Do not trust all men, but trust men of worth; the former course is silly, the latter a mark of prudence.
- Democritus, Greek philosopher (460 BC - 370 BC)
It wasn't the Barrister's faithful manservant that met the Master of Arms along an isolated stretch of the western shore before dawn. Lucien waited within the shadows just off the end of the pier near one of the buildings of a new ship yard. At Ewan's approach, he stepped from the shadows and greeted the man with a bow of his head. Lucien spoke nothing until both men entered the nearby structure.
The building was little more than a warehouse for the ship builders. Different grades of wood were stored neatly along one side of the space, while the skeletal beginnings of a fishing boat sat in the center of the work space, littered with tools and lumber in a controlled chaos. The barrister himself was not dressed in usual finery, but rather in a linen shirt and wool vest and pants more akin to a laborer than a barrister. Lucien walked over to a work bench, wiping his hands on rag and affording the Master of Arms the opportunity to take account of his surroundings. The rag was left on the bench and Lucien turned to Ewan. He nodded for the Master of Arms to take a seat if he so desired on one of the barrels as he himself took seat on another.
"Welcome to the Spit and Scales, Master Corinsson," the barrister offered quietly, breaking the silence.
(Author's Note: The events in this thread are not recent events, but took place before the Yuletide.)
- Democritus, Greek philosopher (460 BC - 370 BC)
It wasn't the Barrister's faithful manservant that met the Master of Arms along an isolated stretch of the western shore before dawn. Lucien waited within the shadows just off the end of the pier near one of the buildings of a new ship yard. At Ewan's approach, he stepped from the shadows and greeted the man with a bow of his head. Lucien spoke nothing until both men entered the nearby structure.
The building was little more than a warehouse for the ship builders. Different grades of wood were stored neatly along one side of the space, while the skeletal beginnings of a fishing boat sat in the center of the work space, littered with tools and lumber in a controlled chaos. The barrister himself was not dressed in usual finery, but rather in a linen shirt and wool vest and pants more akin to a laborer than a barrister. Lucien walked over to a work bench, wiping his hands on rag and affording the Master of Arms the opportunity to take account of his surroundings. The rag was left on the bench and Lucien turned to Ewan. He nodded for the Master of Arms to take a seat if he so desired on one of the barrels as he himself took seat on another.
"Welcome to the Spit and Scales, Master Corinsson," the barrister offered quietly, breaking the silence.
(Author's Note: The events in this thread are not recent events, but took place before the Yuletide.)