Ilderson Adventuring Collective
IACGU01-Overbaked Diplomacy
Gusteau rubbed his pits with a scented towel while he pushed through the crowd. Normally, he loved the River Markets. The River Markets were an institution in the south of Weidenland, famous for having a rich variety of traders that frequented from the nearby lands of Karitia, Mahenia, and Sarik. Even in the wet season, the market's streets were crowded to capacity with the stalls and shops staying open late nearly every night. Gusteau worked his way down Copper Street, looking for Eliza’s Tailoring.
Any other day, he’d have enjoyed walking down the cramped old street and he would have taken his time to frequent some of his favourite shops. But he’d still not been home yet and his day of errands had now begun to exhaust him. He’d only made it to Hoden’s a good deal after lunch and then they’d not made it to train until well past three thirty.
Then, the training itself was lacklustre to say the least with both Hoden and himself unfocussed and feeling heavy. After halfheartedly sparring for twenty minutes they’d resigned themselves to light cardio and stretching inside the hall to avoid the rain. They’d chalked up their poor performance to the rain but there was more to it in Gusteau’s opinion.
Gusteau studied the shop signs hung along the upper railings of the fixed market stores but couldn’t find a shop sign that matched the description he’d been given of Eliza’s Tailoring by Hoden.
Eliza’s was well known to be a popular tailoring shop for the Families of Ol’Haran and any others who wanted expensive clothing. Several had mentioned the shop to him when he had first come to Ol’Haran but now his clothes had fallen out of fashion and become increasingly worn, he heard the name less and less. Not that it mattered particularly to him. He had given up on things like fine clothing a long time ago with far more exciting things to spend his money on.
Gusteau took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. He couldn’t tell whether they made the shop signs smaller in the south or whether his glasses needed replacing but it made searching for the sign frustrating. He sidestepped and worked his way through the crowd, careful to clasp his cloak tight around himself. Pick pockets ran rife through the River Markets, which, in itself, wasn’t overly surprising or irregular. The main issue arose for Gusteau because of the bijous sitting in his belt.
Eyes locking on a familiar face, Gusteau allowed himself a brief respite from his search. Not far away was his friend, Jos’ shop tucked in a small inlet between two larger storefronts.
“Jos!” Gusteau called out as he pushed through the crowd. Ahead of him sat Jos behind his table of baked goods. The small crooked man had fast become another of Gusteau’s favourite people in town.
“Gusteau, how are you today, my friend?” Jos’ smile was so genuine and the way it touched his ears when Gusteau approached had won him a loyal customer almost immediately. It was the sort of smile that warmed Gusteau’s heart and always had him coming back.
“It started so well but then it just became, well. Long. Long and tedious. But how are you? How is business?”
Jos scrunched his face theatrically and waved his hand in the air, “Same as always. There’s business but between the cost of the stall and then the ingredients and the slow days. It is hard to stay afloat. Even baking it all at home, Merli and I barely make good most weeks.”
Gusteau manoeuvred through the clothes racks lining the small pathway to Jos’ stall.
On the table were some of Gusteau’s favourite desserts, it was just the treat he needed to keep his spirits up.
Just as he reached the table, Jos raised his finger and wandered into the back of the store. Gusteau hovered uncertainly for a moment before Jos returned with a tray of egg tarts from the small hallway. He placed the tray in front of Gusteau and gave him a wink, “It’s just a sign of the times really. Since the trade stopped from the south, times are tough. We never really recovered from the taxes for the Northern War either. I understand we all have to do our part but we’re really running short of coin.”
Gusteau nodded along and grabbed three of the egg tarts. Jos loved to talk and Gusteau was happy to listen to the old man.
“Not that I should complain to you, with me sitting in my stall while you’re out there in the thick of it.”
“No no,” Gusteau interjected quickly, “My work is mostly walking and Board meetings, I promise you.”
Jos laughed, “I can’t imagine what it would be like. In any case, for three, it is six coppers.”
