Guarding Geezers

[Geragio]

At The Pale Dwarf Inn, Geragio already had the wagon ready and the two horses tacked up and in harness by the time the hired goon arrived. He hadn't quite caught the kid's name the night before - Eric, maybe, or Vincenzo - something of the sort. He figured it wouldn't matter much: he knew the face, and that'd do when the lad popped along all bright and cheerful in that obnoxious way younglings seemed to achieve - as if being pains in the arse were a natural talent.

The old man grumped around the old carriage, inspected it one last time. Damn thing wasn't much use on the farm, truth be told, being an old delivery carriage he'd won in a game of La Mano Conquista. Wheels were made for the Imperial roads, not the rough terrain of farm tracks. But he'd kept the thing mouldering in the barn anyway, because a win's a fucking win, and suddenly he had a use for it all these years later. Strange how things turned out if you gave 'em long enough. Kind of like the weather.

Not that the weather was doing its job properly. It should have been pissing down rain, as far as Geragio was concerned. Weather should suit how screwed up a man's day was going, not be all smugly mild and promising a warm sunny day. It didn't sit right with him, not at all. Well, it was only dawn. Plenty of chances for the day to turn completely and utterly shit in the meanwhile.

Geragio's attention was diverted from meteorological musings to something more immediate when one of his horses tried to take a chunk out of his shoulder. Fucking horses would get their dues one day, Geragio would make sure of that. The horses were the result of losing a game of La Mano Conquista the previous year. Not the best swap fate had ever forced on him. 'Arsehole' and 'Fuckhead' were fit for the knackers, but they were what Geragio had to deal with for now.

Erin would likely find the old man giving his horses the evil eye, and having it returned doubly from the gangly misbegotten pair of them, as he checked the reins and tack to pass the time.

[Erin Venri]

Erin left the inn a tad bit late. He was quite distraught with this, rushing down the hall as he was pulling on his last bits of armor. Of course, he didn't know that Geragio was still just packing the wagon. He couldn't mess this up, he needed the coin and he wanted to see more of the world, so that meant he needed to hurry. He walked straight out of the inn, much to the dismay of the innkeeper, she seemed very intent on getting him to buy some breakfast; he didn't have time for that.

Stepping into the stable, Wynlis, like he always did in the morning; wouldn't wake his lazy arse up. He was a good horse, and Erin would be damned if he could find a better beast. However, that didn't mean if the damn horse wouldn't just sleep all day if you let him. "Come on, you lazy shite." He said with a playful, but annoyed tone. The horse's eyes fluttered opened, and it softly whinnied. Erin wasn't having any of it as he threw the tack on him, hurriedly tacking him. He was all ready to go in minutes, leading Wynlis out of the stable and mounting him.

"Hey there, Sir! All ready to go!" He cheerily called as he rode up on the glaring trio, finding it quite a bit funny.

[Geragio]

Geragio grunted in reply, and hauled himself atop the driver's seat. "If we're lucky, it'll be a run so boring y'won't have to earn y'keep." Geragio's gravely voice was accompanied by a crisp snap of the reins. Arsehole and Fuckhead ignored him. Geragio reached down and picked up a short whip, gave the pair of them a flick up the tail, then snapped the reins again. Begrudgingly, the pair of nags lurched into a semblance of forward momentum. Geragio could tell it was going to be a long fucking journey. He missed his old horses.

The streets were quieter in the morning, and Geragio was glad that he didn't have to constantly stop on account of damn-fool idiots getting in his way. Not that he did when some damn fool did cross their path - but the half-awake twit managed to dive out of the way of the slow-moving wagon before either horse could get their teeth in. Their attempt, however, caused the wagon to veer. Geragio cursed and snapped the reins, put painful pressure on their bits to bring them back in line. Fuck 'em if they didn't like that, he thought, served 'em right for trying to take a chunk out of him earlier.

The old man was tempted to drive in comfortable silence, but he sensed his guard was going to be one of those irritating talkative types. Best thing to do was steer the conversation away from the usual obnoxious small talk. Better stick to small talk he was more comfortable with. With his eyes firmly set on the road, Geragio drawled "How many men've you killed, bounty man?"

[Erin Venri]

Erin rode beside the man softly, the slight bobbing in contrast to the ruggedness of his charge. He may not have been nearly as rude or as gruff as his charge; but he did have to agree with him on one thing. He hated these damn fools that roamed the streets early in the morning. He showed a fraction of concern when Geragio swerved, but quickly knew he'd be fine.

At the speaking of the man's words, he fell silent for a moment or two. He needed to think on that question, and he did. He'd killed several cutthroats and brigands on the road, undisciplined fools to say the least. He'd guess five or so. Then he needed to take into account those he'd kill on the job or for their bounties, and for that he would parry a guess of about ten people. He was unsure really, as he tried to keep foul thoughts from plaguing his mind.

