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Description
The Rumour Mill

Dax saw that Armitage, the apple-buyer and the Watchman were all casting glances at the man in the middle of the street. Dax risked a second look and then pressed himself harder against the wall. There was no mistaking the man that drew all of their attention: Joxil Galen.

Dax knew the man well. How could he not? Joxil had been his second in command. They had both served in the Domanian Army’s Praetorian Elite together for almost a decade.

“And I was having such a nice day…” Dax muttered to himself.

This was turning out to be a day not like any other.

Dax made a final glance into the street and, once he was sure that Joxil was looking the other way, stepped back and made his way towards the shop’s yard at the rear of the building. He slipped through the gate and closed it behind him, then crossed the cobbled ground and entered the building where he found Boone stood at the kitchen table with a few slices of bread and some cooked meat. He glanced up at Dax as the man entered the room, then returned his attention to the task at hand.

“You know,” he began, “this thing about putting some meat between two slices of bread isn’t so bad after…”

Dax took a hold of Boone’s arm and pulled him through the inner door towards the shop front.

“What the…” Boone spluttered as Dax pulled him along. Inside the shop Terris was working alone. The main doors to the shop were closed, as Dax expected they would be at this time of day – Boone and Terris insisted on closing the shop in the middle of the day for lunch – and Dax gestured for Terris to follow him.

“What’s going on?” Boone raised his voice but Dax pressed a finger against his lips and pulled him towards the shop window. The glass of the window was clear, but had a slight yellow tint, and was divided into small diamond-shaped panes that were joined together with strips of metal, much like the stained glass windows of the Guild House. Dax gestured to the street outside.

“Do you see a man with a brown hood and plain-looking tabard out there?” he asked. Both Boone and Terris looked quizzical. Boone stepped forward so that he was standing with the window to his side, and subtly glanced through it. It was a clever tactic both he and Terris had mastered so that anyone outside looking in would not notice that they were themselves looking out.

“Yeah,” Boone replied as he walked past the window. Terris followed him and mimicked the actions of looking as though he was in conversation with Boone while himself observing the stranger.

“He’s headed towards Armitage’s stall,” Terris added. “What’s going on?”

Dax risked a glance out of the window himself and saw Joxil walking away from the shop.

“I know that man,” Dax explained. “His name is Joxil Galen.”

“So?” Boone shrugged.

“He was a captain under my command in the Praetorian Elite,” Dax added. “He served under me right up until I came here to Dorn.”

Both Boone’s and Terris’ casual expressions turned serious immediately. Terris quickly stepped up to the shop doors and bolted them while Boone hung a sign in the shop window that read ‘Closed for the Day’, and closed the curtains.

“I thought I recognised the face,” Terris said. “I remember it now… that’s the man who was with the Empress when you projected your farsight for Arslan a couple of days after we came back from Shiria!”

“What the hell is he doing in Dorn?” Boone hissed.

“Didn’t she promote him to General?” Terris added. Dax confirmed it with a nod.

“Didn’t the old goat say he was convinced they thought you were dead?” Boone pressed.

“Yeah,” Dax nodded again and his expression was filled with worry.

“But the Empress ordered everyone back to Domania,” Terris remembered. “Maybe that’s why he’s here? To bring back spies?”

“Maybe,” Dax shrugged. “They sure don’t use Leystones like they do in the Free Nations. But it would be unusual to send a Praetorian General for something like that. They’d usually send someone expendable.”

Boone was watching the man’s progress through a tiny gap in the curtains. He appeared to point to some of the grocer’s produce, then handed Armitage some coins and walked away.

“He’s leaving,” Boone said. He straightened his tunic and approached the door. “I’m gonna follow him, see what he’s up to.”

“Are you mad?” Terris stepped forward.

“No, I’m careful,” Boone replied with a level tone. “We’ve both done it a thousand times before, brother. Besides, he doesn’t know me. What trouble is he gonna cause in the streets of Dorn? He’d never risk it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Terris conceded. Dax seemed unconvinced.

“Give me ten minutes,” Boone instructed, “then go down to Armitage and find out what you can.”

“You think he’ll know anything?” Dax asked.