Gusteau handed the old man a silver and grabbed a small paper bag for his tarts, “By the way, you wouldn’t know where Eliza’s Tailor is, would you?”
Jos grabbed the silver and searched for his coin purse, “Just down the road a minute, it’s behind the blue and purple striped stall that has all the flowers. It’s hard to miss.”
Gusteau knew exactly the one, he loved that flower stall. “Perfect, you keep the change and I’ll see you real soon, yeah?”
Gusteau turned and left before the old man could argue. He weaved back through the clothing racks and into the crowd with renewed vigour. His left hand rifled through the bag and grabbed an egg tart out. They were still warm, fresh, and delightfully simple. He popped one of them in his mouth and continued to work his way through the market. It didn’t take him long to navigate to the flower stall and Eliza’s sitting alongside it. Just as Jos had said.
The flower boxes extended far out into the street from the store and blocked the small tailor shop behind it from view. It was only as he approached that the splendour of the tailoring shop was clear to see. Eliza’s Tailoring was gorgeous, freshly painted in gold and turquoise with wide windows that showed exquisite clothing in a variety of fashions at its front. Looking at the shop made his heart ache for his childhood when he would go to shops like this with his father to organise his formal clothes for the coming gala season. How he’d loathed the sizings when he was younger but there were few things he wouldn’t trade for time with his father now, no matter how tedious the errands he forced on him.
He spotted people moving inside through the windows and entered the shops. With any luck, the Sebastian he was looking for would already be inside.
Stepping into the shop, Gusteau was immediately caught up in a whirlwind of activity. Attendants carrying cloth, customers browsing wares, and tailors furiously working in the back, and Gusteau looked for anyone in the midst of the confusion who looked at all like a Housed gentleman named Sebastian.
To Gusteau’s right, there were several stages for sizing and comfortable chairs interspersed nearby. And on one of the fitting platforms, a man who he suspected was Sebastian stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle. The man stood drowning in several different elaborate fabrics and swished to and fro dramatically. There was a disapproving frown painted on his face while he talked down to a small old woman who was taking measurements of his trousers.
In Weidenland, some noble families worked really hard to avoid being the stereotype of a spoilt dandy who had more money than sense.
Others didn’t.
Gusteau moved towards the man, and as if to belay any final concerns he might have had, he was stopped five steps from the stage by a looming figure who firmly but gently grabbed his shoulder.
From somewhere behind one of the nearby material racks, a giant of a man had somehow appeared next to Gusteau. He was dressed completely in black and an assortment of small weapons decorated his clothing from his forearms to the studs on his boots, all of the weapons looking very sharp and very deadly.
Gusteau raised his hands up deferentially, “I am here to meet with Sebastian.”
“Who are you?” The man’s voice was deep and had a thick Breisachian accent.
“Gusteau Vent, I am here for the contract he offered me.”
The bodyguard loosened his grip on his shoulder and pointed to a chair next to the window a good deal away from the platform.
Gusteau nodded and moved to the chair. With a bodyguard like that, Gusteau had some misgivings about the boy who stood parading around in the cloth fabrics. But, Gusteau was here and he should hear him out.
The chair welcomed Gusteau as he sat down with a pillowy softness and a good backing. He leant back into its soft embrace and happily rested. The shop was lovely and now that he had made his final appointment for the day, Gusteau was happy to put his feet up while Sebastian fussed about his clothes.
Sebastian continued to twirl and throw fabric around for another twenty or so minutes, berating the old lady for the fabrics she brought him, her heavy touch, and how quickly or slowly she worked.
What a horrid man. Gusteau had seen a number of folk like him in his time. The Queen had raised a number of Families up into nobility in recent years but they were predominantly from trading families or more civil pursuits. The pedigree of the Houses required gentle work and it was cultivated through generations. Gusteau’s father had any number of names for the young Houses from time to time but Gusteau couldn’t help but feel nobles like this young man were distasteful.
