Over the next several days, Jamie and Jay awaited the arrival of someone from the City Guard, expecting the necessary documents to be delivered at any moment. However, things did not proceed as the captain had promised. An entire week passed before a soldier finally appeared at the Broken Eagle Tavern, seeking the bard.
Jamie sat at a secluded corner table, quill in hand, scribbling his customary notes. The warm glow of the hearth cast a gentle light over the parchment, and the hum of conversations floated around him like a comforting melody. Just then, the tavern door swung open, and a soldier stepped inside. Unlike the tense reactions such an entrance would provoke in the Lower Quarter, the patrons here barely glanced up from their mugs. No one cursed or tried to slip away; the soldier's presence was as unremarkable as a change in the weather.
To Jamie, the guard looked much like any other he'd seen patrolling the city's streets—a conical helmet perched atop his head, a weary gaze in his eyes, and untidy brown hair peeking out from beneath his helm. His armor bore the scratches and scuffs of routine duty but lacked any distinguishing marks of valor or rank.
"Jamie?" the soldier inquired, his eyes scanning the bard from head to toe.
"Yes?" Jamie replied calmly, setting his quill aside. He had a fair idea of the reason for this visit.
"The captain sent me to deliver your documents." With little ceremony, the soldier deposited a hefty stack of papers onto the table, the parchment rustling softly.
Jamie adjusted himself in his chair, pulling the documents closer. As he began to leaf through them, Jay appeared beside him, the feline hovering just above the table's surface. His luminous eyes darted over the pages, reading alongside Jamie.
"Proof of ownership, property transfer documents, tax assessments, and... a death certificate. Damn," Jamie muttered under his breath. He had suspected this might be the captain's solution. While he held no sympathy for the corrupt tavern keeper, and he anticipated they might take this action, still, it wasn't of the highest probabilities in his mind.
A shadow passed over his features. 'To make matters worse, he's sending a message: fail to pay him, and we'll be next.'
Jay nodded subtly, his translucent form flickering ever so slightly as he read Jamie's thoughts. The weight of the unspoken threat hung between them.
Maintaining his composure, Jamie looked up at the soldier and offered a warm smile. "Everything seems to be in order. Thank you very much, soldier. Please send my regards to your esteemed captain," he said, his voice cordial. As he spoke, he placed a reassuring hand on the soldier's shoulder—a gesture both friendly and subtly assertive. The soldier was nearly a head shorter than Jamie, and the physical contact seemed to unnerve him slightly.
"Right," the soldier replied tersely, his expression impassive. Without further ado, he turned on his heel and made his way out of the tavern, the door swinging shut behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Jamie's smile faded. "Well, that was enlightening," he murmured.
"Not entirely unexpected, though," Jay commented, his tail swishing thoughtfully.
"True," Jamie agreed. "But it seems we're playing a more dangerous game than I anticipated."
Jay nodded. Wasting no time, they made their way upstairs to the modest room they had rented. The scent of freshly laundered linens mingled with the faint aroma of beeswax polish—a far cry from the stale odors of the Fat Pig. Quickly, they gathered their belongings. Jamie strapped on his satchel, ensuring the newly acquired documents were safely tucked inside.
Descending the stairs, they paused only to offer a brief but sincere farewell to the tavern keeper—a kindly woman who managed the Broken Eagle. She waved them off with well wishes, oblivious to the weight of the matters at hand.
Stepping out into the bustling streets, Jamie and Jay set off toward the Lower Quarter.
A few steps before reaching the tavern's entrance, Jamie noticed new letters shimmering before his eyes.
| Inside your Influence Area
| Buffs Applied
| Perception +3
Jamie noticed that his senses were keener than ever, his awareness of his surroundings heightened. He could see every detail—the people passing by on the street, the furtive glances they cast his way, even the subtle nuances in how they walked.
"Interesting," he mused to himself before finally stepping through the tavern doorway.
"If it was a hovel before, now it's fit to be called a pigsty," Jay remarked, hovering beside him as he surveyed the dilapidated main hall.
Several pieces of furniture were broken, and others were overturned. It was clear that someone had ransacked the place, attempting to steal whatever they could find.
"Perhaps even the soldiers themselves," Jay commented dryly.
"Quite possible," Jamie agreed.
Though it had been closed for only a week, a thick layer of dust had already settled over everything. Without hesitation, Jamie rolled up the sleeves of his coat and began exploring the bar's interior, searching for any tools that might aid in the cleanup.
He found a battered broom and some tattered cloths, though none were particularly clean. Still, with some water and determination, Jamie set to work—wiping down tables, righting the remaining chairs, and sweeping the floorboards.
As sweat began to bead on his forehead, the tavern door creaked open. Standing at the entrance was a woman with chestnut hair and a broad smile. She regarded the bard with a hint of amusement, watching his earnest efforts to clean the tavern.
