Evalia Bloom
Visitor
(Timing of the story is around December 2019, during Nujel'm event)
Moonglow - The Herbal Splendor
"Is this all you need?" a balding herbalist in a faded red robe, addressed Grayson.
He considered the old man for a while and looked down at the list in his hand, "Yes, I believe that will be all for now, I will keep what you said in mind about the black pearls. Thank you."
With deft hands, he stuffed the pouches of reagents he purchased into a drawstring bag, handed his payment to the shopkeeper, and made his way out of the store.
He had been followed
Even before his visit to the herb shop, Grayson knew that he was being tailed. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of a shabby-looking brown-haired man in a plain tunic and leather trousers pulling his cap down while trying to look inconspicuous. What an amateur. He sighed wearily, wondering if he had displayed too much gold when transacting with vendors. Thieves nowadays. One can't even have a leisurely jaunt without worrying about being pickpocketed.
He considered if he should approach a guard, but no, his anonymity was more important. Besides he could have imagined the whole thing. The fact that said thief hadn't approached him by now was rather odd. There were people on the road, but not many. Perhaps he was waiting for a thicker crowd to make his move.
Grayson made several more stops at random stores and the bank; the same man was still following him at a safe distance. Perhaps his pursuer prefers quiet? He could handle a lone petty thief. He exited the town proper through the eastern gate, walking at a relaxed pace down the quiet dirt road. The same feeling of being followed persisted, and again, he was not confronted. How odd.
He came upon a farmhouse where a public event was being held. A makeshift sign saying 'Soup Kitchen' was hung on a pole by the front door.
At a whim and sudden urgent request from his belly, he decided to make a stop and entered the building; after his extravagant purchases in town, he considered himself relatively qualified for the term 'poor', and therefore deserved free food.
Inside there was a gathering of handsomely garbed men and women around the dining table, most of whom look like they hailed from the mainland. The lady governor of Moonglow, (maybe also) the hostess of this charitable occasion, sat at a corner of the same table, welcoming newcomers briefly and offering them food, only to quickly returned to the ongoing conversation, where obviously her interest really lied.
Leaning against the wall, in a line, some casual spectators watched over the discussion, while the real poor attended to their meal, caring more about food than some potentially enlightening conversation of politics and foppery.
Grayson found it odd that for a charitable soup kitchen, there were not many poor people at all attending, Maybe Moonglow is truly a prosperous place, where poverty had been vanquished, and even the poorest has a pot of gold hidden under the dirt floor of their hut, and if so, the governor lady, resplendent in her fineries, had truly done an impressive job. Maybe he should vote for her next time.
The gathered crowd indeed looked rather important and well off, but an event like this is quite often a political excuse, instead of serving what purpose it advertised. Grayson kept his smile inward, his own attention divided between exchanging pleasantries with some of the event attendees who were not engrossed in the discussion of the fancy people at the main table, and eating.
After he ate his fill, Grayson made his polite excuse and left the soup kitchen, the last thing he heard in passing was about some knight templars being established now in Moonglow. Perhaps this is a good time to leave Verity Isle, he thought to himself. The presence of a new band of self-righteous do-gooders won't likely have a good effect on his small operation here.
Some half-hour later, he arrived at his rented place, old, unassuming, and inconspicuous, exactly as he liked it; Despite its present somewhat dilapidated state, when the cottage was first built, it must have been a rather charming place for a small family. He had converted a room into a workspace and also a small receiving area for his special clients. Unlike his other proper shop, here, he only receives referred customers with appropriately deeper purses who needed just a little bit more specialized goods.
Intentionally, he left the front door slightly ajar; He wanted to be as welcoming as possible If there was indeed an uninvited guest coming. Since he was already planning to leave this place anyway, he wouldn't mind a little company for an intimate farewell party.
He packed his meager belongings, as he waited, but no one came. Was it possible that his new admirer had given up pursuit when he went to the soup kitchen?
Outside the cottage, the sky darkened. Grayson lighted some candles. Twilight came, went and night followed.
The room was now quite empty but for some equipment too large to pack and wooden furniture - casting their dancing, oversized shadow on the plastered wall in the flickering light.
Suddenly he felt a presence. He turned towards the doorway, but before he could take another breath, a shadowy figure, moving faster than his mind could keep up with was suddenly in front of him. Grayson felt a sturdy gloved hand clutches the front of his traveling robe (poor choice of garment apparently) and a cold tip of something sharp against the skin of his throat. He caught a smell of something cloyingly sweet - the man had not even bothered to use proper poison to coat his blade. Grayson found himself a wee bit offended at the discovery, even though the effect of said poisoned dagger would've still been fatal regardless of its low grade. In the amber-colored candlelight, his assailant's face became visible. He saw a firm set of lips, thin as a line under an aquiline nose, his bloodshot eyes were cold and predatory. In short, it wasn't the amateur thief he had expected.
Moonglow - The Herbal Splendor
"Is this all you need?" a balding herbalist in a faded red robe, addressed Grayson.
He considered the old man for a while and looked down at the list in his hand, "Yes, I believe that will be all for now, I will keep what you said in mind about the black pearls. Thank you."
With deft hands, he stuffed the pouches of reagents he purchased into a drawstring bag, handed his payment to the shopkeeper, and made his way out of the store.
He had been followed
Even before his visit to the herb shop, Grayson knew that he was being tailed. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of a shabby-looking brown-haired man in a plain tunic and leather trousers pulling his cap down while trying to look inconspicuous. What an amateur. He sighed wearily, wondering if he had displayed too much gold when transacting with vendors. Thieves nowadays. One can't even have a leisurely jaunt without worrying about being pickpocketed.
He considered if he should approach a guard, but no, his anonymity was more important. Besides he could have imagined the whole thing. The fact that said thief hadn't approached him by now was rather odd. There were people on the road, but not many. Perhaps he was waiting for a thicker crowd to make his move.
Grayson made several more stops at random stores and the bank; the same man was still following him at a safe distance. Perhaps his pursuer prefers quiet? He could handle a lone petty thief. He exited the town proper through the eastern gate, walking at a relaxed pace down the quiet dirt road. The same feeling of being followed persisted, and again, he was not confronted. How odd.
He came upon a farmhouse where a public event was being held. A makeshift sign saying 'Soup Kitchen' was hung on a pole by the front door.
At a whim and sudden urgent request from his belly, he decided to make a stop and entered the building; after his extravagant purchases in town, he considered himself relatively qualified for the term 'poor', and therefore deserved free food.
Inside there was a gathering of handsomely garbed men and women around the dining table, most of whom look like they hailed from the mainland. The lady governor of Moonglow, (maybe also) the hostess of this charitable occasion, sat at a corner of the same table, welcoming newcomers briefly and offering them food, only to quickly returned to the ongoing conversation, where obviously her interest really lied.
Leaning against the wall, in a line, some casual spectators watched over the discussion, while the real poor attended to their meal, caring more about food than some potentially enlightening conversation of politics and foppery.
Grayson found it odd that for a charitable soup kitchen, there were not many poor people at all attending, Maybe Moonglow is truly a prosperous place, where poverty had been vanquished, and even the poorest has a pot of gold hidden under the dirt floor of their hut, and if so, the governor lady, resplendent in her fineries, had truly done an impressive job. Maybe he should vote for her next time.
The gathered crowd indeed looked rather important and well off, but an event like this is quite often a political excuse, instead of serving what purpose it advertised. Grayson kept his smile inward, his own attention divided between exchanging pleasantries with some of the event attendees who were not engrossed in the discussion of the fancy people at the main table, and eating.
After he ate his fill, Grayson made his polite excuse and left the soup kitchen, the last thing he heard in passing was about some knight templars being established now in Moonglow. Perhaps this is a good time to leave Verity Isle, he thought to himself. The presence of a new band of self-righteous do-gooders won't likely have a good effect on his small operation here.
Some half-hour later, he arrived at his rented place, old, unassuming, and inconspicuous, exactly as he liked it; Despite its present somewhat dilapidated state, when the cottage was first built, it must have been a rather charming place for a small family. He had converted a room into a workspace and also a small receiving area for his special clients. Unlike his other proper shop, here, he only receives referred customers with appropriately deeper purses who needed just a little bit more specialized goods.
Intentionally, he left the front door slightly ajar; He wanted to be as welcoming as possible If there was indeed an uninvited guest coming. Since he was already planning to leave this place anyway, he wouldn't mind a little company for an intimate farewell party.
He packed his meager belongings, as he waited, but no one came. Was it possible that his new admirer had given up pursuit when he went to the soup kitchen?
Outside the cottage, the sky darkened. Grayson lighted some candles. Twilight came, went and night followed.
The room was now quite empty but for some equipment too large to pack and wooden furniture - casting their dancing, oversized shadow on the plastered wall in the flickering light.
Suddenly he felt a presence. He turned towards the doorway, but before he could take another breath, a shadowy figure, moving faster than his mind could keep up with was suddenly in front of him. Grayson felt a sturdy gloved hand clutches the front of his traveling robe (poor choice of garment apparently) and a cold tip of something sharp against the skin of his throat. He caught a smell of something cloyingly sweet - the man had not even bothered to use proper poison to coat his blade. Grayson found himself a wee bit offended at the discovery, even though the effect of said poisoned dagger would've still been fatal regardless of its low grade. In the amber-colored candlelight, his assailant's face became visible. He saw a firm set of lips, thin as a line under an aquiline nose, his bloodshot eyes were cold and predatory. In short, it wasn't the amateur thief he had expected.