Completed Time Window

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

One of the best routes for ambushing caravans and travelers happened to be the route between Alliria and that sparkling new portal stone in the Reach that popped up after the dreadful Pandemonium crisis. Ah yes, there were plenty of smaller parties venturing out toward the stone, plenty that Majister and his raiders could outnumber quite handsomely.

Like this one. A carriage--outstanding!--flanked by two armored men on horseback. Mercenaries or personal guards or some such. Oh but it made negligible difference. The prize was inside, whomever that might be and whatever they might have on their person or likewise be transporting.

Majister and his eight raiders emerged and descended upon the road from the treeline, quickly coming to surround the carriage and its two guards before either them or the carriage's driver knew what was happening. The guards had drawn swords, but Hillby and Padre--two of Majister's men--had crossbows aimed at them in close range. Not to mention his other men (and Darla, what a sweetheart) having their bows or axes or swords of their own up and ready.

Majister himself had his rapier, and he sauntered up to the carriage and the guards with the blade rested on his shoulder, grinning behind the cloth mask he wore. Only his eyes were exposed.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "how have you been? Faring well, I presume? Now, now, those sour looks are quite unbecoming, let alone unnecessary. Why, I don't see any reason why we can't go about this in a civilized and amicable fashion, hmm? After all, what's a few delinquent coins exchanging hands between friends? Consider it an investment in some future favor that I may well owe you one day! Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

After a few more (less than friendly) prompts from Hillby and Padre, and seeing that they were outnumbered, the guards battled their hesitation and their doubt and slowly resheathed their weapons. Excellent!

Majister hummed a little tune to himself as he approached the door of the carriage, the window of said door covered from the inside by a curtain. He knocked politely on the door with the pommel of his rapier.

"Hello in there!" he said, with a disarming amount of good cheer. "May I come in, or should you like to come out? We've a thing or two to chat about, and I'm here to tell you about your immediate future, yes indeed, and the marvelous things in store!"

Majister awaited the response from the carriage's occupant.

 

[Myrra]

Usually her means of employment were of a less than legal nature. Some thieving or intimidating or shutting up a dumbass with a big mouth. From time to time though it was honest security work for those with more coin than brawn.

Such was the case with Charlotte, a petite human aristocrat that felt more comfortable with another woman riding in the carriage with her than one of the grunts her uncle had hired. Myrra preferred this to be honest. Let the fair lady trust her so that she can ride rather than walk. Ultimately it seemed like a good enough deal for both of them.

It was never made clear to the elven protector what exactly the convoy was transporting though. As per usual the dark elf was not about to ask, that would be unprofessional. Still, lovely miss Charlotte didn’t seem important enough to deserve such an entourage as an escort and it seemed likely enough that the obvious compartment under the seats of the carriage likely housed something worth stealing. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was just clothing for the dashing lady Charlotte and her uncle was simply an overzealous man.

Then the carriage stopped and the commotion began.

Footsteps, muffled words, and luckily no screams. At least not yet. The human patrician was breathing heavy and whispered over to her elven companion, “what’s happening? Why are we stopped? Who’s outside?”

Myrra raised a gentle gloved finger towards her black lips. She closed her eyes and gave her head a brief shake before whispering back, “keep quiet, I’d guess it’s a routine stop or we’re being robbed.” The look of panic on Charlotte’s face confirmed to the elf that speaking with the upper class was not one of her strengths. “Don’t worry,” Myrra reassured, “I’ll handle this, you stay put.”

Just then a joyous voice called into the carriage with a simple request to disembark. The ebony skinned elf was all too eager to oblige.

With an even amount of grace and arrogance Myrra descended from the carriage and put on her best gesture of annoyance. Surveying the situation she caught sight of the group of marauders who had held up the caravan, there must’ve been at least five or six of them. Maybe more, it was hard to tell. The rogue couldn’t help but think that had she not been offered employment securing this cart it was equally likely she could’ve been a member of this little raiding party.

She sashayed over towards the source of the cheerful voice and pulled her cloak around her waist in the most dignified manner she could fake. With her face still full of disinterest she gestured over to the crossbowmen holding up the front guard.

“Yeah, I think we do have one or two things to chat about. First, I’d like to understand why you’re holding up my carriage. I’ve got places to be. And second,” she continued as she pointed an accusatory finger at the man who had called her out of the carriage, “I’d like to know your name.”

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Majister watched the elf--a dark elf, how exotically gorgeous!--disembark from the carriage. Oh, foolishness, he'd forgotten to peek inside while the carriage door was still open! Well, it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed in time.

