The Infinite World - RP

[Prpl_Mage]

Caul laughed as the girl gagged.

"A toast then for your future life!" Caul said cheery as he raised his own mug, the substance within beckoning him. "Skoal!" And with that vanished the contents of the mug.

But with the drink gone Caul glanced over at the stranger in the back once more. There used to be one or another oddball tracking him down, sometimes in more ridiculous costumes than others. Simply because they didn't want to be recognized. But this person - man or woman didn't seem to emit that kind of aura. And that mask made it hard to read whoever it was and the intentions.
A skill, or magic perhaps. The face of a person told many stories, and somehow Caul was able to read those stories before spoken. Which probably was why he was such a negotiator.

"Now Silf." He began as he returned his attention to her. "To ensure that you have what it takes to work for me... I want you to track me down tomorrow. Track me down and I'll give you the assignment of the day." He gave her a heartfelt smile. It wasn't to vex her, just that he didn't want to spread the word we're he'll be with all those money.

She looked confused but still a bit excited. "Find me at sunrise and we'll discuss this further. I have an encounter that should be finished by then."

The door of the tavern opened and two guards stepped in, they looked around and took the owner aside for some questions.

"Wonder what mess Sodeam is in this night." He mumbled as he avoided the gaze of guards. And at the same time noticed that their anonymous admirer had disappeared.


----

"Well done Arkley." Eirik said with a smile. "It's good to know that our brave soldiers are keeping the peace assured in our streets. A truly well done job." He knew that his captain was giving him the evil eye. She always had a soft spot for the commoners and the thing called justice.

"Thank you vice-captain..." The soldier mumbled in response, obviously still not truly satisfied with the current situation.

"Tell you what, next time inform one of your superiors and we'll do well to assist you. When things happen like this there is hardly any time to steel ourself to the situation. But we'll take it from here. Be sure that they'll hear your and your informant's name when this proves to be true."

Arkley nodded and Eirik clenched his fist aimed at the butcher. A thread of silver chains  formed around the man and wrapped itself around his torso, locking the arms to his body.

He nodded at his inferiors and simply said "Carry on."
But as he turned to begin his walk with the arrested he noticed how this business now had attracted more people than before. Rumours spread quick and to say that all the commoners gathered outside the butcher shop were there to support the man would be a grave lie.

[Moosetroop11]

A fire crackled in the brick hearth, combatting the relentless rain battering the nearby window pane, and Elaine Knotte warmed herself there, her scabbarded sword resting neatly on the side of her familiar leather armchair.  There was often a great deal for her to think about here, in her sanctuary of isolation, and today was certainly no exception.

The previous few hours had been trying upon her patience.  She had been able to do little to help the butcher as he had been dragged away to the royal dungeons, and the information on the man's background had been sent straight to the king, upon his request, before she had been given a chance to see it.  The more she mused upon it, the more she was convinced that foul play was afoot.  Could this really be the king's plan?  To unite his kingdom against Aurol by inventing fictional spies?  Or was the danger real?  Was her stubbornness clouding her judgement?

On the heavy oak desk beside her laid some thick paper with the stamp of the city guard upon it.  She pushed this aside, upsetting her pet owl who fluttered mournfully to his perch above the fire, and reached into the sliding draw for a piece of plain, less traceable paper.  This was a letter she could not afford to let the wrong people read.

C

I have a task for you.  I must have all information all available regarding the histories of butcher Sebastian Griss and the business owner Enos DeWodan.  This will be no simple thing: the data may be being held in the royal palace.  I know this is a little outside of your comfort zone but you are the only person I can trust to ensure that the mission is carried out discreetly, and you usually have some strings you can pull if necessary.

Payment will be generous.  The information on DeWodan is desirable but not essential.  The information on Griss is vital.

If necessary, contact me by the usual method.

K

She rolled up the paper, tucked it into her owl's carrying pouch and whispered 'Caul' into its ear, and then opened a window.  Then Muuyii ruffled its feathers, sprang into the air, and, after a small amount of hesitation, flew out into the bitter weather.

[WarxePB]

"Sol Arin? Owner of the Dancing Monkey?" Lieutenant Arkray asked the fat owner of the tavern.

