Dealings

Venturious walked down the road of the coastal city-town of Osilon, mostly taking the main road, most people seemed to give him the room to move without hindrance or outright getting out of the way, now and then he’d come to a street that would take more time to walk around and he’d move through alleyways. In the distance he could hear people moving out of sight, common criminals and thugs scurrying like rats to avoid the man’s ire. The light behind him shifted in semi-dimmed flashes as the ‘rats’ it as they fled back to the streets.

“Disgusting.” Venturious thought, stopping just short of stepping in a puddle of fetid water. Taking a long stride over it before continuing. At the end of the alleyway he stopped hearing the rattling of wagon wheels on cobblestone streets. The moment it passed he was already continuing his walk. It wasn’t long before he arrived at the Golden Goose, a small unassuming tavern thoroughly wedged between two larger buildings, like the two of them that flaked tavern were attempting to strangle it or to crush it. The signs above and just left of the top of the door swung slightly in the wind with a light creak and groan, of old metal chains, still and held fast with rust, the once artistic image of a goose laid out against the dark wood in gold leaf, now cracked, flaking and missing enough of is own visage that if not for the name one might have trouble even knowing what the goose was. Two windows were once graced the facade of the building, one was now nothing but planks fitted closely together and the cracks sealed, a broken window never replaced.

Venturious stepped inside and what little crew inside stopped dead in their tracks. A tall woman who was cleaning a table moved aside, “Hello sir.” she said, giving a small respectful bow. “Sally.” Venturious said, but he was still moving towards the bar, the man standing there was cleaning a mug with a rag, sat it down and nodded at Venturious who nodded back. The man turned and reached to a high shelf and pulled on what looked to be a bourbon bottle, when the man pulled the bottle it didn’t come off the shelf, the bottle simply shifted forward, something making a light click. A hidden lever, for a hidden door.. Venturious kept walking over to the side of the bar, to the wall beside the shelf for the liquor bottles, pressing the wall with one hand there was a second click. With a light bit of applied force the hidden panel pushed inward slightly, then with a push to the left the door slid into the wall.

Once through Venturious, rapped his knuckles on the wall and the barman pushed the lever back the door sliding back into it’s hidden position. A short, narrow staircase awaited him only lit by a lantern at it’s bottom landing. Venturious took tight little steps down to the basement. Large wooden kegs lined the walls, filled with various alcohols, from wines to ales. A large Orc was sitting on a stool too small for his size, knees bent in a way that looked uncomfortable. Filling green glass bottles from one of the large kegs, then using a thumb to force a cork into the bottle, and placing it in a tall wooden crate with lattice work to prevent the bottles from hitting each other.

“Bosco.” Venturious said, and the orc held up a hand for, ‘once second’ finishing the bottle he was holding he placed the bottle away and stood. “I trust everything is going well?” Venturious asked the Orc man.

“Sure is boss.” he then scratched his head. “Might need more Califry Red soon though.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Bosco.” he slapped the man on the shoulder. “Will you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Anything, boss.” Bosco responded.

“I need to go into the sub basement.” Venturious said.

“Umm…” Bosco said, “I’m not in trouble am I?”

“Have you done anything wrong?” Venturious asked, not a hint of malice in his voice.

“I…” the orc sniffled. “We didn’t have enough to finish one of the the bottles of Brinford Pale Ale…and it was just going to go to waste so I drank it.”

“No harm done, Bosco…just don’t make a habit of it.” he said, “If I do not get paid you can’t get paid.” he said.

The orc nodded and walked over to a keg on the far wall and grabbed the spigot of the keg and gave it a small pull, the wooden ‘top’ circle of the keg came free and Bosco moved his fingers under and pulled it free, The keg was a false thing, a second set of stairs hidden inside leading to a sub basement. “Keep it open Bosco.” he said, prompting a nod from the Orc who trundled off to get back to work.

The deeper basement was larger than one would probably expect, though it would also be hard to tell its actual size with all the equipment crammed in. Chambers for distillation, shelves packed with beakers, jars, bottles, and other glassware. A table scattered evenly with the same assortment of glassware, as well as notes and other instruments that only the person who’s lab this was, was likely to know what they were. A strange pit that looked like a cross between a poorly made forge and a hearth was against the wall, its chimney lining up with the one in the bar above.

A bald man with spectacles that had little armatures for different magnifications bustled around the space, checking on various chemical reactions going on in various places around the room. Venturious watched as he pulled a glass stopper from a flask and poured something in. The yellowish colored fluid, turned purple for a moment before the man swirled it and then went back to its yellowed color and the man took down a note Still oblivious to Venturious standing there.

Eventually Venturious grew tired of being ignored. “Wilbur.” he said, loudly enough to he heard but not shouting, the man mumbled in response but didn’t look up. “Wilbur.” he said louder.

“Not now, I’m busy.” Wilbur said.

“Wilbur.” Venturious said again putting enough heat in his voice to get the man’s attention.

Wilbur just looked up, met Venturious eyes and shooed him away, going as far as to turn his back on Venturious and going back to work on something else.

Venturious had, had enough. Picking up the heaviest glass flask he could find he gripped it by the neck and brought it down over the man’s head. When the man came too he was tied to a chair. “It’s really a shame none of you can ever make this easy.” he said, checking the knots on the man’s bindings were secure. “You are going to answer some questions for me.”

“Sure…sure just don’t…” Wilbur started.

“Kill you?” Venturious said. “Well now. That’s really dependent on how helpful you are.”

“I’ll be the most helpful…just don’t kill me.” Wilbur said.

Venturious started daggers, always annoyed by the begging. “Who gave you the orders to sell to kids?”

Wilbur blinked hard. “You…dont’...you don’t know?” he asked, stammering. “Is..is this a test?”

“Just answer the question.” Venturious said.

“Lucian Boman.” Wilbur said. “He said you gave the order…We thought it was odd but we…don’t question your orders.”

“Rescind the orders.” Venturious said, “Pass it along to your men, and let them know, if they sell to anymore children, I will personally skin them alive and send it to their family’s.” Venturious said, heading for the stairs.

“Aren’t you going to untie me?” Wilbur pleaded.

“The knots aren’t tight, get yourself free,” he said.

“Where are you going?” Wilbur questioned.

“Business meeting.” Venturious said coldly ascending the stairs, giving Bosco a nod as he left and heading back into the streets.