• Solo • I. The Promised (Graded)

[Llyr Llywelyn]

83 Ymiden, Arc 719
Etzos

“Keep up. I’m not going to come looking for you if you get lost,” said Clover. The blond Etzori glanced over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the wrist of the tall biqaj who was about the same age as her. “Llywelyn! Are you listening to me?!”

“Huh?” Llyr shook his head. He’d been distracted by what looked to be performers of some sort at a corner between stalls. “What did you say? I mean yes. Of course I am.”

Clover scoffed. She dragged him along past the aisles of makeshift booths. “We’re not here to play. It’s hot and I need to get back to the basement so I can finish scribing those newest records. I wouldn’t have come along if they hadn’t asked for a seal upon inspection but- Llywelyn!”

The Quacian had slipped out of her grasp and sidled up to a booth. He grabbed a necklace. His eyes widened, the irises glittered the same amber color as the gemstone on the necklace. He asked the stall keeper, “How much is this?”

“We’re. Not. Here. To. Buy things!” Clover swiped the necklace out of his hand and set it back on the table. Her voice turned shrill. “If you’re to- to- mess around, then I- I’ll-”

“Sorry,” offered Llyr. He smiled slightly, awkwardly. “I was just teasing you. I’ll be good, promise.”

The blonde girl rolled her eyes and threw up a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Just follow. I don’t want to be out in the sun any longer than I have to be.”

The pair continued along the festival square. Llyr folded his hands behind his back, then skipped to keep up with Clover’s swift but short-stride pace. She was an entire head’s shorter than him, after all. Clover glanced up when his shadow cast over her, and blocked the sunlight while they walked. She hmphed but didn’t say anything about it.

“This is your first house call so I’ll do most of the talking,” she informed him.

“Why would anyone want to do this now? Wouldn’t they want to celebrate? There’s so much here to see!”

“This is a perfect time,” retorted Clover. “For a number of different reasons. They could want the extra value to leverage on a bet while more stakeholders are in the city due to the festival. Or they could be seeking a loan and want collateral in proof to the bank. During times like these, usually there are foreign appraisers that come by as well, so they could be wagering which will give them the best evaluation.”

“Foreign appraisers? Then why hire T&F?”

“It’s Trust. And. Fair. Not T and F. For the hundredth time, if you call it that again, I will dock your pay.”

“You can actually do that though?”

“Try me.”

Llyr snorted. He shrugged, and glanced aside to survey some booths. “Does that mean you can also give me a raise if I please you?”

“What?” Clover choked on a shrill laugh. She gave him an expression of contempt and disgust. “You’re… Call it by its name! It’s not hard, Llywelyn!”

“Okay, Clover!” He mimicked her terse voice back at her.

“Ugh!” She adjusted the various folders in her arms, then said, “Why don’t you hold onto these?”

“Because I’m already carrying everything else,” he lamented with a pat to the four messenger bags and the small travel pack over his shoulders. “I don’t even understand why we need all this.”

“I’m the lead on this valuation, so you have to hold onto these if I want you to,” she told him while she shoved the stack of leather-bound folders into his arms. Once freed of them, she brushed the long black sleeves of her professional attire. Only parts of her skin were showing, her hands and face. The tannish skin beaded with sweat. It was an exceptionally hot day for the last trials of Ymiden and the fires that still burned along the Outer Perimeter didn’t help matters.

Llyr cradled the folders, careful to not lose any though they slid around over each other. He had on similar attire, though it hadn’t been tailored to his body - not yet anyhow - and he absolutely hated that. It felt too loose around the joints and too tight around his ribs and biceps. The coarse, practical fabric bunched oddly at his waist and he swore he could feel a rash on the back of his neck where the uneven collar kept rubbing against his skin. Still, it’d been provided by his employer so he would wear it… or no longer be employed as Madam Hale had phrased it.

They walked without any more conversation, mostly to keep their breath steady in the heat, until Clover paused at a crossroads between the stalls. She stared in one direction for a bit too long of a moment.

“Are you lost?” asked Llyr. He adjusted the folders to the crook of his other arm.

“No,” she scoffed at him and rolled her eyes. “I… it’s only…”

He looked around her. His smile faded. A long line of ghosts and Etzori were gathered around a beige tent. A conscription spot. For several trials now, units have been on the march out the gates to head south. Yet they kept sending more. As many as they could. Ghosts. Men. Women. Just short of children, it seemed. A couple younger faces milled about the line - maybe to see if they’d be allowed. Better than an orphanage, to fight for your home rather than waiting around for possible defeat.

“Is that the way we have to go?” Llyr glanced at Clover and noticed she had a terribly sad look on her features. It almost made her look soft and nice. Almost. He knew better.

“No,” she answered shortly. “No… It’s just odd. Seeing it like this. Lived here my whole life and never seen so few stalls at the gem fest before. So little wares. And so many ghosts. Makes me wonder if I’m not wasting my time, reading books and copying words over and over onto sheets of paper that could burn in a single fire. Destroyed forever. All that work for nothing, y’know?”

