Adam wrote:Alfonse looks down an alleyway, his nose wrinkling. "It doesn't exactly seem like a mugging is that uncommon in this area. Of course, if you do think someone is after you, we are the sort of people that could look into it and, I don't know, deal with the problem?"
"Indeed. Well, at the Admiral's Arms we can all sit down to a good meal, some wine, and discuss such matters in comfort."
ALDRON leads the party on the town, weaving through the Mark District just south of the Municipal District. They pass the corner of a great plaza rimmed by stalls and decorated with statues of marble and bronze, rows of shops, and throngs of people shopping and working.
Their guide turns east onto
Shore Street, a broad, well-paved boulevard that runs east-west though town and divides the commercial and residential quarters from the Warehouse District and the dockyards by the Bay. Fine residences of brick, masonry, hardwood, and stucco line the northern side of the street, mixed in with fancier shops, fencing schools, dancehalls, ordinaries and public houses.
By now the evening shadows have lengthened across the city.
ALDRON points out the
Admiral's Arms, a thee story stucco and masonry building with green glass windows shaped like a portholes, and a big blue and gold signboard fixed above the broad front door.
As soon as the group enters the pub's main room, a serving-man posted near the entrance steps over. Seeing Aldron, the man bows. Straightening up, he says, "Master Folbre, you honor us with your choice." Looking over the party the servant says, "Welcome to the Admiral's Arms, my good lady, and you gentlemen."
Behind the server, the party sees people seated, standing, and walking about in the large, airy common room. At least half the servants are women, but most of the customers are men. A sea chantey sounds from somewhere further back. The smell of cooked fish mixes with wine and tobacco. The green-filtered light through the windows colors everything a shade murkier than objects appear by the daylight outside. Stairs lead up the east wall, not far from the entryway.
Aldron motions towards the stairs. "Is a private room available?"
The serving man dips his head. "Of course, Master Folbre. I shall send up a maid to clean it again, and --"
"Is it really dirty?"
"Ah, no."
"Then don't trouble the chambermaid, my dear fellow."
Aldron leads the party upstairs.
The serving man comes along. He unlocks a private room, cozier than the big common space downstairs, and fitted with nice quality hardwood furniture. A window admits greenish light. The serving man adds to that illumination by lightning an oil lamp on the table. He piles cushions on a chair to make a high seat for the gnome.
He then takes the party's orders for food and drink, before departing.
After he has left, Aldron sits down.
"Now, then, you all know me as Aldron. But you heard him call me Master Folbre, no doubt. I'm Aldron Folbre, Master of the Folbre family. As you are new to Povero, this may mean little to you. But today, Tom and Gertie--and their brave dog-- have helped out a man of affairs. And so I'd like to repay that most timely aid with a pleasant evening meal here, in celebration of ruffians routed, friends met, and opportunities opened. Not to spoil our coming repast with too much talk of business, but both Tom and Alfonse have mentioned that your party seeks employment. Why don’t you all tell me a bit more about yourselves, your travels and adventures? That information will help me think of work for you."