Something pinched deep inside but he ignored it and got to work checking his messenger bag. Like always, the bag had devolved into quite a mess throughout the day and he began arranging it to a more orderly mess.
He needed to clear out his bag more often. From books to notes and completed contract papers spilled out of the bag as he pulled them out and onto his lap. He balanced them while he tried to collect his spare cloak and stuff it to the bottom of the bag to make a cushion at the bottom and allow for more room for all of the assorted miscellania. He pushed his medical and runic supplies to one side of the bag and shoved the books and papers back on the opposite side. Tonight, he’d clear it properly.
“The sight of you then!” A shrill voice laughed near him. Gusteau looked up to see Sebastian next to his shoulder, smiling above him.
Gusteau pushed the last of his contents in his bag and stood up to greet him. He gave him an appropriate mid-bow and offered his arm.
Sebastian clasped his arm warmly, “You look the sort, all grizzled and shit. The scars on your face were exactly what I was hoping for, you look properly intense.”
Gusteau’s mind went blank. He was not sure how he had expected the meeting to start with the man who had spent the better part of half an hour screaming at an old woman, but it had not been like this.
“Let’s sit, have a seat.” Sebastian continued and fell into the chair opposite him.
“That sounds good, you must be Sebastian.” The words fell out of Gusteau’s mouth as he sat. Sebastian laughed at him and clicked his fingers.
“I am and you are Gusteau. I am so happy with how quickly you have come and found me. It was only last weekend that I told Viera about my little problem. She spoke very highly of you and how discreet you could be. She is quite taken with you, I have to say.” Gusteau’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Viera. She had suggested him; elation flooded through his body.
Sebastian smirked at his reaction, “I knew it, she likes the contract types.” Sebastian’s bodyguard appeared with a metal bottle and Sebastian took it from his hands and took a long drink before handing it back and waving him away.
“So, the contract I have for you is a delicate matter. I believe it is called a ‘diplo’ in contract speak.” Sebastian quoted with his fingers.
“A diplomatic contract,” Gusteau filled out the rest of the word, “It is usually used for things like jilted lovers, unfriendly trade negotiations, or recovering debts from people in an amicable way.”
Sebastian snapped his fingers and cut Gusteau off, “Perfect, yes, it is a ‘diplo’. There's this boy, Louis, who is harassing a young woman, Jasmine, from the Second Family Resthart. The Family warned him already. But not a week after they did, he is out on the streets following her about again.” Sebastian made no attempt to be quiet while he explained. Gusteau took a second to quickly scan the shop but found that every attendant, tailor, and customer around were working hard to avoid listening to the young man.
Sebastian frowned at him and waved his hands between them for a moment, “So, that means we need you to explain to him the gravity of the situation with all of this,” he motioned vaguely at Gusteau sitting in the chair.
Gusteau frowned and waited for more explanation. The young man clearly had no sense of tact.
“I am just saying. Use your muscles and give him a bit of fright so he leaves her well enough alone.”
Gusteau bit his tongue. The contract was easy money and a good foot in the door for someone in House Hiford. Viera had suggested Gusteau to Sebastian and it would look poorly on him if he declined the contract. He’d just get the contract done that day and wash his hands of Sebastian as soon as he met other members of House Hiford. It was the way Families and contractors worked up north and most likely it would be the same down here.
“So I get Louis’ word that he won’t bother Jasmine and you’re happy.” Gusteau summarised.
“If he leaves her alone, that’s great,” Sebastian’s eyes flicked around the shop before he leant in towards Gusteau, “but if things go ugly and you have to rough him up a bit, all in self-defence of course. Well, we could agree fifty silver would be more appropriate to ensure you didn’t feel taken advantage of.”
Not five minutes in and Gusteau already couldn't stand Sebastian.
“Where can I meet him?” Gusteau relented, “For a chat.”
