AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 313 - Chase the ace
🕑 Added 2023-08-01 04:22:28 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Material Plane - Quil Tris
Amdirlain paid, left the cafe, and caught the waiting observers slip in among those who fixated on her flowing steps. Slipping through the still very early morning crowds, she made the observers work to keep track of her, shifting in and out of shops. She made purchases, sold mithril to a jeweller, and moved amidst groups to obstruct their view. Her hat and bag gave them a constant reference, and she kept them following for an hour to increase the challenge for herself.
At last, when their confidence was up from having recovered her multiple times, she turned a corner and dropped them both in a bin. A few blocks moving south through the morning crowds, she turned down an alleyway between high rises. Out of sight of anyone else, her fur and clothing returned to their previous appearance.
[Stealth [M] (42->43)]
Turning more corners, Amdirlain double-backed to walk past her pursuers unnoticed. The crowds thickened as more shops opened, and Amdirlain turned down a quiet laneway. At the end was an open plaza with a quiet solemnity weighing the air. The plaza’s centrepiece was a five-metre-tall hexagonal pylon, with rows of benches radiating outwards, aligned with each side. Two lines, ‘Graves Expedition Force’ and ‘Year 4329’, stood out at the top of each side. On display beneath those banners were name plates with thousands of names. From what she’d seen, the date was by their calendar some three decades past.
How many do they lose to the Gods’ Graves each time?
For an eternal instant, Amdirlain froze, the recognition of shared grief for a lost loved one digging in. The mellow sobriety in this place had played a subtle siren song. It was a memorial to soldiers who gave their life for their city, or loved ones, or for reasons no one might ever know. Shifting in place, thoughts raced, throwing options and risk assessments out, and the memorial to their lost soldiers turned a knife in her heart.
Even I got a service to remember me; I did nothing for Torm.
At last, Amdirlain tossed it all aside and settled down on a bench, fumbling with the catches of her harp case as she did. When the first clacked open and broke, Amdirlain forced herself to slow her motions. Once the harp settled on her thigh, she breathed rhythmically, checking each string’s tuning. She played only when she was sure her shaking wouldn’t break the instrument.
The strings produced a mournful cry, shedding their tears of sound, strings capable of bright liquid music wailed loud. Despite all the tears she’d cried, Amdirlain had given barely a few words to her grief. Distant hope seemed a hollow promise amidst her emptiness, the good news she’d offered Livia now twisting like a knife within herself. For all the processing of her grief, it remained barely faded.
The music of one song after another flowed, Earth songs of heartbreak and pain, even more mellow songs played in as deep an octave as her harp allowed. Skill progressions were ignored while grim melodies, and those of mourning, rose from within her Soul. Resonance reported the arrival of others, but their tunes let her know she wasn’t alone in her grief, and she gave life to their themes of pain with hers.
How many do the Gods’ Grave sites eat each year?
Orhêthurin had kept pain and grief bottled up with rage and anger; now, it slipped its leash and overflowed in a rush. Ghostly hands of memory merged with her own, and the touch of her fingers dancing on the strings turned masterful. Emotions that mingled seamlessly with Amdirlain’s own spilled forth as sound.
Many of those drawn by the performance stayed to listen, enthralled by Amdirlain’s unfurled Charisma. Her songs cried for what might have been and still might come again. It spoke of the ache of the pain within, even while needing to move on. They told of the conflict between desire and grief that sparked directionless motion, seeking to release the pain. Somehow, somewhere, seeking a place she might feel whole again.
Eventually, overstrained strings broke with a clash, yet Amdirlain blended it into the expression of her pain. At the thought of needing to replace them, her voice substituted for their notes and added hope, an emptiness that sought a light to feel real again. She carried on as her voice melded with the sound of the harp. Having vented a gush of her pain, the strings’ breaking signalled the shift from darkness to light. The dawn’s themes from hundreds of worlds and the Outlands combined into a melody. It promised that the darkness was behind, and things might right themselves again if one braved the pain and moved on.
When she finally stopped, the sun was past noon, and the crowd her playing had gathered hadn’t left. Tears streaked Amdirlain’s fur, and she didn’t know how long she’d been crying. As she blinked them away, a middle-aged female on the bench before her offered a fresh handkerchief with a trembling hand. “Thank you. I’ve pride listed here.”
Though tears had also streaked the female’s fur, and the handkerchief in her other hand was sodden, she still pressed the fresh one into Amdirlain’s hand.