"So, you're the new owner?" Eliza asked.
"Ah! Eliza. You've arrived at just the right time," Jamie said, pausing to catch his breath and wipe his brow. "I could use your help."
"I thought you might need a hand with this mess," Eliza replied, getting straight to the point.
"That, and much more," Jamie admitted. "Are you the most experienced person here at the Fat Pig?"
"Maybe not the most experienced, but I've been here the longest," Eliza said with a shrug.
"Then you knew Mr. Bones well?" Jamie inquired.
"A bit. Why do you ask?" Eliza's eyes flickered with curiosity.
"Besides getting this place back on its feet, I need to understand the state of the tavern's finances. Though he was an old son of a bitch, he loved gold like a dragon," Jamie explained.
Eliza nodded in agreement.
"Then he must have kept some sort of ledger or records that could shed light on the tavern's affairs," Jamie mused aloud, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the worn countertop.
"Hmm. Maybe," Eliza replied, her brow furrowing in concentration. "He had a secret spot—I don't know exactly where, but there was a loose floorboard behind the bar."
Without hesitation, Jamie vaulted over the bar with a graceful leap, landing softly near the far end. "On the floor?" he asked, glancing back at her.
"Yes," Eliza confirmed, moving to join him.
The bard began tapping and pressing on the floorboards, listening intently for any hollow sounds. His keen senses, heightened by the recent buffs, picked up on a subtle irregularity at the edge of his vision—something he hadn't noticed before.
'I didn't think the buff would be useful so soon.,' he thought, a flicker of a smile crossing his face.
At the very end of the bar, a small plank extended slightly into the wall, just enough to catch his eye. Jamie stepped onto it, and sure enough, it shifted under his weight as though it wasn't nailed down.
"Aha!" Eliza exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she saw his discovery.
Crouching down, Jamie pried the loose board free, revealing a hidden compartment beneath the floor. His heart quickened with anticipation, but instead of pouches of coins or bars of gold, three small books were nestled within.
"Looks like supply contracts or something similar," he said, lifting the first tome. "A book of contacts—possibly unsavory ones. And this! The last one appears to be the tavern's accounts." Triumph shone in his eyes.
"Impressive. I knew he could read, but I never imagined that lazy old fool kept such detailed records," Eliza remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.
Jay, who had been hovering nearby, floated closer, his ethereal form gliding effortlessly through the air. He seemed to agree, his luminous eyes reflecting amusement.
Jamie stood and began leafing through the pages of the account book, his eyes scanning the columns of figures and notes. "Alright. Let's see here."
"Well? Was he rich?" Eliza asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Doesn't seem like it," Jamie replied, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Though he loved gold, his profits were modest at best."
"Really?" Eliza echoed, incredulous.
"Yes. It appears he had very slim margins on the wine sales," Jamie explained.
"Margins?" Eliza asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
"Meaning the cost he paid to purchase the wine was nearly the same as what he sold it for," Jamie elaborated. "And after paying wages—including yours—there was very little left over."
A cloud passed over Eliza's face, her expression turning anxious. Jamie noticed immediately.
"Don't worry—I have no intention of shutting the place down just because of this," he reassured her gently.
She exhaled a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear."
"Why do we sell such strong wines?" Jamie asked, noting that they dominated the sales records.
"They're the cheapest, so they're more accessible to our patrons," Eliza explained.
"But doesn't that cause people to become intoxicated too quickly?" Jamie queried.
"A bit, yes. But weaker wines are more expensive," she said with a shrug.
"Have you ever tried offering other types of beverages or experimenting with different fermentations?" Jamie pressed.
"Mead is even more costly. I couldn't say by how much," Eliza admitted.
"What about beer?" Jamie suggested.
"Beer?" Eliza repeated, a puzzled look crossing her face. "I've never heard of it. But if it's some new drink, you should talk to Knall. He knows everything there is to know about brewing."
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. 'Perhaps it's worth a try. Do they truly not have beer here?'
"Alright," he said, refocusing on her. "Eliza, since you're still here, I assume you'd like to keep your job?"
"Of course. Where else would I work?" she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone.
"I don't know—you're intelligent and could undoubtedly find something better than this place. But having someone as competent as you here will be essential," Jamie said, his voice warm and sincere. He remembered the information he had gathered about her—her reliability, her knowledge of the tavern, her rapport with the patrons.
'I need to secure her,' he thought to himself.
A flush rose in Eliza's cheeks at his praise, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I suppose I can stay," she said, attempting nonchalance.
Just then, a soft chime echoed in Jamie's mind, and new words appeared floating in the corner of his vision—a message from the Gangmaker System.
| Member Slot consumed
| 1# Member: Eliza Oakbarrel
| Trust: [20/100]
| Class: Cook
| Level: 1
| Experience: [262/1000]