by CherryStatic » Thu Jan 08, 2015 4:46 am
Doing her best not to interrupt, a barmaid slipped between the tables towards them, carrying a tray of tankards overhead and ignoring the catcalls thrown her way. She smacked away a hand that crept towards her behind, determined to reach her destination with as little ale spilled and as little groping suffered as possible.
She smiled cheerfully at the Lady Warden and the former governor as she pulled out a folded piece of parchment sealed with red wax, a distinct teardrop shape pressed into its soft center. She set it on the table, an inch from Gloria's remaining hand. She leaned down, her ample cleavage threatening to fall out of her uniform if she so much as sneezed, and spoke in a low voice intended for the seamstress but clearly audible to the others present.
"Letter came for you about five minutes ago, Gloria, love. I would have brought it to you right away, but we're just so busy this afternoon." She gestured broadly with a wave of her hand, illustrating her astonishment. "Seems like everyone in Myrken and their mother came out to have a drink. Haven't seen this much business in a minute. S'pose I shouldn't complain, not when Dulcie might hear me."
She seemed to remember something else, and reached into her apron, retrieving a tiny burlap pouch the size of a clenched fist. "Almost forgot, this came with the letter. I have to say, the courier was oddly dressed. Never seen a uniform quite like that, but I figured maybe he was working for someone all important like. Handsome lad, too. I wouldn't mind if he delivered my letters from now on." She fanned her face absently with the hand that wasn't holding the tray, then seemed to remember that two of Myrken's most important officials were at the table. "You let me know if you'd like some drinks, miss Lady Warden. All of you. They're on the house."
Her mission complete, she turned and waded back through the sea of raucous laughter and mild profanity from whence she had come, smacking a man upside of his head when asked which of her 'specials' were on the menu after hours.
The letter, once opened, revealed a slanted, curvaceous script that was, very oddly, like lust given shape on paper. A sweet smell, the scent of roses, wafted daintily from the parchment. It read:
Dearest Miss Wynsee,
We were truly enchanted to receive your letter this morning. I am sitting across from Miss Clydell as I write this, and I regret to inform you that she must politely decline your invitation to dine with yourself and the Lady Warden this afternoon. She offers her most sincere apologies, as do I, for she will be unavailable in the foreseeable future. She is operating under a new contract, and she has quite a bit of incentive to comply with our wishes. She is perfectly safe, and will remain so, unless someone were to raise their blade against her. As the Bloodletters do not rely on blades to get what we want, I highly doubt we would be the guilty party in such an event.
We have a proposition of sorts, born from the benevolence of our hearts, one that will not affect our dealings in Myrken one way or another. A certain individual, a half-elf by the name of Michta Vess, along with his companion and their entourage, have recently arrived in town. I will terminate Miss Clydell's contract with the Bloodletters in exchange for the seer. His associates are of no importance to us.
My dear Lady Warden, should you happen to read this letter, know that I am truly taken with Myrken. It is a lovely town, and it will make a wonderful home for our family.
Ever close,
Crucia Douleur, Chief Inquisitor and Mistress of the Bloodletters
Also, before I forget, Alcara sends her love, and a small gift.
The pouch, once opened, revealed two things.
The first, a smaller piece of parchment, scentless, creased neatly in half. Unfolded, it read, in simple script:
Scarlet, please stay out of this. I don't want you to get hurt because of me. -Alcara, the Vixen-
The second was a baked potato, still warm to the touch.