Ryn - Capital City

Ryn - Capital City - Present Day

“There are many things I can do,” Drew smiled and spun on his boots with a flourish. “But I assure you dear lady, I would never lie.” He winked at the woman who was easily a decade or two his senior.

“Pity,” she let a smile dance at the edge of her painted lips. “If I was to ask anything of you, it would surely require a lie, later. If to my husband at the very least.”

“Meredith!” the blonde women next to her looked positively scandalized. Drew’s widened his grin and waggled his eyebrows at the blonde.

“Well, madams, I am sure two lies could find their way to a truth.” Meredith laughed at this, but the blonde woman, now fully insulted only sniffed and pulled her friend away. He called after them, “Don’t be a stranger now!”

“Does playing the rake ever get you anything?” Drew’s father stepped out of the wagon–now converted to a stall–their regular home during the days on the road and when times were lean enough to make a night at an inn too costly. Alec was a large man, well muscled but also well fed, with a heavy beard just now starting to show its gray. A craftsperson by trade, he was responsible for most of the products Drew had on the display before him. They were amazing pieces of carpentry second only to Edgar Lark’s work here in Ryn.

Indeed, that was why they had come. This was a family affair. Alec had been apprenticed to Edgar as a boy and the old man had always treated him as a sort of adopted son. Edgar’s son, Matthew, had sent word to Alec that Edgar may be in trouble. Although Drew had never read the letter, whatever Matthew had said spurred Alec to immediate action.

The immediate return to Ryn was a bit of a disappointment for Drew. They made far more money on the Southern Coast. Alec was friendly with Carter family, and Alyssa always seems to find a way to get Drew invited to a ball or two where a pretty lady-in-waiting was more than willing to be waited upon. Even more, he enjoyed watching the bards frustration as he stole their crowds weaving stories from thin air with a mix of craft and magic. To return to Ryn, especially now, seemed boring.

Drew threw 5 gold to Alec. “It suits us well enough in a season when few are buying.” He smiled and pocketed a note with a key, “And besides, playing the rake has its advantages.” Alex rolled his eyes and looked out to the nearly empty street.

“I’ll give you credit, lad. Making a sale on a day like today is downright miraculous. Let’s lock it up, though. I want to check in on Edgar.” He and Drew began a quick takedown of the stall and in moments it looked like every other stall in the market square: locked and shut tight. Drew shook his head and sucked at his teeth. It wasn’t good. The market should be bustling, but only the only sound was that of quickly shuffling feet as the few townspeople who dared to be out moved quickly to their destination keeping their eyes directed to the ground.

Ryn always felt impregnable. Built on series of walled wards each that could be sealed and defended independently, the city had never fallen to an external threat. “That’s the trick with walls,” Alec had said when Drew asked him why he didn’t stay in Ryn. “They protect, but they also lock you in.” Drew understood that feeling, now. The inner ward of the city, comprised of the castle proper, had been sealed for weeks. There were rumors that an assassination attempt had occurred and the king, queen, or both–depending on the rumor–had been injured and were recovering. That no one from House Valestan had stood to calm the city, and that the council had not yet seen fit to gather only gave fire to the rumors. The city guard under order of their new captain, Captain Devin Sodson, had moved quickly to keep in the peace following the closing of the inner ward. A strict curfew was ordered, and anyone not who was not a citizen of Ryn had to remain in the Fades or the Docks. In fact, dock workers and sailors were fully barred from the rest of the city and only approved citizens and merchants were allowed to move from the Fades ward into the Gold ward.

Luckily for Drew and Alec, the mark of the Lark still held some power, and they were allowed to take their spot in the Gold ward. Alec had tried to gain entry to the Lights–where Egdar lived–but was denied access in the most certain of terms. Desperate to find out what had happened, Alec reached out to Tirath Orthengil, the somewhat shady leader of the Silver Lights Trade Facilitation Company. That Alec would take such a chance only furthered Drew growing sense that the danger they faced was locked behind the walls with them.

Tirath Othengil was a thug. A rich thug to be sure, he kept the Lights district fat and happy often at the expense of those in Fades. The Silver Lights were, at best, a thin veneer of gentility on what was otherwise a somewhat straightforward criminal organization. They offered protection, clean-up, and other unsavory services to the merchants living in the Lights all for a modest cut of the overall profits. That Tirath was willing to deal with Alec also came as a bit of a shock to Drew. It wasn’t cheap, of course. It took three days and nearly 3 platinum before Tirath agreed to provide them access. They were to meet a contact just north of the market square. That contact would get them into the Lights and to Edgar.

Drew had never seen Alec so relieved, but as the time grew close he couldn’t help but feel that same sense of unease. They were walking into a very dodgy situation with no support if something went sideways.

Alec surveyed the now locked and sealed wagon and wiped his hands on his sides. “Let’s get going. I don’t want our friend to think we decided not to show.”

“Are you sure, Dad?” Drew placed his hand on this fathers arm stopping him as he turned. Alec nodded.

“I know you’re not happy about this. Neither am I, really, but Edgar,” Alec paused seemingly at a loss. “I owe him…and I need to make sure he is okay.” Drew nodded and let his hand drop. He reached, picked up the two blades that rested just under what used to the front display table, and placed them on his belt.

“Well then, let’s not keep our benefactor waiting.”