Let Them Sing
EXP: 155,108, Level: 17
Level completed: 18%,
EXP required for next Level: 14,892
Shinsou Vaan Osiris had been expecting a much different night.
The message had reached him hours earlier. Augustus Damacles was a low level minister in Corone's Assembly, and had caused quite a stir for campaigning against organised crime on the island. But this campaign wasn't all what it seemed, and not so co-incidentally exclude some of the more wealthy crime-bosses that had so far evaded both the Brotherhood and the Assembly. Word had spread that Augustus had been greasing palms to the point where his interest was directed at Shinsou personally, and he had decided to pool his considerable resources to silence the Telgradian by putting a bounty on his head.
The decision to get to Augustus first was an easy one, but the man moved like a shadowy wraith around the island. All Osiris had was the name and quick description of one of his concierges. The place was easy enough, though; The Silver Wolf in Stonevale. The concierge, though? A brief physical rundown had done nothing to help him identify the man in a crowd. Dark hair, middle aged, no scars or tattoos. Usually dressed in finery.
He could have been fucking anyone.
The Silver Wolf was a typical, city centre pub. It was abuzz with people, conversation and merriment, and all too cheerily lit despite the absolute disrepair of the place. Shinsou took care to avoid the worst maintained areas by meandering through the labyrinth of tables and chairs to the corner of the bar furthest away from the crowds. The strong scents of ale, sweat and piss clung to everything. To make matters worse, he could feel the vulture-like eyes of the clientele picking his unfamiliar face apart piece by piece.
Shinsou nodded to catch the attention of the lone bartender.
"Whiskey, neat" The Telgradian asked of the short, moustached fat man with a lowered voice.
"Sure thing, pal." The pug like features of the barman screwed up as he grabbed a bottle of amber liquid from the shelf behind him, barely even glancing at his customer. "Miserable evening, isn't it?"
"Could well be." Shinsou quipped.
The retort surprised the bartender as he fumbled with a tumbler he had been cleaning up, and looked up to meet the slitted, golden gaze of the Telgradian. "Sorry, sir, I don't follow. Are you ok?"
"It could be for someone in here," Shinsou said vaguely. "...a miserable evening, that is."
The musing was suddenly interrupted by raised voices. Only moments passed before he recognised the young voice of Celandine Van der Aart, who seemed to be brushing off the unwelcome advances and undue pressure from a short man, with dark hair. What on earth was she doing here, he wondered? Perhaps she had finally convinced her mother Philomel to let her see the world, and she'd finally got as far as Scara Brae. In any case, the young faun didn't seem to be having a good time, and Shinsou was on hand to help.
"You're on thin fucking ice my pedigree chum," The Telgradian stated, very matter of factly, to Celandine's assailant. "She's told you to fuck off twice now. I wouldn't risk asking a third time."