Private Tales The Viper of Vestia

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

So Castulo was supposed to meet up with a foreign contact, Jerick Longsmith, here in the Pious Pint. But then some asshole threw a punch (maybe somebody said something nasty to him), and the man who got punched was too damn drunk to throw a decent punch back, his fist flew off target, walloped some other poor bastard who wasn't even involved, and before long Regel was weeping—woe to the beautiful Right Ordering! The whole damn Pious Pint got caught up in a good ole scuffle! Never let it be said that Gildans were above a nice brawl from time to time.

Only after most of the combatants in the dust-up had winded themselves, or decided there wasn't much to be gained by getting back up after having been knocked down, could the loud protests of the barkeep, Tabu Numenal, be heard: "Get out of here! All of you! BEGONE! Get your sorry asses out of my tavern 'fore I call for some Regulators to sort this out! Regel have mercy on the lot of you!"

Tabu had cause to be upset, of course. Look at the state of the Pint after the scuffle: chairs broken, tables overturned, sticky drink spilled everywhere, empty tankards littering the floor, plates busted and food gone to waste, and here and there little bits of blood knocked from mouths or noses to complete the mess.

Castulo was one of the brawlers left standing. But damn if he wasn't paying for it—he took a few good licks to the face during all that. Hey, good fun often didn't come cheap. One of Castulo's favorite things about traveling abroad was, by and large, ajams leaned more heavily into Castulo's personal sense of "a good time" than many of his fellow Gildans.

Presently though, Castulo—just a little tipsy—stumbled back a step and bumped into someone and managed to right his balance before he toppled over. He turned around, and saw it was a young lad he'd bumped.

"You alright? I didn't punch you, did I? I might've punched you."

The fight did get a bit wild in its full intensity.

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

The whole thing had gone down rather fast, as barfights tend to do. Somebody hit somebody else and suddenly an entirely innocent but similarly intoxicated party of fellows was involved in the whole debacle. Farrell himself wasn't quite tipsy since he had only just finished his planned mug of apple cider, but a odd feeling had overcome him just then: apprehension. The now much larger fight had led to spilled drinks and ruined food for the tables next to the quarrelling groups and so they joined in the battle themselves, which eventually led to a full scale tavern brawl not common to the streets of Gild.

He himself had been swept into the chaos and knocked from his barstool, attacked by another patron. His combat skills from the College had served him well against his single opponent, of course, and he quickly incapacitated the man responsible. However, he then was hit from the side as a large group of fighters all began battling around him, sending him into the side of the counter and a bit of a daze as he tried to fight back. Even through tiredness he managed to give a good show, ducking and dodging and slowly wearing out his foe before finishing the fight with a measured blow.

Eventually he had managed to adapt to the unpredictable rhythm of the fighting and ended up one of the few remaining standing after earning and giving a couple more blows, kind of dizzy by that point. He barely registered the shouting of the tavern-keeper as he tried to gather his bearings, mind already reeling at how much trouble he'd be in with the administrators once he somehow managed to get back to the College. His eyes hadn't quite cleared yet, but he could see all the destruction around him with clarity. Every so often a splash of red stuck out from the wooden utensils and plates, even.

Just then he was bumped by someone and turned to face them, worried that he was in for one more bout. However, it was definitely more of a laugh than anything else: Farrell was obviously far from his prime in the present moment. "Yeah, probably. I'm...not quite fine, but thanks for asking anyway. I, uh, mean that." he said with a slight frown, his vision becoming a bit more blurry. That was pretty bad, right? His legs shook for a moment, and he became more unsteady. Farrell was no brawler and nobody knew that better than he did, and his combat strategy of never getting hit was counterproductive to successfully shrugging off a couple good whacks.