And she approached him, pointed a feisty finger at him. Such magnificent spirit! Oh truly it was a shame that they happened to be standing on opposite ends of this industrious transaction. Alas, the world turns as it does.

I'd like to know your name.

Majister waited a moment. Purposefully. Let a little suspense build.

Then his eyes brightened up, informed from beneath his mask by the jovial smile raising his cheeks. "Hello there! Good to see you, good to see you! Hah hah, it's been quite a while hasn't it? I can see you've been doing well for yourself in the intervening time. Oh, you needn't say the same of me, but do as you must, you're too kind, far too kind!"

He spoke with a new gesture of his free hand for each sentence, flashy flairs of his wrist and inviting sweeps of his arm in whole.

And he started this one with a dramatic touch of his palm to his heart. "And I'm absolutely stunned that you don't remember me. Is it the mask? Oh, it must be the mask! An occupational necessity, surely you understand. Rico, my dear, Rico's the name! Now this may surprise you, but that name I've just given you is a fake! Hah hah, oh but of course it is! Much like the mask, an occupational necessity, surely you understand. Now where was I...Ah!"

Majister slid a step closer to her, placed his free hand on his hip, kept his rapier leaned against his shoulder. "You and I, my dear, you and I! That's what this little venture is all about. I've come a long way to meet you once again, so I have! And now I'm here to tell you of this grand opportunity I've managed to forge from the aether of fortune just for the two of us. Hmmm, yes, 'the aether of fortune,' has quite the ring to it, doesn't it?"

An arcing sweep of his open palm, as if tracing the arch of a rainbow. "Picture this: both of us leaving here today and going our separate ways once more and resting our heads tonight feeling happy and satisfied with the outcome of this productive transaction. How does that sound?"

And one quick addition: "Oh! Be a darling and share something about yourself that I don't already know. Tickle my fancy and lie if you like!" Sly eyes. "You know how endearing I find it when you lie to me."

The other raiders stood their ground. Watched. Kept the weapons up and ready.

 

[Myrra]

One eyebrow cocked upwards in response to the masked highwayman’s ramblings. It must’ve been some sort of stratagem to make these particular ‘transactions' progress smoother.

“Rico, nice enough name.”

Myrra kept her cloak wrapped tightly around. She figured that’s what someone with wealth might do. Retain some sense of modesty and control in a situation like this one. The dark elf had interacted with the more well off members of society to get a sense that they weren’t as accustomed to underbelly of civilization in the same way she was.

Faking a look of deep concern she answered back, “you can call me Rica and my cart is en route to a vital meeting.” Her red eyes gave ‘Rico’ a once over, paying special attention to his thin rapier. “I can assure you there is no need for violence.”

Her right arm relaxed, allowing the cloth of her cloak to fall back behind her revealing the sheathed knife affixed on her hip. With her left hand she undid a fastening on her belt in order to retrieve a minuscule sack which jingled with the ring of metal as she shook it.

“I shall save us both the time and effort, this is the extent of the valuables I am carrying,” she said purposefully while tossing the coin purse at the masked bandit’s feet. “You’ve got your prize and now I’d prefer if we could call this charade to an end so we can both be on our way.”

Typically the porcelain haired elf wasn’t so eager to toss away gold like that but she assumed that Charlotte would reimburse her once they arrived at their destination. If, of course, they survived this little encounter.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

"Ah, Rica! Lovely!"

An assurance that there was no need for violence.

"Oh course! On that we are most firmly agreed, my dear."

My, how spicy. When Rica's cloak fell back he could see there upon her belt a sheathed knife. No porcelain damsel here, certainly that much was assured! Oh how it was that the Inner City of Alliria and the Nobility Circles of Elbion were simply infested with them. Why, and wouldn't he be absolutely remiss to fail in mentioning that 'damsel' need not only apply to women. Ah yes, men of glass lived alongside women of porcelain, such was the fate of those wallowing in the excess of luxury and stewing in the muck of the given. My, what utterly soft hands came from such a life! And to think his dear mother and father must believe it a tragedy that their beloved firstborn son shunned such a life and disappeared without notice from the aristocracy.

Hmm, yes, listen to the clinking of coin in the pouch thus presented by Rica.

"A show of good faith! Wonderful! I, too, shall impart such onto you, my dear Rica." And with a looping twirl Majister sheathed his rapier.

