(( Wintermarch, 9:33 - The Dragon's Flagon - Late Afternoon - Bernie ))
The trick to running a (mostly) illegal business was all in who you knew.
As it happened, Cam knew lots of people. She had a whole collection by this point, though some contacts were worth more than others. It might’ve been a mercenary take on things, but it’d gotten her where she wanted to be so far. Even better, it kept people like Val from ever getting their hooks into her again.
And yesterday, it’d gotten her a lead. Selling lyrium to the highest bidder was all well and good, but she didn’t have a lot of repeat customers. For as much of a pain in the ass as it was to secure, ship, and sneak past over-eager guards, Cam wanted a consistent return on her investment.
It’d taken some doing--calling in favors, leaning into the role of ‘discrete merchant with something to lose,’ and making Warrick actually work for once in his life--but eventually she’d been told about a tavern keeper who might be very interested in hearing what she had to say.
Rumor had it she was in the business of caring for apostates. If that was true, she wouldn’t be quick to turn down a supply of lyrium. She’d also be the cautious sort, because no one sheltered wayward mages in the middle of fucking Denerim without being choosy about who they trusted.
It’d be a tough sell, but it was like Matteo always said: “If you want to get at the best pearls, you need to do lots of prying.” Translation from Antivan was shit, but Cam had taken it to mean that the most lucrative deals were worth it… you just had to be ready for a fight.
So she’d readied herself for a fight, spending last night just getting a good look at the patrons that frequented the Dragon’s Flagon. She hadn’t wanted to give herself away too early, so she’d only glimpsed the owner during a few brief exchanges that’d happened in view of the windows, but it’d been time well-spent.
The Flagon’s usual lot were a motley sort. Unassuming men and women who seemed to gravitate to the warmth that emanated from the place. For a first meeting, Cam resolved to be the same. She wore a simple, belted linen tunic and trousers, completing the outfit with a pair of boots whose soles had recently been repaired. She wore no makeup save for some dark smudges beneath her eyes, and her hair was respectably styled--combed down straight, without the usual flair--and dyed a drab brown that was surprisingly close to her natural color.
She picked a slow time--late afternoon, before the evening rush began--but made sure she wouldn’t be the only patron present. When she finally entered the tavern, there were two others seated at a table, and one at the bar. Cam took a cursory glance at the interior, her gaze eventually falling on the woman who might give her a real chance of surviving without Matteo or Val or any of the people she’d had to rely on in the past.
“Afternoon.” She’d been in Denerim long enough to learn the way the average person spoke, and she used that knowledge now. “Been a long day, and I’m just looking for a hot meal and some ale that doesn’t taste like piss.”
She grinned at the woman, pulling out some coin to cover her request. “Wouldn’t say no to some conversation, either, if you’re not too busy.”
The trick to running a (mostly) illegal business was all in who you knew.
As it happened, Cam knew lots of people. She had a whole collection by this point, though some contacts were worth more than others. It might’ve been a mercenary take on things, but it’d gotten her where she wanted to be so far. Even better, it kept people like Val from ever getting their hooks into her again.
And yesterday, it’d gotten her a lead. Selling lyrium to the highest bidder was all well and good, but she didn’t have a lot of repeat customers. For as much of a pain in the ass as it was to secure, ship, and sneak past over-eager guards, Cam wanted a consistent return on her investment.
It’d taken some doing--calling in favors, leaning into the role of ‘discrete merchant with something to lose,’ and making Warrick actually work for once in his life--but eventually she’d been told about a tavern keeper who might be very interested in hearing what she had to say.
Rumor had it she was in the business of caring for apostates. If that was true, she wouldn’t be quick to turn down a supply of lyrium. She’d also be the cautious sort, because no one sheltered wayward mages in the middle of fucking Denerim without being choosy about who they trusted.
It’d be a tough sell, but it was like Matteo always said: “If you want to get at the best pearls, you need to do lots of prying.” Translation from Antivan was shit, but Cam had taken it to mean that the most lucrative deals were worth it… you just had to be ready for a fight.
So she’d readied herself for a fight, spending last night just getting a good look at the patrons that frequented the Dragon’s Flagon. She hadn’t wanted to give herself away too early, so she’d only glimpsed the owner during a few brief exchanges that’d happened in view of the windows, but it’d been time well-spent.
The Flagon’s usual lot were a motley sort. Unassuming men and women who seemed to gravitate to the warmth that emanated from the place. For a first meeting, Cam resolved to be the same. She wore a simple, belted linen tunic and trousers, completing the outfit with a pair of boots whose soles had recently been repaired. She wore no makeup save for some dark smudges beneath her eyes, and her hair was respectably styled--combed down straight, without the usual flair--and dyed a drab brown that was surprisingly close to her natural color.
She picked a slow time--late afternoon, before the evening rush began--but made sure she wouldn’t be the only patron present. When she finally entered the tavern, there were two others seated at a table, and one at the bar. Cam took a cursory glance at the interior, her gaze eventually falling on the woman who might give her a real chance of surviving without Matteo or Val or any of the people she’d had to rely on in the past.
“Afternoon.” She’d been in Denerim long enough to learn the way the average person spoke, and she used that knowledge now. “Been a long day, and I’m just looking for a hot meal and some ale that doesn’t taste like piss.”
She grinned at the woman, pulling out some coin to cover her request. “Wouldn’t say no to some conversation, either, if you’re not too busy.”
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