“Excellent, so long as he leaves Jasmine alone.” Sebastian grinned and moved back into his chair, “If you can wake up early, he tends to open the bakery by himself and comes and goes a lot out of the back alley. There is a bit of masonry work being done in that alley recently so it has been cordoned off under strict instructions for no one but those permitted to enter. You, of course, are welcome to head down there and see if Louis happens to ignore the fencing. He often goes down the alley to enter his shop from the side. It should be an ideal location for a quiet word of advice.”
Gusteau cleared his throat and moved forward on his chair to reduce the distance between them again, “Do you know the procedure for payment of contracts?”
“Of course, and if you get it done tomorrow, meet me at Finer Tastes tomorrow night and we can celebrate, my big, strong, scary friend.” Sebastian made no effort to sit up or whisper like Gusteau had and instead relaxed into the chair with apparent glee.
Gusteau stood and nodded. First to Sebastian and then to the bodyguard, who now stood behind Sebastian. Sebastian took another swig of the metal bottle that his guard provided and watched Gusteau intently. Gusteau turned and eagerly exited Eliza’s, only stopping at the doorwell to search through his bag for another egg tart.
Of all the tragedies to befall The Valleys, the worst was the weather, or so the saying went. Gusteau didn’t know much of the histories of The Valleys but he had come to understand why the weather was so disliked. It was constantly humid in the rainy season regardless of whether it was hot or cold. Waking up in a sweat was the standard since he’d moved down south, and it made no difference how often he was told that his body would acclimate, his body continued to sweat day in, day out.
Gusteau sat on a small crate in a no-name back alley at the bottom of Haran Hill. He hunched over his knees and huddled deep into his woollen sweater and long pants to avoid the frigid, moist morning air.
He’d found the dry cold of the north far easier to live in; you wear lots of clothes, stay dry and you’d be warm all day. Here, his own body worked against him, with the wrong choice of clothes or any exertion leaving him a wet mess. He tried in vain to breathe hot air through his mittens onto his hands.
He hadn’t seen many people on the street when he’d entered the alley and the bakery looked empty when he walked past, which was a good sign that Louis hadn’t arrived yet.
Gusteau had waited until no one was looking and then come around the back. From there, it had been easy to work out which of the doors was the bakery’s thanks to a nice little sign at the side of the door.
With any luck, he’d see the kid soon and they could get this chat over and done with. Then, he’d head back to bed to try and get a few more hours of sleep.
He looked up and down the alley but there was nothing of interest. There were a few token concrete buckets and the barrier rope stopping anyone from entering the alley. Aside from that, there was only rubbish and the odd crate filling the alley.
Gusteau stood up and began pacing. He’d spent some time the night before thinking about what he was going to say and how he was going to act. He would assure Louis he wasn’t in any danger but then tell him very firmly that he couldn’t mess with the Houses.
Everyone knew the power even a Second Family could have, especially in the province under their jurisdiction, and no doubt even the fact that Gusteau had been hired would be enough to scare the boy.
Gusteau fidgeted with the belt around his waist. It was noticeably lighter now he had taken the more lethal bijous out of it. He had kept his dagger and his rings though, being out before dawn guards in the backstreets of any city wasn’t exactly the safest place to be.
Gusteau watched an older man come and go through the alley while he leant back on the wall. The old man didn’t make eye contact with him and hurried away at an even faster pace when Gusteau tried to greet him with a wave.
Gusteau had considered coming to the bakery later in the day but thought better of it. Bothering someone at their place of work with personal issues felt tacky. He’d meet him before it opened and then, with a light touch, he’d convince Louis to see reason and the day would be off to an excellent start.
Another figure turned into the alley and swooped under the barrier rope. It was a strapping young lad with a good set of shoulders and a healthy constitution. He had lighter skin than most, much like Gusteau, and a messy head of hair that was favoured by the young in the city. His face had a bit of weight to it but that helped to give him a bit of a boyish appeal. He certainly looked like a Louis in Gusteau’s mind.
