87 - Examinar

Her discussion with Jade was, while not especially useful, at least interesting. The twitchy, wary street rat answered her questions with what Sable assumed to be honesty, though also some reluctance. But the only way she could escape Sable was by being compliant—so she was.

Meeting Sable’s expectations, the young thief had a class, hence her gall to try to rob Sable in the first place. Since classes made a person instantly worthy of some reputation even in a place like Wastehaven, that meant Jade was—while not extremely connected—not some random street rat either, as she’d already guessed. So, her efforts to ‘make a contact’ wouldn’t be totally fruitless. Sable extricated from the girl a few names and locations that she would be able to poke around, should she for some reason need access to such resources.

And she might. Sable wasn’t exactly sure how a person set up a ‘propaganda’ or ‘spy network’, but that was a faraway goal of hers. Since reputation—notoriety—only depended on what people thought of her, Sable didn’t actually have to go around being a total monster; she just had to make people believe she was. Events like Gadenrock helped toward that goal, but were hardly something she could plan for with any reliability. Hence, she needed to create a network that spread misinformation, making her seem more evil than she was.

Jade was just one step toward that goal, if a small one. And such a network was a long way from being necessary, seeing how she didn’t plan on conquering human lands for some time yet. Still, she was pleased to have taken it, since it would presumably take time to sow the seeds for such an organization. Though, Roman’s information broker might be a better avenue toward that goal.

Beyond extracting a few professional pieces of information from the classed thief, Sable also learned a bit about the girl herself. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t exactly chosen her profession—and now that she’d received a class that helped her steal from others, she was locked into her path.

Sable considered whether helping or dissuading her had any point. On the grand scale of things, petty thieves were low on the list of evil, so she wouldn’t feel horrible about just releasing her back into public. Sable simply had more important things to worry about than a single young thief. Plus, it would ruin—or at least slow down—her chance at making contacts in the less-than-legal side of Wastehaven, should she ever need them. She could hardly go adopting the girl either, and didn’t plan on passing over a bag of gold.

So, in the end, Sable simply let her go. Of course, she made sure to get a few guarantees that she’d been fed accurate information—and that she could find Jade again. Sable informed the girl she was a caster with skill in the branch of enchantment and contacts who could use divination. Waggling the girl’s own knife at her, which Sable had taken, Sable informed her that if she couldn’t be found where she said she could, or if the information she gave turned out to be poor, then Sable would be displeased. Jade, sweating at that point, hastily assured her that she knew better. Sable believed her.

From there, the slightly inconvenient—but also opportunistic—interruption ended, and Sable returned to her previous plans. She explored Wastehaven’s markets, getting a feel for the layout and picking out some items of convenience.

Something she took note of immediately was the inflation of prices on even simple products. It made sense that a city located in a more dangerous part of the world had more access to wealth, and thus items were more expensive, but they were surprisingly so. Everything at Sunstone had been dirt cheap, and while the prices here were hardly high enough to make Sable’s eyes water, considering her reserves, it was still surprising. The reaction that Sunstone’s receptionist had had at Sable trying to exchange a bag of gold made a lot more sense, now. It was still a lot of money in Wastehaven too, but not the completely ridiculous sum it had been in a green-zone city.

Before returning to the Guild after the market, Sable checked if Roman had returned, but she hadn’t. The necromancer had told her that she would likely be gone for some time, since she had a lot of chores to handle—both research and making connections. Sable couldn’t imagine trying to handle all that herself. Delegation was useful—and of course the mark of an efficient monarch.

Her next stop was the central guildhall—the one acting as the ‘bronze clubhouse’ so to say—and to Sable’s satisfaction, the blonde receptionist from earlier flagged Sable down as she walked in.

“Good news,” she said. “Examinar Fairweather is back. I mentioned to him you were looking for an arrangement—would you like to talk to him?”

“Please.”

Sable was led past a pair of double doors and deeper into the administrative half of the guildhall. The receptionist knocked politely at an unmarked office door, and the reply came in a somewhat disgruntled, “What?”

“Examinar? It’s the applicant I mentioned earlier.”

“Yes, yes. Come in.”

Sable followed the receptionist into a cluttered office space. An elven man sat behind a large mahogany desk. Elves were one of the rarer races found in Wastehaven, so that was worth its own bit of surprise—especially because the gruff voice that had welcomed them meant Sable had been expecting an older, rugged looking man, not the Examinar Fairweather she found: which was to say, a tall, thin, ethereal-looking elf with silver hair. As most of his race, the first word that came to Sable’s mind was beautiful; he was prettier than almost anyone Sable had seen, including most women, as most elves were. Sable amusedly wondered whether he’d appreciate such a comment.

