New Kid in TownIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | PreGameLogs | New Kid in Town The tavern. Whenever Goran Vladic entered a new town, he always looked for the tavern first. If there was more than one, he scouted the one with the most laughter echoing into the street. Taverns were generally friendly places. Drunks could be quite friendly if you didn't pis$ them off, and Goran was good at not pis$ing people off. He could also hold his liquor while everyone else slowly drank themselves into oblivion. Intoxicated tongues were loose tongues and no one remembered what they said in the morning. This particular pub, the South Gate Saloon, had been Goran's tavern of choice when he arrived in Amber two weeks ago. After a few shots, one of the patrons had tipped him off to a room in his boarding house three doors down. When Goran went to check it out, the landlady, obviously the drunk patron's missus, tsked disapprovingly. She led the lanky, auburn-haired lad to a room, muttering about house rules and "the old lout's" choice of houseguests. It had not taken Goran long to charm her, though. Within days, she was calling him down for fresh bread and smiling when he returned from the various odd jobs he'd picked up since his arrival. Back at the saloon, tonight was much the same as every other night. A handful of off-duty watchmen, mostly in groups, surrounded by workmen old and young, drank away their wages and avoided their wives. Goran chatted with some of the regulars, laughing sheepishly as they taunted him about his accent. In truth, in this immigrant section of the city, it was hard to find anyone without an accent of some sort, but Goran's was new. The flavor of the month. Suddenly, a young lad burst through the door. "Can someone help?" he called. A few heads turned and chuckled at him. One of the offduty guards called out "Call the guards!" Raucous laughter erupted from that table. The boy's shoulders sagged, then he brightened. "It's a LADY," he called out, "an' a PRETTY ONE at that!" The noise in the barroom faded. Several patrons, in various states of inebriation, tried to rise to assist. However, the hour was late and most of them had been here for quite some time. Only about ten actually made it as far as the door, and several more stumbled once they hit the curb. Goran chuckled as he joined the group of survivors, five of them, to follow the lad to the lady in distress. The lady in question was not so much in distress as in a high temper, which she was currently taking out on the defective axle of her carriage. Anyone listening with even a basic understanding of the classical Romance languages could tell it was an impressive stream of curses that might just be capable of peeling paint and would certainly offend the various dieties that were named specificly. It had been a long day that started the previous night with that idiot nobleman and this was just the last straw. Vincenzo was going to kill her. She hadn't told him she was leaving to pick up the blasted carriage she had been waiting to be finished, and she really should have changed clothes, because this dress had no pockets. She eyed the coachman evilly. This shortcut had been his idea. She sighed when she heard people come out of the tavern and eyed them warily for a moment. Fear had nothing to do with it. She was more concerned for the ones falling near the already skittish horses. "Is anyone here sober?" she asked doubtfully. One man, the only one who appeared relatively sober, stepped forward, an amused smirk on his face. "I am, my lady," he spoke up. "What ees problem zat makes a lady to speak so?" The man was tall and lanky, with mischievous blue eyes and a couple of day's worth of stubble. Based on his attire, he appeared to be a working man, with a loose-fitting peasant shirt and comfortable black trousers tucked into black boots. A page boy hat sat cockily atop a shaggy head of auburn hair. His accent marked him as a recent immigrant, but from where was unclear. Still, he seemed pleasant enough and willing to help. She stared in surprise for a moment before a delighted smile bloomed on her face. Allegra would be so pleased. "I actually have no idea. It just seems to be stuck." She paused to kick at the wheel that vexed her so. "My name is Petra," she continued. "And if you can fix this, I will gladly pay you for disturbing your ..." her eyes flicked towards the seedy tavern. "...evening's amusements. In fact, I'll insist on seeing that you complete the evening at my establishment." The young man waved his hand dismissively. "Zat ees kind of you, but no need. My name ees Goran. Pardons," he said as he edged past her on the crowded sidewalk and examined the wheel. He took it in both hands and tugged, shaking his head. Then he leaned against the carriage itself, which seemed to be tilted at a bit of an angle, and pushed with his shoulder. The force brought the carriage back upright - not that any of the tipsy bar patrons could tell. Goran looked at Petra and shook his head. "Ees not ze axle. Ees spring." He turned to one of his barmates. "Ry, hold ze dam horse. I no want to get stepped on." Once the horse was secure, he scooted under the carriage in one fluid motion, as if it was something he'd been doing all his life. Petra stepped back out of their way but continued to watch as best as was possible in the dark street. She glanced back at those who had stumbled out but didn't quite make it and gave them a quirky smile. "It was a nice try. Grazi.. Do you think one of you is capable of going to fetch the owner of this tavern for me? I'd like a word if he isn't too occupied." "I'll go!" said the eager young lad who first sounded the alarm, and he was off before anyone could argue. Petra looked back at the young man under her carriage and then at the one with the horse. "Ry, was it? Thank you as well." "My pleasure, Madame," Ry answered a little too loudly, blushing and grinning at her stupidly, his teeth as yellow as his breath. "Always happy to help a purty lady like yerself." In his drunken state, he could not help stealing a glance below the level of Petra's chin. Petra was mildly amused. It took far more than a leering young drunk to get her hackles up after she vented them so well just a little earlier. Meanwhile, Goran continued to work, his legs protruding from beneath the carriage. Various "hmm"s and "ah"s could be heard as he examined the break. In a few minutes, he scooted back out and turned to Petra. "I szink I have it. One moment," he said and trotted into a nearby alley. Petra could hear rustlings and scrapings from the back of a closed corner market next door. The sound of straining wood and a muttered curse in an odd language preceded a sudden rush of liquid. Soon Goran returned, carrying two barrel staves and some twine and smelling of pickle brine. He directed some of the men who could still stand to push the carriage back upright and slipped the staves into place under the carriage, securing them to the frame with the twine. From beneath, he directed them to lower the buggy gently. When the contraption held, he let out a triumphant whoop and scrambled out from under the carriage, hands and shirt filthy from the effort. "Ees all set, miss. But..." he grimaced as he eyed the doughy coachman dubiously, "perhaps I should ride with you home, in case she lets go again. I ride outside so your coach no smell like pickle." "Excellent," Petra beamed. "But I insist you let me compensate you when we get to my destination. It's only fair." She eyed the bottom of her coach a little warily. It wasn't everyday one saw a pickle bucket put to such use. Goran shrugged. "Okay, Mistress. If you eensist," he replied. Her offer and Goran's response prompted jeers and snickers among the plastered crowd on the sidewalk - those who had not gone back inside to finish their drinking, that is. Ry released the horse to the control of Petra's anxious coachman and rejoined his cronies. "Now where is that tavern owner?" Petra wondered. As if on cue, the barkeep wandered out onto the sidewalk, wiping his hands on a towel at his belt as the eager young lad preceded him up the street. He looked at Petra curiously. "You asked for me, Mistress?" "Yes," she nodded. Petra handed him a small pouch that clinked with coin. "While they didn't quite make it, they did try." She indicated the inebriated onlookers. "Give them a round or two on me, and keep the change." Joyful whoops erupted from the crowd, accompanied by much cap-doffing, bowing and drunken thanking of the generous lady. Niceties done, the crowd nearly carried the barkeep back to his appointed position. He would have a busy night, but at least he was well-paid for it. Petra then turned and smiled at the eagerly helpful young man and was reminded of too many street kids from her home shadow. "You have been most helpful. Care to ride with this gentleman up front while he escorts me home?" "Zat ees kind. Szank you," Goran replied. He eyed the horse warily, then scrambled up beside the coachman, who unconsciously shifted slightly in his seat, maintaining as much space as possible without being rude. "You should take it slow. Stay away from ze bumps," the lanky young man warned the driver as they prepared to depart. Petra stopped and looked up at the driver. "Yes, stay away from the bumps," she said blandly then smiled at Goran before climbing back into the carriage. She rapped sharply on the roof to let them know she was ready to go. The trip seemed to Petra to take forever. Keeping a sedate and careful pace, the driver took both of them to heart and wove carefully to avoid any obvious potholes, wincing when the dimly lit streets hidc the bumps he couldn't see until it was too late. Goran also winced each time the carriage shook too much. Several times during the trip, he leaned over the side, listening to be sure the wheel