He folded his hands behind his back and took a few steps forward, close to but ultimately around Rica, arriving next to the carriage door. The pouch of coins still there on the ground, seemingly ignored.

"Now then, what manner of surprise might I find in here, hmm?" A downward wave of his hand and an upward tilt of his head. "Oh! Do you know me or do you know me? Hah, hah, hah, I love surprises! Did you plan this? Just for me? I think you planned this just for me. Oh but you shouldn't have, my, all the trouble you must've gone through for my sake! You really do know how to keep your darling friends near and dear, don't you?"

Majister grinned wide (the mask concealing it), and, with a flourish of his left hand in front of the carriage door as if he were presenting a spectacle to a captivated audience, he said, "Would you care to do the honors, Rica?"

 

[Myrra]

As the bandit calling himself Rico began to put away his rapier the realization that hostilities may be avoided started to set in on the pointy-eared woman. She even relaxed her muscles a bit thinking that maybe this whole situation might still end with her receiving a handsome paycheck upon the safe arrival of the fair lady Charlotte. Of course, her optimism was brief and ended as soon as the masked ruffian began to walk towards her.

Myrra’s eyes stayed focused on the adversary and her concentration heightened as he was a few feet away before pivoting around the dark elf. The determined rogue made a beeline towards the chariot which housed the damsel she was tasked with keeping out of harm's way. The young drow wasn’t sure if there were valuables on board the carriage, if the job was as simple as getting the wealthy passenger to her destination or if there was some valuable cargo which also needed to be secured. At the very least Myrra was sure there must've been jewelry, fancy clothes, it'd definitely cut into her payday if some of that was liberated by these ne'er-do-wells.

“Don’t open that door,” she stated in a stern and direct manner.

The valiant and honorable Rico, who was doing her the kind favor of throwing a major hitch in what should have been an easy job, had been annoying thus far but now he was threatening her livelihood. That made this extremely personal for the professional elf. With his rapier now sheathed the hydromancer contemplated her odds if she tried to kill him right then and there. After dispatching the masked leader she figured the guards up front would have a sizable hole created in their skulls from the crossbow bolts and that would just leave her fighting seven or eight of the marauders alone. She probably could’ve taken out two, maybe three, before her almost certain death. Not exactly great odds.

Lips curled upwards on her sullen face, realizing combat was ill-advised, Myrra explained, “I know how much you just adore surprises but I’ve got to spoil this one for you. Real shame I know,” the elf bowed her head and shrugged, “but while you may be one of my most darling of friends I’m afraid my traveling companion will be most bewildered to make your acquaintance.”

Rough leather boots stomped lightly on the ground as she approached Rico and the cart while maintaining direct eye contact with her dear friend.

“See, she’s quite shy, and I think she’d respond a bit better to an introduction from me,” and without waiting for another crude response from the despot that had them at a standstill she called out into the carriage, “Charlotte? Come out slowly, this fine gentleman wishes to inspect our carriage.”

At a snail’s pace the door of the transport swung open and a petite woman clothed in a flowing dress emerged. Myrra extended a hand to assist the lady down and Charlotte pushed downwards on her rose patterned crimson dress before quickly securing her large feathered sun cap. As the light skinned woman’s eyes caught hold of Sir Rico tears welled up in her eyes and she let out a gasp before her head swiveled to notice the various other raiders surrounding their small carriage.

“My oh my, what is the meaning of-”, Charlotte began saying before Myrra stepped between her and the leader of these assailants and cut her off.

"This is Rico. He's going to take a quick look in our carriage before letting us go on our merry way," the snowy haired elf reassured her timid client.

A right arm extended to press the maiden back while the dark elf placed her left hand upon her hip and tilted her head to the side. With an indignant sigh and a tinge of annoyance the elven defender informed Rico once more, “as stated prior, we’ve got places to be, appointments to be made, go on and inspect our carriage to your heart’s content. Be quick about it too, if you don’t mind.”

While the elf appeared livid the aristocrat was shaking like a leaf.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Ah, yes, she would care to do the honors. Splendid.

Majister took a step back, allowing Rica ample room to swing open the carriage door. And there, a gorgeous development. Charlotte, a well-to-do young woman in a dress befitting the tiny pocket of aristocratic civilization on wheels that was the carriage, stepped out. Quite out of place, such a fair lady in the dirt road between villages, surrounded by wilderness. Wonderfully out of place, he'd be so bold as to say! For this was a sterling opportunity!