"Yes, that's right. What can I do for you fine men tonight?" the owner asked nervously.

"We need to ask you a few questions. Please come with us." Arkray and the other soldier walked behind the counter and took Sol into the kitchen. He noted the two familiar faces sitting at the counter - that street girl from before, and a shady-looking man he recognized as 'Caul'. Neither of them had done anything illegal in front of him, but if they were smart, they'd leave before he was finished questioning Sol.

"I believe it is time for us to turn in." Caul said, fastening his cloak.

"Yeah, good idea." Silf had noticed the soldier too - he'd been the one that had nearly killed her earlier. And without Captain Knotte to call him off, she suspected that he wouldn't let either of them off so easily. "I'll see you tomorrow, sir! I'll find you first thing in the morning, I promise!"

She jumped off of the barstool and ran into the back of the tavern, where an older woman was tending the inn. Her clothes were hanging downstairs, in the laundry room - they were still damp when she put them on, but she probably wouldn't be staying dry for very long anyways.

The older woman waved to her as she took the back exit - only to run into the man with the horned mask from before, standing underneath the awning just outside the door.

"Oh, young miss! I was hoping you had not already left." He ushered her back into the lobby of the inn. "I have a favour to ask you."

"Uh, sure, what do you need?" she asked. She couldn't see any of his actual face underneath the mask, but he had to have one... right?

"I saw the demonstration of your gift earlier. I did not wish to ask you there, but since we are both alone now, would you be willing to show it to me?" He spoke slowly and carefully, almost as if he wasn't quite sure about the words he was using. He had a moderate accent, though she had no idea where he was from.

"Oh, um, sure." She took his hands and traced his lifelines with her finger, but something was wrong about them. His hands were calloused and arthritic from a lifetime of heavy labour, but based on the patterns she was seeing, he was only around her age. It didn't make any sense at all... either way, she couldn't do a proper reading.

"Is something wrong?" he coolly asked.

"I... I'm sorry, I can't see anything." she said.

"How unfortunate." She couldn't see his face, but he definitely seemed and sounded disappointed. Nonetheless, he reached into one of the many pockets on his overcoat and fished out a key. "Stay dry tonight, young miss."

The key was tagged with a room number of some sort. Before she could ask what it was for, he stepped through the exit. Before she could run after him, the old woman tending the inn looked around the corner.

"So that's what he meant." the old woman muttered to herself. "Okay then, dear. That man, whoever he is, made special arrangements for you."

"Wait, he got me a room?" Silf asked.

"Yes. But if you steal anything, God help me, I'll turn you into the Watch myself."

Not that she was complaining, but why would that man get her a room? Silf pondered this as the old woman led her upstairs. Especially after she couldn't give him a proper fortune, why would he still be willing to give up his room key? It just raised too many questions. She noticed the old woman glaring at her as she unlocked the door to her room, but she didn't pay any attention to it.

The room was sparsely furnished, with only a bed, a nightstand and a chest of drawers off to the side. Not that it mattered all that much - she didn't plan on staying up all that long. She had her work cut out for her tomorrow, and she'd need every last bit of sleep she could get. Above anything else, she needed to make sure Caul knew that he could depend on her... and maybe she could figure out who that man was. But those questions were for tomorrow. For now, her stomach was full and she was in a warm bed; her mind lingered on the ruined picture, but for now, she was perfectly content.

[Prpl_Mage]

Backdoors of buildings usually told guards that something eerie was in place. So eerie that the person found the need to sneak out the back. A mistake that once cost Caul the use of two fingers. Simply because a soldier found him suspicious and went a tad bit too physical. A memory that had scarred Caul since that day he was 12 - nowdays he never used a backdoor.

"Great dish Anne!" Caul called to the cook in the kitchen as he signalled for his bowl to be collected. The woman nodded surprised as Caul fixed his cloak and walked out the tavern. One of the guards followed him in the back of his eye but Caul didn't have anything to hide this day.

The weather had gone from bad to worse and Caul felt the need to pull up the hood of his cloak, he melted in like a creature of the dark. Not drawing nay attention, not revealing anything.
The rain made the cobblestone wet and even a bit slippery, leather boots did not appreciate that as Caul walked up the main street and through countless alleys. Just in case someone followed him.

