Chapter 2: A Rose is still a Rose
People mingled in the marketplace stalls nobles and poor alike. It was busy today. All the better for him. He was tailing a nobleman. His usual cloak fell soothingly around him. He knew the man by the ring on his finger. It was an old piece, an exspensive piece, from over-sees with a glass globe setting stained in deep green and engraved on the sides of rare silver metal a flying trail of raven. The family ring of the Ravenglass family.
Scar face slipped into a ball a week after receiving the job. He had pretended to be a young noble whom had recently come to the city and no one had yet met. While there, he had careful inquired of Ravenglass family from a elderly man with a few too many strong drinks and a loose mouth.
He had learned that the man's wife was now ten years deceased and that he had sold his holdings in Baylotè a few cities over to reside solely in his smaller mansion of the two. What nobody knew was the man was also a drunk. A high functioning drunkard at that. Scar face ducked into a stall of vegetables and bought a single rose. He watched the man look around him at a corner and lift somthing to his lips as he had done every hour since the early morning. He thanked the man at the stall and tucked the rose away.
Rose's were exspensive. A sign of wealth and prosperity. He smiled as he tucked it away and left the stall trailing the man. He lifted a few coins here and there from the nobles and even dropped a few into the pockets of the scrawny and starving. He swept into another shop pretending to admire the baubles and trinkets inside. The stall owner glanced at him wearily as he was used to only the nobles frequenting his stall.
Ravenglass was throwing a party tomorrow that much he knew from the old man with the loose tongue a week before. Finally the noblemen called on his carriage driver and strode to the edge of the market place to wait for him. Scar face turned and quickly made his way out of the crowd and threw back his hood. His hair was slicked back he threw his cloak over his arm. His usual leather vest was gone and his clothes were his best. Still he only passed for a somewhat respectable merchant. A quick glance around told him no one was watching and as he passed behind two noble woman with beautiful carisoles and their husbands he reached out and slapped both of them on the ass as he passed. The two women whirled. Their husbands shortly after, and then ofcourse, there was some yelling.
He turned as if to look at them and smacked straight into Marcion Ravenglass carefully dropping the rose onto the ground. and snapping the rose stem beneath his foot. He quickly adapted a look of horror as he bent and apologized.
"Sorry Sir!"
He glanced at the rose as if just noticing it and panicked.
"Oh no!" He carefully picked up his rose with just enough alarm to draw the attention of Marcion without drawing the attention of anyone else.
"Its quite alright young man."
"I saved my wages for a day and a half so that my sister might have a rose for her birthday." He said forlorn.
The man looked at him; quite uncomfortable with the situation. He picked the rose from him and snapped the stem.
"A rose is still a rose, no matter how short." He pretended to ponder this for a moment.
"Your right sir. Thank you for enlightening me. Now if you dont mind I'm running rather late, but it was nice to meet you..."
"Marcion Ravenglass.Nice meeting you as well..."
"Edward Euthania," he said shaking his hand, they nodded and Scarface disappeared into the crowd. He slipped a ring into his pocket. A ring with ravens engraved on the side.
For sake of time he ordered a carriage home, but three blocks away he began to feel antsy so he got out and walked.
The air was stale today the roads reeked mildly of filth. When he finally reached Sylvador Palace his mind was on having a drink. He pondered opening the boddle of Ceavainian Brandy he had lifted at the party. The guys on the first floor greeted him and Ghost followed him down the hall, "Well how'd it go?"
"Splendid." he replied supplying the rose from his vest and turning the corner. At the door he tucked it into her hand and bid her goodnight. She curtsied in a ridiculous manner and walked away laughing.
He caught a look at himself in the looking glass by his wardrobe, he badly needed a shave. He tenderly touched the scar below his eye, the scar that had given him his street name. He didnt know the name his mother had given him, and until he'd been called by his street name he was just called boy. He remembered his father giving him the scar at the age of eight.
It was the first and last time he'd ever been caught-that his father knew of.
He smirked as he thought of the nursara practicer that had first shown him his powders. Ofcourse she hadn't given him any but he remembered them in detail. The next nursara he had met he had conned into giving him the powders.
He smirked as he relived memory of the first red collared bastard to try to snatch him after that.
The guard had grabbed his grubby little arm expecting him to resist. What the city patrol man didnt expect was for him to fling around toward him and throw dust in his face. The man had stumbled with a undignified screech and rubbed at his eyes. When he looked at little scar sylvador next he blinked a few times before walking away, absentmindedly staring at the fountains that covered the more endowed streets of Reavador. Since then he had gotten in good with a less than model nursara who gave him a monthly supply of varying powders, not to mention the occasional anti poison ect. He pushed away from the wall and stripped his shirt off into the wash bin.
His build was slender but lean he was tall and muscled enough but not a big man by any means. He poured himself a glass of brandy and eased into his hammock. The sounds of the party scene downstairs drifted through his room making him wish he had a door.
He threw back his Brandy and pulled the ring from his pocket he turned it this way and that way before smirking. Tomorrow should be easy.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone