[Yes]
| Thomas Hartfield - Registered as Lieutenant
| EXP Boost applied to Thomas Hartfield
| The God of [Mystery] looks at you
| The God of [Mystery] smiles at you
Jamie wasn't sure what to make of another god's interest in his affairs, especially so soon after his passionate monologue about destiny, deities, and ambitions. The divine attention was both unsettling and intriguing.
Thomas settled back onto the worn wooden floor, but something in his aspect had changed. He glanced around the tavern, his gaze sharpening, focusing on details as if seeing them for the first time.
"There's something odd," Thomas remarked, squinting as he scanned the room. "Was the tavern… always this dirty?"
"Oh!" Jamie exclaimed softly, realization dawning. "I forgot to mention—I'm not exactly your typical bard. My specialty lies in enhancing my allies."
"Is that so?" Thomas responded, his brow furrowing in curiosity.
"Since you've accepted becoming part of my 'team, ' you've started to receive some of my enhancements," Jamie explained. "They're still modest, unfortunately. For now, they only enhance your perception when you're near the tavern."
Thomas blinked, tilting his head as he continued to observe the surroundings. The layers of grime on the windows, the cobwebs clinging to the rafters, the stains ingrained in the tabletops—all seemed more pronounced.
"How unique," he murmured. "I've never heard of abilities like that. Area buffs, especially ones so broad in effect…" He looked back at Jamie, a note of awe in his voice. "You must have some remarkable blessings. Quite powerful."
Jamie offered a modest shrug, though a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I've been fortunate," he conceded.
Thomas regarded him thoughtfully. There was a cautious respect in his eyes now, mingled with intrigue.
"Well then," Thomas said, breaking the brief silence. "What's your first step?"
"Our first step," Jamie corrected gently, emphasizing their newfound partnership. "It's quite simple—we must make this establishment flourish."
"Is that to weaken the other gangs?" Thomas asked, not fully grasping the connection.
"Not directly," Jamie replied. "But by growing the tavern's success, we'll get the funds necessary to challenge them. Sooner or later, we'll need more people—capable individuals to help us assert control over the streets. Without a steady influx of gold, we'll gradually lose our grip on the territory."
Thomas nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "Do you have any ideas on how to make this place thrive?" he asked, casting a critical eye around the room.
Jamie also glanced around, taking in the shabby furniture, the peeling paint, and the air of neglect. The tavern was a shadow of what it could be.
"First and foremost," Jamie began, his voice steady and confident. "You haven't yet heard me play, but trust me when I say I'm quite skilled." A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "However, talent alone won't be enough to achieve what we need." He gestured subtly around the room. "Looking over the tavern's accounts and considering the city's habits, it's clear we require something more—a new product."
"Product?" Thomas queried, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"
Jamie met his gaze. "Right now, the beverages most sold are mead and wine. Both are costly to produce and often beyond the reach of those in the Lower Quarter."
Thomas nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Do you have an alternative in mind that might serve us better?"
"Yes," Jamie replied, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "A drink made from fermenting grains like barley or wheat, with a few added spices for flavor."
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Thomas tilted his head skeptically. "Doesn't sound particularly appetizing."
Jamie chuckled softly. "Well, I'd suggest you try it before passing judgment. It is popular in other regions, and above all, it's affordable."
Thomas shrugged. "Fair enough."
Jamie leaned back slightly. "By introducing beer, we can offer something unique and affordable to the people here. It could draw in patrons who might otherwise not be able to enjoy a night out."
Thomas's expression grew serious. "With all the success you're imagining, won't the gangs take notice and possibly retaliate?"
"Perhaps," Jamie admitted. "That's why we can't wait until we've become a threat to them. We need to make our move proactively."
"Do you know much about the gangs operating in the Lower Quarter?" Jamie asked, his eyes meeting Thomas's as he pulled a folded parchment from his satchel.
Thomas shook his head. "No, I haven't paid much attention," he admitted. "I've mostly kept to myself."
