"Canen Osiris?"
The voice sliced through Osiris's daydream, returning him swiftly from the land beyond his UI to the virtual reality of the Astorea bounty office. The sound of a low cough echoed around the painted room, quickly accompanied by one of the three-strong delegation on the opposite side of his desk clearing her throat.
"Hmm?"
His eyes surveyed each one of the faces, as if they had entered the room for the first time, before finally falling on the woman who had addressed him. She rested her chin on her hand.
"We have had time to consider your request, Mr Osiris." The young brunette repeated, squinting through her thin-rimmed spectacles at Canen as he casually dragged a chair out from underneath the desk on his side.
"And?" The monk took a long look at the bounty package she had placed in front of him. A clean shaven, close-cut man next to the female shrugged, and leaned over the desk, clasping his hands together. His pressed finery and deliberate manner told of the aristocracy of the Astorean government. His eyes met Canen's; a knowing glint barely detectable.
The man paused, tapping the envelope, "This is what we can offer you that best fits your requirements."
Canen's eyes peeled down towards the unopened package. Carefully, he placed it between finger and thumb, and cut away the seal with a quick swipe of a nearby paper knife before unfolding the note in front of him. His face crumpled into a forced frown as those irises followed each line of spidery handwriting to its conclusion.
"Fucking hell."
"Fucking hell, indeed," the well-groomed gentleman replied at length. "It seems a group of travelers working at an excavation site out in the fringes of Vintergard uncovered an ancient tomb of some sort. That isn't important to us – what is important is what they found inside. They're keeping tight-lipped about it, but from what we've heard from our source they're very dangerous. So much so, the bandit numbers in the area have dropped. Significantly."
A moment passed before the Canen spoke again. His eyes washed around the room, at each of the faces in front of him, and then back to the desk. Everyone had reactions, no matter how small, but the most telling would be his own.
"I've heard there's lots of Magitech and all sorts of shithousery in Vintergard." The tapping of fingers on the polished wooden surface accompanied the monk's observations as he settled into a slight slouch. "But this? Well..."
The third gentleman, who hadn't yet spoken, now sat up to punctuate this conversation with his own thoughts. "I'd recommend you putting together a team, if you know anyone who would be willing?"
The warrior sat back now, his chiselled features wracked in thought, before his eyes sank back to the delegation. There was a long pause.
"I have a couple of people in mind, sure." Osiris said, fanning the papers in front of his face before slapping them on the table. "Erick Styker, for a start, and Little Birb. They helped me out with a problem in Brisshal not long ago. As for the rest of the party...please, by all means, make a recommendation."
The delegates bowed their heads in turn, and the suited man gave one final look at Canen. The monk came across as arrogant, but there was something different about him. He held a certain composure that a younger, less level headed man wouldn't have done in this situation.
The voice sliced through Osiris's daydream, returning him swiftly from the land beyond his UI to the virtual reality of the Astorea bounty office. The sound of a low cough echoed around the painted room, quickly accompanied by one of the three-strong delegation on the opposite side of his desk clearing her throat.
"Hmm?"
His eyes surveyed each one of the faces, as if they had entered the room for the first time, before finally falling on the woman who had addressed him. She rested her chin on her hand.
"We have had time to consider your request, Mr Osiris." The young brunette repeated, squinting through her thin-rimmed spectacles at Canen as he casually dragged a chair out from underneath the desk on his side.
"And?" The monk took a long look at the bounty package she had placed in front of him. A clean shaven, close-cut man next to the female shrugged, and leaned over the desk, clasping his hands together. His pressed finery and deliberate manner told of the aristocracy of the Astorean government. His eyes met Canen's; a knowing glint barely detectable.
The man paused, tapping the envelope, "This is what we can offer you that best fits your requirements."
Canen's eyes peeled down towards the unopened package. Carefully, he placed it between finger and thumb, and cut away the seal with a quick swipe of a nearby paper knife before unfolding the note in front of him. His face crumpled into a forced frown as those irises followed each line of spidery handwriting to its conclusion.
"Fucking hell."
"Fucking hell, indeed," the well-groomed gentleman replied at length. "It seems a group of travelers working at an excavation site out in the fringes of Vintergard uncovered an ancient tomb of some sort. That isn't important to us – what is important is what they found inside. They're keeping tight-lipped about it, but from what we've heard from our source they're very dangerous. So much so, the bandit numbers in the area have dropped. Significantly."
A moment passed before the Canen spoke again. His eyes washed around the room, at each of the faces in front of him, and then back to the desk. Everyone had reactions, no matter how small, but the most telling would be his own.
"I've heard there's lots of Magitech and all sorts of shithousery in Vintergard." The tapping of fingers on the polished wooden surface accompanied the monk's observations as he settled into a slight slouch. "But this? Well..."
The third gentleman, who hadn't yet spoken, now sat up to punctuate this conversation with his own thoughts. "I'd recommend you putting together a team, if you know anyone who would be willing?"
The warrior sat back now, his chiselled features wracked in thought, before his eyes sank back to the delegation. There was a long pause.
"I have a couple of people in mind, sure." Osiris said, fanning the papers in front of his face before slapping them on the table. "Erick Styker, for a start, and Little Birb. They helped me out with a problem in Brisshal not long ago. As for the rest of the party...please, by all means, make a recommendation."
The delegates bowed their heads in turn, and the suited man gave one final look at Canen. The monk came across as arrogant, but there was something different about him. He held a certain composure that a younger, less level headed man wouldn't have done in this situation.
