Earn your keep

A meagre assortment of coins, a golden ring, and a broken pocket watch were all he had managed to lay his hands on today. Pickpocketing wasn’t very lucrative in the streets of Rhoynar if you were looking for a big catch. Most of the people weren’t too well-off and it showed. The richer part of the population of Brightwater Keep often travelled by carriage, or never even left their houses, so they made for difficult prey. His little scavenging session hadn’t brought up too much, not nearly as much as he would need to finally deem himself comfortable with his financial situation, but it would at least buy him a warm meal and a place to stay for the night. At this point, that was all he could ask for.

With his earnings in his pocket, he made his way towards one of the dodgier taverns in Brightwater Keep, the Crimson Cutlass. Sawyer wasn’t exactly one for drinking: he liked to keep control over any situation he was in, which was difficult to do when you barely had control over your own mind and body. However, the tavern he was meaning to visit was not just any pub, it was an infamous place where every lowlife in Rhoynar could come to if they were in need of a job. The place was chock-full of criminals, ranging from petty thieves to actual assassins. The staff didn’t only serve drinks, they were also known fences. People who knowingly bought and resold stolen goods, something he was in need for right now. Not only that, the Crimson Cutlass was an ideal place to make new connections in the criminal underworld and to look for possible jobs. Sawyer needed something big. A heist at one of the giant manors atop the hill, or maybe taking someone’s life for fair compensation. However, with Fallen Skies being at peace, violence and theft were quite low in demand. He opened the door to the tavern, walking straight towards the bar to try and sell the things he had acquired today. Luckily for him, the ring had proven to be solid gold, earning him a decent amount of coin. After some intense bargaining, he managed to sell the broken pocket watch at a low price as well. With a sigh he turned towards the actual seating area of the bar, hoping for even the smallest job opportunity.

& Beometh

Sawyer cautiously eyed the people walking in and out of the tavern. It wasn’t all too difficult to distinguish between high-end and lowlife criminals, and he was ever so obviously looking for the former. Someone with a lucrative job opportunity, someone who could set him up for at least a couple months. It was exhausting, having to live your life day by day, scavenging for whatever you could find in the hopes it would be enough to keep you alive another day. It made him long for his life back in Navarre. Neither money, shelter, nor food had been issues. They were simply always there. It was so easy to take things for granted, right up until you lost them. It had been something that he hadn’t realized until it was far too late.

The blond man looked up as someone entered the Crimson Cutlass once again. He wasn’t dressed too extravagantly, but the man somehow managed to draw in some nasty looks from around the pub. Sawyer didn’t really know why, the man didn’t look to familiar to him. Still, he saw it as a red flag. A red flag he was willing to ignore if the pay was good. After all, he could handle himself. As expected, the man took a seat at one of the tables and started scribbling something down on a coaster. All throughout the tavern people were seated, closely keeping eyes on their coasters. Every now and then, someone turned one over, inspecting the supposed job. It was a custom he’d grown acquainted to pretty quickly here in Rhoynar, although he found it pretty strange. Mainly because a huge portion of the criminals in Brightwater Keep couldn’t even read. Sawyer pushed himself away from the bar he was still leaning against, making his way towards the dark-haired man. As soon as he closed in on the table, he could smell the indistinguishable scent of whiskey. His fingers deftly flipped the coaster, letting his eyes run over the words. He swore his pupils widened at the number on there, not to mention the potential follow-up. Still, he pretended to be not too interested. After a few seconds of deliberation, Sawyer sat down at the table, eyeing the stranger. “Who, where, and for how long?” he asked. He wasn’t too keen on discussing job details and personal information in places like these, and preferred to keep the dialogue as vague as possible for now. Spying was certainly something he could and would do, and in his eyes, it was easy money.