The boy walked confidently down the alley with only the briefest of hesitations when he noticed Gusteau. He wore plain linen clothes and carried a small cotton tote bag on his shoulder. Gusteau didn’t move but casually tracked him as he walked down the alley. The man looked tense but that wasn’t overly shocking given the circumstances. As he passed by, Gusteau tried to get eye contact with him but he wanted none of it. Gusteau said nothing until he reached the door of the bakery and stopped to reach for something in his bag. Gusteau pushed off the wall and walked towards him with his hands open.
“Louis the baker?” Gusteau asked to the back of the man’s head.
He tensed up at Gusteau’s question and slowly turned towards him, “I don’t see how that would be any of your business.”
Gusteau exhaled and watched a slight condensation from his breath swirl into nothingness in front of him, “It is honestly too early for all this, so I am going to assume you are Louis. I am not here for trouble.”
“Feels like you are looking for trouble.” Louis snapped and pointed at the dagger at Gusteau’s stomach.
Gusteau put up his hands and slowly reached to unclasp his own dagger’s holster. He carefully pulled it up and off his belt and threw it towards the mouth of the alleyway, “Better? It is just a quick chat, Louis. You’ve pissed off some powerful people.”
Louis looked at him impassively for a second before reaching in his pocket and quickly producing a key.
“You need to stop bothering Jasmine, Louis.” Gusteau waited just out of arm reach.
Louis swung back around quickly with a crazed look in his eyes, “And what would you know about that, old man?”
Gusteau raised his hands up and began drawing magic into his palms, “Hey hey, I am here to talk but you have made some enemies with the Families. I got hired to give you a hiding, boy.”
Louis froze for a second then he charged at Gusteau. He lunged with the knife but came at Gusteau straight on.
Gusteau sidestepped and took control of Louis' wrist. With a twist, the dagger fell to the ground and Louis screamed in pain. Gusteau shoved him back into the bakery door and put his hands back up passively.
The kid rushed Gusteau again, this time with his head down and arms out straight, he charged like a bull.
It took very little for Gusteau to shuffle back and sweep up Louis’ arms as he came towards him. With a push outwards, Louis’ arms swept to his side and his head rammed straight into the alley wall. A small pang of guilt hit Gusteau as he watched Louis crumple feebly against the wall.
“Be reasonable, I am just saying you need to understand the risk you are putting yourself in.” Gusteau moved in to help him up.
Louis swatted at his hand and launched himself back up to grab Gusteau. Before Gusteau could react, Louis had him around the waist and pushed him back into the middle of the alley.
Gusteau took two steps back before he could slow Louis’ momentum. Once the momentum did stop, Gusteau slapped him hard on his ear and elbowed him hard in the back of the head. Louis let go and covered the back of his neck.
Gusteau stepped to the right and weaved his leg between Louis. One quick pull to the left and Gusteau ripped his centre of gravity to the side and shoved Louis back onto the ground.
With that, he stood above Louis again, this time not offering his hand to help him up. Louis lay for a second before he kicked out to try and sweep Gusteau’s right leg. Gusteau lifted his leg up and then stepped down hard on Louis’ knee to dissuade him from trying again.
“Kid, stop. I am not trying to hurt you. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Get off me!” Louis screamed at him and Gusteau relented. He took several steps back and waited as Louis got himself up again.
“Ok, are we good?” Gusteau offered his hand out.
Louis grabbed his hand and tried to headbutt him. Gusteau let him pull him close and tilted his own head down. He positioned his forehead into Louis’ nose and felt a satisfying crunch. Louis fell again and this time, Gusteau joined him on the floor.
Gusteau recovered first and flipped onto Louis. He pushed his back onto the ground and slapped him in the face. Louis raised his arms up to his face and Gusteau punched him in the ribs.
Louis took the hit well and didn’t try to protect his body. Gusteau repositioned to sit high on Louis’ hips and then dug a thumb into Louis’ left armpit. Louis bucked and twisted with the pain and tried to pull Gusteau’s hand away.
Gusteau grabbed one of Louis’ arms and brought it under his leg. With a deft twist, Gusteau locked the arm into place against Louis’ side while his thumb continued to drive into his underarm.