had not begun to drag again. The neighborhood became somewhat better as the moved through town and then they were at the docks. The driver drove past all of them until he came to a private pier. There was a skiff pulled alongside the pier and a young blonde man leapt quickly to the door of the carriage to open it. "There you are." He sounded both relieved and annoyed as he helped her out. "Yes, here I am," Petra replied dryly. "We had a slight accident, but this kind, young man was good enough to assist." The blonde looked up at Goran and nodded. "Grazi." Goran nodded politely in return. "He'll be joining us," she added and then looked up. "Won't you?" "Um, yes, miss. Szank you," Goran replied. To the blonde, he pointed out helpfully, "A smeeth should look at carriage to fix properly before ze lady takes again." "We'll take care of it," he nodded. "Name's Alex," he added in an accent not belonging to Amber and offered his hand to Goran. "Goran. Ees a pleasure," the tall young man replied, shaking Alex's hand. Goran was obviously not from any nearby shadows, either. Petra meanwhile was grudgingly paying the coachman and telling him where to park the carriage before leaving. Finished with that, she eyed the skiff and sighed. At least there was a breeze. Goran followed Petra to the skiff and graciously offered his hand to help her in. Though he might look a little scruffy, someone had apparently taught this young man some manners along the way. "Thank you," she smiled. Petra settled into her seat and Alex pointed out where Goran could sit while he guided the craft. The night was clear and breezy, allowing their trip to proceed at a good pace. Petra had pulled a small sketchpad from a concealed pocket in her skirt and was intently working in it by the light of the moon. Goran quietly watched her sketch for a time, enjoying the moonlight on the water, until Alex caught his attention. Alex leaned forward and spoke softly to Goran. He sounded amused. "Do you have any idea where we're taking you?" Goran pointed across the bow toward a large vessel in the harbor. "Um, I would guess ze ship?" Goran answered, leaving the question open for Alex to elaborate. In his many years of traveling, Goran had seen steam-powered river boats before, plying their way along a broad, muddy river. Most of those had featured gambling and alcohol in abundant quantities and luxurious settings. He was somewhat surprised to see such a ship here and wondered if its offerings were similar. "That's not just a ship," Alex grinned, but kept his voice low. "That, my friend, is The Ramblin' Queen. The finest entertainment palace this side of, well, anywhere. The best wines, the best food, the best women - and men." He gestured at Petra's back. "And she owns it. She puts on a tough front, but she's one of the most generous people I know. Brought a bunch of us back from our home world to work for her. Rescued some of us from the streets and an early grave. You could do worse then to have her take you under her wing." Goran listened with interest as Alex spoke and nodded appreciatively at the description of Petra. One term in particular, though, made Goran truly sit up and take notice. There was a flash of uncanny familiarity about the way Alex said it. "Yes, she has been very kind. To me and ze ozer men dat help. But how you mean 'home world'? Where you from, Alex?" Goran asked. "Place called Cornaro," Alex replied. He eyed the nearing hulk of the Queen and made a course adjustment. "I can't really say how far it is from here though. She moves around in some strange fashion." Bingo. Goran kept his features passive, but his heart was pounding against his sternum so hard it was almost audible. "Strange? How so? She no' use coach or ship?" he asked, keeping a carefully confused look on his face. Alex laughed. "No. She use cards. I have no idea how it works, just that it does." "Zat is strange," Goran agreed with a nod, taking a new interest in Petra's sketching. Trumps. So Petra was a relative of some sort. Goran found himself pleased to have stumbled into this encounter. He had not yet approached the castle or any of his relatives, preferring instead to learn the lay of the land and the status of his father's people. He had kept his ears open for gossip, events, thoughts, feelings. He had asked questions, as any new immigrant might, to learn what had transpired to make this land so different from the one described to him in that one encounter with his father decades ago. Goran leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched the lady sketch for a moment before asking politely, "What do you like to draw, Mistress Petra?" "Hmmm..?" she pulled her attention away from the sketch she was making of an exotic looking woman dressed in veils and wide bracelets, her arms lifted in a dance. The background was indistinct, but he could make out a pair of piercing eyes among the swirled, hazy lines. "Oh," she smiled