Oh yes. Failing to find something of sufficient value to justify their time and risk in raiding the carriage, perhaps the lovely Charlotte might become woefully lost and her worried well-to-do family might be so inclined as to pay Majister and his band to return her safe and sound to wherever she called home. Now they were all but guaranteed a good haul!

He need only be mindful of the time window. Always the tricky part in any raid. It so happened that he and Rica and all the rest of them were quite alone at the moment, but such could very well change, and that always posed bothersome complications in making a clean getaway. Time flowed like sand in an hourglass. Mindful, mindful, there's the watchword.

Majister bowed to Charlotte, a certain inescapable nobility leaking through in the gesture, and he said, "Charlotte, a pleasure to meet you! As always, the feeling is mutual, you needn't say as much and thank you, my dear, for such a warm welcome."

Be quick about it too, if you don’t mind.

Oh but of course. Speaking of staying mindful of the time window.

Majister had one boot on the edge of the carriage's interior, and he looked back to Rica and said, "Naturally, my dear! We'll have plenty of time to catch up on all the goings-on and splendid misadventures of ours and our fellows later. Save the date why don't you, ohhh~ it'll be grand! Now, if you and Charlotte will be so kind as to pardon me for but a moment."

The other raiders kept keen eyes on the mounted guards and Rica and Charlotte as Majister hoisted himself into the carriage and sat on the rearside seat row. My, my, if they weren't so glaringly obvious he surely wouldn't mind a carriage of his own. Luxury on wheels, most certainly, and it tickled his curiosity as to how valuable Charlotte might be. Not too much, obviously, given the sparse security; which was good, hostages that were too valuable were also far too "hot" to hold on to. But likely...valuable enough. Just perfect, if it came to that.

Glances around inside the carriage didn't reveal anything of worth. Not at first. Then Majister's eyes settled on the compartment under the frontside seat row. Didn't appear to have a lock or key mechanism.

"What have we here?" Majister said aloud. He bent forward, prepared to slide the compartment doors open. He called out, "I do apologize, my lovely companions, but I simply can't resist the allure of a shut box or a closed door or locked chest. Why, let me tell you how absolutely thrilling it is to have a peek and dispel the captivating mysteries of what potentially lie within! Let's discover this together, shall we?"

And Majister opened the compartment doors. Looked inside.

 

[Myrra]

Charlotte gripped the elf’s shoulders with both hands. It was obvious, likely to everyone, that the girl had never encountered people so rough around the edges as Rico’s merry band. As the pair could see the masked leader lean back and make himself comfortable within the chariot Charlotte spoke under her breath, “so very brutish.” Hopefully it was silent enough to only be heard by her defender.

In reality the wealthy niece of the businessman who hired Myrra was handling the whole ordeal rather admirably. The dark elf had been on the same side of this Rico character a few times prior and most of the rich quaked in fear even more obviously than Charlotte was. Often fainting by now. Though, Charlotte’s parents weren’t that rich, her father worked for his brother-in-law and it was Charlotte’s uncle who controlled the purse strings.

As the masked renegade opened the compartment within the carriage the noblewoman grasped onto the arm of her hired security. “Oh, miss Myrra, my necklace is in there and it was a gift from pa-pa!”

Myrra turned and shot daggers at her client. She couldn’t be too mad, the girl didn’t know better, but she had purposefully avoided giving out her name. Quickly she tried to come up with a cover story and had hoped none of what Charlotte said had carried inside of the lavish transport.

“Mr. Rico? As I indicated earlier we are carrying quite little of value. In the carriage you will find a few family heirlooms made of brass and zirconium. Nothing worth it to you but quite sentimental to me. Handed down across several generations from one elf to the next,” the drow said, almost convincing herself for a second. “You’ll also likely find several elaborate outfits, they were hand stitched by Charlotte, she’s got quite the reputation as a seamstress.”

With both hands raised in submission Myrra stepped forward in front of the opened door of the carriage and looked in at the bandit.

“Take a few of the outfits, they’ll fetch a nice price on the black market. No need for my family’s ancestral jewelry to go missing.”

Myrra tried to cut a smile. She knew this gambit would be an unlikely sell but it was worth the effort. No pay if Charlotte got nabbed by these goons after all.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Talking, briefly, from outside the carriage. Majister didn't catch all of it. Only some.

And then Rica called out, just in time for his ears to verify what his eyes were seeing in the compartment. Things that just wouldn't do. Not for a band of Majister's size, even as light in numbers as it was. Said necklace of humble means was there, as were the mentioned outfits: dresses, petticoats, blouses, articles of that vein, made well enough--that much he could see despite the clothing being folded inside in the compartment.