She took the cloth that matched the female’s tawny fur and wiped her face before gathering the female into a gentle hug. As Amdirlain held her, she caught sight of a group hovering above the packed crowd on the plaza’s far side. Among the group, some had portable casters pointed her way—camera operators and reporters.
[Achievement: Muse of Sorrow and Hope
Details: You enthralled over a hundred thousand individuals in an expression of grief. Then you turned it around and stopped them from offing themselves.
Reward: +10 levels with the involved instrument
Note: A healthier way to sync memories than butchering everything in sight.
Note: You made a mess of their daytime caster scheduling. The city’s news only had you transmitting for two hours or so, but they can extend a caster unit’s reach. With the entire stage presence from five thousand Charisma, it doesn’t matter how modest your Skill is, Amdirlain.
Lap Harp [M] (50->60)]
Ebusuku will laugh so hard when I tell her I’d planned to try being subtle on this trip. With Ori’s memories moving with my hands, I jumped that much in Skill, heck.
Lost amid her thoughts, Amdirlain hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering. Now she took in the law keepers controlling the press and ensuring things didn’t get dangerous.
A black-furred male officer, his eyes a bright feline yellow, stepped closer and knelt beside her.
“Can you do us a favour, and play something quiet, while we disperse the crowd?”
“If I play anything more, will they want to leave?” asked Amdirlain in a whisper.
“A tired and calm song that might imply your need to rest,” the officer suggested, his words a clear hint.
“Okay,” agreed Amdirlain, and she blinked when another close to her gently nuzzled the other side of her face comfortingly before they stepped away.
A man beyond the woman held out a blank sheet of film for her to sign.
“I hadn’t intended or expected this to happen,” mewled Amdirlain, and she lifted a hand from the woman’s back to sign it with a simple Am, at an angle across the centre. The male stepped away happy, and others took over his spot.
“What inspired you?” asked the woman as she released Amdirlain and touched her nose to hers.
“Seeing them reminded me of my pain and loss, and I had to get it out. I hope no one was hurt or will get in trouble with their employer,” whispered Amdirlain, and she lifted her other hand away.
The officer gave a rueful smile. “You’d have to be dead inside not to want to listen, and a decent boss will understand. If you plan to play in public again, please organise it through a law keeper station. Or a venue with enough crowd control. To answer your question, there are no reports of injuries, only some business and traffic disruption.”
Amdirlain breathed a sigh of relief and, trusting her voice more than her admittedly surging harp proficiency, went to secure her harp. However, a thick layer of coins covered the bottom of the case, and more sat around it on the bench and the ground. Not sure what to do without giving away her ring or Inventory, Amdirlain looked up at the officer.
“Is there a fund for the memorial’s upkeep? Could you have someone add this to it?”
Another officer with deep red fur retrieved a heavy-duty folded bag from his gear belt and started to help her gather the coins. “If you’d start performing to keep things calm, I’ll tidy up, but the fund doesn’t need the coins people wanted you to have. The priority now is keeping the crowd calm and dispersing them smoothly.”
She racked her brain momentarily and started singing the instrumentals of Enya’s The Humming. By the time the coins were all in the bag, she’d carried on with the instrumentals of a few of the singer’s other relaxing melodies. She’d also signed too many slips of film, had someone leave a pen, and the first female left behind her hanky. The second officer took the harp from her and locked it away. The case’s broken latch came off in his hands, but there were others to keep it closed.
Taking her harp from him, Amdirlain cradled it while continuing to sing. Pointing towards an alleyway, she shooed those still in her path on their way. Still singing, she started meandering their way. The law keeper kept pace alongside, sending messages to coordinate until the crowd fully dispersed.
“Can I see some identification, miss?” asked the officer when they finally reached the street.
Fishing the chit from the pouch under her top, Amdirlain shyly handed it over and bowed her head.
When he presented the chit to the side of his link unit, its metal surface morphed to display her details.
“Bard?” huffed the surprised officer. “How are you only fifth level?”
“Maybe I’m a reincarnated Soul,” proposed Amdirlain, and she offered him a confused shrug, glad they had that concept in their language.
“I’ll add your details to the report, but remember what I said. Has this happened in your homeland?” questioned the officer.
As her ears twitched to relieve her distress, Amdirlain shook her head, “Nope, today was certainly a first for me.”
