Renalt Leads Denlo out of the City

Renalt returns to the tavern for their late afternoon, or early evening depending on the person telling time, meal. For the last day, he has been gathering supplies in town to leave. He was only about two-thirds of the way through his list when heard the news through his slowly building network, and knew instantly what that would mean. As he heads back into the Craven Wolf, he hopes they can manage with what he has, and whatever this not-Kravlo managed to get these last two daytimes. The Elfi’ika isn’t here yet, which is fine. Means Renalt gets his meal first, which he generally would prefer. He heads over to the less grumpy than usual tavernkeep. “Dearest Eraglim,” the humble musician begins, “Might I ask for yet one more of your lovely meals?”

Eraglim Tolrogimdat looks at the musician, shrugs, and says, “Certainly, I suppose.”

Renalt raises his brow in surprise at that. “What, praytell, has you in such a good mood? If you mind not me asking, of course.” As he speaks, he pulls out the silver piece.

She thinks less than a moment, then smiles, beckons him to lean in, and says in a rather hushed tone, “I mind,” taking the silver piece from the human’s hand. Chuckling to herself, she hurries back into the kitchen.

With a chuckle of his own, Renalt had to admit, that is a good bit. Well timed and choreographed. If the food industry fails her and the comedian industry takes off, she might even have a future. Neither of those are particularly likely, of course, but possible. Renalt heads to the table he’s been using and sits down. Around a minute later, not-Kravlo returns from his day of carousing, shopping, and whatever else he does in his free time. He sits down across from Renalt. “Renalt, are you ready for tomorrow?” he asks.

Renalt smiles. “Not quite,” he says ominously. “Dear not-Kravlo,” he begins, then cuts himself off holding up a finger. Eraglim returns with a smile on her face, or as close to a smile as the dwarf has mustered since this pair have known her. She hands Renalt the meal and his change.

Not-Kravlo looks at her for a moment, surprised by her attitude, and then smiles back. Where her smile is like a pleasant feeling blank stare, his is more akin to a grimace. He says, pulling out a couple pieces of copper and extending his hand, “I’ll just have a lunch.”

She takes the copper from his hand. “Of course,” she says as she whisks herself away.

“That’s odd,” not-Kravlo says.

“True, though not of urgent import. As I was saying, dear not-Kravlo, during your travels in the kinslums did you happen upon some brigands and not inform me of such?”

The Elfi’ika looks concerned, glances around then quietly replies, “Yeah, a couple days ago. But I took care of it. Nothing to worry about.”

Renault shakes his head at the naïve man before him. “Not quite. You obfuscated it, you did not take care of it. A key distinction I may well teach if we have the time.”

“What do you mean?”

Eraglim comes over with the large man’s meal. This time, Renalt does not even bother to stop talking. “Well, Kravlo, I heard tale of your, let’s call them escapades, from some friends of mine.” He makes sure to put emphasis on the escapades, in a manner that he suspects will make the good tavernkeep think their discussion about matters of a more intimate nature than street fights.

“Really,” not-Kravlo responds to the statement, “Which friends, exactly?”

“That is unimportant,” Renalt answers as Eraglim leaves. She has a business to run, after all. Renalt continues, “What is important is that I heard. And if I caught word, others will soon hear as well. Which means, ready or not, we will leave this eve.”

“When exactly?” the large man says through a full mouth, starting to shovel the food in quicker.

“We have a bit of time,” Renalt replies, “It’s an hour until sundown. We need to be at the gate two minutes into First Watch. Meaning we should be leaving here in about a quarter hour.”

Together, the pair finish their meals with a bit of haste, though not as swiftly as the Elfi’ika had been eating. Renalt approaches Eraglim. “Good Madam, I do appreciate your hospitality. Kravlo and I will be leaving this eve, however. I hope you mind not this development, at the very least.”

The tavernkeep chuckles under her breath and shakes her head. “I don’t mind. Why leave now?”

“This locale, lovely as it be, was never to be my final destination. I know not if I shall ever truly have one. But as far as the timing be concerned, better to travel the night so I arrive wherever I go near morn. That way, I give unto myself time to find a place in which I might stay and play. As you remember I did here.” Renalt answers the woman honestly, relatively speaking. Avoiding anything incriminating, of course, so she is not implicated, but otherwise he is honest. This tavern may well prove a useful place to stay in the future, and he doesn’t want to mess that up in their final discussion.

Eraglim looks about, smiles her sort-of smile, and nods. “Then fare yourself well on your journey. I’m certain I can find one to take your room.”

“May your life be ever well and ever pleasant,” Renalt replies with a friendly Dwarfish goodbye.

She chuckles at that. “And may your cup be ever full,” she replies in kind.

With a nod, the slender bard and massive fighter leave the tavern. Renalt leads the pair around the corner to a cart, with some camping supplies in the back. “I got this after I heard the news,” he says, “As I was not about to carry those supplies, and for you to do your theoretical job, you should have your hands free.”