Ah, but what was missing? The big score, of course! The game changing turn of the fifth card in Allirian Five, the knockout punch from a brawl upon which several fortunes were placed, that sheer moment of triumph and victory and loot.

Perhaps dear Rica was correct, that those finely-made outfits might catch an appropriate price on a black market or in a market abroad. But walking away from this little exchange with naught but a small pouch of coin and a catalogue of some tailor's work seemed...rather disappointing. It wasn't as if Majister and his band had never hit a caravan devoid of goods before; such came with the territory! Win some, lose some, break even at times.

But...that wasn't the case here. Now was it?

Majister closed the compartment doors. Slid along the rearside seat row to the open door of the carriage. Rica was there, hands raised. Majister hopped out of the carriage, gave Rica a sly look, and sauntered over to Charlotte.

He bent his knees and his back some to be more on her level and plopped a friendly arm down on the young woman's shoulders. And he said with boisterous cheer, "Might I be so bold as to ask for a word with your friend? Simply a few moments is all, and my dear I'll have you know that your seat inside that carriage isn't going to keep itself warm." Majister pulled her in a little closer in a sideways hug before even giving her a chance to answer, saying, "Marvelous! You're too kind, fair Charlotte! Too kind!"

A gentle prompting from the arm on her shoulder toward the open door of the carriage. "Off you go then, darling, and fret not! Oh the drudgeries of business can be a bore, that much I am most keenly aware of, but take heart! We're almost done here! Make yourself nice and comfortable in there, Charlotte, please, I insist! Oh you needn't thank me, but do as you must, do as you must."

Majister let her go and do as she would do. Two steps brought him to stand by Rica's side once more. He watched Charlotte for an obligatory few seconds, then turned his attention to Rica.

He spoke in a manner that seemed like the words themselves were bright and smiling. "Spare me a moment of your valuable time, my dear Rica. Rica, or Myrra, which would you prefer? I've a stellar offer that I know you'll be simply euphoric to hear."

 

[Myrra]

That was it. The ruse was up.

She had doubted that she had fooled the thief into believing she was nobility for very long, if even for a second. But the game had lasted for awhile, she had hoped long enough for a posse of do-gooders or a caravan of officers of the law to pass through and intervene. No such luck. Instead it had come to this, a situation where the marauder offers not to kill her and the guards and in exchange they make off with a carriage and a noble they can ransom off.

Myrra was not in the mood to compromise. If she wasn’t going to make the coin she was owed from this job she’d ensure whatever deal this ‘Rico’ was offering was one worth her while.

“It’s Myrra and you can go ahead and drop the act now,” she said while moving closer to the masked man.

Her eyes stared deep into his as she craned her neck forward to get closer. She wanted to ensure that he understood that for all the false pleasantries she despised him. If it was just robbing some defenseless girl that didn’t understand how the world worked that’d be one thing. But he wasn’t just stealing from a rich aristocrat. He was stealing from her.

“I’m all ears,” she stated, so close he could likely feel the drow’s breath.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

"Myrra. Allow me..." he said in a markedly lower tone. Conspiratorial, but with restrained joviality, as one might have while sharing a juicy secret with someone who wasn't supposed to know.

Majister looked past her and her daggery stare for a moment. At Hillby and Padre, the two men with crossbows aimed at the two mounted guards. One look was all they needed. They knew what he was going to do, and they'd make sure the attention of the guards and the driver stayed firmly forward. Which was to say, on them and away from Majister.

Awfully close she'd come, Myrra, but there was nothing quite like the bold invasion of another's space to prove the possession of an indomitable spirit. Brilliant! This was going to turn out remarkably well!

Majister circled around Myrra. Which, given the closeness, involved all of two small steps. And he maintained the closeness she had initiated, only now he was oriented differently. Yes, now his back was to the guards and the driver.

And then he reached up and untied the knot of his mask. Removed it. Revealed his face and his large smile.

"...to introduce myself. Majister, my dear. Majister's the name and it brings me no shortage of joy to be the bearer of good news."

He folded his hands behind his back. Left himself completely open and vulnerable on purpose.

"You're worth far more than what the family of our fair Charlotte is paying you. Oh, it must be a small pittance they've deigned to throw your way. Please, Myrra, spare my ears and do not tell me the sum; my heart would be loath to hear the sheer tragedy of it!"

He brought his voice back down after the impassioned lamentation on her behalf.