“Alright, that may be, but it’s happened now, so don’t take the chance of it happening again without preparation. Maybe you had a weird Skill or Power Evolution in the heat of your emotions. You might want to go to a college. Not sure what you call them at home, but you can pay a fee to see what your full record looks like there,” advised the officer.
“Thank you, sir,” replied Amdirlain brightly.
“Your scent was ripe with pain when I arrived on the scene, miss. It still is; you got someone to speak with?”
“No one nearby,” admitted Amdirlain shyly, her tail twitching up to loop over her forearm.
Giving an unhappy huff, the officer pulled a notepad from his belt and wrote a link sequence on the top sheet of a transparent film before handing it to Amdirlain.
“That’s a grief sharer that works with the law keepers in this zone, though she handles others with troubles as well. I’ll tell her to expect a call,” stated the officer.
“I don’t have the coin for that,” protested Amdirlain.
The officer laughed lightly and waved his tail back towards the plaza. “I’m sure you will in time.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
He rubbed a hand reassuringly across her ears before he patted her shoulder. “You’ve got a good heart in you, kitten. That wasn’t a yes to calling her, I noticed. Be good, you hear.”
They seem to have no issues about proximity, just like house cats in some ways.
“Yes, sir,” replied Amdirlain, carefully folding the page in half and tucking it away.
The officer started to turn away, but stopped and continued gently. “You got somewhere to be?”
“I should have been at the music shop hours ago,” replied Amdirlain.
“Is it far?”
“Just up near the campus,” Amdirlain said, and she pretended to orientate herself before she waved vaguely in its direction.
“I’ll walk you,” declared the officer.
Amdirlain frantically waved her hands before herself, and her whiskers sprung up. “No, that’s alright. You were on the scene, I mean at the plaza, for a while, and I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.”
“It’s not far. I’ll see you there safe and get a late lunch,” advised the officer, and stuck out a hand to Amdirlain. “Mal’lyn.”
Hesitantly taking his hand, Amdirlain shook it gently. “Am, Blackcliff Pride.”
“Your pride wasn’t on your chit,” noted Mal’lyn.
“I didn’t want the patrol to take me back,” mumbled Amdirlain.
Mal’lyn rumbled in amusement. “They wouldn’t have done that, and we’ve no jurisdiction outside the territories. I’ve not heard of your pride. Are they far away?”
Her tail came to twine around Amdirlain’s fingers as she grimaced. “Far to the south, but the law keepers weren’t happy that I didn’t have an escort.”
“Well, I’ll see you travel to the shop escorted so you don’t get in the habit of getting abandoned,” Mal’lyn said and started towards the campus. “I won’t drill you with questions, though we should stop by a reserve so you can deposit some of those coins.”
“Reserve?”
“A central facility that holds wealth in trust for the various prides. The territories guarantee the money, which can be linked to your chit. It’s safer than the merchant groups to the east; you don’t have to invest in specific ventures.”
Amdirlain went to ask some questions and found they had no words for the concept of interest. “Are there fees charged?”
“None, but the coins are only accessible in the territories,” replied Mal’lyn. “I know the cities benefit from having the reserves running, but you’d have to ask a finance person how.”
“Okay, lead the way.”
The reserve looked like an open shop front with staff uniformed in black tunics that stood out because of the silver and gold plated clasps at their throat. Though there was no apparent security, the wards around the place were tight and interacted with the runes on the coins within the site.
Mal’lyn’s presence with a bag of coins that Amdirlain saw had an evidence tag initially caused a stir. Once things settled, the staff quickly linked Amdirlain’s chit to a new account, and she deposited most of the coins.
True to his word, he escorted her quietly to the store and left her outside with nothing more than a casual conversation about how her stay had been. As he headed away, Amdirlain took in the silent reports he started to send when she stepped inside. Again, a query about her Faith rating came up, except this time it was to refer the topic to a specialist in emotional projection and influence.
Great! Maybe I’ll need an alternative identity before I’m through.
Jal’krin was at the counter inside the shop, with his attention fixed on an inscribed box projecting an image into the air. She caught from his mind the hosts had been talking about the event at the plaza that had recently finished. As the door’s chime finished sounding, he glanced her way, and his expression shifted like she’d grown a second head. “Did you get away from the plaza without any patronage offers? Or did the law keeper escort keep them off you?”
Giving him a pained grin, Amdirlain muttered. “The plaza?”
