Geremiah hadn't been in the camp long, but he'd caught the eye of many. He fancied it his noble bearing and good equipment that made him stand out, but as he looked around he knew that wasn't far from the truth. Various folks looked up from fires, out of tents and over various drinking and gambling tables. I'm going to have to keep checking my pockets aren't I, he mentally sighed. He knew he was used to being pampered, he'd travelled far enough to break his perfect illusion (which made him more world-wise than most noble's he knew). How do you get used to being constantly on guard for something so mundane as a pickpocket?
He handed Mauvaise Humeur to a stablekeep near the entrance to this place, as well as a few coins, and made his way into the city of canvas. Various stalls of lunch-time food had set themselves up around here and there, and Geremiah's stomach decided to pay them a visit. He picked up some cheap wine (it all tasted the same in these lands anyways) and moved over to a pastry sand before perusing their wares. In his homeland they would have had many hundreds of different flavours on offer, the idea being you bought a dozen or so bitesized ones to sample. Every other place so far he'd been to would sell single and large ones, perhaps on the silly assumption someone mundane would come along and just want one flavour. A smiling attendant asked patiently from the other side of the counter "May I help you, friend?"
"Yes, sorry," Geremiah apologised for being lost in thought, "Is there anything you'd recommend?"
The attendant, an average-sized middle aged man replied "The Kladvin Golds are good, I got a fresh shipment of plums in this morning. But of course I'd say that. They're the most expensive ones."
Geremiah smiled, "Still reasonably priced, Messerre, I'll take two" he said, considering saving one for tea time
He stood off to the side and snacked on it a little while, striking up a conversation with the Attendant. "So how does one enlist as a sellsword?". The older man seemed taken aback. "I wouldn't have taken you for one of those types, not with equipment like that. Are you seriously enlisting?"
"Why yes! The advertisement called to all able-bodied and pre-armed fighters. I am indeed both of those."
The Attendant snorted "I think you're underselling yourself a little bit, shouldn't you be serving as some sort of hedge-knight?"
Geremiah had considered the notion before, but had not gone with the idea. Being a hedge-knight would involve probably sitting around for most of the year looking after some lord's estate while he went off saving the world. Not really what Geremiah was looking for. A sellsword certainly lacked honoour, but he attributed it the people involved not the occupation itself.
"No, I'm afraid not. Can you help me?"
The attendant fished out a small scroll from his pocket, and handed it over. "Take this as an offer of employment. I was given two and asked to give them to anybody who stood out as special. You'll be treated a lot damned better than if you went to anybody else I can guarantee you that."
Geremiah thanked the man and read over the letter. He read out the sender aloud "A Captain Kayden?"
"Aye," the Attendant answered, "My two boys served under him a few years ago. Damned fine man in my books and I've given him free pastries for years. He comes by every now and then and we chat. He'll look after you good and proper."
Without any better options Geremiah thanked the man and paid him, before heading off to lose himself amongst the various stalls for a few hours before going to this 'guard tower'.
He knocked on the door twice, loud enough to be announce himself and yet quiet enough that he wouldn't interrupt any conversation. After two seconds he opened the door and stepped in. Again this day he felt more eyes raise to look at him, though these eyes were all a little stranger than the last lot.
"Sorry I'm late, I was busy in another ruin not far from here before I noticed this was the place."
At the head of the curved table sat a moderately armoured man, presumably Lord Kayden, who regarded him casually
Geremiah stood there for a brief moment, "I'll.. Sit down," he said awkwardly and politely started sipping his drink while studying subtely those around him. It was a smooth-ish Ale that went down fine enough. He hadn't really had better, they rarely served Ale in the nobility but he'd grown a taste for it since he started travelling
