(OOC: Thanks for being so patient through all of this. I know we've kinda spiraled away from the training elements, but the story's taken on quite a bit more personality than I was expecting. Anyways, I'll try to move things forward here at a brisker pace so we can get to the training parts I have planned. Don't worry, I promise you it'll be a good ride! ;D )
Captain Halverk went on to explain to Brin that, while magical contraband was by far the majority of the vault's contents, it was also used to store other
sensitive items -- evidence in ongoing investigations, records on merchant activities deemed particularly vulnerable or especially valuable to Connlaoth, and on very rare occasion items that authoritative Mordecai, government officials, and even on even
rarer occasion the Knights of the White Lily needed kept secure temporarily for one reason or another. He made no secret that he couldn't divulge the vault's contents, not even to Brin; as the captain and his highest subordinates surveyed the vaults' "secured" goods Halverk would occasionally confer in whispered tones with Lieutenant Daelus Harrowstone, his second in command. Whatever had been taken, apparently, was of paramount importance -- in a single night the Market Guard Captain's home had been violated, his impenetrable vault penetrated, and his honor and reputation tarnished gravely, but the matter of what had been stolen clearly outweighed it all.
And over the next two days, as the Market guard fruitlessly combed Reajh for any signs of Kassom's whereabouts, Halverk grew steadily more impatient and agitated.
And then, there was the matter of Brin's "appointment" with the thief...
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The Sole Regret was, by appearances anyways, simply a normal tavern in Reajh. The mead, ale, and cider flowed; the main room was thick with customers eating, drinking, and either celebrating their fortunes or drowning their woes in frothy amber waves from their tankards. The air bore the scent of dry alcohol and fresh sweat -- not overpoweringly so, but enough to offend those with finer sensibilities. Occasionally a waft of fresh baking or roasting could be caught emanating from a kitchen in the back. There were all sorts to be found here; one needed only glance around the room to take in the good, the bad, and the ugly of Connlaoth on full display. Even at midnight it was a lively place, for as soon as patrons stumbled drunkenly outside or up the stairs to their rooms fresh faces walked in the door. The constant foot traffic created churning a sea of humanity that crested, shallowed, and roiled no different from any tide.
With so many present it would be hard to pick out anyone in particular,
especially if they were trying to remain unseen. It was little surprise, then, that
this would be where Kassom preferred to meet.
Still,
one person
did stand out. With every other table filled, anyone seated alone would naturally stick out like a sore thumb -- doubly so if the table was within sight of the front door. The man was old and gray, wearing an equally gray traveling robe. Piercing green eyes watched the door and looked around with barely concealed anxiety. There was no question that the man was waiting for
someone... though when Brin entered the older man paid him no heed.
Still, this was the place and the time. Kassom
would be here, or so he'd said.