"I'm Quaestor Farrell. Please, uh, don't tell anyone I was here. I have..." his look darkened slightly then, as though a grave thought had just occured. "Enough to deal with already." he commented offhandedly, sitting at the comedically alone table still standing. "Pretty impressive to be standing after all that. Got a bit hectic." he managed to comment, closing his eyes while keepig his ears open for any response.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

Quaestor, eh? Well Farrell here was Castulo's kind of Quaestor, the kind who didn't shy away from using some of his free time at the College to come out and have a drink. If you were old enough to enroll into the War College, or be called up in a levy if you weren't one of Regel's chosen, you were damn sure old enough to have yourself some spirits. Heh, once you came of age, you ought to have an axe thrust into one hand and a mug of feel-good into the other—that's what Castulo would do if he were elected consul. Make a law about that or something.

"Your secret's safe with me," Castulo said. He'd been nagged enough by Bashrahip Mustafa to know what it's like to be hounded over stuff like this. "And sorry about punching you if I did." Farrell was right, damn, it did get a bit hectic. "Good on you though, took it like a true champion of an arena."

All the while Tabu the barkeep kept chastising all of the awake and ambulatory patrons, "I said go! Use your two feet for something other than stamping on good sense and order and go!"

Men shuffled unhurriedly in compliance with Tabu's commands, some stopping here to check on friends, some stopping there to collect some item of theirs dropped during the brawl, and others still at least making a small effort at amends by righting some of the strewn tables, chairs, and stools before making toward the door.

Castulo looked round. He could have sworn he'd seen Jerick, made eye contact with him at least, right before the fistfight flew into full swing. Then he looked down at his feet as his boot nudged up against something.

And a laugh came skipping out of his mouth, "Oh-ho-ho, shit!"

Yep. There he was. Jerick, funny mustache and all, taking a nap on the floor. Maybe another of Castulo's wild swings clipped him good. Well damn, can't say that's how the meet was supposed to go, huh.

He looked to Farrell, "Hey, can I ask you a favor? Can you help me carry this kujar out of here?"

And he pointed down at Jerick.

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell's ears perked up at the man's words, the boy still a good bit groggy from all the thrashing around. "Thanks. Means a lot." He wasn't quite scared of anyone finding out he had partook in some cider, of course, but being involved in a barfight was certain to catch the kind of attention not conducive to being called a good student by his teachers. That was one outcome he sought to prevent over all of them.

However, he had to admit, the combination of cider and the fact that he was just talking to some random man did quite the work in keeping him from becoming his signature brand of nervous and stiff. "I guess just to cover all my bases I should apologize too." he said with a weak grin, sitting up straight. He didn't quite feel like moving from his seat yet and just sat there with his eyes open, surveying the destruction around him. Down on the floor was a small yellow-white thing, definitely a tooth.

Instinctively he swept his tongue around in his mouth, checking for any missing teeth. No, they appeared to all be there, thank Regel. He looked over to where the barkeep was ranting, eyebrows furrowing. He understood the man's rage, however, so he simply tried to block out the sounds. He was surely recovering, but the noise did nothing to help such a process. He took out a shiny silver coin he had and sighed, putting it on the table in a sort of indirect apology for the mess.

His new acquaintance was now looking around. Perhaps he'd had a friend swept up by the storm of people? Around the same time Castulo noticed, so did Farrell. "Shoot." he commented, nudging the seemingly asleep man with his foot lightly just to confirm that was indeed the case. Rewarded with no reaction, he simply processed the body below him and wondered what to say next. "W-?" he began to ask before the man began to speak again, resulting in the boy simply shutting up.

Farrell raised an eyebrow as the man pointed down to the unconscious fellow, standing up and shakily gathering his bearings. "Fine then. I'm feeling a little less punched now, at least." he replied without the enthusiasm of a joke. He stood over whoever this was and looked a little bit thoughtful. "Right then, friend. arms or legs?" he asked, referencing the two pairs of limbs available for leverage.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"Grab his legs, I'll get his ugly half," Castulo said with a grin.

So Castulo squatted and slid his arms under Jerick's own and looked to Farrell and counted off a quick "One, two, three," and with that stood and so carried the unconscious man. And goddamn Jerick was a bit heavier than he looked. Did he get through eating a whole turkey before Castulo got to the Pint, shit man, save some of the meat for everybody else.

They got Jerick out the door and away from Tabu's wrath.