And then he was finally there. A tall building with five floors. Yet the fifth floor was completely sealed from the main building aside from an attic. Instead he walked round the back of the house and squeezed himself through a small gap in the wall. A little bit in was a ladder which he used to climb up.

"I should probably invest in something more comfortable." Caul mused as he reached the top of the building and unlocked the window there.

The view from this rooftop was amazing although blurry this special night, yet he noticed a fluttering shape drawing closer. And not just closer - towards him.
He sighed and pulled himself up into the window and threw of the cloak into a pile of similar garments. he then cleared a thick desk from it's contents and placed a hook-like decoration on top of it.
He waited patiently and lit an oil lamp at the ceiling as he watched the damage done to his outfit. His frilled shirt was soaked and his vest moist, the contents of his shoes could probably fill a glass with water and his dagger could use a cloth.
Then his visitor finally decided to swoop in. The fluttering of wings and feather descended through his window and landed on the decoration on the table top. The owl ruffled it's feather's and hooed.

"Good evening sire owl." Caul said kindly as he strode over to the owl and unlatched the message it held. He then pulled of his shirt and picked up a bowl of seeds and placed it in front of the owl.

He read the message and scrabbled some notes on a different paper. Names first and then a sign next to each, symbolizing the priority. He then wrote his codeword for the palace 'birdcage'. With notes taken he folded the letter and stuffed it into the lamp.

"Well done sire owl, give your best condolences to your master" He said and lit another lamp at a second desk. He placed the note there and sorted some documents. Tomorrow would be another good day to invest some money, investments cleared himself of loose cash and improved his connections.

But he had to make some special arrangements for the birdcage. Some people could help him with that. But he didn't trust any of them enough. They didn't mind the extra income but they wouldn't put their own lives at stake for someone. He knew who he had to contact, an outsider he was. But his skills with these things were superb. And well, as long as he was sober the job could run smoothly.

Caul finished up and put aside a suit for tomorrow's pleasures, he stacked his documents and letters on the desk and then ordered the owl out of his flat. The owl flew off and Caul closed the window.
Tomorrow was the day when Caul perhaps could be part of the construction of the Sodeam tracks which would improve the country's economics immensely. But he also had to pay a personal favour and visit the birdcage.

[Moosetroop11]

OOC: Do you want me to make the drunk character, or do you want to?

[Prpl_Mage]

OOC: Do the drunk thief if you want to. I really don't mind.

[Moosetroop11]

The first rays of morning crept over the streets of Sodeam.  They were warmth without true heat; a shining layer of light which settled on every brick and paving slab but could not quite dispel the damp chill that the night had left behind.

The city was large and empty; the air tense, waiting for the first traders to awaken from their modest, scratchy beds and begin their morning rituals before shambling to work.  It reeked of activity yet to come.  But one man, at least, was able to admire the view.

"She breathes now, mark'd by hoof nor shoe; a moist exhale that starts afield, yet knows that here is where she stays; a humble breath to start the day and chase the evening webs away" poet said to himself.  Then he smiled, and shook his head.  "That's ghastly.  A child's ramblings to a tolerant mother!  A dim man's attempt at romanticising the mundane!  I do come out with such trash sometimes."

He picked up his wine glass again and sipped from it nonchalantly, watching the red stain cling to the sides.  The early morning was when he considered himself happiest and most level headed - before he began to crash and the inconvenience of sleep would overtake him as it always did.  The rain last night had kept him inside his rented rooftop room for the most part but now he was out on the roof proper, looking down upon the city like a newly painted map, his eyes straining to pick out details and fighting his brain's attempts to blur the entirety together into a more manageable abstract piece.

"I," he announced, standing upon the short stone wall that skirted the entire roof like a safety rail, "am ready.  I have energy inside of me, and alcohol inside of me, and the time is now!"

At this he lost balance and nearly fell.  He corrected himself, however, from a potentially fatal fall, and stood up straight again, undeterred.

"Let me tell you a story!  A story that will move your blunted hearts and blossom the soul of the city until mass understanding is the only possibly outcome!  Share this with me, my brothers!!!"