Sawyer softly bit his lip as he pretended to ponder the job opportunity. It was a small goldmine for someone like him and he surely wasn’t about to let go. After a few seconds, he decided to sit down at the table. He quickly surveyed the man sitting across from him. He didn’t really look Rhoynish, something that Sawyer could appreciate. Even though it had been his own choice to move here, he was slowly getting sick and tired of the typical Rhoynishmen that roamed the streets of Brightwater Keep. They were loud, obnoxious, and far from professional. Sawyer asked about the details of the case and was immediately met with an answer. ”Amir b’Hak-Mutar. Brightwater Keep. Until tomorrow evening eight o’clock. I will be here,” the man responded, and Sawyer simply nodded. The other man extended his hand and Sawyer did so too, meeting him in a firm handshake. “I’ll see you there,” he told the other man, before getting up to leave the tavern.

After some digging around, he’d found out Amir was Valyrian, as suspected, and he quickly managed to track him down. He followed the man through the streets of Brightwater Keep, leaving a generous amount of distance between the two of them and making sure he looked preoccupied with other things every time his target looked back. Sawyer wasn’t sure why the man had to be kept an eye on, up until now he hadn’t been doing anything interesting. Not that he cared, as long as he was getting paid everything was fine.

Sawyer wasn’t anything if not meticulous. He kept an eye on the man whose name was Amir for the entirety of the day, until he slipped into an inn to spend the night there. Sawyer himself was fully planning on meeting the standards for the supposed follow-up job, and thus stayed outside to wait for the man the entire night. He simply refused to do things half-assed. Lucky for him, Amir seemed to be an early bird and left the inn at dawn. With a tired sigh, Sawyer got up again to continue following him.

After getting breakfast, the Valyrian made his way towards the docks, a place where Sawyer managed to blend in perfectly since he knew quite a couple of people there. As they crossed the harbour, Amir finally seemed to reach his destination, engaging in conversation with an unknown man. Sawyer figured this might be the information his employer would be looking for, so he hid behind a set of crates and tried to catch as much as he possibly could from the conversation. Whenever he could, he took a quick peak at the man Amir was conversating with, seeing as it might be useful as well. He frowned a little as he tried to engrave their conversation into his memory. They seemed to be discussing a price, although Sawyer had no idea what was being sold. They kept referring to their product as ‘cargo’, apparently not too eager to share any details. As soon as the conversation ended and Amir left the scene, Sawyer stalked him again. The rest of the day was mostly spent at the market, where he tried very hard to resist not pickpocketing anybody. He could use the extra coin, but wouldn’t risk blowing his cover. He parted with Amir for the night, seeing as it was eight o’clock already. With all the information from today fresh in his mind, he entered the Crimson Cutlass once again, looking for his employer.

Skipping a good night’s sleep wasn’t exactly beneficial for anyone and Sawyer could very well feel its consequences. As soon as he wasn’t actively doing anything, he felt a great need to shut his eyes and drift off. The world seemed just a little hazier then before, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d rest easier tonight, knowing he’d made those fifty coins and had a claim on that potential follow-up job. After all, he would never stop working.

He’d lost track of time a little bit, due to his own fatigue, but only missed the deadline by mere minutes. However, Sawyer considered himself to be a punctual man, so he still cursed himself for running late. He walked into the Crimson Cutlass once again with a powerful thread, something that was already a dead giveaway that he had managed to succeed at the job. At least, he thought so. He didn’t have the time, or money, to get himself a drink, so his eyes immediately scanned the environment to then fall onto the man he’d met the other day. In silence, he joined him at the same table they sat at yesterday.

He gave the other man a meaningful look before opening his mouth. “I managed,” he started, indicating he’d followed Amir for the destined period of time. “But I think it’s best if we discuss the details somewhere else.” Although Sawyer himself had no idea what the information was about, it could be valuable to other people in the tavern. Eavesdropping wasn’t an unusual practice here and could be disastrous for the job.

