvious effort she calmed herself and returned herself to her chair. Albrecht had the decency to look slightly embarrassed but he recovered himself quickly.

"That is insane, you haven't taught me anything in two years and precious little before that," she protested face flashed at the older wizards audacity.

"You wound me my dear, I like to think I played a key role in forming you into the impressive young woman you are today," Albrecht replied, moderating his leer for Amal's sake.

"And in any case the College is a wee bit iffy on what does and does not constitute teaching, some might say that I have furthered your instruction by sending you out into the world. They might also point out that you stayed away far longer than the task I set you in Tilea required. A task I note that still hasn't been completed," Albrecht tsked.

"That wasn't exactly my idea," Emmaline replied petulantly. Albrecht spread his hands wide in a placating gesture.

"Not saying it was but rules is rules girl," he said, taking another mighty swig from his flagon before pouring it full with the pitcher, slopping foam over the top and onto the table.

"Two thousand marks is still an insane figure," Emmaline responded stubbornly. Albrecht nodded, clearly having anticipated this objection.

"Guild dues are adjusted for the fact that the apprentice is expected to work for her master Emm, cooking, cleaning, helping with spells, and..." he paused and cast a wary glance at Amal, "...other things. All of which you most definitely haven't been doing for the past two years." Emmaline scowled.

"And I suppose you told all your cronies you were coming to see me before dressing up as a story book wizard in case I decided it was cheaper to dump your body in the river?" she enquired with an air of resignation. Albrecht smile spread brilliantly across his face, golden teeth gleaming in the lantern light.

"And weren't you just saying I never taught you anything?" he beamed with avuncular pride.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal was in an entirely different world here. In Araby there was only a small to middling middle class, and even they hardly had to worry about societal expectations...murder, for instance... that didn't have to do with how other business associates or aristocrats would see them. It was strange to him, having lived through the slums, that Emmaline did not simply want this man dead. A man who obviously had wronged her and wanted to even now take advantage of her. He instinctively knew it wasn't just because they were in a crowded area that she had halted Amal from attacking.

Maybe it was simply because Amal had always been wary around alchemists and sorcerers. Except for Em, of course. At that moment, an idea dawned on Amal. He spoke before Emmaline could.

"We'll pay you back in two days. Does that sound good to you?" Amal asked, drawing Emmaline's and Albrecht's gaze. Emmaline did her best not to look so questioning, but it was clear she was curious. The man snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"My good fellow, I'm not sure what you are to her. A passing fancy no doubt. She's always been into...spiced goods." He said, evidently considering that to be 'generous.' "But I can't hold your promise to any regard. She needs to make that promise for me to believe it. Nothing against you, but this is a transaction between her and I."

Amal looked at Emmaline, his eyes asking her to trust him. They could speak about it once they made it up to their room, but as of now they needed to make a decision.

[Penny]

Emmaline glanced at Amal and then back to Albrecht. She didn't want to pay, two thousand marks would wipe out most of what they had but she suspected Albrecht would be shocked that she had even that much. Likely enough the old leecher wanted to bleed her of what cash she had and then enlist her in one of his innumerable schemes.

"Fine, two days," she grudgingly agreed, earning an arched eyebrow and then a beatific smile from her master.

"Well I am more than happy to grant my favorite apprentice a few extra days to come up with her admittedly laggardly dues," the older wizard said with a self satisfied grin. Emmaline rolled her eyes. It was possible to run from Albrecht of course, but it would mean dodging other wizards for the rest of her life, the College made rather a point of policing its students, and even though Albrecht wouldn't denounce her to witch hunters, there was no guarantee other members of the college would grant her the same forbearance.

"There are days," she said to Amal in Arabyian, "that I wish we had stayed in Araby."

"Is it the sand or the blistering heat you miss?" Amal rejoined with a grin that showed Albrecht his own gleaming white teeth.

"Good point," Emmaline conceded. Albrecht glanced between them suspiciously, put off to be party to a conversation in a language he didn't understand. He reached into his robes and produced a clay pipe and a pouch of tobacco. With practiced ease he packed it with the pungent herb and ignited it with a whispered spell.

"It is a real pleasure seeing you Emm, women of such beauty and natural blondes beside, you would swear Riekland is crawling with them but I make half my money selling boiled horse piss to bleach the heads of desperate house fraus."

"That one armed dwarven bastard sold me out didn't he," Emmaline declared out of the blue, having spent a few moments trying to figure out how Albrecht had tracked her. He was a wiley old dog, but magically he wasn't in the top tier of wizards, like Emmaline herself, destined for the middle of the pack. Albrecht smiled admiringly around his pipestem.

"Beautiful and brilliant, if only I were twenty years younger..."

"And fifty pounds lighter," Emmaline interjected, evoking a wince from the heavyset wizard.

"Ouch," he admitted, touching his heart to show he had been wounded by the remark.

"And had some hair," Emmaline added for good measure.

"Bit of a shrew though," he confided to Amal in a theatrical aside.

[POOHEAD189]

Amal might not like the way Albrecht treated Emmaline at first, but after a moment he realized the aging wizard reminded Amal of a lot of people he knew in Araby, with similar scavenging attitudes towards money. He supposed the Empire wasn't too different from his homeland in some regards.