“Dax, you’ve lived here long enough,” Boone gave a reassuring smile. “If anyone knows anything about what he’s up to, it’ll be Armitage.”

With a nod of agreement from both Terris and Dax, Boone unbolted the doors again, and slipped out into the street. Terris and Dax watched him walk nonchalantly in the direction that Joxil had taken until he disappeared from view.

“Boone’s gonna be so pissed,” Dax groaned.

“Why?” Terris asked with genuine concern.

“This’ll be the second lunch he’s missed because of me.”

Dax and Terris waited for a little while before they headed out into the street. It was usual, after high suns and lunch time, for Armitage’s business to be a little slow and that was the ideal time to engage him in conversation. The man was quite happy to see both Dax and Terris as they approached his stall, and he was quick to bring forward a couple of crates of his fresher wares for their perusal. Terris hailed the grocer and began to examine the fruit and vegetables while Dax engaged him in conversation. He opened subtly with the usual ‘how are you’ and ‘how are your family’ and followed with a few little tidbits of information about how his runs with the City Watch were going. He had quickly learned that the best way to get any decent information out of Dorn’s rumour mill was to feed it something first. Armitage listened with rapt interest and Dax could almost see the scribes of Armitage’s mind taking notes to relay to others at his first opportunity. Then he came to the subject of Joxil.

“Hey,” Dax mocked a suddenly curious expression, “did you see a stranger in the street a little while ago?”

“That I did,” Armitage confirmed, and his demeanour shifted into the stance of a man of importance who knew something and was about to impart his knowledge. “He was just here not a quarter hour since. Bought a couple of crates of my wares. He’s not local, that’s for sure, but I’ve seen him around Dorn a few times this past year.”

“Past year?” Dax’s voice rose a little as his eyes widened, and Terris shot him a warning glance. Dax checked himself quickly. “So he’s a regular visitor, then?”

“I wouldn’t say regular,” Armitage replied. “I might see him a couple of days, then not see him again for a month, two months, maybe longer. He’s some kind of traveller, I fancy. I don’t think he boards in the city, though. Why else would he buy hardy fruits and vegetables? No, definitely a traveller.”

“I see,” Dax rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and nodded to show his interest in Armitage’s words. This always seemed to encourage the man to talk further, and today was no exception.

“Do you know Dobson’s Livery on the edge of the Commercial Quarter?” Armitage asked. Dax shook his head, but Terris edged a little closer.

“Aye, I do,” he said as he joined the conversation.

“Well,” Armitage continued, “this man we’re talking about, he was seen around there a few times about two months ago. He went to Dobson with a horse that was all hooded and covered with blankets. A big horse it was, too, but he’s not been seen with it since. I reckon he sold it to Dobson.”

“Sounds like a fair assumption,” Dax agreed. “I wonder why a traveller would sell his horse, though,” he added.

“What’s more interesting,” Armitage said as he leaned closer to the two men and lowered his voice, “is that he pays for his purchases with Grey Bank coin. Nothing from Shiria, or AEngland, or any other Free Nations. Just Grey Bank coin.”

“That is interesting,” Terris nodded.

It was well known throughout the Free Nations, and indeed all of Rengarth that, while every nation had its own style of coinage with its own unique markings, the value of the coins was the same. A gold Astral in Arodar was worth the same as a gold Dinar in Shiria, and the same as a gold Sovereign in AEngland. The Grey Bank was the only institution that was allowed to mint its own coinage, which bore no markings other than a serrated pattern around the rim. In fact, most coins in Rengarth bore the same serrated rim, since most Nations obtained their coins from the Grey Bank and branded them with their own Nation’s emblems, be that the current leader, or a flag, or some mythical creature. The Grey Bank itself was situated on a small island in the Misty Tides, to the east of The Dammerdans and north of Ten Inlands. It was independent of all the Twelve Nations, but was by no means large enough to declare itself a nation in its own right. It had existed for centuries and, other than being the base of the Grey Bank’s operations, was otherwise steeped in mystery.

Terris gave Dax a subtle signal out of Armitage’s field of view, and Dax took the hint to wind down the conversation. Terris placed a nominal order with Armitage, for delivery later that day and, with thanks to the grocer for his time, Dax and Terris excused themselves. Once out of sight and earshot of Armitage, Terris pulled Dax towards a quiet alleyway behind a row of shops.

