Soul Bound

1        Soul Bound

1.3      Making a Splash

1.3.1    An Obligated Noble

1.3.1.2  Drunken monks

She nodded, and the group set off. Walking next to her, matching her pace and looking very fine in soft doeskin leathers dyed chocolate brown, was Tomsk. In arlife Alex towered above her, but here his avatar was only a little taller than hers and they could walk comfortably together. She gave him a one-armed hug as they walked. Even though she’d taken a day off from the game yesterday, he’d still dropped by, ostensibly to teach Alderney and her how to throw knives. But that was fine - she could never have enough of his company. When she’d first met him, he’d been a martial artist and circus performer, but since then he’d moved onto doing stunt choreography for Hollywood films, and lived far too far away for her to ever travel there in person.

Kafana: “Bulgaria, my vessel mentioned you’d been doing some follow ups, but didn’t give much detail. Where are we on quests?”

Bulgaria: “I visited Ruffiana and completed the ‘Market Mayhem’ quest by updating her on what we found out about Bianco Holdings when we raided the office of Vanni di Avolo. It looks like the company is owned by the head of the assassins, the White Lily himself, and he’s been using the profits from speculating in the markets to purchase multiple ships and shipping companies. If the numbers we found are to be trusted, he now controls a very sizable fleet.”

Kafana: “That can’t be good.”

Tomsk: “It isn’t. If the pirates attacked, a fleet like that suddenly going over to join the enemy would make a big difference. Classic tactics, though.”

Bulgaria: “No progress on ‘Find the Leak’. I finished going over the records of Murine Insurance, and it looks certain that Lord Ruffo is involved somehow, but there’s no evidence he’s the one actually passing the cargo information onto the pirates. The Lovari haven’t identified any of the Saints as traitors passing the information on themselves, but that’s just circumstantial.”

Bulgaria was the avatar of Dr. Lewis Sharpe, who’d been a lecturer at University College, London (UCL), back when the Wombles had formed. Back then he’d been an inspiring figure, teaching a course on “Effective Political Activism”, but he’d taken the intervening years hard and had finally managed to persuade Kafana to take over his leadership role. She wasn’t sure she’d do as well as he’d done, but she’d give it her best shot, even if she didn’t have the same sort mind he had, which delighted in twisty underhand dealings.

If he had doubts, his acting ability hid them totally, and the face of the tall, lean avatar wearing a bumblebee-yellow silk shirt under an open jacket was mischievous and joyful. Perhaps ditching the responsibility was a weight off his shoulders. She nodded to him.

They left the sanctum for the bright morning sunlight of the Plaza of Peace, where seven monks awaited them, armed with staves. As the monks trotted over to take up a protected formation around them, she noticed that they each now had a small pottery bottle hanging from a sash around the waist. She looked at the last of the Wombles, Bungo, and raised an eyebrow at him.

Kafana: “Bungo, you haven’t been teaching your monks to get drunk, have you?”

The shortest monk, Dino, whose arms now bulged with muscles, gave her a respectful bow.

Dino: “Sensei has been teaching us acting; how to mask the intentions of our body by maintaining a loose core until the time to reveal arrives, and using extraneous movements to imply alternative narratives.”

He intoned the explanation carefully, and the other monks stiffened and grunted out “Hai!” when he finished. She had a feeling that any of them, if asked, would repeat the speech exactly word for word.

Tomsk: “I’ve been using the predictive overlay that FraGamal showed us. When a monk uses the Drunken Fist technique perfectly, the overlays blurs, confused by the possibilities.”

Bungo nodded several times, then replied to her enthusiastically: “They’re doing really well, Kafana. I think alchemy, brewing and Qi cultivation are going to become integral parts of the Way of the Monk that I’m leading them along. I visited Chiron the Ipotane at the Zoo, and he taught me so many recipes! I could spend a year with him, and still not learn all he knows. I don’t have the ingredients for most of them, though.”

He looked a little downcast as he admitted the last bit, which went strangely with the towering height of his avatar and the cheerful baby blue silk of his shirt, that matched his eyes. When she’d first met him, Bungo had been deeply into biochemistry and smart drugs, and it was difficult to know what he was really feeling under the defences he put up. But since then he’d grown into becoming a much steadier person, more at home with himself, and she was starting to like the new him. He was still an avid advocate of transhumanism, though, considering his current human mind and body to be just a stage he was passing through.

Who knew what he’d be like in another twelve years time? Technology was moving frighteningly fast, and she’d settle for the human species just surviving the next twelve months with its liberty and prospects intact.

They cut down a side street, past the Goldsmiths Guild, heading deeper into Mercato.

Kafana: “Anything else I ought to know, before we arrive?”

