• Graded • The Merchant's Mansion

[Neronin]

53rd Trial of Ymiden, 717 Arc
Lodging of Ermus Approgate, Etzos

Neronin sighed as he looked up at the great marbled home. It was audacious in the way the wealthy projected their conceived dominance. He tugged at the collar of his black robes, reminded of the hoops he had gone through to blend in with this delusional tier of society. Power wasn’t images and trinkets, it was ambition. The look the necromancer gave the huge house was withering as he pushed open the wrought-iron gate and stepped inside. When he reached the large oaken doors with Approgate’s sigil carved masterfully into the wood, he knocked.

Tabard has sent Neronin to the old merchant’s house because the two had been in a fierce negotiation for an old journal of Approgate’s ancestor, who was an advisor to one of the Parhn’s. Neronin was here to collect the item from the old man and bring it back to Tabard intact.

The necromancer’s stormy gaze fell upon the handsome, well manicured servant who opened the door. The man raised an eyebrow at Neronin’s disgruntled demeanor. “Can I help you, sir?” He asked as though he highly doubted it. Neronin swallowed his snide reply, the man made his living serving another, after all. His entire existence invalidated any superiority he may allude to. Instead Neronin shifted his face into the image of disdain. He certainly had a lot of practice.

“I’m here on behalf of the Etzori Museum to pick up a journal from Mister Approgate.” Neronin said, folding his arms in front of him and offering nothing else. Best to leave the man lacking information when he approached his master, better to establish the pecking order. As the man blinked at Neronin he added. “While the sun is still in the sky.” He waved a few fingers at the man as if to usher him along. “I’ll wait here.”

The man almost hid his agitation perfectly, but Neronin saw the anger flare there in his eyes. He knew it well. He himself had hidden it from Tabard more than a few times. He smiled as the door closed once again. Neronin turned and examined the flowered garden, passing his time wondering how many hours of man-labor it took to maintain and if Ermus Approgate ever walked the area.

As the door opened again Neronin peered inside. The butler was back, his face composed into a stillness Neronin could appreciate. “Master Approgate will see you now.” He said, bowing Neronin in. He lead him through an entrance hall decorated in many trinkets of Approgate’s travels as well as would-be subtle reminders of his wealth and connection. Neronin had spent enough time with Tabard to recognize some of the highly valuable works of art and artifact hanging on the dark walls.

They entered a sitting room lined with ornate portraits of people. They all bore a jowled jaw and a round nose. The same features graced the rotund man who sat in an armchair in the middle of the room. He sipped red wine from a glass and had a plate of sugared pastries next to him. When they entered he stood and smiled, his teeth white.

“Hello, hello. I’m glad we finally get to sort this matter out!” He said, his voice rich and filled with the kind of warm-heartedness that sapped the small shrivel of trusting nature out of Neronin’s heart. It was false, it was blatant, and it was insulting. Neronin settled his face into an impassive nature and nodded.

“Indeed, we at the Museum will be happy to finally be done with this business.” He said.

Made by Kovic

[Neronin]

Neronin sat, his eyes on the pudgy Mister Approgate as the man’s jeweled fingers plucked a pastry from the plate and munched it. Neronin watched the man lick his fingers clean and then take the plate and offer him some. “They’re really quite good, my own personal chef made them. Had to buy her out of contract with Coronel Fracklin down the road.” Approgate slimed conspiratorially.

“Indeed.” Neronin said, holding up a spittle free hand to decline. “Sir, I am in possession of the sum agreed upon by yourself and Mister Tabard. I just need to make sure of the authenticity of the item in question.” He continued, wanting to conclude the business as quickly as possible. Neronin had no idea why Tabard wanted some old sack of skin’s journal just because it had a few excerpts about a Pahrn. Perhaps, he assumed, it was a monopoly thing. If Tabard had them all it would mean exclusivity for the Museum. Neronin doubted even the old man could have sticky enough fingers or deep enough pockets to attain all references to the past Pahrn leadership.

“Yes, yes of course. Be that as it may, I know how important this is to Perceval.” Approgate continued, gulping his wine in punctuation. “One mustn’t part with the relics of kin lightly, my good… Er, what was your name?” Approgate asked, his face falling into a theatric frown as he realized he did not know Neronin’s name.

“Nero.” Neronin said, his eyes thinning at the old merchant’s words. “And I’m sure your ancestors would appreciate the value of an honest name to their descendant. I would shudder to think what would be said about a man who rescinds on an offer already agreed upon.” Neronin said, the ice in his voice a stark contrast to Approgate’s fluffy richness.

Approgate seemed unaware of Neronin’s cold manner. He was obviously choosing to ignore the tone and mannerisms. Neronin first thought this was a shameless attempt to avoid confrontation, but upon closer scrutiny realized it was simply a refusal to allow Neronin to use that weapon. If Approgate refused to acknowledge such behavior it showed that it was useless against him. Realizing this Neronin found himself almost smiling. Perhaps this lard of a man was more than he seemed.

Approgate, meanwhile, ate another pastry and sipped his wine in contemplation. “Yes, of course. Our names are very important.” He agreed, nodding at the floor. Then he looked up at Neronin, his eyes staring keenly. “But our friends are important too. I would hazard that Tabard is hard pressed to find friends amongst the private collectors of Etzos, not to mention the cities beyond in which I have a healthy trade.” Approgate said lightly.