as she looked over her shoulder at him. "People mostly, especially if I can catch them at an unguarded moment. Places, if they are interesting enough or the history intrigues me." She laughed. "Honestly, if it stays still long enough, I will sketch it." She turned a little in her seat to face him more fully. She studied the planes of his face under the moonlight, the way the pale light illuminated his eyes. "I think I would like to sketch you, Goran. If you don't mind." "Me? You want to sketch me?" Goran replied, surprised. He shrugged, buying himself a little time to consider the implications. "I guess so, Miss, eef you like sketching workmen." He smirked at her playfully. "How's zees?" he asked, striking a commanding pose by gazing intensely across the bow with his hands on his hips. She laughed, a rich sound full of the music of a real laugh that carried over the waters. "That is most impressive, good sir. But I had in mind something more natural looking if you don't mind." Goran dropped the pose and joined her laughter, blushing slightly as he resumed his easy-going posture. Their craft was spotted then and a yell went up from the upper decks. The great boat did not stop, but slowed enough for Alex to pull along side easily. From the lowest deck, a pair of lines was tossed down to secure the skiff to the Queen's side. Petra looked up to see an older looking man with an intense gaze giving her a disapproving look. "I don't want to hear it. The carriage had a faulty spring. If it weren't for this young man, we would still be sitting in the middle of the road." Goran tipped his cap in greeting to the sullen man above them. The man grunted as a rope ladder was dropped over the side. Alex moved to hold it steady for Petra's ascent. Goran offered his hand to Petra to navigate to the rope ladder, then surrendered her to Alex. As she climbed, he looked back to Alex and asked with an inquiring look if he should ascend next. Alex waved him on. "I'll follow up. Then we'll see about getting some dinner." Petra waited on the deck until Goran and Alex were up and the skiff was being secured by deckhands. "I have to see to some things," she smiled at Goran. "But Alex and this cranky man here will see to you for a bit. After you've eaten, one of them will find me for you if you want to continue our talk, or you can just enjoy the rest of the evening and I'll see you before we dock." Goran doffed his cap. "Szank you, miss. I shall look forward to zat," he smiled. He quirked an eyebrow to Alex, indicating he would follow the man's lead. Vincenzo eyed the young man as Petra walked away and then turned to Alex. "Borrow something suitable of Gino's before bringing him into the lounge." Turning again to Goran, the elder man nodded. "Thank you for seeing her safely home." And then he turned sharply on his heel and strode off after Petra. Alex nudged him and grinned. "This way. We'll get you cleaned up so you don't look like a stowaway. No offense." Goran smirked. "None taken. Ees he always so cheerful?" he asked quietly, nodding toward Vincenzo's departing back and following Alex to go clean up. Stifling a snicker, Alex shook his head. "Yes," he grinned, knowing full well his verbal answer was at odds with his gesture. "C'mon," he said and ducked into a secluded passageway that straight to a narrow flight of carpeted stairs. They ended in another, wider hallway decorated in a style more of Cornaro then the public areas of the ship. Marble was out of the question, but the walls had been painted to appear to be marble and trimmed in gold leaf. They passed an elegant landscape of a gleaming white city built around seven hills. Goran paused briefly to admire the painting, then trotted to catch up with Alex. All the way, he had been careful not to touch anything with his grease-and-pickle-stained hands. It was unlike Goran to feel self-conscious, but he did so now, acutely aware of how underdressed he was for this place. Alex opened a door and gestured Goran into a small but elegant masculine sitting room of deep blue and cream. Another opened doorway led through a bedroom of similar style. Alex gestured to another of two doors. "Bath is through there. Use anything you need. I'll round you up 'something suitable'." "Szank you, Alex. I weell try to be fast," Goran replied graciously before entering the bath and closing the door. Once by himself, Goran poked at and examined everything he could see. The ship had running water, both hot and cold, but no shower. Pity. A hot, steamy shower with actual water pressure was one of the biggest things Goran missed since coming to Amber. Still, running hot water was a bonus, so he started filling the tub and removed his shirt. Before disrobing farther, though, he cast a sidelong glance at the mirror on the opposite wall. He carefully arranged a towel over its surface, not because he was bashful, but because across shadows, mirrors tended to be common instruments