Post by Malyk on Nov 3, 2018 0:38:37 GMT 1
No spymaster was he. Although often what Malyk said confused people, his words were always the truth as he knew it. There wasn't a guileful or deceptive bone in his body, other than his secrets, and he held many secrets: the maids' secrets, the houndmaster's secrets, the Levalle guards' secrets, even the secrets of the boys that dug the latrines. Each came to him for help, and he gave that help freely and kept their secrets. Few would care about the secrets of commoners, but he did because they were just as great a burden to them as anyone. You see, Malyk knew the secret no-one talked about; that there was very little difference between Lords and smallfolk, Knights and beggars, bastard or trueborn, men and women. That there was a difference was a lie everyone agreed to and perpetuated. The truth was every one made the same choices, the same mistakes, had the same desires and ambitions, the same successes and failures. Only the degree of opportunity and the scale of consequence changed depending on the person.
He would spend this day searching for the man who had gotten away. If he hooded man could find him, so could he. He started first with every horse-dealer and wainwright. The horse and cart they used did not just materialize from thin air. They were either bought or stolen. Either meant they could be traced. He knew that it was likely he would get negative replies. That did not matter. What he was waiting for was someone to lie to him. Most people could not lie to him. He could hear it in their song. The dull tone of counterfeit porcelain.
He also visited the taverns and brothels, his fiddle under his arm, waiting, watching, sometimes playing. He chatted about the potential of war with any that would speak to him. Septon Abelar was an evil man, but he was not wrong about the collective will of the people. If there was to be war, it would be the smallfolk that would pay the greatest price, even if they did not realize it. Unlike the Septon, he did not rail from the pulpit. He talked to people, one at a time. He looked them in the eye. It was easy to rile up a mob but often that dissipated like mist after the moment was gone. It was only face to face that realization gained any kind of permanence. The great nobles of the world often forgot the ground they stood on was not as firm as they thought.
Yes, Blacksmith. You will make large amounts of coin if we go to war. I wonder how many of your sons you will lose in exchange.
Yes, Merchant. Prices will rise. What will happen when you have no more wares to sell and no way to get more? What will happen when no-one can afford to buy the little you have left?
Yes, Madam. Soldiers make great customers, when they pay, if they pay, if they are here and not far to the south.
Drip, drip, drip. Raindrops in the garden.
Passive Awareness: 17
Persuasion (Convince): Raindrops in the Garden: 6d6k4 19