He didn’t look happy about being interrupted, which meant bartering for an expedited one-person entrance evaluation would be an uphill battle. Fortunately, Sable had several hundred golden reasons for him to be an expeditious host. Money talked, and she had a lot of it, even by the standards of Wastehaven. Kingdom-stealing paid dividends.

Everything about the elf was pale besides his uniform: pastel-lilac eyes, a fair complexion, and silver hair glossy enough to make Sable envious. She wondered whether elves had to go through complex self-care routines, or whether they were simply lucky enough for such natural-seeming beauty to be their standard. Seeing how she’d yet to see an ugly elf, she expected the latter.

He wore a uniform Sable recognized; other guild officials she’d seen passing by had worn similar. Mostly black with accents of red and white—the royal colors of Auldstone—the Adventurer’s Guild uniform was militant in design, though leaning formal rather than practical. He had a badge on his chest marking him as an official, and also standard ranking badges on his shoulders. Silver, three star. Assuming typical progression, then around level fourteen. Probably about as strong as Sable herself in her half-dragon form. That wouldn’t make him an especially strong person in this city, but certainly sprouting far past the underbrush.

“Sit, sit,” Examinar Fairweather said to her, waving impatiently at a chair. “Thank you, Yara.”

The receptionist departed, leaving Sable alone with the elven guild official.

“I hope you’re not wasting my time,” Fairweather said. “Well? Go ahead.”

Sable chose to ignore his brusqueness. While irritating, since it was hardly how a monarch ought to be treated, she was undercover. “I’ve been told I can arrange an early examination for entry into the Guild,” Sable said. “I’d like to do so, as soon as possible.”

“When?”

“Today.”

Fairweather snorted. “Tomorrow at the earliest,” he said. “And only if you can pay the fee.”

“Which is?”

“It varies.”

Sable waited for further explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead, pale purple eyes flicked down at his desk, impatient.

By the receptionist’s attitude earlier, Sable had assumed this process was fairly normal, even if not standard. Despite that, Sable was getting the impression that this was more bribery than anything. She wondered whether that would extend into passing the test, too.

Since she was hardly lacking funds, and time was far and away her most valuable resource, she reached into her robes and withdrew a purse of coins. Fingering out gold coins in stacks of four, she placed three little piles on his desk, the golden material gleaming under the overhead light.

She had to fight away an odd, sudden burst of reluctance as she placed each of the three small stacks on his desk. Payment in general tended to be painful for Sable, and this was a larger one than usual. Twelve gold. Giving away her hoard made her skin itch. Those were her coins.

Sable noted how the Examinar’s eyebrows raised at the sum, but he wasn’t shocked by it. Still, Sable was fairly certain she’d overpayed—if bribery could be ‘overpayed’. It didn’t bother her. She cared about getting this over with as soon as possible, and a good payment would make the elf malleable.

“Twelve gold?” Fairweather asked.

It was a purposefully vague statement; Sable could see through him. There was a hint of ‘that’s it?’ in his voice, but carefully subdued, enough to introduce doubt as to whether that was what he meant by the statement. She suspected he knew she was from out of town, and thus ignorant in how things worked—and possibly even the value of her coin. And that was somewhat true, but Sable could also read his intentions.

In the off chance she was wrong, though, she gave an equally ambiguous response. She tilted her head, quirked a skeptical eyebrow, and didn’t reply.

Fairweather didn’t seem willing to push his luck, since he nodded, then scooped the coins off his desk. He didn’t want to risk the impressive payment by poking Sable’s limits.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said. “That’s the earliest I can manage. But we can handle it first thing in the morning, if you’re in a rush.”

“As soon as possible.”

“And are you expecting to pass?”

Sable raised her eyebrows. “I expect to place into silver rank. Passing in general isn’t a question.”

Fairweather first seemed interested by that, then disappointed. Sable assumed he had thought she was a new adventurer, and thus the initial exam could pose a problem for her—which meant he’d been hoping to work out a second bribe to smooth her chances out.

Some of his overt impatience eased, too. At seeing Sable’s wealth, then hearing she was a classed of moderate level, he recognized his vaguely annoyed attitude should probably be replaced with something more respectful. Plus, the hefty bribe had probably improved his mood in its own right.

“Alright,” he said. “Early next morning, then. First bell?”

“That’s acceptable.”

“Is there anything else?”

“There is not, Examinar.” Sable stood and nodded at him. “I’ll see you then.”