“Grey Bank coin?” he asked Dax. “We don’t see that often.”

“It’s common practice for Praetorians,” Dax explained, “especially if they want to keep a low profile. Anyone who pays with coin bearing the Empress’s head raises questions. They’ve obviously been to Domania and traded in some way. It breeds suspicion.”

“Paying with Grey Bank coin raises questions too,” Terris countered.

“True, but a whole host of different questions,” Dax explained. “Orders are clear: Spend the coin quick, in a small place outside of the trade centre, and get coin back with local markings. Then move on with the mission. Armitage’s is just the right kind of place to launder the money so a spy can blend in more quickly.”

“Except Joxil doesn’t realise Armitage is close to the core of Dorn’s rumour mill,” Terris chuckled.

“More fool him,” Dax agreed. “What now?”

“Now we go and investigate this horse Armitage spoke of,” Terris said. “I know Dobson. The man had one break-in – not us, by the way – and straight away he came to us and had every single lock changed to one of ours. He pays us monthly to maintain them, too. It’s one of our biggest jobs.”

“That’s expensive,” Dax frowned. “How does a man in the Free Nations keep a business in horses going? With Shikanti Circles all over Rengarth, there’s little call for horses, surely?”

“You’d be surprised,” Terris disagreed. “For one thing, only cities and large towns have circles. Smaller towns and villages still rely on horses and other beasts of burden to cart their wares. Then there are travellers. There aren’t many temples to Deoghar the Traveller God, on account of their devotees’ need to roam the world. But they often travel by horse if they’re going on a long journey. Dobson caters for their needs.

“But you’re right,” Terris went on. “When it comes to a city like Dorn, not many people own a horse. Dobson does business by selling them and buying them back. He leases them, too, if they’re needed for local business.”

“So, what’s he like, this Dobson?” Dax asked.

“Tall as you,” Terris described him. “Long hair, tanned skin, forthright. You’ll like him.”

Description
The Rumour Mill

Dax saw that Armitage, the apple-buyer and the Watchman were all casting glances at the man in the middle of the street. Dax risked a second look and then pressed himself harder against the wall. There was no mistaking the man that drew all of their attention: Joxil Galen.

Dax knew the man well. How could he not? Joxil had been his second in command. They had both served in the Domanian Army’s Praetorian Elite together for almost a decade.

“And I was having such a nice day…” Dax muttered to himself.

This was turning out to be a day not like any other.

Dax made a final glance into the street and, once he was sure that Joxil was looking the other way, stepped back and made his way towards the shop’s yard at the rear of the building. He slipped through the gate and closed it behind him, then crossed the cobbled ground and entered the building where he found Boone stood at the kitchen table with a few slices of bread and some cooked meat. He glanced up at Dax as the man entered the room, then returned his attention to the task at hand.

“You know,” he began, “this thing about putting some meat between two slices of bread isn’t so bad after…”

Dax took a hold of Boone’s arm and pulled him through the inner door towards the shop front.

“What the…” Boone spluttered as Dax pulled him along. Inside the shop Terris was working alone. The main doors to the shop were closed, as Dax expected they would be at this time of day – Boone and Terris insisted on closing the shop in the middle of the day for lunch – and Dax gestured for Terris to follow him.

“What’s going on?” Boone raised his voice but Dax pressed a finger against his lips and pulled him towards the shop window. The glass of the window was clear, but had a slight yellow tint, and was divided into small diamond-shaped panes that were joined together with strips of metal, much like the stained glass windows of the Guild House. Dax gestured to the street outside.

“Do you see a man with a brown hood and plain-looking tabard out there?” he asked. Both Boone and Terris looked quizzical. Boone stepped forward so that he was standing with the window to his side, and subtly glanced through it. It was a clever tactic both he and Terris had mastered so that anyone outside looking in would not notice that they were themselves looking out.

“Yeah,” Boone replied as he walked past the window. Terris followed him and mimicked the actions of looking as though he was in conversation with Boone while himself observing the stranger.