"Over here, over here, out of the street at least," said Castulo, shuffling toward the outside corner of the Pious Pint that marked the beginning of the alley between it and the next building over. "Here we go, set him down."

There. Had him sitting pretty.

"Whew!" Castulo took a couple victory breaths and planted his hands on his hips. He glanced over to Farrell. "Not the best first impression a man can make, huh?"

Or maybe he was wrong about that. He punched Farrell, and Farrell probably punched him at some point in the fight too, and they were both getting along swell. Hopefully Jerick didn't take it personally.

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell only yawned a little bit in return, shrugging and then crouching to grasp the man's limp legs, standing up upon Castulo's countoff. Groaning at the last little weakness in his half-asleep arm, he utilized his deceptively muscular frame to keep whoever this was level. He had learned in his classes that there was all sorts of danger involved in being unconscious....badly?

Luckily, it seemed that getting out of the tavern got them out of the way of the barkeep's incessant nagging. That was a good thing, at least. Without all the sound going on, his mind slowly became a bit more awake and the haze the boy was operating through generally seemed to fade. "No, because I like to leave-" he began to say sarcastically at Castulo's comment about not leaving his friend in the middle of the street.

That was unfair, though, wasn't it? The man hadn't really meant anything bad, most likely, so he reconsidered his choice of words. Quite a place to take a little bit of a nap, the opening of an alley, but there were worse places. He had gathered such from a praetor or two, at least. He brushed his hands together to clap off all of the dust from the man's trousers, just now coherent over how their standing around a body might look to passersby.

He took a couple steps away as he registered what the man was saying to him, and he looked a bit pensive. "In the middle, I'd say. There are better...and worse." he sighed, phantom pain from all the punches coming back weakly. He was far too worried about avoiding any more contact than first impressions then to really care, after all.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"I'll take it. It's not as if I smacked him on purpose."

Castulo squatted beside Jerick. He'd be coming around in a minute or two, Castulo reckoned, could already see a little motion going on beneath his eyelids. Now Castulo was shameless enough to go back into the Pint and ask Tabu for a mug of water to splash on Jerick's face, but he didn't want to piss off the barkeep too badly—the Pint was decent enough establishment. Might as well just wait it out.

Oh! He remembered then.

"Hey, thanks for the help Farrell. Name's Castulo Arnal, by the way."

Then he lightly smacked Jerick's shoulder with the back of his hand.

"And when I said 'kujar' I wasn't kidding. This lug's from out of town. Vestian, or what passes for one."

Not too Vestian though, or else Castulo would have told him to fuck off. The Vestians owned their women like property, like slaves basically, and Nemeska loved to launch into fiery tirades about that alright, and Castulo didn't fault her for it—not at all.

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

"Ha. I don't think he'll quite be happy whatever your intentions were, but that's a bridge to come to later." he commented with a slightly amused look, for he had ceased wondering exactly when he had been cast as a part of whatever shit-show this whole thing was and decided to roll with it. Looking down himself, he noticed that the man they had carried out was beginning to wake up and kept it in mind, wondering how exactly this might look to the man waking up.

After all, it wasn't everyday one woke up to view a friend and a strange college student sitting around them and making small talk over one's fallen body. "Right thing to do, is all. I would rather an alley to waking up to some barkeep screaming. Not exactly birdsong, that." he said with a bit of a grumble, crouching a bit to match his new acquaintance. "Nice to meet you, Castulo." he replied, relieved he finally had been given a name. He sometimes forgot to ask those he spoke with their name and it felt weird to have forgotten.

He looked down at whoever this was upon Castulo's note, observing him through a lens searching for a foreigner. Yes, his dress and such were rather odd for Gild. He had heard of Vestia and their odd culture, and frowned a bit. "I feel that given my status as a student of the college, I should probably ask why exactly you came to meet this man, but I guess it's alright. If the guards or church sensed anything, he wouldn't be here." he rationalized, looking back to Castulo. "Though I am a bit nosy, so....is he anyone important to Vestia?"

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

Castulo laughed.

"Him? He isn't shit."

And now he turned a broad grin up to his new Quaestor comrade.