for spying - be it magical or otherwise. Best to be safe, at least until he needed to shave. Goran finished stripping and climbed into the tub, allowing himself a moment to simply enjoy the luxury of water, soap, and steam. Then remembering his promise to Alex, he washed up and ducked under, giving hair and body a good thorough scrub. Climbing out, he dried off and wrapped one of the thick, comfy bath towels around his waist. He combed his hair and shaved, carefully washing the reddish-brown stubble down the sink so as not to leave a mess in someone else's bathroom. After tidying the place up and draining the tub, Goran called out through the closed door, "Alex? Deed you find anyzing to wear for me?" "On the chair by the door!" Alex called back from the sitting room. When he investigated, there was a chair sitting outside the bathroom door that wasn't there before. Gino, it seemed, was a decadent lad and very close to his own size. Along with the black dress slacks and royal blue silk shirt, was a pair of black silk boxers and silky dress socks. There was also a belt along with a couple of pairs of dress shoes. One of them should fit him. The black dinner jacket on the back of the chair was velvet, with a silvery gray cut velvet lining. Steam wafted into the outside room as Goran opened the door briefly to take most of the clothes. In the bathroom, he donned the attire without much comment, except for an amused snort at the underwear. In a few moments, he emerged from the bathroom barefoot, his own clothes folded neatly in a pile, his auburn hair still damp and combed back away from his now clean-shaven face. He looked very little like the scruffy workman who had entered not a half-hour before. As he sat down on the chair to put on the shoes and socks, he held up the clothing pile and asked Alex, "What you want me do wi' zese?" Alex looked up from the book he was reading and gave Goran a frank appraisal. "You clean up nice." He grinned. "Gino's a bit of a ponce, isn't he?" "A bit," Goran agreed, flicking a spot of dust off the velvet jacket still hanging on the chair. Closing the book, the tuxedo clad young man waved a hand in the general direction of a grouping of chairs by the rooms small fireplace. "Just leave them there for now," he said as he stood and straightened his jacket. "Dinner?" Goran placed his clothes neatly on the indicated chair and shrugged into the dinner jacket. "Yes," he replied. "I hungry enough to eat horse." "I think we can do better then horse," Alex laughed. Leaving the Italian Renaissance style decor of the staff quarters behind, they entered the elegant Art Nouveau interiors of the public areas. Most of the staff and guests were to be found in the Main Lounge, which they could see as they crossed the landing at the top of the stairs, and Goran could see why he needed to change before venturing out into these areas populated by beautiful women in silks and jewels and handsome men in velvets and brocades. Alex paused only long enough to point out Petra in a discussion with someone Alex identified as a member of the Elder Council of Etrusca before continuing on to the dining room. The dining room managed to be spacious and cozy at the same time, thanks to the decor and several design elements. Alex led him straight away to a table in the back that afforded a view of most of the floor and he sat facing that view. It wasn't long after they were seated that a petite blonde came by for their order. "Anything you want," Alex offered and waved at the menu which listed an assortment of seafood dishes, many that were close enough to traditional Italian to be easily identifiable and steaks. Goran shook his head in amazement at the extensive menu. He had not seen such abundance since before he came to Amber. He finally selected a seafood scampi with a glass of chardonnay and waited for Alex to order. "The usual," Alex decided and gave the blonde girl an ingratiating smile. "Tell Armand he can surprise us with the rest, and I could use a drink." Clearly she was used to Alex because she swatted him on the head with a menu and left without a word. He just grinned and sat back in his chair. "So... tell me about yourself. I know you aren't from here and I don't recognize the accent at all. Surely there are better places to make a living then Amber's seedy underbelly." Goran chuckled. "Leaves no place to go but up," he quipped. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room appreciatively. "No. I am not from here. I knew people from here. Years ago. Zat was why I came. But I don' szink zey here now. It was long time ago." Goran shrugged humbly. "I travel. A lot. I come originally from mountains... oh... a bit west of Kashfa. Remote area. Isolated. Not a place to stay eef you want to see world. So I left. Traveled. By sea, or by land. Many places. I stay eef I like. I get bored, I move on." Goran grinned happily. The vagabond lifestyle seemed to agree with him. Alex hummed thoughtfully about the same time drinks were delivered to their table by yet another blonde who smiled at Goran and gave Alex an indignant sniff before walking briskly away. Alex looked momentarily surprised before shaking his head and giving his attention back to Goran. Goran delivered a boyishly charming smile along with his thanks to the attractive blonde waitress, then raised a curious eyebrow at Alex, wondering what the man had done to deserve the rebuff. "So you're not really the new kid in town," Alex observed. "Who were your acquaintances before? We might be able to track them down for you. Depending on how much time has passed and, well, certain events may make it difficult," he conceded. "I doubt it," Goran answered after a sip of his wine. "Like I said, eet was long time. When I check, they been gone many years. No one knew where. But...," he shrugged resignedly, "I expected as much really. They travellers too. I decide to stay on anyway. See what life brings here." "And what of you, Alex?" Goran asked genially. "How long you been here?" He pursed his lips and tapped his chin with his finger. "Huh. Longer than I thought. I came with the second group from Cornaro. Place had been opened about five years.... so about fifty years." He grinned. "Time has been kind though. I'm still adorable." Goran laughed. "I am not qualified to speak on zat point." He nodded toward the waitress. "So why she mad at you?" "Who knows?" Alex smirked. "I'm sure I forgot something that he thought was important. But really, who can keep it all straight? Girls think everything is significant. I got a drink dumped in my lap for not noticing Lily had 2 inches taken off her hair. Two inches! Women." Goran chuckled and shook his head in amazement. "Zat ees true. But we put up wi' zem, eh? For ze ozer benefits," he smirked conspiratorially. He leaned back in his chair and regarded the room. "All zese people - ze staff here. Zey all come from Cornaro?" "Not at all," Alex said with a shake of his head. "There's a handful of home-grown Amber citizens, a few from the Golden Circle, Aura's from Atlantis, Petra has her eye on a potential from Persa." He sipped his drink and smirked. "You looking for a job?" "Me?" Goran was taken aback. "I could no' work someplace like zhis. I've waited tables and tended bar before but... " he shook his head humbly, "was much smaller place." "Don't be daft," Alex snorted a laugh. "Of course you could. I was a street rat when I was hired. It's not like the people working in here worry about the rest of the ship, and there's several bars. It's an easy job, the environment's nice, the pay's good and we get room and board, the rules are few and fair but strictly enforced, vacations to amazing places, the co-workers are certainly worth knowing, and some very important people come through those doors." "Like I said earlier: You could do a lot worse." "Oh, I am certain of zat. But... Lady... uh, Petra. She don' know me. I just feex her carriage. What makes you think she would hire me?" Goran asked. Alex shrugged. "She brought you back here. She's a very shrewd judge of character. It's a gift, and one quite a few of us are thankful for. She can usually tell pretty early on if someone's worth the effort. Plus, Vincenzo didn't toss you off the boat as soon as her back was turned - also a point in your favor." He leaned back with his drink and smiled. "Besides, I'm the one conducting your interview." "Oh," Goran remarked with surprise, his posture shifting to a slightly more professional straightness. "I szought we were just having dinner. All right. So. What do you need to know?" Alex waved a hand and laughed. "Relax. What kind of person you are is more important then experience, though that doesn't hurt." He paused as their dinner was delivered by yet a different person, a young man with olive skin and dark eyes who actually didn't seem to be annoyed with Alex. Alex sat up and launched an assault on the thick steak before him. "Have any security experience?" Goran chuckled as he tucked into the delicious-smelling meal before him. "I have done almost everysing at some point," he explained between bites. "My family owned a restaurant, so I cook, I barkeep, I wait tables, I feex anyzing zat broke. We no' have much, so you feex and feex instead of buy new. And I dealt wi' drunks who got ugly. "When my mozer died, I left ze business. Traveled, did ozer szings. I was someszing of a 'jack-of-all-trades.' What sort of security you have in mind?" "Overall, customers here are pretty well behaved." Alex replied. "Like I said, it's an easy job. But the King and his hangers-on visit quite a bit, so Vincenzo is doubly paranoid when he's around. Merlin comes here to relax, so we have to make sure he isn't bothered. If he is, someone gets tossed overboard." "The other concern is daytime security. We don't stay docked if we can help it and we avoid the area around