"To them, you are nothing. But to me. Yes, Myrra, to me you are everything. I am acutely aware of how dreadfully hyperbolic that sounds, but I'll have you know that I am in the business of making friends. Special and specific friends. Not merely those of talent, but those, more importantly, of spirit! Oh yes, my lovely Myrra, do correct me if I have deduced this in error, but I've concluded that you've a heart to rival the blazing of the sun and a mind as sharp as a sword's edge. You, Myrra...you are no mere mercenary. You take what the world owes you, what those may seek to deny you, and you relish the thrill that flows from your endeavors in this sterling regard."

A slight lift of his chin. A confident grin.

"Your cut of this little enterprise awaits, Myrra. Perhaps also you've found my soliloquy enchanting, and would fancy joining me and my merry band on our grand adventures throughout Arethil. Perhaps you're fiercely independent, and would rather be a trusted friend that I'd simply be delighted to do business with on occasions and happenstance meetings. Either case promises to make you richer than abiding by the dreary contract you're on here. Now then, whatever so enflames that bold heart of yours...let's make a deal."

 

[Myrra]

Majister. The name was elegant but not so lofty as to be uninviting. It was a name that certainly matched the honey of the words which escaped his lips. He must’ve come from wealth or possibly been a server boy for royalty. Maybe it was all just a front to give the appearance of sophistication. It was difficult to say.

All the same she listened intently to Majister’s speech. As it progressed she backed out of his personal bubble and her demeanor relaxed a bit more with every syllable. He had a knack for flattery and speech. It was undeniable. But more than the manner of his communication it was the nuts and bolts of his offer that really piqued her interest. A cut of profit and the promise of more work was far more than she had hoped for mere seconds earlier.

Myrra crossed her arms. Scrunched her face in skepticism and looked hard at Majister’s confident grin. This was hardly her first time negotiating and it was unlikely to be her last.

“Twenty percent of your hauls. I think I’m worth that much, at a minimum. And yes, I do take what is owed to me, universe be damned.”

She then adopted a softer face, a friendlier one, a face that communicated trust. “I’m a professional, you ask and I’ll do. I’ll gladly accompany your honest band of righteous laborers for as long as the work is steady and for as long as I feel it benefits me. I’ll give you ample notice when I feel it’s my time to part.”

Her arms uncrossed and fell as she slid one foot a half step closer. Myrra’s mouth bent upwards, mimicking the grin across her potential new employer’s face. Dark skinned cheeks reflected the beaming sun in a shimmer and the youthful woman mentioned one final set of terms.

“I hope we are of one mind on this as well, but if at any time you plan on doing anything exceptionally dangerous I reserve the right to re-negotiate our agreement,” the smile faded as she resumed a serious look, “it makes things much cleaner if we’re on the same page now rather than discovering our differences later.”

With that she offered an open palm towards Majister.

“Agreed?”

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Majister's expression stayed the same, even as he weighed this consideration and that.

A bold one, indeed, Myrra here. Twenty percent was good for some raids, very specific raids, but not all. And, more often than not, neither Majister nor the men worked in strict percentages anyway; some favored specific items and thus these items were worth more to them individually, sometimes it simply came down to how much one could carry away from a raid. This negotiation would also necessitate Majister taking at least twenty-one percent for himself--the master cannot be outshone, after all. This in turn would leave scant remains for the other eight of his band. Resentment would fester, and the loyalty and motivation of the men would crumble. And they might very well walk away, and rightfully so.

Ah yes, and that was the other thing. Myrra seemed to be operating under the impression that he was attempting to hire her. Oh the poor thing, grown too accustomed to stuffy contracts.

Majister kept his hands behind his back.

And he spoke with cheer wrapped in a light coating of patience, "My dear, I would no more be your employer than our fair Charlotte's family would be your friends. Every man here--" (Had he spoken this louder, Majister imagined Darla calling "And woman!" and making that annoyed side-scrunching-lips face of hers) "--is here of his own free will, and he may come and go as it pleases him. Freedom, darling, unparalleled to that which you may find in other callings."

A slight turn of his head to his right, eyes fixed on her. "But twenty percent of every haul simply won't do."

A swing of his head off to the left, eyes still fixed. "But that needn't drive a wedge between us, Myrra. Twenty percent of this singular venture, of which your part and your knowledge further open the door of success, is perfectly acceptable. Why, even if the prospect of free-living camaraderie among the company of myself and my band suits you not, mayhap by the graces of chance and good fortune we'll meet again for similar ventures in the future! In such a case, consider this an investment in a beautiful and blossoming friendship." An enticing perk of his eyebrows. "And my dear Myrra, you never know when you might need a trusted friend to call upon in dire times, hm?"