Llyr watched her as she spoke, though her gaze had gotten fixed on the line of conscripts. He noticed the faintest of gray and greens in the irises of her blue eyes. He hummed lowly, then nodded and said, “Maybe. Someone’s got to keep the city though. For the ones who return. All those soldiers deserve a place to rest when they come back home. And you’re helping make sure they get it for the right price rather than getting fleeced.”

Clover looked up at him, her eyes wide. They returned to their usual size soon after. She sighed, then pointed in the opposite direction. “That way.”

“That way it is.” The biqaj adjusted the folders, and the messenger bag straps, then started along the next aisle. He ignored the various laid-out jewelry even though the gemstones sparkled brilliantly in the sun.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

“No, that’s not the correct notation,” corrected Clover. She struck her quill over the spot where Llyr had painstakingly etched out a few choice ith’ession letters near a rough diagram of the floor plan.

“You certain?” He asked and glanced toward the wall that had a hidden inset between two beams.

Clover offered him a stare, then ruffled the quill’s feather against his cheek. “Pay attention. We’re mostly done and need to add the numbers up and then…”

“Then we get the client to sign off that they heard the estimate and perform the seal.”

“Oh, you aren’t completely empty-headed,” she said with a look of mock surprise. “Now try to notate correctly else it’s going to fall on me that we messed up.”

“Yes, okay…” he turned the vellum and carefully scribbled a few more notes along the corresponding wall on the diagram. He paused when he saw a squat figure in the doorway.

The client wasn’t the finest-looking of men, but what he lacked in proportional features and disciplined eating, he made up for in the quality of his attire. Furs and satins, with heavy gold chains and gemstones dappled over the embroidered doublet. He rested a hand on the round of his stomach and gruffly said, “You children about done?”

Clover forced the barest of smiles. She seemed to be having trouble ever since they’d arrived when the man had acted acutely disappointed the visit hadn’t involved her mother’s presence. She said, “Almost, sir. There’s much in the house to include.”

“Ah, yes, yes.” He hiccuped. Beady eyes swiped over the girl, then to Llyr and he said, “I see Lord Fairtrust is hiring anyone these trials. Didn’t take him for a charitable sort but then considering his history of charity, shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Sir, please…” murmured Clover. She gestured for him to follow her into the corridor. “I had a question about the attic space. The ladder looks as if it’s been smashed in?”

“Oh that,” said the man though he lingered to stare at Llyr. “Yeup. The missus took an ax to it. Gets a nasty temper when she drinks red wine. Nothing that can’t be fixed. The ladder, I mean.”

The blond biqaj shuffled to face away and avoid the fixed stare on him. He smoothed his bangs down, but they were firmly over the scar on his forehead. He didn’t understand it otherwise. Did he have something out of place? Was it because of his ill-fitted outfit? He pulled at the hem. Unfortunately, only a few more strokes of the quill then he found himself done with his work in the room. He hesitated where the door had gotten blocked by the side profile of the large, but short human.

“Clover, I finished,” he said. “Unless that inset leads somewhere?”

“It does not,” snapped the other man.

She hurriedly waved for him and nodded to the wealthy man, “We have to perform the count now. If you’ll but extend your patience to us for a little longer.”

The man glanced between them, then humphed and pointed at a wooden door. “In there. I don’t want to find this one snooping around.”

“He won’t,” she assured. The two blond youths headed into the study.

“What’s with him?” asked Llyr as soon as the door had shut behind him. “He keeps looking at me like I spat in his face.”

“Don’t mind him,” said Clover. “It’s tense with the war and all. Your kind isn’t going to be received well by everyone, especially not by grumps like him.”

“My kind?”

“Y… You’re biqaj.”

“Oh... So? Why are you saying that like it means something? There are other biqajs in this city, I’ve seen them.”

“Yes, but… You’re... You know you're the creation of an Immortal?”

Llyr hesitated, then he nodded. “I see… But can I just say, I don’t even know the man!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Clover settled their papers and supplies near the writing desk. “You might have seen other biqajs, but for Etzos, you’re going to be considered rare. And for some, like him, never rare enough. Especially with the war to the south. Most of the Promised will get run out, is my guess. I’ve seen a lot less of Eidisi students in the academy last several trials. Wouldn’t be surprised if they traveled back north than remain here while people are jumpy and the guard marches south.”

He slumped into a chair and folded his hands in front of him. Llyr pouted slightly, then shrugged and said, “I won’t let it bother me.”

Clover nodded. She sat primly in another chair and started the count.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

“I’m not signing this.” The rotund Etzori threw the parchment and Clover had to hurry forward to catch it before it hit the floor. “This estate is worth easily four times as that!”

“Four times?!” exclaimed Clover, her professional facade broke in her bafflement at the claim. “Pray tell, how do you estimate that?”