Jal’krin stabbed two claws at the box. “I saw you on the receiver, Am. I’ve got hundreds of link notes from friends telling me to tune in. Pal’tran sent me five notes since it ended, asking me to let him know when you get in.”
Pulling a link unit from under the counter, he keyed in a sequence and set it down on the counter; only then did he bother turning off the receiver.
“Ahh, why?” asked Amdirlain. “And link notes is a mouthful; you should call them something shorter.”
“Never mind link notes. Pal’tran wants to talk to you about audio traces,” exclaimed Jal’krin, and his excitement evaporated. “Guess our deal isn’t on any longer.”
“What?”
“There is no chance of getting anyone to bet against you now. And forget competitions, maybe special guest spots or the principal attraction on shows, but you don’t need me because they’ll be looking for you. Heck, you can try for private party appearances if you want smaller shows,” blurted Jal’krin.
Pal’tran's voice from the link interrupted him. “Any word yet?”
“Am just arrived at the shop,” reported Jal’krin.
Amdirlain advanced to the counter and shyly cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about the competition plans.”
“Nonsense. Competitions are a great way to get one’s name known,” Pal’tran interjected before Jal’krin could reply. “I’m not sure I could have named one where you could have created as big a splash as you did today. I’ll be in the store shortly. I hope you’ll stay so I can speak with you?”
“I should get some lunch,” hedged Amdirlain, feigning nervousness.
“I’ll pick something up,” insisted Pal’tran. “I’m sure you’re hungry. Please make use of a sound booth. I’ll be there soon.”
“Ahh, okay,” agreed Amdirlain, and Pal’tran immediately hung up.
Jal’krin gestured to the case cradled in Amdirlain’s arm. “The casters showed a broken latch; we should have gone with one with less wear. I’ll swap it out.”
“No, that’s fine; maybe it’s good luck,” countered Amdirlain, and she held it possessively. “I’ll get it repaired later.”
“I don’t think that performance resulted only from good luck; I thought you said your harp was only Journeyman,” said Jal’krin.
“It is, or at least was, the last time I looked at my record,” replied Amdirlain.
“Getting used to the local terms, I see; not calling it an imprint now?” questioned Jal’krin.
Shrugging, Amdirlain smiled warily. “Yeah, I’m trying to adapt. I just had to play today at the memorial.”
Jal’krin swallowed. “Our instructors always said the key to the best performance was emotion. I didn’t think anyone could express grief that way.”
“Guess you came in before I got the emotions turned around,” murmured Amdirlain. ‘How did it speak to you?”
“Hollow, it made me think about how I’ve been that way since I screwed up,” whispered Jal’krin. “Even my compositions bring little happiness. When you sang it the other day, I told you it sounded like a river trying to-”
The door behind Amdirlain opened, and Jal’krin coughed. “Be with you in a moment.”
Amdirlain nodded. “Let’s talk later, okay?”
Only when Jal’krin returned her nod did Amdirlain head for a sound booth and leave him to greet the customer.
Sitting in the booth, Amdirlain set aside the battered harp case and placed the now smaller bag of coins atop. The evidence tag on the handle caused Amdirlain to snicker again, but then the amusement cut off. “If that string hadn’t broken, would someone have killed themselves? I need songs that’ll inspire me to project safe emotions.”
Creating a notepad required only a short theme, but Amdirlain's emotions were still churning, making her hands shake as she set it on a ledge. Staring at it blankly, she started writing the local words to songs she knew. The shift in language made it impossible to set them to the same music even when the words rhymed, but still, she put the lyrics down. Song after song she scrawled out, not wanting to take what another had created for herself.
Light novels made it seem so easy to reproduce another’s creation with no sense of shame. It’s weird. I can produce the instrumentals without hesitation. Is it because I feel able to share their beauty as intended? Yet the words of the songs I like have references that don’t work in this world, so their meaning gets lost, and they’re no longer the songs I love.
As Jal’krin said, a proper instrumental crosses boundaries, as long as the aesthetics of beauty are close enough.
Disintegration turned the notepad to dust, and Amdirlain folded her arms on the ledge and put her head down. Ignoring the shop, she listened to the hiss of distortion on campus and picked out Professor Mor’lmes’ presence high above it. Whatever building he was currently in, the Delirium of Darkness was at least a kilometre underneath it and slightly out of tune.
Not a pocket dimension—more like Nolmar, where I expanded the limits between locations.
