"You know, Richard, you've become quite the willing co-conspirator for someone who didn't want to know how I came by the deed." Teric mused, toying absently with some of the thick grey hairs covering his chin. "It's surprising, really."
"Yes, well," Pembleton carried his briefcase close to his side, "I've been known to stick my neck out a little further than usual when I stand to gain from it. If The Company profits, I profit, and therefore it is my financial imperative to see that your enterprise acquires every advantage it can."
"Your financial imperative, huh?" Teric replied. The two men were strolling casually down the street towards the City Clerk's office, the land deed they'd plotted and schemed for secured tightly in the financier's case alongside the second letter 'from' Geoff Manning. They had sat about anxiously in Pembleton's office all morning, waiting until mid-afternoon so as not to appear too hasty. "Is money the only thing you think about?"
"Of course!" the accountant scoffed. "For you see, in my business a man lives and dies by the return on his last investment. Fame, power, renown - all those silly things you warrior types fawn over? That sort of thing doesn't do me any good."
"Fame doesn't do you any good?" Teric asked, incredulous.
"Of course not." Pembleton shook his head as if trying to explain something to a small child. "A man can find himself famous for all the wrong reasons. Say I was famous for being the worst accountant in Radasanth? Would that help my business?"
"No, I suppose not." Teric yielded, not bothering to point out the half-logic in the man's argument. It was better to just let Pembleton be Pembleton, and Teric could be satisfied with that.
Reaching their destination, Teric and his accountant strode up the marble steps in front of the Radasanth City Offices, stepping out of the afternoon sun and into the cool air of the building lobby. The place was every inch the splendid grandeur one would expect of the bureaucratic heart of a city like Radasanth; resplendent with a marble floor mosaic of the Corone crest, great pillars of stone holding aloft the raised ceiling high above, and the ivory white benches lining the walls. Here the lifeblood of the city pumped in paper-trail veins, constantly supplying the 'brain' that was Central Filing with fresh information...
"Wow." Was the only word Teric could manage as they entered, striding towards the information kiosk in the center of the open lobby and the stairwells in the back. A pair of officious looking guards manned the kiosk stoically, answering questions brusquely while at the same time fingering the hilts of their swords. Pembleton, who'd obviously been here many times before, was much less impressed.
"I suppose we ask them where we need to..." Teric realized mid-sentence that the accountant had walked right past the kiosk and was bee-lining directly for the stairs.
"Third floor, second door on the left!" The man called over his shoulder, waving the mercenary on. It became apparent that Pembleton had been here before, and knew his way around. Walking briskly to catch up with his companion Teric managed to reach the accountant just as he was pushing open the door to the City Clerk's office. There was a single name on the door, emblazoned over the glass in bold black lettering: John T. Dawkins, City Clerk.
"Can I help you?" The mustached, portly man sitting behind the bland desk in an office overcrowded with filing drawers asked. Despite the hours, it was obvious that the man had been enjoying a late lunch before Pembleton threw open his door.
"Richard Pembleton Jr." The accountant introduced himself cordially with a half-bow. "I'm here representing the Manning Estate in the matter of a land transaction: the sale of 515 Elm Terrace?"
"Ah, yes, come in Mr. Pembleton." The town clerk cleared the remained of his lunch off the top of his desk and wiped his hands on his pants before continuing. "I was surprised to see a letter concerning that property come across my desk so soon. Didn't Mr. Manning just purchase it a couple days ago?"
"Yes, that's correct." Pembleton answered in the affirmative. "A most generous offer has persuaded my employer to sell the property, however, and so here we are."
"It would have to be a generous offer indeed," The Clerk replied, "seeing what Mr. Manning paid for it. I assume then that you must be the generous party?" The portly man shifted his attention to Teric.
"The offer was made by an organization." Pembleton clarified, this man is simply their representative.
"Teric Bloodrose." Teric introduced himself before sitting next to Pembleton, who had by now pulled up a seat in front of the Clerk's desk. Handshakes all around and then the three men settled down to business. Pembleton opened the briefcase to produce the land deed and the second letter, and the Clerk produced a quill pen.
"Everything seems to be in order here." The City Clerk mumbled aloud, producing the 'Intent to Sell' form Pembleton was talking about earlier. Together the two men filled out the necessary paperwork while Teric sat by and watched quietly, picking out bits and pieces of legalese and business jargon where he could. After several minutes the Clerk seemed satisfied, and everyone's attention turned to the deed.
"I need to you sign here," The Clerk indicated a line on the deed below the signature of Geoff Manning, "marking that you are acting as a proxy." Pembleton did so, and the Clerk initialed the line and dated it. "And now I need you," the man indicated Teric, "to sign here for your organization."
Teric accepted the offered pen in as casual a manner as he could muster, and willed his hand not to shake excitedly as he scrawled his name and the name of his organization on the line beneath Pembleton's signature. The Clerk took the pen back and initialed the line before handing the deed back to Pembleton.
"There you go, gentlemen. Have a nice day."
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