“If you’d bothered to do your jobs properly, you would’ve known the records that Lord Vuda himself used to live here.” The man ran his hands along the lining of his doublet and snobbishly sniffed.

“L-lord… but… no, we don’t have any record of that. Unless it can be verified I cannot include hearsay into the evaluation.”

“He-hearsay?!” He bellowed. Face red and sweaty with anger, he pointed down the hall. “Get out, the both of you! Filthy two-legged fish. I should’ve known you’d try and cheat me! Lord Fairtrust doesn’t know what he’s doing, gone soft in his old age, letting his business be run into the ground by a bitch of a Promised.”

“Don’t you speak about my mother like that,” said Clover in a high-pitch. Her own face lit up, red and hot.

Llyr glanced between the two, then raised a hand in a surrender gesture to get the man’s irate attention on him instead. “Now, now, this is a misunderstanding. We can return to the office and check the records again. If it proves correct, then we shall adjust the estimate accordingly. For now, if you could but sign this to acknowledge that we did show you the estimate. If you’d like, a small note can be included on the pending confirmation but until then, we cannot leave.”

The man glowered at Llyr, then looked at the angry Clover, and grumbled, “Fine, give it here.”

He scrawled his signature on the line, then roughly threw it back at them. “Now both of you get out, and don’t come back unless it’s four times that much. Otherwise, you can tell Merrin I said he never should have stuck his rod in-”

“Thank you, sir,” Llyr cut him off with a mock bow. He grabbed onto Clover and guided her away. In a rush, he collected their belongings, messenger bags over his shoulders and likewise, then escorted her out to the road.


As soon as they were barely around the bend, Clover burst into a tirade. “Can you believe the gall of him?! Saying such things! Right to my face too. How rude! How very very rude of him. He's not even a lord! Barely a merchant! No wonder he can’t keep his trade afloat, who would ever want to work with a slob like him,” her voice pitched shrill.

She waved her hands wildly about without much point to the gestures. “Oohhh, he’s lucky I’m a girl else I’d pop one on his jaw right there! Saying such things about my mother and grandfather! To my face! How dare he!”

Llyr snickered.

“What’re you laughing at, huh?!” She turned her ire onto him. “What did you do? Stared like a dolt! That’s what you did, Llywelyn.”

“I don’t think Madam Hale would’ve liked it if I had hit a client while on the job."

“Then you don’t know my mother very well,” she retorted with a sniff and a sharp turn of her head forward. She lifted her chin and refused to look at him anymore. Even when he leaned down somewhat and inclined his head.

“What if it is true though?” asked Llyr.

“If what is?”

“The… if the house was used by Lord Vuda at some point?”

Clover chewed on her lower lip. She frowned, then shook her head. “It wasn’t. That sort of thing is the stupidest kind of rumor people attempt to raise the value of their property. I can’t imagine it would even… I mean, we do offer a slight bonus to those houses that have had notable residents or historic importance but that house? With… no, no. I can’t even entertain such a ludicrous thought.”

Llyr nodded. He adjusted the straps of the bags. The leather dug through the coarse fabric of his ill-fitted attire and made the rays of the sun feel all the more blasted in heat. Sweat trickled along his brow. He wiped at it with the back of his sleeve.

“Luckily we got his signature,” she mentioned, her previous anger receded.

He hummed, smiled slightly, then said, “You’re welcome.”

“Ugh, you’re such an ass,” she snapped. She marched forward, ahead of him by a few quickened strides.

Llyr blinked, momentarily paused by the curt response. He watched her rush ahead, then called, “What? What did I do now?!”

♢ ♢ ♢
Next

[Nursia]

I always enjoy a good thread about how someone works.

Excellent characterization on the part of Llyr here. Your dialog is snazzy, and doesn't get caught up in things it doesn't need to. Your control of NPCs helps the story out quite a bit, and I enjoy how you use them as a sounding board to try and get your character behaving in ways that'd be impossible alone.

I have no complaints. Your grammar and structure is fine. Enjoy your rewards!

Llyr

Rewards

Knowledges:
Etiquette: Don’t act rashly.
Business Management: Business etiquette.
Business Management: Dealing with a belligerent client.
Research: Get as much details as possible.
Research: Verification of claims.
Leadership: Redirecting the focus of a client.
Loot:
Wealth:
+1, WT has been approved.
Renown:
+5
EXP:
+10

Feedback

Understand that all criticisms are done in good faith. It would be a greater disrespect to not say anything in the face of problems. Please contact me through this account's inbox if you wish to further communicate on the matter of improvement, or if you feel as though anything is unduly harsh.

Player #2

Rewards

Knowledges:
Wealth:
Renown:
EXP:

Feedback

Understand that all criticisms are done in good faith. It would be a greater disrespect to not say anything in the face of problems. Please contact me through this account's inbox if you wish to further communicate on the matter of improvement, or if you feel as though anything is unduly harsh.