"But he knows someone who is." Then Castulo thought about it and clarified, "Ah, well, 'infamous' in Vestia is more like it. You ever hear tell of someone called 'The Viper of Vestia'? Maybe you have, maybe you haven't, but that fucker's been something of a legend over there: heh, here's what I've heard. It isn't much, but here it is."

Might as well pass the time while Jerick finished up counting those sheep.

"The Viper, supposedly, is just one man—or woman, fuck, nobody really knows—who's over in Vestia striking down captains, nobles, merchants, you name it, all those actually important to Vestia anyones. No one seems to know precisely why, even if you could probably guess it. The Viper's never been caught, and he, she, whoever, got their king shaking in his boots apparently, wondering if he'll be next someday."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell simply nodded and accepted what Castulo shared with him at face value, guessing that if this man ever felt the need to lie, it wouldn't be to simply save the skin of some foreigner. However, Castulo's elaboration shortly afterward was much more interesting. He himself was not too involved in the going-ons of Vestia so the presence of this "Viper" was news to him. "Interesting." he idly interjected, trying to mentally gather into small piles all the information he was being given.

"So, in short, you came to a bar to meet with an associate of a known criminal. A snitch." he finally said after storytime had ended, distilling the whole tale into the only parts that he really felt were relevant to the situation. Whoever is asleep is the traitor or whatever. Castulo must be more than he seems, if he's meeting to discuss some noble-killing crook. Suddenly, things began to click.

"You're a mercenary, right? Out to claim their head," he said, figuring he had very few options to guess, and the man did not quite strike him as some town gossip. "I guess outsourcing is a decent move if nobody within can catch em'." he said with a shrug. "Trying to find someone else who knows the game, probably." he said, pausing for a second before realizing what the statement could have been interpreted as implying.

"I mean, uh, not that you're a crook or a murderer of anything...sorry. Just that if you truly are trying to hunt the Viper, it probably involves thinking a bit different than the average castle guard."

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"I'm a crook, murderer, and public urinator, don't rob me of my accolades," Castulo said with a big, facetious grin. Well, you know, only partly facetious, because that really was half mirth and half truth. Crook, yeah, he wasn't a stranger to lifting a few coin purses and doing some underhanded jobs; murderer, he and Nemeska had a few under their figurative belt; public urinator, just ask Bashrahip Mustafa about that.

"And you got me figured all wrong about the Viper. I'm not trying to hunt 'em. I'm trying to help 'em."

Being a career soldier meant that you had to be flexible; sometimes the work here in Gild would just run dry for a spell. So that meant doing exactly what Farrell had said, mercenary things. Campania wasn't called the Bloody Crescent for nothing, so there was work out there for those willing to go find it. So Castulo had done plenty of jobs in foreign lands. Now Castulo was anything but the picture of a religious man, but he drew the line at helping nations and people engaging in slavery—Jura was right to condemn that shit. And Vestia? They didn't call it slavery, but it was slavery, what they did to the women—both domestic and captured—in their land.

He gave Jerick a not-so-gentle kick in the thigh, and Jerick groaned as his misty ascent to wakefulness continued. "That is, if this cunt isn't telling tall tales."

He'd better not have wasted Castulo's time. Supposedly he knew how to get in contact with Viper. Supposedly.

"If it turns out he's an 'average castle guard', Farrell, help me shine him up, would ya? Call it extra martial training for the College."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

"Thousand pardons for my insolence, oh criminal one." he responded with a wry little chuckle. Castulo was seemingly the type of guy who clearly gave zero concern to what others thought of him and though the boy could never envision himself being as carefree, there was certainly a sort of charm to him. He was a bit confused as to how he was still free in Gild, but a phrase popped into his head that started with "works for" and ended with "the Church". That was the most likely scenario, at least.

"You're a crazy bastard, huh? Attempting to make the Viper's one-man army into a duo is quite the bold move. Gotta admit, though, I would believe you were a bit of an anarchist even if you had never told me any of this, so it makes sense," he commented, grinning a bit now. Vestia was an odd place and the way they went about treating women was reviled by nearly everyone in Gild. In fact, he was just realizing Castulo was making quite the safe choice in going after such a target. Not as much retaliation to fear. Suddenly, it dawned on him just how weirdly relaxed he was. The school was a high pressure environment, sure, but it was something else. Well, not worth dwelling on now. Probably not, anyway.