Shutters burst open from the side of a house a little way below poet and a hairy, angry man popped his head out.  "Quieten down, you freak!!  You woke me up again!  I'll kill you!"

"You are an ape in a bald cap" Poet said, keeping a straight face until the end of the sentence after which he broke out into hysterical laughter.  "Your opinion is noted and discarded, my good man!  Enjoy the rest of your morning!"

"Note this!  I'm coming over there today!  I've had enough!  I'm surprised the folks below you haven't lynched you already, the way you've carried on the last few days!"

Poet mused upon this.  He had heard banging coming from the floor that night.  He had thought it most perculiar and had even replied in a similar fashion.  He had locked the door to the roof using a simple spell and apparently they hadn't been able to open it up and get at him.

"Worry not!" he cried at the house opposite once more.  "I will move.  You have been a wonderful, wonderful audience!"

He started to stroll back towards his door, then felt light headed momentarily and bent over, vomiting.  The vomit was thin and contained little that had ever been solid.

"Uugh....  I need to pack and find breakfast!" he stated.  "And then a new place to live I suppose.  Maybe outside of Sodeam?  What a bother!  I had hoped to find time to chat to old Caul whilst I was in town.  A friendship is a lantern that fades with distance and dims with time."

[Prpl_Mage]

It was early in the morning. People were starting to move about. Kids running down the streets before they were filled with people and wagons. Caul saw the market open up and greeted some of his regular customers. He handled most merchants' imports of the rarer goods. He paid people to acquire them, he paid them and then delivered those items and the merchants paid him. Everyone would be happy unless some prick got the idea to skip Caul in the process, or even Caul and his supplier. He didn't earn a fortune of what he did, but it was more than most people would doing a bit more honest work.

He stopped at a booth and bought some fruit and bread and as he paid up the owner leaned over the stall.
"Caul, can you get your hands on some of those Leloms fruits? Y'know the Aurolian melon like things although greenish inside and sour?" She asked with 'Aurolian' barely a whisper.

"I'll look into it, two weeks from now sounds good?" Caul replied hastily and scribbled it onto a note. "AU. fruit, W.beehive, F", said the note. He said farewell and hurried along. He had a meeting soon but wanted to greet a friend.

----

The door opened and a familiar face stepped outside into the nearing sunlight.

"The rays of the divine orb shines gently on thine face oh fairest Poet." Caul said with a forced accent.

The man, one of many acquaintances over his years smiled at him. He was never hard to track down. Or rather, it was easy to find out where he stayed because of the commotions he usually took part of.
"Caul, what brings you to these neighbourhoods? And what is that in your hand?"

"No time for the morning hugs my friend." Caul said as he handed over a bag of the food he bought. "Walk with me." And set out towards the higher streets of the city. Although the man seemed to have round soles. The stride wasn't as straight as one could wish for.

"Long time no see. I suppose you wouldn't mind assisting me with a matter would you?" Caul said as he pulled out a package and placed it in one of the city's postboxes . "There is this request you see. And your 'skills' would greatly assist me with that. There's a matter regarding the birdcage." He looked back at his friend to make sure he listened.

"Meet me at the usual place five hours from now to reminisce and we'll discuss this later." Caul said as he watched the clocktower and the time which was drawing close. He stopped and placed a hand on Poet's shoulder.

"And please try to be as sober as possible."


---

The meeting with the supervisors of the tracks had gone according to plan. Caul was now an investor of this revolutionary invention. He'd taken it upon himself to supply a percentage of the required iron. A task which had gotten harder thanks to the gloomy relationship to Aurol. He just had to make those arrangements tonight.
For now he had to withdraw some of the fund he'd placed in various businesses around town to make sure that he could afford get iron from Aurol to the workers in Sodeam.
He sat there, on a plateau overlooking the future location of a train station and he mused what the future might hold for him when the tracks were finished.

"Mo'nin boss." Said a childish voice as one of his youngest boys appeared. "whatcha got for me today?"

"Morning Sam." Caul replied as he pulled a letter from his cloak. "East storage. Show the letter, get the goods and deliver it." He declared as he handed it over.

"Gotcha!" The boy said as he ran off.

It was just a matter of time before his other 'messengers' would pop in, and if lucky - A young girl with a knack for fortunes.