The scare she gave him amid her pain made Amdirlain feel a bit shame-faced. Only the fact she might not catch him at the exact location for a while decided the issue. Amdirlain used the melody from the link unit, and when he answered, she kept her tone polite. “Hello, Professor.”
“J. I thought you’d be calling tomorrow,” muttered Mor’lmes unhappily, and he tapped a claw atop a wooden surface.
At his tone, Amdirlain rolled her eyes. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Mor’lmes growled softly. “You are.”
“I’m trying for politeness even though something about you sets my teeth on edge. Can you please do the same, or are you choosing that I should ignore your people’s danger and recruit others?”
“I need a moment. Hold, please,” replied Mor’lmes, though the last word was strained.
He might be the wrong person if he won’t be polite even after I ripped his throat open. The void spawns would have eaten dozens of him alive.
Amdirlain heard his hand brush across the unit’s pickup, and then there were a few minutes of silence. Taking in the songs about him starting to leave the room he sat in, Amdirlain waited. Only a few of them were left in the room when he spoke again. “I was in the middle of some unpleasant disciplinary business.”
“If I call at a bad time in the future, just let me know when to call back. I can be a pain in the arse, but I’m not unreasonable. Do you need me to call back so you can deal with this?”
Mor’lmes let out a slow breath. “No, it’s a situation I’ll have to go assess, and it could take days, but I doubt the results will change. I asked others to interview those in the area.”
“My apologies; I’ll make this quick then. Where exactly are you located right now?” questioned Amdirlain.
“What, you don’t know everything?” snapped Mor’lmes, and his tone banished Amdirlain’s regrets at disturbing him and her rough treatment. “I thought you had something important to ask.”
“Close your mouth and start counting to a thousand until you calm down. If you answer my questions, I’ll tell you why it’s important,” replied Amdirlain.
“I’m in my office, and I have people present. Why do you ask?” interjected Mor’lmes.
“Which is located where?” interrogated Amdirlain.
“Level 22, office B, of the main Wizard tower on campus,” replied Mor’lmes.
“Precision. At your desk, making a drink, writing on a particular board-”
Mor’lmes’ tone went flat. “I’m sitting behind my desk. You proved I should take you seriously, but I don’t have time for your games right now; a student is dead.”
“How long ago?”
“A teacher discovered the body in an unbooked spell-casting chamber, maybe an hour after they died. The traces found are of spells they shouldn’t know how to cast,” reported Mor’lmes.
Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully. “You believe them a good person?”
“She was a promising scholarship student; it’s a waste,” growled Mor’lmes, his voice rumbling in the back of his throat.
“Hold your hands up before you, level and shoulder-width apart, don’t react to the glow,” instructed Amdirlain. She turned Resonance into a narrow beam concentrated on him alone to cut through the distortion.
“What glow?” asked Mor’lmes, his voice distant from the unit.
When his hands were in position, Amdirlain started singing and heard Mor’lmes shocked inhalation. Using his location as a reference, a crystal rod just over a metre long came into existence, resting on his hands. “It’s up to you what you tell people. You now possess an item that will let you, and only you, restore someone to life once a day—even if something disintegrated them. If you do it for greedy reasons, it will swap your life for theirs.”
Mor’lmes chuffed in disbelief. “How could I explain this?”
“I taught you the Life Affinity. There are spells in its field that can restore life,” replied Amdirlain. “Do your best to learn them—the rod won’t last forever. Would you prefer I take it back, or do you want this chance for her?”
“Damn it. This won't be easy to hide,” grumbled Mor’lmes before he huffed. “Thanks.”
“I’m trying to triangulate the location of an Eldritch creature; you’re a reference point. I needed precision to track against later. As for a cover story, you could shoo everyone from the room and tell them it was the work of another. An annoying Life Wizard you met recently, going only by J. She even helped you gain the Affinity and healed some old wounds,” suggested Amdirlain, and she ended the call.
He gets on my nerves, and I don’t know why. Maybe because he works amid that hum? Then again, he started considering plans to capture me, the arse.
Singing more of Enya’s lilting tunes, Amdirlain rose and let the melodies guide her feet. Partway through a piece, she realised it had shifted to an Anar song, and the music halted on her lips.
“They used True Song’s melodies without the empowerment for entertainment,” murmured Amdirlain. “Maybe that’s why I used combined dawn music today.”