He soon realized that he'd been silent for too long, and he spoke. "About fifteen, sir. Mostly brigands and cutthroats on the road, or when I was guarding a charge on the road. I always try to take my bounties back alive, since usually you'll make more coin that way." He replied to the man's question, and that got him thinking. This man seemed hard, or maybe that was just his grumpiness; he wondered how many people Geragio killed.

"Sir Geragio, if I may, how many people have you killed?" He asked with curiosity lacing his tone, his eyes wandering the seated form of his master; awaiting an answer.

[Geragio]

Fifteen men, eh? Kids still grew up fast, he supposed. Still, it wouldn't do to let on too much about himself. "Oh, I'm just a harmless wagon driver, me. No killin' on my horizons." Geragio thumped his pegleg against the wood of the carriage as if to demonstrate his unsuitability for such a task.

Deep inside, the old man's bowels churned bitterly with the truth of his words. "Gotta know a man's got the balls on him to get 'is hands bloody in your line o'business. Lot's o'them brigands and cut-throats around on the roads. Can't be too careful." Yep, small talk. Just what Geragio was most skilled at.

What he would give to just drink himself into a stupor and let the horses take them the rest of the way to Qadis. Not that the cunted sausages-in-training would ever be that useful. He'd probably find himself halfway to the eastern empire by the time he awoke.

[Erin Venri]

Deep inside, he wasn't sure if he believed the old man's words, but he would have too; he was both his employer, and an old man, so he deserved some kind of respect. "Of course, sir. It's understandable to know that your guard has at least some experience with bloody work. You don't 'em running out on you."

That was the truth if he'd ever seen it. In his year or so of mercenary work, he'd seen other men and women who were around his age not be able to handle the killing and bloodshed that went along with it all. It was a damn shame really, but unavoidable. There would always be those who thought they could bite off more than they could chew.

"Sir Geragio, have you ever been to Qadis before?" He asked with a glance as they rode along, already leaving the small city behind as they had focused on riding and talking- well, and avoiding the idiots that plagued the city streets early in the morn.

[Geragio]

Geragio grunted. Qadis and he had a long history, thanks to the Trivisana League's heavy involvement in the port city. "Guess y'could say that. Used t'be a more active merchant afore I went and got m'self hobbled with an oak foot. Visitin' Qadis is part an' parcel of that kind of work." Sometimes he'd been sent to help the Trivisana's envoys as an extra bit of insurance in the more dodgy dealings that didn't strictly fall within the bounds of legal enterprise. For him, Qadis had been all about narrow alleys and long knives - just how he liked it.

The old man eyed the youth. "I'm guessin, from the question, you've mostly been plyin' yer trade 'round Apthoni. First visit to a proper Corezan city won't be too different t'Apthonian cities, 'cept the Corezans have a fucking fetish 'bout looking like someone splashed a bucket of every type of paint over their fucking clothing. Province of eyesores, if you ask me. They have their own thoughts on the matter, o'course, but who fuckin' cares what a Corezon dandy with more colours on his clothes than sense might have to say? Eyesores, you'll see, just mark my words."

Geragio hawked up a wad of mucus and sent it off to the side of the road in a high arc, accentuating his opinion of Corezans in general, before adding "We'll be headed to one of the large warehousin' districts, once we get there, so hopefully won't have to deal too much with the colourful pissants who run the place. Reg'lar folks with less money can't afford a full fuckin' rainbow to wear, so they're a bit easier to tolerate."

What Geragio was finding hard to tolerate was that fact that he had a month on the road ahead of him before he would even be in Qadis, and no idea why the trip was so fucking important that they dragged his old carcass off the farm. Changers fuck him, half the fucking cargo was supplies to ensure the dumb fuckers in charge of the cargo didn't starve before reaching Qadis. Which went for the damn horses too. They could live until he'd offloaded the wagons, then they'd be fucking sausages. That was a promise.

[Erin Venri]

Erin frowned as he listened, growing deeper with the other's words. Were the people of that land really so vain as to throw themselves with colors and such. He could understand a bright color or two, but being splashed with it would do nothing but make you look like a big colorful target.

"Well...I suppose the common folks would want to dress like rainbows as well." He sighed as he walked along on his horse. His horse was wary of Geragio's horses, as they had tried to take bites out of the friendly and young horse. Erin, however, was finding the less polite man at least a entertaining one to be around and for that he was thankful. It would be a dismal month if he had to listen to some rich merchant whine.

"Sir, do you think they mind us too much over there? Elves, I mean. I don't want to bring any warranted trouble upon your head, Sir." He asked rather innocently. He would really rather try and spare the rude old man any more stress than needed. He secretly thought that the old badger might croak.

[Geragio]

Geragio shrugged "Ain't against the law t'be an elf. Can't help who fucked who before you got dropped out of your ma's nethers. They're more likely to have issue on account of us bein' from Apthoni." The old man flicked irritably at the horses, who harrumphed and whisked their tails in disapproval "Corezans like t'think they have commerce 'round the Mediterranean all wrapped up in a pretty parcel, and they don't like it when we rub it in their face that they have some competition." Of course,'rubbing it in their face' was putting mildly what Geragio had been called upon to perform back in the good old days.

