2007-04-27: Decisions over Dinner
The roast pig was nearly gone. Gristle and bone were scattered wildly about the tabletop, but the figure seated before it all didn’t seem to care about the mess. The Unicorn’s Horn was all but deserted at this hour, with only a few of the day laborers drinking at the bar. Who but other nobles would dare question a nobleman’s table manners?
The door at the far end of the tavern opened with a snap and a guardsman quickly strode through. He gazed about the room until he found the sharply dressed, slightly overweight man sitting in the corner, and walked over.
“Milord Francesco.”
“Avery,” Francesco motioned at the seat across from him. The messenger nodded, but remained standing at attention.
“Sir, reports about the blackrock in Haven continue to come in. It’s the largest vein on record.”
“Mmhmm…,” he paused to chew on this, “And those traders? How did they get wind of it?”
“We don’t know, milord. The mine was sealed off well before they got there – even the townspeople don’t know about it. But they’re still buying up all the blackrock they can find. We sent out a general warning advising people to be wary of them, but it’s had little effect.”
“Oh?”
“The city’s packed, sir. Inn was full, ended up camping outside town.” He shrugged.
“I see, and we still don’t know who they are?”
“No sir, they won’t answer questions, and they’re not doing anything against the law. The guards can’t really do anything.”
Francesco leaned forward on the table and steepled his hands. As his gaze focused on the far side of the room.
“I don’t like it. We don’t meet in council until the week’s end…” The thought of bringing the council together before that, without real cause, bothered him. “Have you heard back from Clainin?”
“No sir, he broke off contact when he began following them.”
“I see. For now, I want an agent placed in Haven. Have him monitor the situation and take as many names as possible. I want connections.”
“Yes sir.”
“That’s all we can do for now. Carry on.”
Avery saluted and walked away from the table. Francesco stared down at the remains of his meal, then looked up and waved for the cook to clear off the table.