Neronin tilted his head. “What are you saying?”

“The agreed price of five thousand gold nels is fine for the journal.” Approgate said, reaching down beside his chair and pulling a leather-bound tome from small chest tucked next to it. “But with this final agreement comes a partnership that is non-negotiable.” Approgate wagged a fat finger in Neronin’s direction. “I want Perceval’s aid in all dealings with the upper echelon of Etzos society, and in turn I will inform him of the assets of my fellow collectors.” Approgate said, his pudgy face spreading into a small, business-like smile.

“Ah, I am not authorized to make that kind of agreement.” Neronin said quickly.

“It is an exchange of information. An agreement of mutually beneficial terms for both parties.” Approgate spread his hands before him. “Take it to your master.” Neronin cringed at the slight. He stared hatred at the man. This fat man who he could rot away to nothing with a touch would think his money and his position protected him. But in the end Neronin nodded and set the small chest of gold down next to the journal.

“I will tell Mister Tabard of your offer. I can not promise he will accept.” Neronin said, taking the journal and standing.

Approgate chuckled, patting his girth with both hands. “Oh Perceval could never resist his trinkets. He will accept.” He said without concern. The merchant appraised Neronin seriously as he gestured for his servant to take the gold away. “You can control any man by controlling what he wants most, Mister Nero.” Approgate said softly.

Neronin paused before leaving. “Not all men want something that can be controlled.”

“Those men rarely live long enough to matter.”

Neronin nodded and left the mansion without another word. He set his steps back to the Museum with the Journal tucker under his arm, and Approgate’s final words heavy in his mind.

Made by Kovic

[Neronin]

Walking through the marbled halls of the Museum, Neronin was still thinking about what Approgate said to him. Controlling what a man wanted. It was a bit of wisdom he had not seen coming. What had Approgate had to gained by trying to distract Neronin? Perhaps he wished an ally under Tabard’s roof? Perhaps he wished to brag that Tabard was susceptible to manipulation? Or that Neronin himself was? Perhaps he just wanted to set Neronin on edge. If that was his goal, he certainly had achieved it.

Tabard smiled as he saw Neronin approaching their private offices with the journal safely tucked under an arm. He clapped his hands together and his eyes bore into the leather thing greedily. As Neronin watched the Curator take the thing from him he understood a little about what Approgate meant. Of course Neronin had known that enticement was something Tabard had been weak against. But it was something else entirely to have his ally’s weakness pointed out so plainly. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Of course the elements of power he operated with were entirely unknown to either Tabard or Approgate. This was an instinctual level of protection he afforded himself from the likes of them. Then his mind traveled to his other ally, Noth.

Noth knew the powers he sought. Noth had even used that to his advantage, offering Neronin a place to practice his work and bodies to practice upon. Did Noth recognize this and use it to manipulate Neronin? Could Neronin in turn find something that mattered to the bird-man and use that to achieve his own ends? He decided to give this more thought later.

“Sir, Approgate had a stipulation to the deal I said I would inform you on.” Neronin said as Tabard flicked through the pages of the journal. Neronin had hardly checked that it was indeed the real thing before tucking it under his arm.

“Ah, what does the old cow want, eh?” Tabard said, his face falling into a vicious sneer. The man truly hated his rivals. It would be his undoing, Neronin thought. A man could not so blatantly show his feelings without repercussion.

“He wants your help attaining favor with the elite of Etzos, undoubtedly for trade agreements.” Neronin said, leading the way into their private offices, the anterior of which housed his own desk.

“And in return?” Tabard said, his voice already rising in anticipation of his gains.

“And in return he would inform to you on the possessions of other private collectors in Etzos and beyond.” Neronin finished. Tabard already looked excited at that prospect. He rubbed a hand on his chin and tapped the journal softly on Neronin’s desk.

“You’ve done well Nero, very well. You are my most trusted inferior.” Tabard said, setting the journal down carefully on the desk. Neronin tried not to look surprised at that statement. The man could just be praising him to inspire more loyalty, but Tabard should have known by then that such antics would not work on Neronin. Perhaps this was just plain old truth?

“I’m going to entrust to you the research and placement of this journal. I’d like it placed chronologically within our Pahrn exhibit so that the next time the High Marshal visits he will bear witness to our newest acquisition.” Tabard tapped the journal with an indulgent smile at Neronin. Neronin looked at the journal so as to avoid having to respond to the smile. “In the meantime I will ponder on our rotund friend’s offer.” Tabard finished and reentered his own private office.

Neronin sighed. He began to lay out his parchment and quill as well as a ink well. He would need candles as well if he was to consult the records of their entire Pahrn exhibit. This would be long and dreary work. As he opened the exhibit records books his mind once again drifted to Noth and things they both wanted.

It would be a long night indeed.

Made by Kovic

[Noth]

Knowledge:
Research: Consulting ledgers and reference books
Research: Have a quill and inkwell ready
NPC: Tabard: Wants items for the Museum

Loot: None

Injuries/Overstepping: None

Fame: +1 for Securing a Deal

Devotion: Pish Posh

Collaboration: No

Magic EXP: No

Comments:
Still absolutely adoring your dialogue usage, bud! Well written as always. Can't wait to see what the introduction of this new Approgate fellow means for Neronin and Tabard and their struggle to gain power... whether social, or otherwise.