User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 59

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4th Era 150, 3rd of Second Seed, Pyandonea
Orthendar watched the Investigator in the carriage. It had taken some effort, but he was able to conceal his presence while subtly influencing him to go to a tavern instead of searching Carodaar's house further. With a being of his power, influencing someone should be child's play, but it was actually very hard, as he was not used to it. He had never done it before today, to be honest. The most difficult part was making it seem as if it had been the Investigator's deep, inner desire to visit a bar, instead of his usual work-oriented attitude.

He watched the carriage disappear behind a bend in the road. Shortly afterward, the creaking of the wheels and the clopping of the horses' hooves quieted, as well. Orthendar had nothing against the man personally, only desiring more time for Niranya to set up the ploy in Carodaar's residence. He felt her thoughts on the matter.

"I wonder where the Investigator is. They said he was coming shortly."

Dematerializing his already ethereal body further, he transported himself to the housekeeper.

* * *

Niranya sank into a chair.

"Oh, wonderfull." she sighed. She looked up into the ghost's face. "It'll give some time for dust to settle around the 'shrine'." She abruptly chuckled. "I'm actually gratefull for dust for the first time in my life."

Orthendar laughed as well. "Here it will be a blessing, instead of a bane."

"Did you inform Balasian about this yet?" she asked, settling more comfortably in the chair.

He shook his head. "No, not yet. I wanted to wait until that Investigator was finished before I did so."

She nodded, assenting. "Probably for the best. There could be twists and turns yet to come."

An eyebrow rose. "I will try to see that those are influenced to our benefit."

She smiled. "I know you will. You are one of the most dedicated among us. Your hard work has made all our lives easier."

He bowed his head. "I try to do my best." he replied, humbly.

* * *

"I haven't seen you in this place," the barkeep remarked.

Oncalimar leaned on the bar, a nearly full mug of (midling priced) ale cradled in one hand. "I don't think I've ever been here," replied the Investigator thoughtfully. "Its been a long time since I've had any time off, and this establishment was nearby."

The barkeep wiped down the bar counter, briefly studying the Investigator's clothing. He noticed the deep blue pants, maroon long sleeved tunic, and sleeveless pale blue duster-length coat, worn unbuttoned. Deep brown leather knee boots, a belt in the same color with large silver buckle around his waist and matching studded arm guards finished the ensemble.

"You're a Senior Investigator with the Vigilants, aren't you?"

He took a long drink of his ale before replying. "Yeah. What gave it away?" he asked, already feeling more relaxed from the effects of the ale. He fingered the overcoat. "The uniform?"

The barkeep chuckled. "Yeah. So, what're you doing that you needed a break?"

"A case. Can't talk about it."

"Still active?"

He nodded, swallowing another gulp of the pleasantly sweet ale. "This brew is really good. Who makes it?"

The barmaid, coming up from serving customers at the tables behind him, replied, "Andriel. She grows the seaberries herself, blends them with honey and cinnamon, and then lets it ferment."

"I've never heard of her before. When did she start her brewery?"

"A couple years ago," the barkeeper answered, refilling the empty flagons on the maid's serving tray. "There was a lot of well-deserved hype about it."

"Hmmm." Oncalimar mused. "Too bad I didn't know about it." He drained the last of the ale at the bottom of the tankard. "I'll definitely ask for it the next time I take a break, however."

The barkeep chuckled again and the serving wench laughed as she walked away with her full tray.

He glanced out the window above the bar. It was getting dark. Time to go home. As he got up from the barstool, he reached into his pockets and pulled out his coin purse.

"How much do I owe you?" the Investigator asked.

"10 gold." came the reply.

He counted out eleven. "10 for the drink, and one for a tip. Thanks for your service."

The barkeep nodded, placing his hand over the coins and sliding them across the surface of the bar before scraping them off into his waiting palm. "And thank you for your service, Investigator."

Oncalimar smiled and gave a single nod before heading out the door.