"Nah, so long as some bastard's parents wasn't knifed by an elf and has an unreasonable grudge, your stupid pointy ears ain't going to mean a damn thing in Qadis. Them Quijans in particular trade with Darleone all regular-like, as I understands it, so it's pretty common t'see your kind in the bazaar and market districts. In the brothels too, o'course. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you." Geragio decided to impart some wisdom while he was on the topic "An old comrade of mine once said, 'fucking and fighting is universal, and the two kind of balance out the population, so you gotta fuck as much as you fight.'" The maths worked, Geragio reckoned.

[Erin Venri]

Erin sighed, happy that he wouldn't lead to anyone trying to jump them from account of his pointed ears. Though he may get them attacked from the sheer style of his leather armor. It was most definitely Apthoni. Cockshite. He then laughed a little at the man's words. He was actually a quite chaste man; believing in saving one's self for their partner. He found little appeal in the thought of going out whoring, but that isn't to say that he thought it was wrong. Everyone can do as they pleased.

"Well...to each their own. I'm more than happy to see trade abundant, even if it is from those of Darleone." It was known that those of Apthoni were a separate culture than those of Darleone, and didn't like to be compared to them. "I really just would be glad to get somewhere new. I bet there will be plenty of new and interesting sights! I just hope the streets aren't filled with the naked women, like my friends would always say. That would be quite the sight, but also a good bit uncomforting." He said softly, a playful smile on his face, signalling this was one of the few times his bit of idiocy was just a joke.

[Geragio]

Geragio cackled, then hacked up a wad of saliva and spat in the direction of the horses. Missed, worse luck. "An' there y'go soundin' like a kid straight off the fucking farm. Streets full of naked women. Now wouldn't that be a sight? Nah, won't see that. Have t'travel across the Mediterranean to New Eyropa. I'm told Semerkhet brothels put their wares out on full display."

Geragio put about as much credence on that as he did anything else he hadn't seen, but the lad seemed gullible as a newborn, and who was to say it wasn't true? "Nah, Corezans can be pretty fuckin' uptight about social niceties. Rich fucks always want to be seen as refined fucks, even if deep down they're coarse as a pigfucker. All about appearances, Corezans. Do all their killin' and fucking behind closed doors. Mostly."

It applied to the nobles, at least. Corezan nobility were a poisonous and treacherous bunch, as everyone knew. Regular Corezans were, well, regular folks. Fought in the streets and fucked whores in the alleys like any bloke in Eyropa. "Though if you're goin' to get all country-lad-in-the-big-city once we're in Qadis, you'll want t'head to the docks. Them fuckin' golems are a sight and a fucking half. Damn glad they're only made for cartin' cargo, I tell ya."

[Erin Venri]

His eyes grew wide, actual naked women in the streets those of Semerkhet must really be open. He was very gullible, that didn't mean he was stupid, but he'd known little of that land so for all he knew there could be flying horses and fish in the sand. Who was to say that they didn't parade their whores on the street. He then thought of what the man said of the Corezans, and he thought for long few moments. He was just stewing in his thoughts, of the possibilities that could possibly face him. It was a tad bit frightening, but also a more than a little exciting.

"Those nobles seem worse than vipers, but...with all their squabbles and such, it could lead to many opportunities to make coin as a guard. I shall not being going hungry, if I so think." He paused his speaking, shooting the old man a half-glare half-smirk, all in playful fun. "That is as long as my employers try not to cheat me so badly next time." He said before chuckling a little and shifting in his saddle a bit. Damn. He still didn't like the fact he'd be sitting in a saddle most of the month, but it was much better than walking.

[Geragio]

The morning breeze kicked up into more vigorous wind, and Geragio covered his face with a grubby old scarf. Through nature's interference, the morning, and most of the day passed in silence until they made camp in the evening.

The wind became more vigorous the following day, and Geragio glowered at the sky. His stump ached, and that normally meant a storm was coming. When the storm hit the day after, the pair took refuge in the hospitality of a nearby farm - for the cost of a few bishani to cover their food.

It was an Apthoni summer special, that storm. Came in like a back alley door-kicker, trashed the proverbial house, then sauntered off again. The road was muddy from the rain, and the pair were making miserable progress in the post-storm drizzling rain when matters got outright inconvenient: their passage across a small river was stymied by the destruction of its bridge.

Geragio cursed. Which is to say, he let out a seamless torrent of vaguely-linked profanities until some internal accountant determined he'd filled up the appropriate quota for expletives in the face of broken bridges. "Right then. We'll have t'backtrack and find a level crossing. Fucking storm can go fuck itself sideways with a fucking rainbow. Fuck everything about this."