Renalt carefully drives the cart to the gate he scouted that first full day here. Beside him, not-Kravlo puts on his helmet. A good move, makes him appear more like the mercenary he is playing. They arrive right on time, just after the main guard has changed shift, but before the Authority guard has. They don’t like one another much, so the new shift should not be speaking on matters with the Authority people. And, without news of the dead bodies they found, those guards shouldn’t be focused much on people leaving the city. Easier to hide in the city, after all. Approaching the guard, Renalt smiles. He knows what to do.

“Good ser, might we head out this eve?”

“Why are you leaving tonight?”

Renalt’s smile only grows. “‘Tis a little trick I learned on the roads about bandit-plagued Halsta. Most bandits set ambushes during the day or strike at camps during the night. If one sleeps during the day and travels at night, they can easily avoid both.”

“Of course. Where are you going?”

“My bodyguard has promised to act as guide for me. We’re headed to his hometown. Ysaultia-Olgorin. He claims he has some friends there that could help me organize something truly fantastic.”

The guard nods. “Alright, I’ll just need to see his papers, then you can move out.”

“But of course. Kravlo?” Renalt turns to his compatriot.

The massive man climbs off the cart and walks over to the guard. Standing a good head taller than the guard, not-Kravlo pulls out his paper. The guard looks at it then up at the man. “This isn’t an ID.”

“No. I left that at home,” the massive man says, then cocks his head. “I was not expecting the census here.”

“Nor that you would be leaving here at night, I suspect.” He waives the pair through. “Between us three, it isn’t a true census, just a ruse. Not that I would know why. They tell us nothing.”

“Typical of them, I suspect,” Renalt says with a smile as not-Kravlo gets back onto the cart and begins to drive it through the gate.

The guard laughs. “You don’t know the half of it, good sir.”

Renalt hops onto the back of the cart. Hanging off of it, he adds with a smile, “Mayhaps, when next I’m in town, you could elucidate me.”

The cart heads off down the road. Renalt climbs to the front. He takes the reins from the Elfi’ika. “That went well,” the mercenary says somewhat surprised.

Renalt counters, “It went precisely as I predicted it would.”

“We’re not heading for Ysaulti-Olgorin, are we?”

Renalt chuckles. “Gods, no. Why would we leap from the boiling pot into the burning flame? No, we’re heading for a lovely little town on the coast some friends of mine informed me about three years ago.”

The other man finally seems to relax some. “Good. As long as you have a plan.”

“A plan? Never,” Renalt jokes.

The armored man shakes his head once more. It is most people’s general reaction to Renalt, so that makes sense. “By the way, now that we’re out of the city, I should probably say this. My name’s Denlo.” Denlo holds out his hand.

Renalt looks the man in the eye a moment, then takes his hand. “Lovely to finally meet you, Denlo. The name’s still Renalt.”

“Just wondering, did you mean what you said back there, about the bandits?” Denlo asks.

“Of course. Always. If you don’t mean it, they’ll never believe it.” Renalt sees that, while Denlo seems at home with lying, he doesn’t quite understand what he’s saying. The good musician decides to explain himself. “I have found that there are three ways to lie. This is just in my experience, of course, but from what I can tell you can avoid the truth, embrace the truth, or embrace the story. Most people, they do the first. They lie by just not saying the truth. Maybe they have some kind of story other than the truth, but that’s not the heart of the lie. The lie lies in not wanting to tell the truth. This is the easiest to tell, but also the easiest to see through. Like you with your ‘Kravlo’. You weren’t Kravlo, but you couldn’t be Denlo, so you said yourself to be Kravlo insead.

“The other two, despite being opposites, go hand in hand. They are both primarily about believing your own story. The question is where that belief is centered. In the former, you believe your story because you make much of your story the truth. Everything except the details you don’t want to tell are true. For the latter, you weave a tale and use whatever is at your disposal to convince yourself it is true. If you can convince yourself, and you earnestly believe it, then everyone else certainly will as well.”

“So,” Denlo asks in response to Renalt’s lecture, “Which of the two was that?”

Renalt looks his new traveling companion in the eyes. Or, as close to looking the man in the eyes as he could while Denlo was wearing the masked helmet. “I’ll make you a deal, you tell me. You guess right, I’ll teach you how to believe yourself. You guess wrong, you tell me how you got into this mess in the first place.”

Denlo shifts around slightly in his seat. It feels for a moment that he’s about to make a guess. Then the moment passes. Instead, he makes a request. “So, tell me about this coastal town some guy told you about years ago.”

Renalt laughs. “‘Twasn’t just some guy. Tell me, have you ever heard of the v’Olirinia Caravan?”

“I’m guessing that’s one of the Sea Elfish Caravans?”

“So no,” Renalt says, “Well, they are one of the let’s say less respected but more profitable caravans. The sort of people with whom you might get along quite well indeed. When we traveled a time together, their head navigatrix told me of several such coastal towns around the, um, Sea That Once Was Not. Do you object?”

Denlo nods, understanding completely. “A smuggler’s port. Sure, why not?”