“He’s headed towards Armitage’s stall,” Terris added. “What’s going on?”

Dax risked a glance out of the window himself and saw Joxil walking away from the shop.

“I know that man,” Dax explained. “His name is Joxil Galen.”

“So?” Boone shrugged.

“He was a captain under my command in the Praetorian Elite,” Dax added. “He served under me right up until I came here to Dorn.”

Both Boone’s and Terris’ casual expressions turned serious immediately. Terris quickly stepped up to the shop doors and bolted them while Boone hung a sign in the shop window that read ‘Closed for the Day’, and closed the curtains.

“I thought I recognised the face,” Terris said. “I remember it now… that’s the man who was with the Empress when you projected your farsight for Arslan a couple of days after we came back from Shiria!”

“What the hell is he doing in Dorn?” Boone hissed.

“Didn’t she promote him to General?” Terris added. Dax confirmed it with a nod.

“Didn’t the old goat say he was convinced they thought you were dead?” Boone pressed.

“Yeah,” Dax nodded again and his expression was filled with worry.

“But the Empress ordered everyone back to Domania,” Terris remembered. “Maybe that’s why he’s here? To bring back spies?”

“Maybe,” Dax shrugged. “They sure don’t use Leystones like they do in the Free Nations. But it would be unusual to send a Praetorian General for something like that. They’d usually send someone expendable.”

Boone was watching the man’s progress through a tiny gap in the curtains. He appeared to point to some of the grocer’s produce, then handed Armitage some coins and walked away.

“He’s leaving,” Boone said. He straightened his tunic and approached the door. “I’m gonna follow him, see what he’s up to.”

“Are you mad?” Terris stepped forward.

“No, I’m careful,” Boone replied with a level tone. “We’ve both done it a thousand times before, brother. Besides, he doesn’t know me. What trouble is he gonna cause in the streets of Dorn? He’d never risk it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Terris conceded. Dax seemed unconvinced.

“Give me ten minutes,” Boone instructed, “then go down to Armitage and find out what you can.”

“You think he’ll know anything?” Dax asked.

“Dax, you’ve lived here long enough,” Boone gave a reassuring smile. “If anyone knows anything about what he’s up to, it’ll be Armitage.”

With a nod of agreement from both Terris and Dax, Boone unbolted the doors again, and slipped out into the street. Terris and Dax watched him walk nonchalantly in the direction that Joxil had taken until he disappeared from view.

“Boone’s gonna be so pissed,” Dax groaned.

“Why?” Terris asked with genuine concern.

“This’ll be the second lunch he’s missed because of me.”

Dax and Terris waited for a little while before they headed out into the street. It was usual, after high suns and lunch time, for Armitage’s business to be a little slow and that was the ideal time to engage him in conversation. The man was quite happy to see both Dax and Terris as they approached his stall, and he was quick to bring forward a couple of crates of his fresher wares for their perusal. Terris hailed the grocer and began to examine the fruit and vegetables while Dax engaged him in conversation. He opened subtly with the usual ‘how are you’ and ‘how are your family’ and followed with a few little tidbits of information about how his runs with the City Watch were going. He had quickly learned that the best way to get any decent information out of Dorn’s rumour mill was to feed it something first. Armitage listened with rapt interest and Dax could almost see the scribes of Armitage’s mind taking notes to relay to others at his first opportunity. Then he came to the subject of Joxil.

“Hey,” Dax mocked a suddenly curious expression, “did you see a stranger in the street a little while ago?”

“That I did,” Armitage confirmed, and his demeanour shifted into the stance of a man of importance who knew something and was about to impart his knowledge. “He was just here not a quarter hour since. Bought a couple of crates of my wares. He’s not local, that’s for sure, but I’ve seen him around Dorn a few times this past year.”

“Past year?” Dax’s voice rose a little as his eyes widened, and Terris shot him a warning glance. Dax checked himself quickly. “So he’s a regular visitor, then?”

“I wouldn’t say regular,” Armitage replied. “I might see him a couple of days, then not see him again for a month, two months, maybe longer. He’s some kind of traveller, I fancy. I don’t think he boards in the city, though. Why else would he buy hardy fruits and vegetables? No, definitely a traveller.”