He grimaced at Castulo's kick, phantom pain hitting him as he instinctively returned to a particularly intense sparring session that had recently taken place. The poor guy was half asleep and already getting hit. Farrell was beginning to get the impression that the two men weren't quite friends at all. Castulo wanted to get to the Viper, and realistically this man was just one step along the way. "Don't. Kick em', I mean. Not while they're asleep. Not too good to be hit while you're asleep, especially while unconscious." he said with a bit less mirth.

"On that other matter, you already sent this man to the Dreamworld, so I highly doubt you'll need my help to punish any lying." he said, observing the informant's state. "I suppose I should leave. However, all of your tales have made me curious. Mind if I sit in on your talk?" he asked. It probably wasn't very proper to be an intruder on such a talk but at this point absolute honesty seemed to be the norm, and so Farrell went with the flow and decided to continue the trend.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"Sit in all you like, mate." And then he shielded the far side of his mouth and said in low, sly tones to Farrell, "Maybe you'll fancy a little trip to Vestia yourself, eh?"

And it was then that Jerick finally raised his head, opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and could at last be counted among the conscious. He saw Castulo first. "You son of a whore."

"What?"

"You punched me."

"You punched me."

Jerick pressed a hand to his temple. "Uh...did I?" he said, genuinely confused and unsure.

"Yeah, you did," Castulo lied. Alright, lie was a strong word, but he wasn't completely certain that was the truth. "But let's call it even."

"Fair enough." Then he caught sight of Farrell. "Who's this?"

"Friend of mine."

Quick as a whip, despite his grogginess, Jerick said, "My cut stays the same. You two split your share."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell grinned as he watched Jerick stir further. "Thanks for the offer, I guess. However, I don't quite have the time off required to go kill a bunch of Vestia's upper crust." he remarked, eyes sparking with a bit of humor. Vestia was a strange place with rather barbaric customs, if word was to be believed. Gild had class systems, but the disparity was no big issue, with all the charity that occurred even on a daily basis. This "Viper" seemed to be going specifically after nobles and such, so he guessed the same could not be said of Vestia.

He yawned, out of the corner of his eye noticing Jerick finally rejoin the world of the waking. The man, priorities undoubtedly straight, immediately spied Castulo and began accusing him of hitting him in the face. Well, that was a pretty fair assumption, given that they had all just been through a BARFIGHT. Where the Quaestor got a bit confused was where the man figured he hadn't deserved a socking just as much as anyone else involved in the brawl.

"H'lo." he said in return, giving a little bit of a wave. "Yes, our meeting was unexpected, but...Castulo is a generally nice fellow, I think." He added, trying to offer the mercenary some backup on his cover. It wasn't exactly a lie, but a bit of vagueness couldn't hurt. Jerick accepted his presence with the suspicion levels of a particularly happy puppy, which was nice, and then got to discussing fees. "Oh, I'm-" he began to say before falling quiet and looking over to Castulo for what to do next.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"I am a nice fellow. A swell fellow," Castulo said, bolstering Farrell's appraisal of himself.

"Be swell all you want. My cut stays the same."

"Easy, Vester, easy, I'm not try to elbow in on your damn cut."

"Good. Work it out between yourselves."

"Won't have anything to work out if you turn out to be full of shit."

"I'm not full of shit."

"Better not be."

"Can you believe this scoundrel?" said Jerick to Farrell.

"Can you believe this kujar?" said Castulo to Farrell.

Castulo, so told his grin, took the proceedings with far more swagger than did his Vestian contact.

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Pushing your luck there, Castulo. He leaned back on the wall at hearing Jerick’s comment, anticipating quite a response.

However, the more he listened in to their spat, the more worried he got. Jerick seemed to think he was somehow in on all of this, and Castulo was doing nothing to disabuse him of that notion.

