“For each query, you will have 5 mins to think””, the man said, looking down at the sheet of paper, “I will not repeat myself”

He sat opposite to Ameni, the two staring at each other intensely. In contrast to Ameni’s formal and attentive posture, the man sat in a lesiurely manner. They were in a small room constructed out of concrete, with a mahogany wood table betwixt them. On the table were scattered papers with things like “SHIPPING MANIFEST” and “QUATERLY REPORT ” written on them in neat, typewritten text. The smell of pipesmoke filled the room from a wooden pipe that the man opposite to Aemeni was smoking.

“Affirmative”, Ameni responded

What cam next were a deluge of various questions, asking him things such as the running of a ship, the manner in which to store and distribute supplies, how to plan runs out in advance, and how to time the markets of ports. Ameni answered each question aptly, making sure to be as in-depth as possible. He needed to impress the man, for he was here to get a financier for his future shipping endeavour, and though Laverm’s magical abilities were quite rare, Ameni knew that a quartermaster’s training was rarer, and so, if he could convince the man that he had one, he knew he would be able to net an invester. The man’s trained eyes stayed the same throughout, betraying no intentions.

Once Ameni had answered every question, he sat waiting as the man went deep into thought. Minutes seemingly stretched out into hours, as he waited, his expectation growing by the second.

Eventually the man opened his mouth, and, much to Ameni’s horror and chagrin, said, “I am deeply sorry, my good fellow, however we will be unable to give you the dispensation you propose.”

Ameni cursed internally as he hesitantly kept up a friendly attitude,”I do understand, sir, however could you please highlight why you are unable to allow us the loan?”

“The Athernon City Bank reserves the right to keep the reasoning behind its decision-making private”, the man said, in a measured manner, “Now please do close the door when you go”

Ameni quickly went through the formalities and hesitantly got up, stepping out of the office. In the reception sat Laverm, who had his head in his hands.

“Bust”, Ameni said, beckoning him to leave, “We’ll need to look at another place”

Laverm cursed loudly and dejectedly, followed Ameni out of the building. Both had already done this song and dance multiple times over, having had procured a list of possible investors from pestering a passing sailor. The list was crudely written out on a scrap sheet of paper, with a line drawn in the middle, on the top half “Overground”, and on the bottom half “Underground”, was written. They had just been to the last business that was on the top half of the list, and, likely due to their shared status as former convicted criminals, had been rejected, forcing them to look at the wrong side of the law.

In contrast to the luxurious grand room they had previously found themselves in, the room they were now situated in could only be described as shabby. Opposite Ameni and Laverm sat a ratty man, with a hunched back, wearing a shabby brown coat. Everything was covered in a layer of dirt, and grime, the two chairs on which the two boys sat being ripped, with the pungent smell of mothballs permeating for them.

Ameni had to try his hardest not to grimace, and to instead keep a pleasant expression.

“So, yes, we do believe that we have all of the qualifications for the position of Surf Captain and Quatermaster respectively”, he said, attempting to be as persuasive as possible, “And believe that our unique combination of skills and cheap prices will justify our getting this ‘dispensation’.”

“Hmm, yes, yes, hmm”, the man said, rubbing his hands together in way where Ameni internally swore he was trying to imitate a rat, “You do indeed have the qualifications to do so, here, sign this paper, and you’ll get your money”

Ameni raised an eyebrow and looked at the contract handed to him, grabbing Laverm’s writing hand to ensure he did not sign it prematurely.

“This is a slave contract”, Ameni said, reading the fine print with a scrunched up face, “We only agreed to sign a sponsor contract”

“Shrewd too”, the man said, handing Ameni the real contract, which he then proceeded to read carefully

“I wish you would stop trying to scam your future in-debtors”, Ameni responded, after he had finished reading. He then raised his hand for a handshake.

“He, He”, the man laughed, in a distinctly rat-like manner, returning the ‘shake, he then leaned forward and gave Ameni a pat on the back, “You will have the money given to you as cash on your way out”

“Thank you, mister?”, Ameni asked, raising his eyebrows once again in anticipation

“Mister Basil Ratbone”, he proudly said, “You may refer to me as Cheesewiz, though, as you are now a friend”

Ameni stifled a laugh and gave his goodbye, exiting the room with Laverm