Wellington: “Marco and some others will be arriving at about 4 bells of the afternoon watch, for a meeting to discuss the stability of Torello’s economic system and how to mitigate the effect of adventurers being able to get information instantly from long distances. If it goes well, that should complete the quest ‘Tremors in the market’, which will take us to level forty. We’ve found out quite a bit we’ll need to tell you about that, but it can wait.”

Bungo: “Other than that, we’ve got a handful of miscellaneous quests, such as stopping Baron Orsini from selling Zeradan artifacts for the pirates, solving the tension between Basso and Alto over the sword laws, talking to ghosts, finding wood for a violin, making a mask, and of course coordinating an attack upon the assassins lurking under the Segreta in order to help Lazarillo and his crew of the get their revenge for Captain Cuniberti’s death. But I don’t think we’ve made progress on any of that. We’ve been concentrating on the launch of the Adventurer’s Guild, forming House Sincero and honing our skills in preparation for tests to rank our professions up from journeyman to master.”

She could hear the clamour of the Grand Market getting closer, as the streets became wider and the shops fancier.

Kafana: “What about our lovebirds, Lelio and Vittoria, Flavio and Isabella? Are we any closer to seeing them be able to get married?”

Bulgaria shook his head. “Lelio’s father, Pantalone, will disinherit him if he marries Vittoria. You’re aware of the situation with Flavio, and we can’t do anything more on that without cooperation from Dottore. On the positive side, Isabella and Vittoria now look secure in their positions, thanks to our aid, so we’re progressing comfortably.”

Kafana: “I think we may be getting spread too thinly. Could we concentrate on just one narrative, and start reducing the number of side quests rather than increasing them? Maybe spend less time on constructing the Newcomer’s Guide to Torello, or on our crafting ?”

Tomsk: “On the other hand, by now we should assume the assassins guild know who we are, and that they’re not pleased with us for asking questions and shutting down their secret tunnel under the canal. They might attack at any time, and we’re not properly prepared. Bungo has amazing defence, but it won’t help us much against intelligent opponents. We desperately need better armour - we haven’t changed it since level fifteen.”

Alderney: “I’ve finished the design stage, and ordered samples of the advanced metals I think I’m likely to use. But they’re tricky - it isn’t like smelting non-magic metals. There’s a specialist forge down in the Ghetto, and I’d like to visit it as soon as possible, in order to pick up the techniques needed for casting their alloys.”

Bulgaria: {I suggest we switch to the group’s private chat channel for now, unless you want our plans being spread by every gossip monger in the market.}

Alderney: {Good point. The Royals and Lovari may like you, Kafana, but the Nomad Nation will have no compunction over selling anything they hear to the highest bidder. I wouldn’t be surprised if Scaramouche had someone from the Sons following us, though I’ve asked the Chosen to keep an eye out for tails.}

Kafana sighed. Heading into the Arsenal district had been quite an adventure, but there were definite downsides to having attracted the attention of all the gangs in the area. Not least of which was having to keep track of their feuds and alliances - it had been easier when she’d just been able to think of them all as one united “Thieves Guild”.

They skirted the market and walked up the broad stairs covering its entire north edge until they stood before the Palazzo. At first glance it seemed well proportioned to the surroundings, just four layers high, with a square bell tower rising above its western end, where guards in uniform were using telescopes to keep watch over ships approaching the harbour and couriers from the Messengers Guild running their routes. From the tip of the tower’s sloped roof flew a large flag showing a proudly trotting brown boar with sharp tusks.

It was only when she got closer that she realised the lowest layer was near three stories high, dwarfing a mounted horse that rode beneath the inflected arches supporting an inset walkway that ringed the building. Each upper layer was about two thirds the scale of the layer below it, with ornate geometric balcony rails preventing nobles and servants on the higher walkways from accidently falling. Above the top layer was a parapet that continued the pattern, though the roof seemed populated only by birds, who kept an eye on the pigeons below.

Beyond the middle five arches was a gap in the lowest floors of the building which led through to a grand courtyard lined with statues. The gap looked like it could be sealed by portcullises lowered from above, but today the way was clear, attended by guards in brown and gold livery. Kafana looked the others over, to check everyone was ready.

Kafana: {Well, at least today should be simple. No enemies and just one location.}

Bungo: {Don’t jinx it!}

Kafana: {Claudio Landi is a friend to me, and we’re dressed nicely and going to try to behave suitably as a token of respect due our host, not because we’re trying to give the impression we’re noble; we aren’t yet, and Landi knows it. If he backs us, it will be because he likes us and thinks we’re worthy of it, but I’m not here to get anything out of this - I want to show him that we can help him and that we’re going to, no strings attached. I’m going to be a friend to him.}

Alderney: {In other words, behave like a Womble ought to behave? Works for me.}

They entered the Palazzo, relaxed and unafraid.