In the city's center of Caldo Rohn, every building was painted with a bright, colorful roof. The shingles glowed faintly beneath the Mother's rings. Reira had skipped eating all day, and regarded unimpressed the inn with a big iron horse rearing majestically outside. White splotches of bird shit marred the beauty of the old iron, getting stuck in the nostrils and on the wild mane. She would have never let her staff ignore the stone statues of lions ever face the same fate as the horses.
A savory, warm smell greeted the three women as they stepped inside. An aftertaste of something nutty lingered there, big fire in the hearth, roaring as more wood was tossed it's way. Wall lanterns kept shadows to a minimum, a large wooden chandelier with dozen of fat white candles was burning above everyone towards the center of the room. There were no rugs on the floor and every spill of gravy or ale could be seen on the floor. A drunk bard played a round, heavy instrument that reminded Reira of a large shamisen, the plucking of strings strangely offkey and yet not entirely awful.
Reira let her heartbeat twice before deciding that the Belladonnas were a group of criminals that had no manners, she had been intrigued when they reached out about a mutually benefitting offer. The offer was almost too good to refuse, a new market for Reira to dip her sharp fingers into, the chance to be at the forefront of a substance that was guaranteed success. They had hired a good translator, too, Reira had admired the neat writing almost more than what the words promised, magic frogs that cured inner thoughts with just a lick.
Then they had met the representative. Reira had made sure to show them as much hospitality as her usual, trusted, long-term suppliers. For eight days and eight nights, Reira had purposefully lavished with experiences and excitements to show just how serious she was, happy to see the representative wobble back onto the airship. Everything had turned out well, a letter to meet, an agreement, then the place and date.
So why not have one of the underlings waiting right in front of the door to lead her into whatever dank back room they had chosen. Another heartbeat, and before either of the sisters could begin voicing their concerns, Reira walked straight through the inn and began searching for the back room.
"Um, what are you doing?" A timid female voice asked. Reira turned away from the door she had just opened, seeing a tall blonde with long braids holding onto plateware tight against her chest for balance.
"We have a meeting with a Miss Cynthia, she said she had reserved a room." Reira answered easily, the woman's invisible brows shooting up high into her hairline, surprised at how flawless the common tongue was spoken.
"O-oh, then it's the next one, Miss....?" Only a nod towards the blonde and Anju and Anzu stepped forward, shielding Reira from their gaze. Anzu opened the door, letting Reira slip into the room first. The table was small and round with mismatched wooden stools circling around it. With a small shake of her head, Reira took her seat, facing the door. She watched the big white candle in the middle of the table slowly melt, the flame flickering light around them.
Minutes passed, too many for Reira's liking. It was only natural to ask Anju and Anzu to start investigating what was going on. Not much timed had passed before Anju knocked on the door
"Kumiro," Anju dipped her head. "We've found the Belladonna's representative."
"Is that so? Then why are they not in front of me?"
"Because she's dead."
Not long after, the women had left the room, standing outside the inn to talk in hushed voices. The cold night air bit all their cheeks, noses and lips until they were red and raw.
A savory, warm smell greeted the three women as they stepped inside. An aftertaste of something nutty lingered there, big fire in the hearth, roaring as more wood was tossed it's way. Wall lanterns kept shadows to a minimum, a large wooden chandelier with dozen of fat white candles was burning above everyone towards the center of the room. There were no rugs on the floor and every spill of gravy or ale could be seen on the floor. A drunk bard played a round, heavy instrument that reminded Reira of a large shamisen, the plucking of strings strangely offkey and yet not entirely awful.
Reira let her heartbeat twice before deciding that the Belladonnas were a group of criminals that had no manners, she had been intrigued when they reached out about a mutually benefitting offer. The offer was almost too good to refuse, a new market for Reira to dip her sharp fingers into, the chance to be at the forefront of a substance that was guaranteed success. They had hired a good translator, too, Reira had admired the neat writing almost more than what the words promised, magic frogs that cured inner thoughts with just a lick.
Then they had met the representative. Reira had made sure to show them as much hospitality as her usual, trusted, long-term suppliers. For eight days and eight nights, Reira had purposefully lavished with experiences and excitements to show just how serious she was, happy to see the representative wobble back onto the airship. Everything had turned out well, a letter to meet, an agreement, then the place and date.
So why not have one of the underlings waiting right in front of the door to lead her into whatever dank back room they had chosen. Another heartbeat, and before either of the sisters could begin voicing their concerns, Reira walked straight through the inn and began searching for the back room.
"Um, what are you doing?" A timid female voice asked. Reira turned away from the door she had just opened, seeing a tall blonde with long braids holding onto plateware tight against her chest for balance.
"We have a meeting with a Miss Cynthia, she said she had reserved a room." Reira answered easily, the woman's invisible brows shooting up high into her hairline, surprised at how flawless the common tongue was spoken.
"O-oh, then it's the next one, Miss....?" Only a nod towards the blonde and Anju and Anzu stepped forward, shielding Reira from their gaze. Anzu opened the door, letting Reira slip into the room first. The table was small and round with mismatched wooden stools circling around it. With a small shake of her head, Reira took her seat, facing the door. She watched the big white candle in the middle of the table slowly melt, the flame flickering light around them.
Minutes passed, too many for Reira's liking. It was only natural to ask Anju and Anzu to start investigating what was going on. Not much timed had passed before Anju knocked on the door
"Kumiro," Anju dipped her head. "We've found the Belladonna's representative."
"Is that so? Then why are they not in front of me?"
"Because she's dead."
Not long after, the women had left the room, standing outside the inn to talk in hushed voices. The cold night air bit all their cheeks, noses and lips until they were red and raw.