Working through melodies that she remembered Ori composing, Amdirlain stopped when Pal’tran arrived.
He set a container on the ledge made from a thicker version of the material that made up transparent music sheets and the pages in Jal’krin's notebooks.
“Sliced roast with whole grain stuffing and some local herbs,” announced Pal’tran.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to,” Amdirlain said, twitching her ears towards the bag of coins. “How much? I can pay.”
“Never mind that, my treat. I only caught part of it, but that was a heck of a performance at the memorial plaza today. Are you feeling tired?”
“I’m fine,” reassured Amdirlain, and her whiskers twitched as she sniffed the food. “Can I ask why that particular expedition force had a memorial? I thought the abomination occurred more regularly, and I’ve only seen one memorial.”
“That expedition ended up dealing with three abominations because of games among the leadership. A lot of soldiers lost their lives unnecessarily,” sighed Pal’tran.
“Did the leadership think the memorial would be an acceptable apology, or did someone else erect it?”
“The leaders that wasted lives weren’t in power when it was built,” answered Pal’tran. “The expedition survivors spoke up and let everyone know that glory-mongering among the leadership cost a lot of troops at no risk to themselves. In the next elections, their prides replaced them and saw them charged with neglect and wrongful deaths. I think some are still in the work camps. Expeditions since have suffered nothing close to the same casualties.”
“So they were commanding from the rear while extolling how great they were?”
“Not how I’d put it, but yes. They were also getting in each other’s way with petty actions that sabotaged advances. It resulted in caverns lost and lives wasted. Jal’krin studied it in school. I was young, but I remember the mess on the receivers in those days,” sighed Pal’tran grimly, his ears flattening against his skull. “Then we discovered even that wasn’t the worst of it. I won’t get into the details. Enough history books take it apart, and I might have the order of events wrong.”
“Where are the Gods’ Grave entrances in this area?”
“The tunnels into the upper ghost caverns are on the city’s southwest edge. The main military base encircles them now. That’s another change that was made following the change of leadership; a company used to control it for the mineral rights between surges,” explained Pal’tran.
Amdirlain caught they had access to mithril veins and rare resources through the same caverns and gave a sharp nod.
Weird; I’ll have to look into if there is a correlation. Do the caverns form around magical materials? Or does the energy drawn into the abominations also cause magical materials to appear?
“Anyway, that’s pretty far off topic from what I wanted to discuss,” coughed Pal’tran. “We’ve got sound booths here, but some of our relatives have professional quality booths. Would you be interested in recording some audio traces?”
“How much for the booth, and what’s your take?”
Pal’tran blinked.
“That was where the discussion was headed. Getting down to agreements, distribution rights, marketing, and slices of the roast?”
“Eventually,” admitted Pal’tran warily.
“Then let’s chase down the straggler and cut its throat. You tell me what you think is a suitable arrangement, and list all the people who’ll need to be paid,” instructed Amdirlain. “Once you’re through making your sales pitch, if I don’t like the details, I’ll go somewhere else and hear what they have to say. However, if I like the details, I’ll still go somewhere else and hear what they say, but I might come back.”
“You’d shop around?” question Pal’tran glumly.
“Pal’tran, we’ve known each other less than a full day. I will not assume you’re trying to rob me, however, I will also not assume you’re seeking anything but the best deal for your pride. You’ve already told me your pride isn’t as financially secure as it used to be. I’ll hear you out and then check the competition with that in mind,” advised Amdirlain.
“If you get a better offer, please let me know.”
“I like you, so potentially I’ll take your offer even if it isn’t the best. Since I met someone who sets my teeth on edge today, I’d prefer to avoid that experience with music, and I want to do things properly.”
[Diplomacy [J] (30->31)]
“Right, I’ll need to introduce you to my cousin. She knows more about how it works, and I might leave details out,” admitted Pal’tran.
“Then why don’t you line that up for tomorrow? I’ll eat some of this great-smelling roast, pick some things up, and return before Jal’krin heads off,” stated Amdirlain firmly. “I also won’t shop for any other offers until I hear yours.”
“Okay.”
And that gives me time to clean up the bedrock under the retreat.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Glenn Wright
There is some of that plus some other factors she'll admit soon.
Alexander Colton
Pretty sure he annoys her because he has some of the same dismissive arrogance that Am has had issues with before. Both the Jarls steward and the one who “helped” Torm into the abyss were the same.