"Shrew?" Amal echoed, wondering what the fellow meant. Albrecth's dramatic demeanor left when he began to chuckle at Amal's confusion.

"Well, I'm very glad you arrived apropos so you could regain your supposed earnings from me," Emmaline said, clasping her hands together and planting a smile on her face. "but if there is nothing else, would you leave me and my lover to enjoy our dinner? It's hard to eat with the smell of dead rat in the air, you understand."

"You will make quite the harridan one day, my dear." Albrecht marveled, still grinning at the prospect of receiving a ridiculous amount of cash within 48 hours, no matter what insults are thrown his way. "I will leave you to it then. I plan on meeting you right back here. Try not to get kicked out in the meantime, eh? If I have to look for you, that will be added down in interest."

8 minutes later

Despite the proclamation that they would need to eat, they had already had a quick bite just before Albrecht had scuttled in. Now with the door locked and the two in their room, Amal started the small fireplace up. It wasn't as cold as Albion was, but he still very much felt the northern crispness in the air. Amal watched the fire grow to life, and he backed himself up to sit on the comfortable chair set in the bedroom.

"The way I see it, we have three choices, Em." The bandit remarked, leaning forward, long arms resting on his knees. "We could take the money we'll get from selling our items and pay him. We could kill him and run. Or we can take a third option."

"Don't be coy," She said, not having sat down yet.

"We could steal the Prince's seal, sell it, and implicate Albrecht in the theft."
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline's eyes brightened at the idea, but she shook her head after a moment. Much as she wanted the old sleaze brought down a peg or two she didn't want him executed or imprisoned. Not the least of which there was the issue of what would happen to her if her master were suddenly to be taken out of the picture. Traditionally, when a wizard died, his associates had the choice to adopt the apprentice. Given the quality of Albrecht's 'associates' that might be trading one problem for another. A least Albrecht was happy just to collect his money and let her go about her business, something she couldn't be sure about with his disreputable drinking buddies. If no one stepped forward to claim her, the college itself would find her another master. That might be even worse as a by the book wizard might expect her to study, do chores and generally compel her to work, all of which were very much against her nature.

"I don't think we want to implicate him," she said musingly, flopping down on a couch with a generous bounce.

"But maybe if he thought we could implicate him..." she went on. A slow smile spread across Amal's face as he followed her logic.

"What do the call blackmail in the Empire?" he asked.

"Blackmail," Emmaline responded with a smile.

[POOHEAD189]

A jackal's grin spread over Amal's face, and he crossed his arms and legs in the chair as he thought of how they might implicate her former master. The bandit took too much enjoyment in ruining people's days for profit, but he wasn't about to call himself out on it. It was simply too much fun.

---

Hef screamed as loud as he could, but it was far too muffled to be heard for any distance from the old cloth Amal had stuffed him with like a rotisserie pig. The leader, who was eponymously named Ringo, was out cold from Amal's initial entrance. Leaping off a wharf warehouse whilst swinging on a rope gave Amal quite a bit of momentem. He had only needed the two to be distracted for a moment, and Emmaline sauntering across the docks in her lowcut blouse gave Amal thrice the time he needed to get in position and execute the maneuver. From there Amal simply danced around Hef until he had decked him in the chin, and now the fellow had regained his sensibilities just in time to be tied up and helpless.

Amal saw a small flash in the distance past the wharf, beside a small structure straddling the docks; a sign Emmaline had gotten a hold of the cart they were to steal. As long as they were at the appointed place at the appointed time, nothing should go awry. That was the hope at least. Amal was very apt at handling things on the fly, but usually that led to people openly dying or at least being severely pissed off, and they wanted to leave as small of a trail as possible. All that was left now was to hide Ringo and Hef so they could be on their way.

"Stop struggling." Amal breathed, absentmindedly speaking in Arabyan as he tightened the binds to Hef's hands. The northerner smelled like alcohol and rotting bread, not uncommon smells to Amal but there was something extra putrid that was strange to his southern-born palate. He still found a few of the northern dishes particularly strange, after all. The cutthroat took out his knife and showed it to Hef, who froze. "I will not stab you if you hold still, understand?"

The words spoken in reikspeil calmed the robber, which allowed Amal to blindfold him with the last cloth. Sheathing the knife, Amal used his wiry strength and powerful arms to lift the man up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder. After taking about a dozen paces to the north, he stepped onto the docks, Hef likely believing Amal was going to stuff him in the brig of a ship. Unfortunately for Hef, Amal halted at the edge of the dock to unceremoniously shrug the man off and into the black depths of the Reik. Save for some noncommittal splashing from the horrified man, he sank into the water like a rock.

After Amal dealt with Ringo in a similar fashion, he donned his cloak again and kept the shadows near the warehouses until he poked into the small outcropping where Emmaline sat on the coach, waiting for his appearance.