His overall fatigued appearance would probably indicate something other than hard work. The native inhabitants of Brightwater Keep weren’t opposed to spending the entirety of their nights drinking rum or sleeping with courtesans. Most people would probably assume the same of him. He’d be offended, if he didn’t constantly remind himself of the incident that happened over at Isla de Juegas a few weeks ago. He’d gotten drunk, for the first time in ages, and managed to hook up with someone, also for the first time in ages. Although the woman herself had been absolutely wonderful, he still couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of shame about the entire situation. As if he hadn’t been true to himself.

His employer agreed to leave the Cutlass and stood up, Sawyer soon followed. They quietly walked down the street and Sawyer hesitantly stepped into the man’s carriage. He wasn’t exactly sure whether this was a good idea, but he was too tired to make good decisions right now. Besides, he was armed. And he had absolutely nothing to lose. Sawyer leaned forward a little, leaning his elbows on his knees as his employer asked what he’d heard. “Nothing of note happened yesterday, but he did meet someone at the harbour this morning,” he started off. “He was talking to a dark-haired, bearded man, definitely Rhoynish.” Rhoynish people were one of the easiest to identify, for some reason. “They were negotiating about a price for certain cargo. They never specified what the cargo was,” he continued. Whatever it was they were selling, they were doing their very best to keep it quiet. Sawyer then locked eyes with the other man. “They made a deal. They’re meeting again at midnight.”

As soon as Sawyer indicated the men would meet again tonight, his employer averted his gaze. It was clear that there was some personal involvement in this particular case. As long as it didn’t interfere with the job, Sawyer didn’t mind too much, though. He couldn’t care less about the man’s personal problems. All he could think of was the reward at the end of the road. The very reward that could provide him with food and shelter for at least a couple of months. Frankly, he was tired of having to live day-by-day, scavenging for jobs until he finally managed to made a living. On bad days, he had to skip meals. A stark contrast between his former way of living. It was exhausting, but there was no other way.

His employer instructed him to go get some rest. His previous sleepless night had not gone unnoticed, as he’d feared. But the follow-up job was offered to him, so Sawyer couldn’t be more than glad at this point. Especially when his pay was handed to him. “Glad to do business with you,” he grunted, with a nod, and then stepped out of the carriage. That afternoon, he sought out a decent inn. None of the shady places he would stay in when he was especially low on money, but not some place that would cost him the entirety of his earnings either. A modest room with a decent bed was all he asked for.

Of course, he slept like a baby. He had no clue about what was awaiting Amir, but neither did he care. Whatever it was, he probably had it coming for one reason or the other. Sawyer didn’t spend much thought on him after that. He’d forgotten about the man as soon as his head hit the pillow. He then quickly disappeared into a dreamless sleep, content with his earnings and the promise of more. The realization that this could be a turning point for him seemed to relight a fire within him.

Needless to say, he made his way to the Crimson Cutlass again on the very next morning.

This was one of the rarer mornings. Sawyer woke up feeling well-rested, without any ache from sleeping on a stiff mattress. It was a nice change, and although it might not last too long, he appreciated it. He ended up making the bed. Dressed himself in the same worn-out shirt and trousers he wore the day before. Before he left, he splashed himself in the face with some water, waking him up further. Before going to the Crimson Cutlass, he hit the marketplace to get some kind of breakfast.

Sawyer turned out to be the first person there, but he didn’t mind too much. He casually waited around for his employer – whose name he was still unfamiliar with – to arrive. When he did, Sawyer lifted an eyebrow. The man was dressed nicer than before, and Sawyer found himself wondering what that meant. It didn’t take long for the Navarran man to get tot he point. Something Sawyer quiet liked about him. However, he found his heart sink to the floor when he heard his words. Navarre  Sawyer looked at him for a few seconds. “I can’t go to Navarre,” he then simply said, crossing his arms over his chest. He simply couldn’t go. Not because he didn’t want the job, on the contrary. “I’m in exile.” Sawyer wasn’t sure why he told him. After all, there still could be some bounty hunters in search for him, although the chance was small. Most people looking for him thought him to be dead, fort he better.