He managed to relax, telling himself he could always just say he wanted nothing to do with actually going through with it. “I don’t think it would be smart to pick sides, friends.”

”I will say, though, your argument delays the whole point of this meeting, right?” he said, hoping that they could finally get on to the interesting stuff.

“I have a question, actually. What is the Viper’s plan? What happens after you kill all these nobles?” He asked, looking a bit thoughtful.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

I will say, though, your argument delays the whole point of this meeting, right?

And at this both Castulo and Jerick curled down their bottom lips in sagely fashion, each giving a series of small nods in mutual agreeance—also in sagely fashion. Farrell had a point.

Then came the Quaestor's question.

"I'd guess the Viper just wants the rotten edifice of Vestia to collapse in full. But you'd have to ask the Viper yourself," said Jerick, shrugging.

"I thought you said you knew the Viper?"

"I never said that precise thing."

Castulo squatted down and grabbed a couple fistfuls of Jerick's shirt. "You fucking with me?"

"Take it easy, take it easy," Jerick said, raising his hands and showing his palms in a display of contrition. "The Viper's careful, alright? Has to be. He's the most wanted man in all of Vestia."

"So it is a man?"

"Fuck, I don't know, I'm Vestian, I'm just saying that. He, she, man, woman, how am I supposed to know?"

Castulo roughly let go of Jerick's shirt and stood up again. "What do you know? Huh?"

"I know one of the Viper's top men, that's what. And he got in touch with me courtesy of the Viper, the actual Viper. See, the Viper needs a few Gildans for something." And with a brief glance to Farrell, Jerick added, "And I think it's something more than just knocking down another noble or two."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell sighed, unsure how his two new acquaintances had even managed to create a coherent plan to meet in the first place. Well, whatever, that was likely part of the charm of it all. The charm of two weirdos plotting to meet a local legend.

“Doesn’t sound very concrete, but that’s not my problem. I’m just hoping that if anything does come to fruition, we won’t be leaving Vestia with another tyrant.” he said, yawning a bit. No point in making all this ruckus if the Viper turned out to be a prick themself.

He watched as Jerick revealed he did not truly know the Viper and got himself an angry word from Castulo, such that the boy reached out to touch the mercenary’s shoulder and get their attention. “Let em be. He probably isn’t given much. Most anarchists rebelling against government are tight-lipped. I guess, at least.”

After that, happily, Jerick spilled whatever intelligence he had. That was smart of him, given how things had gone so far. "And I think it's something more than just knocking down another noble or two." Farrell raised an eyebrow, as if just now considering something bad.

“What does the Viper think of Gild. What are their intentions so far as us? Do they plan to stop their destruction with the fall of Vestia’s government?” he asked, now looking rather concerned.

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

Jerick glanced to Farrell. Then back to Castulo. And then back to Farrell again, this time with a different mien, as he began to truly consider the question.

"Huh. Well. Never thought of that myself. Don't know if anyone has. I suppose you might as well ask what the Viper thinks of Belgrath, or some such. So far as I know, or can tell, the Viper's concerned with his—" he glanced back to Castulo to see if he was going to make another stink over the Viper's identity, and he didn't, so Jerick continued, "—own country. Just Vestia."

Castulo stroked his beard, pondering Farrell's question as well. Hell, you never knew, huh? What Campanian nation didn't wish to conquer the whole Bloody Crescent and make it their own? All Castulo was going on right now was: one, coin, obviously; two, the old adage, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend".

But prudence gave him a little nudge regardless and Castulo asked, "This top guy you mentioned. He happen to say what the Viper needed a few Gildans for, specifically? Why us? Why not some of his own men, since, heh, apparently some of those stories are wrong and he doesn't work completely alone. Why not some other foreign mercs?"

"Here's the deal, Gildie," said Jerick. "I'm just the in-between man. The finder. If you like what I'm selling and want some more, I'm supposed to take you to a meet. Maybe it's with that top guy. Maybe it's with the Viper himself. I don't know for sure, I just know where to take you if you're interested. I can spit out guesswork all day, but that's not going to get us anywhere. You got questions? I'd say ask someone who knows a lot more than me."