Louis tried to swing at Gusteau one final time before Gusteau caught the second arm and pinned it as well.
“Good Gods be damned, know when you’re done!” Gusteau tried to keep his voice low. In a back alley at a time like this, beating up a teenager didn’t reflect well on him.
Louis stopped and looked up at Gusteau with hate-filled eyes.
“Ok, right,” Gusteau tried to remember where they had got to in the chat he had formed in his head, “Jasmine Resthart is from a noble Family and she wants nothing to do with you. So, back off and leave her the hells alone or you’ll be visited by far worse than me.”
Louis said nothing but continued to stare at him furiously.
Gusteau needed this to be already over. He needed to be able to get up and trust that Louis wouldn’t try and have another go at him. “Kid, do you understand, yes or no?” Gusteau asked impatiently.
Louis tried to buck Gusteau off of him again. None of his squirming did much while Gusteau was in control. After another bout of spasming on the floor, Louis stopped again but said nothing back.
Then, Louis tried a new tactic and spat a clump of blood into Gusteau’s face.
Gusteau tried to pull his head back but was too slow and caught the spit directly in his eyes. The idea of spitting at someone was disgusting. Gusteau wiped his face and his hands were smeared with the kid’s blood.
Without thinking, Gusteau squeezed his legs around him and rubbed the blood directly into Louis’ face, pushing his head hard into the cobblestones below.
“This fucking town. What do you not get kid?” Gusteau slapped Louis in the side of the face. He hit him again and any guilt about how clearly he outclassed the kid evaporated into the fury.
His second hit connected solidly with Louis’ temple and Gusteau watched in grim satisfaction as Louis’ eyes lost focus for a second.
Gusteau continued by digging his left thumb deep into the soft part of Louis’ armpit. If you found the correct spot, it was agony. Judging by Louis’ screams, Gusteau had found it.
“Have you maybe reconsidered, you fucking simpleton?” Gusteau taunted, grimly satisfied in his position of power.
“Stop, stop.” Louis begged him as his body spasmed. Gusteau relented after a moment more but instead settled with slapping him in the face one final time.
“If you fucking spit at me again, I swear to Good that I will end you kid, right here in this shit-filled alley.” Gusteau growled as he stood over Louis.
“We are never going to stop loving each other. And there’s nothing you, nor her parents can do about it. You can’t stop us.” Louis weasled his left arm up and covered his face.
Gusteau could remember himself being the same snotty petulant teenager not so many years ago. “Shit kid, how many beatings are you going to take for this?” Gusteau asked, suddenly more curious than angry.
“Get off me, man!” Louis struggled less and appeared to start calming down.
Gusteau took a breath, “Fine, do you promise to stop with the bullshit though? No more headbutts, no more kicking?”
Louis nodded his head up and down on the floor. It would have to be enough of a promise for Gusteau.
Gusteau stood back up, carefully getting up to try and keep him pinned as long as possible. Louis slowly wiped his face with his hands and then dragged himself up and put his back onto the wall. His face was covered in blood by that point and looked properly tenderised.
Gusteau cut to the chase, “What is your plan, kid? What can’t we stop?”
Louis barked a laugh back at him, “I’m not telling you shit, asshole.” Louis spat a sizable amount of blood onto the wall next to him.
“I can help if you let me,” Gusteau offered. As angry as he was, Gusteau hated to leave a kid so stupid to his own devices.
Without another word, Louis got up and walked to the bakery door. He didn’t look back as he turned his key in the door and walked inside.
“Fine, asshole.” Gusteau said under his breath. The alley was a state at that point. Louis’ blood painted the wall and the floor of the alleyway and left a macabre scene. The rain would wash it away when it came but it wasn’t the quiet conversation that Gusteau had hoped to have.
Gusteau sighed and gave up. He stood and tried to crack his back one more time before he walked over to his dagger, scooped it up, and quietly moved back out into the main street.