"Understandable," Jamie replied. He got a parchment from his satchel and spread it across the worn tavern table, smoothing out the creases to reveal a rough city map. Thomas leaned over, his gaze sweeping across the familiar yet uncharted territories.
"This here represents the city," Jamie began, tracing the outline with his finger. "The upper part is the Noble Quarter, where the aristocracy resides. Below that, from the west beach until the south gate, is the Commerce Quarter—bustling with merchants and trade."
He moved his finger downward. "From the central streets up to the Northern Gate lies the Lower Quarter, our current target."
Thomas nodded, following Jamie's hand as it moved across the map.
"Within the Lower Quarter," Jamie continued, "these two main streets divide the territories of the three major gangs." He tapped the intersecting lines. "Understanding this is crucial."
He pointed to a spot on the map. "This is where the Golden Fiddle stands. We're within the territory of the Cutpurses."
"The Cutpurses?" Thomas echoed.
"A group of pickpockets and street thieves," Jamie explained. "They recruit children and teens to do their dirty work—lifting purses, cutting pockets, running quick cons. They prey on the busy streets of both the Lower and Commerce Quarters."
He circled the area representing the Cutpurses' domain. "They're the weakest of the three gangs. Their structure is loose, reliant on their leader and a handful of enforcers at their base. There's little organization beyond that."
"If they're so weak, why hasn't the City Guard done anything about them?" Thomas asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Jamie sighed softly. "Because they don't want to stir up trouble with the larger gangs. Plus, there's the matter of coin—the guards receive payments to turn a blind eye. The state of the Lower Quarter isn't a priority for them. No noble is losing sleep over what happens down here."
Thomas's expression hardened as he absorbed the implications.
"Near the Commerce Quarter are the Dusters," Jamie continued, pointing to another sector on the map. "They're more tricky—a gang of dwarves. They produce Dragon Dust and sell it on the black market. Information about them is scarce. They operate in secrecy, and their numbers are unknown."
"Impressive," Thomas remarked. "How did you come by all this information?"
Jamie offered a mysterious smile. "A bard has keen ears. All you need to do is listen in the right places." In truth, he'd spent countless nights in dimly lit taverns, overhearing the secrets that spilled from loose tongues. It's remarkable what people reveal when they believe no one is paying attention.
"And finally," Jamie said, his finger hovering over another part of the map, "there's the Red Veil. They operate out of this temple."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "A temple?"
"Yes," Jamie confirmed. "They use it as a front. Behind its facade, they own several brothels along this street. Worse still, they ensnare the women who work for them with debts and loans, ensuring they can never leave"
"That's abhorrent," Thomas said, indignation flashing in his eyes.
Jamie nodded gravely. "They wield a lot of influence and resources. Confronting them directly would be unwise at this stage."
Thomas took a deep breath, steadying himself. "So, where do we begin?"
Jamie placed his finger firmly back on the area marking the Cutpurses' territory. "Here. We'll take down the Cutpurses."
Thomas glanced up from the map, his brows knitted in concern. "But how?" he asked, skepticism evident in his tone.
"Simple," Jamie replied, a faint, calculated smile curling his lips. "We'll cut off the head. Their organization is so poorly structured that we can strike directly at their base."
"Just like that?" Thomas questioned, doubt lingering in his voice. "Won't there be guards? Soldiers? Other thieves?"
Jamie nodded slightly. "No doubt, there will be all of those," he conceded. "But we have the element of surprise. We know we're going to attack, and they have no idea that there's a new player in the game. All we need to do is arm ourselves appropriately to deal with each of those obstacles."
Thomas leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he considered the plan. The weight of what Jamie was proposing settled heavily between them. "It's a bold move," he remarked cautiously. "Perhaps even reckless."
Jamie met his gaze steadily, his eyes reflecting a mixture of steely resolve and something darker—a hint of the lengths he was willing to go. "Now," he said evenly, "you will see that I'm not as good a person as you imagine."
[author]
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[/author]