An impressive assortment of aches and a terrible thirst marked the captains return to

consciousness. Fareeds condition confirmed that the three days in Vand had satiated his
appetite for goods and services of ill repute. These pursuits were best confined to land for
unrestricted provision by specialist businesses; despite the temptation of relocating them to
the Mistrunner. With an inhuman surge of ambition, Fareed lurched out of bed and took
several steps towards his aqueous salvation, only to collapse painfully on the floor. The
dreaded inevitability of moving loomed. There was an obnoxious quantity of Dramalan silk
to be sold before his masters required him elsewhere. Annoyance washed over him as he
remembered to pay a visit to a physician to avoid the venereal consequences of the previous
night. Eventually he managed a more realistic crawl towards the pitcher of water.
An hour later, Fareed was meandering down the grid of side streets and alleyways
towards the textiles district. He caught sporadic glimpses of the radiant midday sun between
the densely packed buildings. Reassured by the fetid symphony wafting in from the east, he
had passed the fish markets and was only two streets away from his favourite people in Vand.
A fabulously overweight and opulently dressed man instantly recognised Fareed and
shouted Why if it isnt captain fucking Almasi from the royally endorsed and incorporated
swindling society, as he generously sprayed several of his customers in his enthusiastic
derision. In a minor feat of athleticism, Fareed hurled the bag of silk samples across the
street, hitting the merchant squarely in the chest. Stunned bystanders looked on in awe as
Fareed barged through the group of customers. They were about to witness a timeless battle
between the great Sclavo Giraldi di Vand and Captain Fareed Almasi of Tiros.
Scalvo dismissed his customers with a flourish of a substantial arm, causing violent
ripples to manifest across its surface. Unwieldy fingers lustily molested the bag, spilling fine
Dramalan silk across the bench. HA!, barked Scalvo, with well-practiced outrage. I would
not subject a prisoners arse to this multicoloured dock rope. Now, now Scalvo, we both
know you are in desperate need of passable wares with which to more credibly extort your
victims, boomed Fareed, indicating the stall in an expansive two-handed gesture. I have half
a ton where that came from. Unable to contain his glee at the favourable negotiating position
this afforded him, Scalvo narrowed his eyes and flashed a sadistic grin. Eight hundred for
the lot and Ill be doing you a favour. Fareed glared at Scalvo, completely expressionless.
Nine hundred, Scalvo spat. When this produced no change in Fareeds stony visage, Scalvo
intensified his own stare. Half a minute passed. Numb spectators studied them with
apprehension. Fourteen hundred, no less.
Wobbling mightily from the effort, Scalvo bellowed,
GUUUUAAAAARRRRDDDDS! I AM BEING ROBBED BY A MADMAN. A heavily
armored mercenary rushed out of Scalvos warehouse, slowing rapidly and rolling his eyes as
he realised he was a prop for his employers haggling. At that moment, Alesio Leoni - a rival
merchant - crept from behind Scalvo and winked conspiratorially at Fareed. Eleven hundred
for the half ton and that is my final offer, said Fareed, returning the wink to Alesio. Scalvo
shook his head in frustration and mumbled something about shameless Tirosi bandits. He
reluctantly extended his sweaty hand to accept Fareeds allegedly final offer.
Eleven hundred and fifty!, shouted Alesio, just as Scalvos palm was making contact
with Fareeds. Time froze. Dead silence gave birth to a sweeping nova of hysteria. A
mortified Scalvo stared at the ground beneath the handshake in limbo. After a moment of
chaos, the crowd reverted to respectful attentiveness. Scalvo turned towards the familiarly
insolent voice with agonising slowness, red jowls quivering in rage. Staring murderously into
the depths of Alesios eyes, Scalvo screamed TWELVE HUNDRED YOU MISERABLE
SONS OF CURS! so loudly that even the outermost fringe of the spellbound mob could
hear. Ah, I fear that is too rich for me, Alesio said with aggravating composure, Although
that is perhaps because of a large shipment I received yesterday.
A fine strand of spittle drooped down Scalvos chin as he realised the extent of his
defeat. The audience burst into a thunderous crescendo of applause and Scalvo begrudgingly
beckoned Fareed inside to discuss the details of the robbery. Attempting to inflict further
indignity, Alesio had the gall to repeatedly bow to his adoring fans.