Rebma. Like I said, Vincenzo's a bit paranoid, but he has to sleep sometime. A lot of us do double duty, working the floor, or other areas of the ship during business hours. A few more people who just worry about security is what I think they're looking for." "Shift work in a sense. Spread ze responsibility so Vincenzo can rest." Goran nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. I could do zat. And perhaps a little sleep would help improve his mood, eh?" he smirked. "We can hope," snorted Alex good-naturedly. "But he's been in a cranky mood for years now. I'm not sure he remembers being in a good mood that didn't involve pain for somebody." Alex waved his fork as he continued. "It wouldn't be split all the time. It's not like Merlin's here all the time. Just ... regularly." "Now, what do you want to know?" Goran dug into his meal as Alex spoke, though his table manners were more refined than one might have expected of a common street rat. At Alex's question, he finished chewing and took a sip of his wine. "I am new to Amber," he explained. "I have heard rumors about ze King and his Prime Minister, but given ze sources, I cannot say zey were flattering. What are your impressions of ze man? What would be needed to do to guard him?" "Merlin?" asked Alex lightly while giving his dinner perhaps a shade more of his attention then was necessary. "He's, well ...he's all right, really. For a head of State. We keep him happy and the toadies that might think this is a good time to bend his ear, we keep them away. If Merlin starts to stray over that fine line of acceptable behavior, we let Petra handle it. Not that it happens very often. Less with him then some of the dignitaries we get." He chuckled. "Those we just toss overboard. It's in the rules that all customers have to read and agree to in writing before they come on board the first time." Goran snorted in amusement, only realizing that Alex was serious about throwing people overboard when he started talking about rules. "We don't really know Mandor. Probably know as much as you do. Tell ya the truth; we aren't in any real hurry for him to grace us with his presence." "Understandable, considering what I've heard." He picked at his meal some more, then asked in a undertone, not trusting the seclusion that was built into the design of the dining area, "What about ze rest of your clients? I've seen relations between zose of Amber and ze Chaosian forces to be... tense at times. Does much of zat conflict carry into here?" The blonde shook his head. "Nu-uh. This has somehow managed to become an unofficial neutral ground. I think it helps that most of the staff isn't from here. We get everyone from Merlin, to Johann Payne here - or we did until Payne left town. If Julian sauntered in tomorrow, he'd have Aura on his arm in three minutes, get a gracious welcome from Petra or Antonia, and have one of us watching his back." He grimaced slightly. "Same goes for Mandor - though I won't dare speculate who'd catch his eye." "Who ees zhis 'Payne' you speak of?" Goran asked, after taking a moment to swallow a bite of his meal. "A hot headed journalist with all the subtlety of a mason's hammer who advocates bloody revolution to oust the Chaisians," Alex said with a shake of his head. "On the one hand, he's brilliant. On the other, he's obviously quite mad. If we listened to him, the streets would flow with blood. But it makes for rousing debates over breakfast." Goran couldn't hide his scowl. "Revolutionaries," he grumbled contemptuously. "Blasting away at ze 'problem' until ze streets run red and zhere's nozhing left of what zey wanted to save. I have no use for zem." He stabbed at a piece of shrimp on his plate, then smirked at Alex. "But I can behave if I have to," he added, popping the shrimp into his mouth. "A wise lad," Alex nodded. "If he can ever come back without them wanting his head, just keep him off his soapbox, and it will be fine. No stressing the other guest. Bad for business. Neutral ground does not mean 'anything goes and we're obligated to listen to you rant against the establishment', it means 'leave it at the door'..." Goran nodded sagely. "I szink I can do zat. Eet ees not an unfamiliar role to me. I would like to try eef you will have me." He leaned back in his chair. "So. What do I need to do? Fill out papers or... what?" "First, finish your dinner," Alex grinned. "Then we'll go talk to the boss. There's a contract and a non-disclosure agreement to sign, but they're pretty straightforward. Then we'll get you settled in some rooms here, and in the next couple of days, you'll be taken to Cornaro with Vincenzo to get outfitted." "Cornaro? So soon?!" Goran shook his head in amazement. "You all move quickly here. Ees good, I guess, to know what you want and make happen." Goran nodded, wine glass in hand. "Will be good place to work," he said with a tip of his glass.
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