Time window. Be mindful of the time window.

"Twenty percent of this ransom. Guaranteed. You may walk or you may stay afterward, whatever strikes your fancy. How does that sound?"

Oh but if nothing else came of this, he did so fancy that grin of hers. A delightful showing!

 

[Myrra]

Twenty percent was steep, she knew it, but it was always worth pushing the envelope. Majister's explanation of his little band of raiders made a lot of sense though. There were many ways to inspire loyalty. Cash was one, but then you can run into the problem of someone's loyalty waning if a better offer comes around. There was fear, run a ship so tight people are afraid of the consequences if they step out of line. But that could often lead to disgruntlement and mediocre work. It seemed like this band of rogues was motivated by the freedom to choose their own fate. The coin probably didn't hurt either.

"I'll take you up on the ransom offer. Let us see how it plays out afterwards," she cut the man a smile while brushing white bangs out of her face.

Sticking around without a promise of work could be a good idea at least until the bandit party stopped off at the next major civilization. Venturing out alone raised its own dangers and trying to sleep in the wilderness without someone watching your back always made Myrra uncomfortable. On the other hand, as a general rule she tried not to get too close with folk. Perhaps she was unlucky or it was just the general nature of humans to double cross you when it benefited them. Either way she was reluctant to trust too fully.

"We should get off the roads, yeah?" she questioned. It wasn't good to stick around too long. "The guards in the front can deliver your ransom message while transporting an empty carriage."

Myrra shifted her weight to one side and stared into Majister. She'd never carried out a ransom before. Simple theft, intimidation, or security work were more her expertise so she was more than willing to defer to whatever the unmasked marauder had in mind. The dark elf gestured towards the door while keep her focus on him.

"I'll leave the decisions up to you though as I don't consider ransoms to be my specialty," she stated. "Although I do believe we are better off letting me break the news to Charlotte. I believe she'd likely have a panic attack if it came from someone she didn't know quite as well."

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

I'll take you up on the ransom offer.

"Brilliant. I knew we could reach an amicable arrangement here!"

Majister's glowing smile was soon hidden behind his mask again. He tied the knot of it against the back of his head, and thus his features below his eyes were again concealed.

Ah, so it was that many of his like-minded renegades, free-spirited raiders and outlaws living beyond the bounds of orderly society, would have handled this affair far more poorly than he had. A good many of them would have simply savaged the guards and the driver and Myrra and possibly even Charlotte as well; this all summing to their totality of their folly! And while Majister did not shy from violence he deemed necessary, it was the vacuous and shortsighted fool indeed who dispensed with human (and, in this case, dark elven) capital so easily.

After all, were not the great and astonishing structures of Arethil built of many stones? The small and ordinary, under the proper leadership, made legendary.

And Myrra had more input to make on the plan.

"I concur on both points," Majister said with a nod. The guards knew very well where they'd come from, and they seemed to be more directly in the employ of Charlotte's family than Myrra; fine messengers they would make. What better example than this of not letting human capital go to waste? "And yes, do inform our dear Charlotte as tenderly as you can. It behooves us to maintain her well-being to the utmost, both wellness of body and wellness as of mind!"

Majister made a motion to walk toward the front of the carriage and the mounted guards, then snapped his fingers and looked back to Myrra and said, "Oh but of course! The other matter of your insider knowledge, Myrra. I assume you've seen the estate our fair Charlotte and her illustrious family call home, and you certainly know more than I! Pitch me a reasonable number gauged off of your assessment of their apparent wealth. My dear Myrra, there exists the sweet spot between too high a ransom that would only complicate matters and too low a ransom that would scarcely be worth our time and effort, and you are the one among us most qualified to guide us to our optimal fortune!"

Spoiler

(((OOC: Not particularly concerned about an exact number, just having Majister lean on Myrra's knowledge. Something like "She thought and she told him" would suffice if you'd rather not dabble in hard numbers either. Or maybe Myrra knows of something other than coin that's highly valuable and in the family's possession. Or maybe she simply gives Majister a summary of the family's level of wealth and lets him decide. However you want to do it.)))

