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Cast Upon Tides of Weal and Woe - Part 7a: Dancing Along the Yardarm
Walking down Wave street, it was immediately apparent that they were far removed from the squalor and desperation that characterized most of Freeport. The impetus of that removal was most certainly wealth: the greed and avarice that drove Freeport was manifest in luxury and ostentatious display.
“So this is how the other half lives,” said Kham.
The eyes of numerous private guards arrayed in tailored livery watched them carefully. Camring moved ahead of Kham with a confidence that belied his earlier scramble amid the grime and filth of the Docks.
“Hello Camring, brought some friends with you I see,” said one of them.
“Strays, you mean,” said Camring with a grin. “And they just won’t stop following me.”
He led them through the Plaza di Oro, with its spending fountain and statue of Larissa.
Kham stopped to face the fountain. “The Fountain of Fortune. I’ve heard of it but never saw it before.” He fished a coin out of his pouch and flicked it into the water.
“Why would you waste perfectly good gold like that?” asked Beldin.
“For luck,” said Vlad.
“Stupid human custom,” said Ilmarė.
They moved through the smaller Plaza di Plata, home of the Guilt Club, to a fine stone, wood, and brick manse built in the Milandisian style. It had a high-pitched, blue slate roof, white-washed exterior walls, and tall, narrow windows. The windows had stout wooden shutters painted with blue trailing flowers. The recessed front door was reminiscent of a barbican.
“Looks like a castle to me,” said Beldin.
Three large, thick-necked Milandisians in half-plate armor and bearing halberds stood before an impressive yellowwood door. They glared at them as they passed.
Beyond the door was a high-ceilinged hall with a floor of hand-painted ceramic tiles. Hanging from the ceiling on a thick brass chain was a large, yellow glass globe. The light from the globe suffused the chamber in a rich, golden glow.
Brilliantly colored and vibrant tapestries depicted galleys and coiling sea serpents along the walls. Brass dolphin sconces held citrus-scented candles between the tapestries. In the center of the room was a tiled pattern in the shape of a great compass rose.
A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair stood at the center of the room. His resemblance to Camring and Emric was unmistakable. He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt. The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery. Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet. Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.
“Nephew,” Thralen said in a voice accustomed to obedience, “introduce me to your friends.”
Vlad stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. “I am Vlad Martell, in the service of the Milandisian government. I was sent on a mission that involves your house. These are my companions at arms.”
“A pleasure,” said Thralen, returning the bow. “I am Thralen val’Ossan. Thank you for returning Camring safely.” His features narrowed in irritation. “He has a habit of…wandering off. Come, let us speak in my study.”
Walking down Wave street, it was immediately apparent that they were far removed from the squalor and desperation that characterized most of Freeport. The impetus of that removal was most certainly wealth: the greed and avarice that drove Freeport was manifest in luxury and ostentatious display.
“So this is how the other half lives,” said Kham.
The eyes of numerous private guards arrayed in tailored livery watched them carefully. Camring moved ahead of Kham with a confidence that belied his earlier scramble amid the grime and filth of the Docks.
“Hello Camring, brought some friends with you I see,” said one of them.
“Strays, you mean,” said Camring with a grin. “And they just won’t stop following me.”
He led them through the Plaza di Oro, with its spending fountain and statue of Larissa.
Kham stopped to face the fountain. “The Fountain of Fortune. I’ve heard of it but never saw it before.” He fished a coin out of his pouch and flicked it into the water.
“Why would you waste perfectly good gold like that?” asked Beldin.
“For luck,” said Vlad.
“Stupid human custom,” said Ilmarė.
They moved through the smaller Plaza di Plata, home of the Guilt Club, to a fine stone, wood, and brick manse built in the Milandisian style. It had a high-pitched, blue slate roof, white-washed exterior walls, and tall, narrow windows. The windows had stout wooden shutters painted with blue trailing flowers. The recessed front door was reminiscent of a barbican.
“Looks like a castle to me,” said Beldin.
Three large, thick-necked Milandisians in half-plate armor and bearing halberds stood before an impressive yellowwood door. They glared at them as they passed.
Beyond the door was a high-ceilinged hall with a floor of hand-painted ceramic tiles. Hanging from the ceiling on a thick brass chain was a large, yellow glass globe. The light from the globe suffused the chamber in a rich, golden glow.
Brilliantly colored and vibrant tapestries depicted galleys and coiling sea serpents along the walls. Brass dolphin sconces held citrus-scented candles between the tapestries. In the center of the room was a tiled pattern in the shape of a great compass rose.
A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with long, curling ebony hair stood at the center of the room. His resemblance to Camring and Emric was unmistakable. He was clad in a sea green doublet of velvet over a fine bleached white linen shirt. The borders of the doublet were edged with an elaborate design of interwoven gold and silver thread embroidery. Two silver cockleshell brooches closed the throat of his doublet. Knee-length breeches of sea green dyed moleskin, white hose, and fine leather shoes completed the ensemble.
“Nephew,” Thralen said in a voice accustomed to obedience, “introduce me to your friends.”
Vlad stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. “I am Vlad Martell, in the service of the Milandisian government. I was sent on a mission that involves your house. These are my companions at arms.”
“A pleasure,” said Thralen, returning the bow. “I am Thralen val’Ossan. Thank you for returning Camring safely.” His features narrowed in irritation. “He has a habit of…wandering off. Come, let us speak in my study.”