Jensen let the elf do the talking for him as they entered Yanbo Port, doing his best to drown out the words of the dignitary that helped them in. He rambled on and on about the Ixian Knights and his full support of the private army that had helped in numerous, boring ways the immortal had no care to learn. Instead, he kept his focus upon the people around him as he searched for Oblivion. Erissa had actually slapped him, and swore.

Though with a grin he rubbed his jaw pondering how much he liked that…

Jensen’s eyes flashed with red as he shook the thought out of his mind. There he was thinking about some smelly, bush humping elf when his wife died not weeks before. Jensen shook his head again as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight as he fought the headache that had been plaguing him since last night. He knew he was tired, knew he wasn’t sleeping, and his judgment was getting worse for the wear as he continued to refuse rest. The immortal also noted he was getting shorter tempered as of late, and grouchy.

He yawned just as the Diplomat of Radansath finished another long winded story, and the scribe and the fat pig looked to Jensen with hesitant eyes. Erissa even turned her head to look to him. She cast her eyes out to the two, making sure they couldn’t see her, and grinned from the side of her mouth and winked. Jensen looked behind him to see who she was winking to, his jacket whipping the air as he made a show of trying to find out who she was looking at. She giggled into the salty tang of the sea air.

He grinned back to her as she resumed her diplomatic role for the sake of Jensen’s troubled mind, and his eyes rested on her back side as they hit a set of wooden planks and networks. The wet wood was scored from several years of boots and cargo dragged over it. The immortal looked to the riggings of the Akashiman ships that loaded trade goods and spotted a few ferrys that would lead out. He mentally made a note to find one that would head to the north.

“It just so happens I have a bit of trade heading out to Salvar, and I am here to finish the details of if,” the pudgy man laughed, as if this was, by some sick twisted trickery of the gods, a great joke of happenstance. How, Jensen didn’t know, and frankly didn’t care. But it was enough to grab his attention; he noticed a large group of rough looking Akashimans heading in their direction. Jensen stepped forwards, almost brushing against Erissa as he kept a hand near the bloodstained dagger in his left pocket. His right hand instinctively went to her hip; a warning sign of danger he used to give to Stephanie when they were on missions together. The elf’s breath inhaled sharply at the touch, and she leaned back in shock, hitting Jensen in the chest. Quickly she regained herself, looking to see if the two companions who led them in noticed anything, but to their luck the man was still rambling about what he was getting for this deal.

“Sorry,” Jensen whispered in her ear lightly so only her elven heritage could detect. “I see-“ Jensen looked to find her hand near her own dagger she had hidden well in her leather garments. “You already noticed them as well,” he chuckled.

“Traveling with you,” she teased lightly, looking back to him again with soft eyes that made him melt. “One gets used to danger.”

“Rule number one…” Jensen teased back, both giving a light laugh of the time they were in the Red Forest. Jensen watched the group of warriors head towards them in a direct line, and just as they crossed the imaginary line Jensen’s hand was already three-quarters of the way completed drawing his weapon when the diplomat lifted a hand.

“Ah, boys, good to see you are as prompt as you claimed to be.” Jensen gave the man a confused look as the leader of the group, a heavily tattooed man with a sailor’s vest and shorts stepped forwards.

“We are not like the other mercenaries,” he said respectively, bowing to the man. “When we are assigned a mission, we do it with all haste to complete it. It’s just…good business.” His accent was thick, though flawless for an Akashiman and Jensen figured the man was probably somebody who broke the mold that was forced upon his life, along with his rag tag group of friends.

“I see you hired mercenaries,” Jensen spoke loudly. “I would assume, considering how great you claim to have respect for the Ixian Knights that you would take them up to hire mercenaries from Taka’s company.” The leader of the mercenaries gave out a shrill chuckle, knowing the name of Benjiro Taka well. The dignitary’s puffy face began to sweat.

“Not all mercenaries are comfortable doing some things,” the leader replied. “I know Taka is one of them. He’s all work,” With a flick of his wrist two weapons were in his hands rotating with ease and speed. He stopped spinning them, locking the curved weapons of the Kunai together, “and no play.”

“I agree to that,” Jensen muttered. “But despite how much a stale fish he is,” he turned his attention to the diplomat. “His rates are pretty cheap.” Jensen scratched his chin, and grinned as if in deep thought. “So naturally, you must be trading something you don’t want Sei Orlouge to know about.”

“Now, let’s not be too hasty.” He rubbed a pocket handkerchief to his forehead, removing the beads of sweat as the grouping stood off. Erissa took a few cautious steps to stand next to Jensen.

“Fifteen gold coins,” Jensen said to the leader, fishing the money out. He let each one clink into the other as they fell for him to see. “What’s the goods?”

“Drugs,” the leader said with no compassion to the secrecy of his charge. The coins flew up in the air and landed at the man’s feet. With a snap of his fingers one of his minions retrieved the gold. If the sweat was beady before, now it was flowing from Mr. Granger’s head. Jensen laughed out loud to put pressure on the man as he stepped forwards.