Castulo smirked. "That's the smartest thing you've said all day."

Jerick's eyes danced between Castulo and Farrell again (of course, scarcely disabused of the notion that Castulo and Farrell were companions in this), and then he asked, "So what do you say? Are you in?"

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

"If I say no...am I allowed to leave? I won't tell anyone about this or whatever. Not like anyone at the college is gonna mind much anyway, really." he asked, realizing this was his last opportunity to get off the speeding train and it would likely be prudent to take it.

Just then he had a second thought and leaned over to Castulo. "Wait, question. What's "your cut" exactly?" he whispered as quietly as possible.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

If I say no...am I allowed to leave?

Jerick just snickered, and this in such a fashion as to suggest he didn't fear at all either of these Gildans, might they be so inclined, going around spreading word about his relation to the Viper of Vestia. Who among his countrymen would believe them?

Then Farrell leaned in close to confer in confidence with Castulo. And Castulo grinned. "I'll tell ya."

And he did tell him. A sizeable sum—not enough for him to go and found his own Beyar Clan, but as far as your typical small group mercenary contract payout went, it was impressive. And it was to be paid in gold, and gold exchanged quite favorably into Gildan silver sikke.

"Plenty to go round. So...you rethinking that little trip to Vestia?"

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Alright, well that little laugh was a pretty good sign. Who would believe him anyway if he said he knew a contact to Campania’s most famous criminal? That was some childish fantasy right there. All in all, retreat was still an option. That was nice.

However, the price listed by Castulo was…remarkable, to say the least. Being used more than sikke, gold was a stronger currency and thus would convert into even more money back home.

Being a student meant most things were provided by the college and he only got a bit of a stipend, so perhaps it would be nice to have a bit more money. “Fine, I’ll go with you two. I don’t want to kill anyone though, so if things go south, be well aware of that.” he stated, looking to both Castulo and Jerick for signs of objection.

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

Jerick shrugged. "I can't promise that you won't have to, what for me not knowing the Viper's plan."

But Castulo was unbothered by Farrell's stipulation. He waved a dismissive hand toward Jerick and his reply, and he said to Farrell, "There's an extra special feeling when you can do a job like a ghost. In and out and nobody knows you were even there. I'm no 'legendary assassin' or 'master thief' or what not, but I've had my day."

He bumped Farrell's shoulder with a fist. "And if things do go south, I'll take care of it. Just cover me with your Praetor power if there's any mages, eh?"



Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

"Fine then. I know you're a bad influence, but fuck it. I'll take the bait." he replied to Castulo, wagering no more words were necessary to signal his agreement.

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"This'll be the best bait you've taken to date," Castulo said with a winning grin. "Nothing wrong with a little time away from the College."

* * * * *

ON THE BORDER OF VESTIA​

The travel for the trio wasn't that bad, even without horses (they needed to go with a "small footprint" and all). Going from the city of Gild to its eastern border with Vestia was hardly like going, say, from Alliria to Elbion. Campania as a region had plenty of open grassland and easy hills which made for a smooth journey. And Gild as a nation had small territory to call its own, again when compared to Alliria or Elbion or any of the other titans of Arethil, so it didn't take one long to come to its edges.

They had passed through village after village, the green expanse of Campania glided by.

And when they came to the River Sakin, it was night, and the sun had only just departed Arethil less than an hour ago. Under Lessat and Pneria's shine the trees about the river bathed, and the waters themselves glimmered in the glow of the two moons. Light wind rustled the leaves overhead. The gentle rumor of the shallow, calm river entreated their ears to peace.

But on the other side of that river was the land of Vestia. Unfriendly territory.

Castulo unhooked his crossbow from his pack, primed it, and loaded a bolt. Jerick glanced at him. Castulo just smiled merrily and said, "Just in case."

"There shouldn't be any problems," said Jerick, giving an acknowledging look over to Farrell—he who had expressed his disinterest in killing. "The meeting spot's close to the border. For that reason."

"Well make sure whoever we're meeting with doesn't scare us. I got an itchy trigger hand."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin