16th of Ymiden 720 18th break
It was Woe's lot to wait and prepare for his appointment with one of the Almoners of the Guild of Hospitality. The Guild was most in charge of things like eateries, hostels, realty, and making life livable in Quacia. They also had certain conflicts of interest with the Guild of Agriculture, a situation which was only exacerbated by the success and abundance of the Plenty in the previous seasons. The two Guilds were at a loggerheads about who ought to oversee the King's distribution of ration credits. In the end, Hospitality won out. Woe thought it a shrewd position for the King to take. With the Guilds of Agriculture dominating the economy, it wouldn't do to let that group grow too powerful. And so he lended a helping hand to one of the beleaguered guilds of Quacia, the one most affected by the current situation unfolding. Tourism certainly was suffering for the rumors about the Creep, consuming whole baronies and advancing their position on the city itself. Woe certainly had a way of choosing when to travel places, it seemed. First Etzos during the plague, then Ne'haer during a famine. Now Quacia during a full blown invasion, with the intent to annihilate every individual soul in the city.
His luck had a way of seeing him through. He could only hope it would continue to do so, long enough for the blocade to break and emigration to resume. Woe was a restless sort, and disliked staying in any one place for long. Even one as amenable to his conditions as Quacia.
"Mister Morandi?" The reception officer called for Woe, by his assumed surname. He kept his first name, if only for the fact that taking a fake name made him feel silly. And Erastus had insisted that Woe take on his own name. "The High Almoner will see you, if you would follow me?"
The receptionist was dressed in a fine outfit, consisting of light fabrics as suited the sudden heat that had descended on the region. She rose from her chair, and gestured for 'Morandi' to follow. Woe did so, rising from the sofa that they had him seated with several other candidates. It didn't look like he was the only enterprising individual, looking to capitalize on the peril of the hour. Even so, Woe felt he had certain uniquely suited skills for the enforcement of distribution. Not least of which was a strong arm and arcane power.
They went through the threshold leading into a widened hallway, which lead the way to the High Almoner's office. The Guild of Hospitality hadn't' skimped on their decoration, with many works of art and artifacts on display, as signs of their affluence. False signs, if the rumors of their difficulties were to be believed. Or else they were remnants of what had been a thriving enterprise.
About a dozen meters down the hallway, they came to a large portal carved from mahogany and ebony. She held the door open for Woe, at which point he smiled thinly to her, then entered.
The office of the High Almoner was more spartan than Woe had expected, given the pathway he'd traveled moments before. Spartan and minimalist, just as Woe preferred his own spaces, with a minimal amount of clutter or decoration to confuse the area. Woe strove for order and clinical atmosphere for his environs. So it seemed he and the High Almoner had something in common.
Woe took a seat when directed by a gesture from the Almoner. The chair was plush and velvet. Comfortable in his dark silken suit, Woe stood by the chair for only a moment, "I'm Woe Morandi. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your grace." Woe thought that was a proper honorific for one who was hand selected by the King for an office. If he was wrong, he wasn't corrected, but invited once more with a gesture to take a seat, which he did.
He slid into the chair, and waited for his prospective employer to speak his piece. The man spoke in a thickly vahanic accent, but with perfectly adequate common. Finally, a clear voice in this den that didn't belong to Fleaface. Strange notion that...
"Welcome Mister Morandi. I trust your stay in Quacia has been to your liking."
He paused, and Woe nodded. "Yes, your Guild runs good hostels..." For a moment, he thought to qualify his statement with an allowance that it was doing well despite the difficult times, but his caution overwhelmed his need for excessive accuracy.
The High Almoner smiled at him, and then removed a small scroll from his desk. "Now, I hear you think you have the talent to bring to my position, as an enforcer of the distribution efforts... You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it, as you have neglected to provide any reputable references. For instance, I've no idea who this Magpie character is. Nor have we good relations with any Councilors in Ne'haer."
Woe thought it was a longshot, that Magpie went by that name in Quacia. Still, it was worth a try to drop the name around Quacia, to see if it returned any signs of recognition. The torturer kept his peace however, as the Almoner looked over the rest of Woe's listed qualifications.
"Now, that being the case, I think we'll put your talents to the test. We here in Quacia don't put a great deal of stock in references anyway. Above all, we respect results." The almoner rummaged through another set of drawers, until he removed a few sheets of parchment, which he flopped onto the table. On them, were written into Common what looked like directions to a place. "Now, since you've been here since late Ashan, I'm sure you've heard of the troubles in the baronies..."
"It appears we're on the verge of war, and I have no inclination to find my sons drafted into that mess..." The almoner gave Woe a wry grin, "The King has, fortunately, offered me a chance at dispensation for my family, if I provide certain... mmm, rare goods for his armorer. Faldruunium to be exact. He wishes to have some sort of weapons program devised, to give them an edge against the creep. It will take money, and convincing the Guilds of War to aid us. Aid that they aren't likely to grant on good faith, if you take my meaning."
Aye, Woe took his meaning. Bribery? Persuasion? Extortion? Woe was familiar with many methods of negotiation, if not skilled in some of them. Yet he was confident in his ability to communicate, at the very least.
The High Almoner slid the parchment over toward Woe, with a smile. "Here are some notes of suppliers that might be able to grant us the goods we need... Some of them are more remote than others, yet all of them have a good chance of acquiring what I need to acquire for the King."
Woe nodded, "Very well, I will look into these names, and... Visit the courier service?"
The High Almoner shrugged, and leaned back in his chair, "However you wish to distribute the message is entirely in your hands, Mister Morandi. Yet I'm afraid things will become desperate sooner rather than later. We may only have a few tentrials before the enemy is upon us... and the King is not known for his patience."
Woe shrugged in return, and took the notes into his hand, sliding them into his belt satchel. That done, the Almoner signalled for him to rise, and then dismissed him as kindly as he could, with a dainty wave of his hand. Woe bowed stiffly, then departed the Almoner's austere chambers.
Later that evening, Woe began furiously penning a note, to several of the potential suppliers. Among them, was one Curious Constellations, opearting out of Etzos. Given their lack of adherence to the Immortals, perhaps an Etzori organization would be more inclined to help Quacia?
Whatever the case, it was among the first messages that Woe wrote. When it was done, he handed the letters all over to Fleaface, who sat by idly, sleeping off his whiskey breath, "Fargis? Fargis!" Woe roused him from behind his desk. Fleaface snorted loudly, then came to.
"Aye? Aye, milady, yes..."
Woe quirked a brow, but then shook his head. It didn't matter what Fleaface was dreaming about. He needed him to run an errand. At least he was good for that, if not staying sober. "Fargis, take these stacks of notes to the courier service, near the harbor gate. We must see them to their destination in short order. I will spare no expense to see them delivered immediately."
So saying, Woe slid over a stack of nels with the letters, which certainly served to get the old Etzori's attention.
He lifted himself from the chair, and gathered up the parcel along with the nels. "And Fargis, keep what is left over once you get the fee..."
"Oy master, I always do...." He muttered, and then swiftly left the hostel, bound for the gates.