“Drugs? Oh my,” Jensen looked back to Erissa, and winked to her. Her face flushed, but she still looked too confused at what exactly Jensen was doing. He gave her a confidant look, and in the span of a second she nodded to him, her trust absolute in him. Jensen felt his heart take a twinge of pain, seeing a shadowy form of Stephanie mirror her as he turned quickly back to the man he was roasting alive. “I do think that is one of Sei’s big no-no’s, Mr. Granger,” Jensen clucked his tongue, wagging a finger.

“Please, you are taking this all wrong,” he exclaimed. “He can’t speak perfect common, he’s Akashiman, you know these people confuse words!” Jensen had to admit that when this man dug his own grave, he spared no expense on the depth. The leader growled to him, making him wince away in terror. His scribe, who Jensen had ignored through all of it, was a lighter shade of pale than before and shaking at the confrontation. “Medical drugs!”

“Oh,” the leader said hotly. “Is that what Absinthe is! I thought it was a hallucinogen. Huh, forgive my confused words.” Jensen chuckled loudly as he waltzed forwards. However, despite how mad the mercenary leader was, he had known his meal ticket was dangerously close to backing out of the deal. He stepped forwards in line with Jensen, blocking him. He was a head smaller, so Jensen enjoyed looking down on him. “Regardless, it’s our deal, little Knight. You aren’t pulling the plug on this.”

“Hmm,” Jensen thought loudly as he twisted his wrist up in the air in a flourish. In one moment, there was nothing, and when the leader blinked and opened them he saw a dagger pointed at his right eye and heard a lot of gasps from the assembly. “I think this is the part where you realize how shit deep this is over your head. Shut up, and let me do my thing.” Jensen gave him a friendly look, still filled with hostility, but the leader mirrored his lunatic grin. There was an understanding going on between the two, and with a show of tough guy attitude, he gestured for Jensen to walk forwards, stepping aside.

He knew that Jensen wasn’t going to screw him.

“I’m a practical man,” Jensen said, the knife vanishing in the blink of an eye. “I live in practical times,” he continued. “I have practical ideas,” he gestured to the heavens. “And a practical family and a practical predicament. So I suppose you could say with all that’s going on, you practically owe me, and big,” Jensen mused with a lingering smile.

“Are… are you blackmailing me?” The words flowed from Clauson’s lips like they were poison.

“Catch on quick, don’t ya Clouse.”

“Clauson,” he corrected angrily, but still in a defeated tone. “I suppose you already had an idea what you wanted.”

“Indeed. Rule number one of being a good dirty dealer is never let your friends see you sweat. Rule number two, well…shit I thought this was basic, but…” Jensen looked to the mercenary leader, who grinned.

“Never bring you allies to the deals you’re pulling over them,” the mercenary finished, his crew chuckling.

“Yeah… that’s pretty basic… well, business if you ask me. Still, I can tell you what Mr. Ganger. I don’t care what you do, or how you do it. At least, that’s what I’ll say when Sei is asking how you’ve been. It won’t bother me at all to rat you out, but why bother? It’s nothing harmful as I see it. In fact, you are creating jobs for underprivileged workmen.” The mercenaries all chuckled at that as Erissa stepped behind Jensen, staying close to him.

“<And Sei said you have no skills in diplomacy,>” Erissa whispered in elven, giggling.

“Here’s the deal. For my silence, I want two all expense paid First Class Ferry tickets to Horogen Island and one thousand gold coins to go to Azza Ambrose’s piggy bank. You do that,” Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll forget a few things in the first class drinking lounge.”

“But, but,” his four chins all rolled as one tide, much like the sea behind him. “That’s going to cost me more than this deal!”

“Sure it will,” Jensen said. “But then again, how much it will it cost you squelch a trade deal, and be raided by the Ixian Knights. Hell, to make it interesting I’ll toss your nephew in the assault group so he can bag you himself!” Jensen and the mercenaries laughed as the man squirmed. He finally nodded and turned to his scribe.

“Get it done!” he snapped impatiently as he rubbed his eyes and moaned like he drank too much. Jensen patted him on the back and walked with him towards the temple. “You are not an average Ixian Knight,” he muttered angrily. “Usually I can appease you folks with a few donations to the orphans and your cause.”

“Yeah, I know…” Jensen winked to him, patting him on the back. The diplomat and the mercenaries began to waltz forwards as one toward the crates on the salt crusted pier, and Jensen looked back to see Erissa smiling to him. Jensen gave her a weak smile, waving his fingers awkwardly.

“That was masterfully done,” she said softly, one graceful foot moving in a sauntering way in front of the other as she approached. It was painfully seductive, Jensen noticed, but he shook his head and looked again. No, it was just a normal gait. He tapped his head with his palm to get the thoughts out before he looked back to Erissa and smiled. “How did you know your plan would work?” she asked.

“You think I planned that?” Jensen gave her a straight look. When he saw her face softly contort to confusion he let out a riotous laugh, his hand lifting to her chin and holding it up, snapping his fingers under her in a teasing manner. As she shook her head at the immortal, he turned around and laughed harder.