“I see,” Dax rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and nodded to show his interest in Armitage’s words. This always seemed to encourage the man to talk further, and today was no exception.

“Do you know Dobson’s Livery on the edge of the Commercial Quarter?” Armitage asked. Dax shook his head, but Terris edged a little closer.

“Aye, I do,” he said as he joined the conversation.

“Well,” Armitage continued, “this man we’re talking about, he was seen around there a few times about two months ago. He went to Dobson with a horse that was all hooded and covered with blankets. A big horse it was, too, but he’s not been seen with it since. I reckon he sold it to Dobson.”

“Sounds like a fair assumption,” Dax agreed. “I wonder why a traveller would sell his horse, though,” he added.

“What’s more interesting,” Armitage said as he leaned closer to the two men and lowered his voice, “is that he pays for his purchases with Grey Bank coin. Nothing from Shiria, or AEngland, or any other Free Nations. Just Grey Bank coin.”

“That is interesting,” Terris nodded.

It was well known throughout the Free Nations, and indeed all of Rengarth that, while every nation had its own style of coinage with its own unique markings, the value of the coins was the same. A gold Astral in Arodar was worth the same as a gold Dinar in Shiria, and the same as a gold Sovereign in AEngland. The Grey Bank was the only institution that was allowed to mint its own coinage, which bore no markings other than a serrated pattern around the rim. In fact, most coins in Rengarth bore the same serrated rim, since most Nations obtained their coins from the Grey Bank and branded them with their own Nation’s emblems, be that the current leader, or a flag, or some mythical creature. The Grey Bank itself was situated on a small island in the Misty Tides, to the east of The Dammerdans and north of Ten Inlands. It was independent of all the Twelve Nations, but was by no means large enough to declare itself a nation in its own right. It had existed for centuries and, other than being the base of the Grey Bank’s operations, was otherwise steeped in mystery.

Terris gave Dax a subtle signal out of Armitage’s field of view, and Dax took the hint to wind down the conversation. Terris placed a nominal order with Armitage, for delivery later that day and, with thanks to the grocer for his time, Dax and Terris excused themselves. Once out of sight and earshot of Armitage, Terris pulled Dax towards a quiet alleyway behind a row of shops.

“Grey Bank coin?” he asked Dax. “We don’t see that often.”

“It’s common practice for Praetorians,” Dax explained, “especially if they want to keep a low profile. Anyone who pays with coin bearing the Empress’s head raises questions. They’ve obviously been to Domania and traded in some way. It breeds suspicion.”

“Paying with Grey Bank coin raises questions too,” Terris countered.

“True, but a whole host of different questions,” Dax explained. “Orders are clear: Spend the coin quick, in a small place outside of the trade centre, and get coin back with local markings. Then move on with the mission. Armitage’s is just the right kind of place to launder the money so a spy can blend in more quickly.”

“Except Joxil doesn’t realise Armitage is close to the core of Dorn’s rumour mill,” Terris chuckled.

“More fool him,” Dax agreed. “What now?”

“Now we go and investigate this horse Armitage spoke of,” Terris said. “I know Dobson. The man had one break-in – not us, by the way – and straight away he came to us and had every single lock changed to one of ours. He pays us monthly to maintain them, too. It’s one of our biggest jobs.”

“That’s expensive,” Dax frowned. “How does a man in the Free Nations keep a business in horses going? With Shikanti Circles all over Rengarth, there’s little call for horses, surely?”

“You’d be surprised,” Terris disagreed. “For one thing, only cities and large towns have circles. Smaller towns and villages still rely on horses and other beasts of burden to cart their wares. Then there are travellers. There aren’t many temples to Deoghar the Traveller God, on account of their devotees’ need to roam the world. But they often travel by horse if they’re going on a long journey. Dobson caters for their needs.

“But you’re right,” Terris went on. “When it comes to a city like Dorn, not many people own a horse. Dobson does business by selling them and buying them back. He leases them, too, if they’re needed for local business.”

“So, what’s he like, this Dobson?” Dax asked.

“Tall as you,” Terris described him. “Long hair, tanned skin, forthright. You’ll like him.”