Posts from Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

-- There's nothing for him to do there... At best, there are some homeless people hanging around, maybe some Blood Knights. At worst... I don't even want to think about it. None of ours will be alive. Well, except for the bald guy, yeah. And what will we tell the guard?

It's not a bad option after all... but the owner miscalculated with the auction, because he could have figured out such an obvious solution himself. After all, the Ottar doesn't care about auctions.

– If we sell it for twenty and split it in half, it comes out to ten each, – Blooddrinker whispered to his companion. – How about selling the book for the same ten, but you keep all the money? And instead of silver, I'll take one small item for medical purposes as a token of gratitude. And I won't have to run around the city anymore...

Mathematically, the offer should have sounded beneficial to the book's owner. He wouldn't lose anything compared to the original plan.

-- Don't die, or I'll be the first suspect...
Voldemar watches as a couple of shaggy men beat each other with swords on a pedestal, and another ten have gathered around, encouraging the fighters.

At the entrance, a pile of black cloaks lies – unusually comfortable, almost weightless, and cool to the touch, yet capable of isolating the wearer from both the cold and stripping them of their external individuality. Each visitor can don one for the duration of their stay.
The meager March sun, reluctantly filtering through the few narrow windows of the ancient building, provides just enough light to avoid stumbling and bumping into other visitors, but there is nothing to see here – no decorations, not even candles; the only thing adorning the gray stone is a carpet covering the entire floor, muffling the sound of footsteps. At the end of the hall is a colossal staircase leading down, its steps disappearing into the darkness.

Oh, really? But it's still empty!

– I'm a healer, and true healers are altruists; they help everyone out of principle, – Ottar shrugged. – That's why we only have a few healers in our city. Few people like to help... And as for the ten, he won't give any more. It's a specific case, not a General one. Alright, let's go to the trading district. Maybe we'll find a better offer, and we'll save this one for a last resort.

The lazy Bloodsucker says goodbye to the Silenthian bookworm and goes where he said he would.

Are those his "friends," Cassius and the northerner, beating each other up? And is Rigobert watching?

Hargen dons a cloak. Bowing his head, he brings a finger to his lips and, with a silent gesture, acknowledges the all-consuming power of the void. After that, he follows the others down the stairs.

-- So, what's up? Didn't get involved, and that's a good thing, right?

Ottar decides to make a call to a friend, whatever that may mean, and goes to visit Master Gas. At the same time, he finds out whether the latter reveres the Void. Probably not, but still...

- The hot Void warriors are having fun... A couple of duelists on a pedestal. One looks like a burly guy with a slave girl, the other like a merchant from the north. I saw them at the auction today. Although I'm not 100% sure it's them. There are some onlookers around. Soldiers, I think. Either "spectators" or "queues" are waiting.
- In short, someone didn't have enough of the arena and the constable.

-- Is that all? -- the witch sighs with obvious relief. -- Yes, the basement was quite good. You could set up anything you wanted there.

- Let's do it without armor. He'll probably get a bonus without armor, you sly fox.