What does one do when summoned to meet the overseer of the Mages Guild? My secrets are rich like a fat grain merchant and likely to put my head on a spike, either here in Tredroy or worse, in the fetid Imperial City. Being a consummate paranoid and planner, several steps must be taken to ensure my ass doesn’t end up in a sling.
Why would a man of great power, wisdom and resources summon a lowly gravedigger and smuggler such as me? Has my “transition” to this body been discovered? Perhaps he needs goods secreted around the river. Clearly my first task is to obtain any information about him and his plans.
The Master has little need for the prattle of rumor flitting through this ivory tower like moths to candles. I would not waste his time. Castini, though, she may know what plans this Arch Mage may have for me. My sometimes lover and co-conspirator in my “transition” spends most of her time in the “G-String”; hers framed delicately and wonderfully between two firm cheeks, of course, but in this context it is a tavern. A terrible place in the Christian quarter populated mainly with Northmen. It is here where I find her, sitting next to a tattooed glass licker who looks more like a magical stew of ape and ox than a man.
Never the one to show overt surprise or emotion, she bids me welcome and I sit as far from her man-thing as possible but can still feel the heat emanating off his body. His smell is a mixture of patchouli and sweat, sickly sweet. I almost vomit. I do long for the days of a potpourri held next to my nose when venturing among chattel like this. Their odious condition is not their fault, but a product of this economic system, I remind myself.
In Sahudese, I ask for a private audience. With merely a thought, the eyes of her ape-ox glaze over lost in some trance which is very likely just a few steps away from his actual intelligence. I explain to her my summons and ask if she knows the reason. She briefs me on what she knows about this Dean of Magic; merchant at heart, obsessed with golems and power stones, his idiotic pointy hat. Other than that, she knows not the reason for the mage’s request. I thank her and bid her farewell, I have one final errand before my meeting.
Addicts are a wonderful resource, found in any borough of Tredroy wandering from drug to drug. From drunks to the kindred of the poppy, all are fertile ground to plant the seeds of my addiction… addiction to wisdom. I find two rubes, who fall for simple wordplay and who, in succession, join me. On each I cast Sleep and then Steal Wisdom. With this level of privacy, I then cast my various conceal magic’s on myself and leave, ready to meet with this Alfaisarian, Master of the Mages Guild.
((my notes also mention some guy with some connection to the Thieve’s Guild, where I’m supposed to go at 10pm, but they aren’t clear and I don’t remember this. Might have been the drink))