>>6228539All this plotting and planning has worked up a great thirst in you. You figure a quick drink at the bar before getting back to business couldn’t hurt. Approaching the bar, you notice that it is mostly empty, with the exception of one man situated directly at the center. The other patrons give him a wide space, preferring to enjoy their drinks standing rather than sitting down next to the stranger. From behind, he looked ordinary enough. You weren’t about to let a perfectly good seat go to waste, so you take up the stool next to the man, much to the surprise of the other patrons.
>“Barkeep. Give me the hardest, most expensive brew that you have. Charge it to Klement von Bergliez. He’s a close friend. He’ll pick up my tab.”The bartender stares at you with a mix of shock and horror. Snapping back to reality, he quickly pours you a concoction from a bottle he keeps behind the counter, and places it before you. The smell emanating from the drink is strong enough to melt your nose hairs, but you do not complain as you throw it back in one fell swoop.
“Wow.” The man next to you exclaims. “I’ve never seen anyone order the Dragon’s Flame before. Are you alright, foreigner? That stuff can melt your insides, you know?”
You turn, getting a good look at him for the first time. He was a tan-skinned man, with bright blonde hair and a trim beard. At his side was a curved sheath, with a blue gem embedded into the hilt of his sword. At first glance, he appeared a perfectly normal Morfisian. But as you examined him closer, you noticed a single peculiarity. His right eye was a deep shade of crimson, in stark contrast to the blue left eye that he possessed.
>“Bah, that was nothing.” It was actually quite terrible, but you had no intention of looking weak. You take a peak at what is inside the man’s cup, and are surprised to find that it isn’t liquor that he’s drinking, but milk.“Oh, this?” The man asks you upon noticing your peeping. “Camel milk. It’s quite good.”
>“You’re drinking milk at the bar?” You ask, disgust evident in your voice.“I never drink alcohol while on the job.” He replies.
>“You don’t seem to be working all that hard to me. What sort of job allows you to slack off like this?”“Oh, but I am working, Tristain d’Rusalka.” He says, taking a sip from his glass of milk. A thin trail of white has been left above his upper lip. “It is the job of a Yasha to conduct investigations. And it just so happens that you’ve made my job much easier by seeking me out.”
>“Ahh, I see you’ve heard of me. That’s great, you’re ahead of the curve on that.” You say. So this was the man Chelsey had warned you about. The one who had all of Shangri-La on edge. At first glance, he didn’t appear all that menacing. But you’d been around long enough to tell that this was an act. The calmness that he possessed stemmed from absolute confidence in his abilities. 