 

[Myrra]

The drow's head bobbed up and down in an agreeing fashion. It was refreshing to work with someone who was competent and saw the bigger picture. She adjusted the canteen on her belt, ruffled her nose, and brought one hand up to her chin as she glanced at the grass underfoot. An appropriate amount would depend entirely on the relationship of Charlotte and her uncle. Were she a favored niece the bounty would likely be much higher than if she were one that grated on her uncle's nerves. Obviously her parents would make a plea for her safe return but it was the uncle that had all of the worth in that family.

"I was hired by her uncle, he owns an iron mine and several other establishments including a rather luxurious hotel in Elbion," the ebony elf imparted. "As for an appropriate asking price, well, difficult to say."

A handful of sparkling white teeth were cast upon the foreground of her lower lip as she considered it a bit further. Charlotte had acted as if she were close to her wealthier cousins but wouldn't anyone in her situation? Still, the risk of an in-law being killed because you were too stingy to pay a ransom is not a pleasant dinner topic for anyone in that family's position.

"I believe she's likely worth at least thirteen hundred gold but probably a bit more reasonable to request eleven hundred. Her parents are wards, they serve her uncle who controls all the family's wealth," Myrra's lips curled into a grin as she added, "unlucky that I got assigned to his niece, I'm sure his son or daughter would've gone for double."

Myrra approached the carriage, gave a light knock, and called out, "Charlotte? Change of plans, we're going to spend a bit of time with Mr. Rico. Grab your coat and come on out."

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Thirteen hundred gol--alright, scratch that, eleven hundred. Ah, but what was two hundred gold between friends, anyway? A splendid sum! The shares of which would be certain to make the heads and hearts of his men (Darla: And woman!) spin and swoon!

And here again the proving of brain over brawn, of resourcefulness and negotiation over brute savagery so often conducted by his peers. Why, had Majister and his band simply come screaming down from the hillside like a bunch of enraged and berserking madmen (Darla:...) how was he ever to know the correct details of Charlotte's circumstance? The poor thing would be too ruined by terror to be coherent, torture would damage not only her valuable well-being but Majister's reputation, and assuming would very well have led to looking incompetent.

Unlucky that I got assigned to his niece, I'm sure his son or daughter would've gone for double.

Majister matched her grin and swung his flexed arm and fist in an encouraging gesture. "'Tis not the fortune within our reach but the one within our grasp that entices me so!"

And Majister left Myrra for the moment to impart the news onto Charlotte. He stood alongside the mounted guards, who by now had grown edgy and restless.

"Gentlemen," he said. "I'm delighted to inform you that your arduous trip has been cut short, and you shall be returning home hencewith. However..."

Majister told them of their situation. With Charlotte, with the ransom, and their simple part in it. And he told them the method by which the exchange would happen. A small village, close to Alliria; some ways back the way they had come in fact, and likely had even passed through. The ransom would be delivered to one of Majister's men, wearing a red scarf and waiting in the local tavern. Upon delivery, Charlotte would be released back into the deliverer of the ransom's custody. Who, naturally, would need to come alone; Majister and his band would be watching, after all. And this ransom had until the next full moon to be so delivered.

And Majister turned from the guards to see how Myrra was doing with Charlotte back by the carriage door.

 

[Myrra]

Charlotte emerged from the carriage wearing a large black fur coat which extended down to her ankles. It seemed extravagant but Myrra knew that the woman of privilege needed to feel comfortable. Once the stars were out and the heat of the sun had vanished that coat would prevent constant protests of how dreadfully cold it was.

The dark elf issued a warm smile towards the noble before saying, “very good, just think of this as a fun little adventure.”

It was a face of terror that sat before the drow. Charlotte’s lips quivered, bones rattled, it seemed the strong demeanor she displayed earlier had been an act that couldn’t be maintained once reality had set in. One positive note though was that the noble woman wasn’t screaming or attempting to flee. No, she was at least trying to keep her composure, likely in an attempt to retain some sense of highborn dignity.

“Oh, m-miss Myrra, I am I,” she stumbled over the words in a shaky staccato, “I’m t-terribly frightened.”

With a long sigh of pity the elven woman approached her former employer. She draped an arm around the feeble lady and whispered several shushes in a soothing manner. Slowly she rubbed the noble lady’s arm with her hand in an attempt to be as comforting as possible. Truth be told, Myrra was usually not great at things like this but it was hard not to feel bad for Charlotte.

“There, there, you’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you and before you know it you’ll be at your uncle’s estate eating finger sandwiches, shipping that herbal tea you love,” she reassured. “Just think of this as a wild tale you can enthrall your grandchildren with one day.”

Myrra turned her head towards Majister, flashing im a smile with a confirming nod.