[Penny]

Emmaline sat in the back of a simple coach, the kind of thing a minor merchant might use until he could find something more ostenatious. The thieves had wisely chosen it as an escape which would not be interfered with after dark. A stone figure sat on the bench opposite her. The statue was remarkably lifelike and seemed to have been caught in a pose of trying to fight of someone who had grabbed him from behind. She lifted a leather satchel of the floor and carefully folded the leaves back, inside was a small bundled wrapped in ancient leather silk. Her body throbbed with gold lust as she unwrapped it, revealing a small gold disc about the size of a clenched fist. On closer inspection, the seal itself was made of some kind of hard stone but chiseled expertly with the hammer sigil of Magnus. It almost thrummed with a power that Emmaline couldn't quite identify and made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. The creak of the carriage caused her to start and glance up guiltily. Amal was emerging from the shadow, seeming to materialize from the shadows and climb up to take the reigns of the carriage. It was hard to believe that these seeming amateurs had pulled of the heist but Emmaline supposed that some ideas were just so audacious that no one though to defend against them.

The reigns shock and the carriage lurched into motion the horses whickering nervously at the unfamiliar driver's quirks. Now it was just a matter of riding out of town and then sending a message back to Albrecht that if he tried to collect his money his name would be given to the authorites. One of the horses neighed loudly and the coach shuddered to a stop. Emmaline hear Amal curse as she was jolted against the statue she has created.

"What..." she began but as she glanced out the window of the carriage she saw the problem. Armed men were emerging from the side alley. They were clad in bits of cast off leather armor and carried crossbows which they pointed at the carriage. Emmaline spun to see a similar group emerging from the alley opposite them, these ones carrying short pikes as well as the ranged weapons.

"Why haven't they shot?" Amal murmered and Emmaline glanced forward to see that the way forward was similarly blocked off.

"You are probably wondering why we haven't killed you?" a man, sensibly behind the screen of approaching toughs, called in a thick Tilean accent. Emmaline wondered if she could create a shield that would protect Amal long enough for him to drive the coach through the cordon of men. She rejected the notion almost immediately, even if she could keep Amal alive, the horses would almost certainly be hit and they wouldn't escape. So long as these people, whoever they were, wanted to talk she figured there was no harm in playing for time. Emmaline stuck her head out the window with an irritated look on her face.

"Among other things yes," she responded peevishly. They weren't city watch, not clad in the rags and cast offs they were wearing. Cultists of some type. The thought chilled her momentarily but she didn't get a wiff of Chaos from them.

"We need you to come with us... and bring the Seal if you would, yes yes we know all about it."

Emmaline and Amal exchanged looks and climbed out of the carriage.

___________________________

"Sorry to have invited you here under such circumstances," a jovial voice apologized in the darkness. The leather bag that had been pulled over Emmaline's head was removed and she found herself in a strange room. It was underground, that much was apparent from the field stone walls and the slight smell of damp in the air, but the walls were adorned with tapestries and the floor laid with tiles just like a grand ballroom. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, periouslsly low, lit with dozens of candles that gave the place an unpleasant warmth. The Tilean who had lead taken them from the carriage stood beside them as did the two guards who had lead them after the bags had been placed over their heads. The speaker however, was what drew immediate attention. A jolly looking man in late middle age, he was dressed in silks and sat atop a throne carved from old oak. Dozens of other disreptuable looking types lounged around drinking and playing dice, but they kept a respectful distance from the throne and its occupant.

"Sorry to have had to accept," Emmaline responded, earning a snicker from the enthroned man.

"I had heard you were a bold one Frauline Von Morganstern, and this must be Amal. I'm sorry your reputation proceeds you," he explained.

"Yours dosen't," Amal interuptted bluntly, "Who in the name of Allah are you?" The man's grin widened.

"Amzaing that you are still alive, but as you are my guests, and I have not yet introduced myself, I am Jacob Felix," he told them with a mocking bow. Emmaline felt her heart skip a beat.

"Lucky Jack?" she demanded incredulously. The man was positively beaming now.

"See what I mean about reputations?" he asked Amal with a grin. Lucky Jack was the legendary head of the Altdorf thieves guild. Legend had it that not a single purse was cut, whore rented, or coin begged for that wasn't oaked by Jack. Emmaline composed herself with some effort.

"Ok, so you have a reputation," she conceeded, "What do you want with us." Jack sighed and looked appologetic.

"Under normal circumstances I would applaud your bold theft of the Seal of Magnus. Oh I'd want my cut, but I would applaud it," he explained. Emmaline folded her arms beneath her generous breasts.

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" she enquired. Jack nodded.

"Quite. A few months ago the Riekmarshall himself showed up at my house with a troop of knights. I thought I was for the high jump for sure, but it turns out he only wanted to talk." Emmaline shook her head, trying to picture the scene but unable to imagine the legendary Kurt Hellbore sitting down to talk with the head of the guild of theives.

"To make a long story short, I agreed that no major crime would occur in the next twelve moons, until after Acheron was defeated you see and I'm afraid you have put me in breech of my word by nabbing that seal." Emmaline frowned, trying to keep track of the many things wrong with what she had just been told.

"So what, you are going to take it from us? Kill us?" she demanded. Jack laughed, an honest and merry sound.

"Of course not my dear, I'm just going to ask you to put it back. Before anyone notices its gone."