“What is it with thieves, miscreants, and no gooders, and their love affair with warehouses?” Gild grumbled. They were at the warehouse, standing in front of another warehouse eerily similar to the one they were brought to last night. This warehouse stood at the docks though, rather than just riverside. The smell of salt, offal, and fish combined to make a stew of thick, nasty smells.

The smell of fire drifted on the winds down to him and he managed a small smirk. His mana pools may be getting smaller and limiting his spellcasting, but at least once a fire was started it was hard to contain. He always had that going for him.

Tik was somewhere nearby, Gild could feel his presence sharply. He still couldn't pinpoint an exact location, but knew he was probably somewhere above the warehouse, keeping an eye on all entrances. If there was any danger, he could send a sharp emotion to Gild, letting him know to get out with the others as fast as they could. They probably should have clarified what emotion he would send though. Sometimes Tik saw a fried food stand and got overly excited, overwhelming Gild with a rush of emotions if he wasn't careful. Ah well, too late for that now.

Turwyn stood to the side of Gild, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His giant axe was strapped to his back and his right hand kept travelling up, as if going to reach for it, then dropping down down. Each time, Turwyn would clench his fist and take a deep breath, letting his hand slowly relax with the exhale. He went through this motion five or six times before Gild finally spoke up.

“Is that some sort of ritual to comfort you? Is there a mantra or something to help you out?”

The paladin shot him a quick glare, before returning to his cycle. “It's just something to help me. It reminds me that my weapon is nearby, I know I can use it, and it gives me some semblance of feeling like I have control in a situation. Don't you have anything you use to help you?

Gild shrugged. “Not really. I just do when doing is called for.”

“You do seem oddly calm in these situations we find ourselves in. How do you manage that?”

Gild shrugged again. “I don't pretend or look for control. I lost that motivation years ago when my wife was taken from me. Right now I just focus on my end goal of getting her back and doing whatever it takes to achieve that. It's the only thing that keeps me going, no matter how ragged it may run me.”

Turwyn paused halfway through his cycle, looking down at the gnome. He gave a small nod, “Fair enough.” While he did resume his ritual, Gild did notice it was less frantic than before.

“What do you think is taking her so long?” Turwyn asked. They had been outside the warehouse for nearly half an hour now. As if she heard him and was waiting for them to ask, the door cracked open and Prisolyna stepped halfway out. She gave them a quick wave towards her and disappeared back inside. The gnome and paladin exchanged a quick look before following her inside yet another warehouse.

To his surprise, only the outside of the building was made to look like yet another decrepit storage area for goods waiting to be loaded onto the many ships sailing in and out of the wide river that split the town. False walls fenced them into a long hallway that ran to, at best as he could figure, the center of the warehouse. There, the walls opened into a large room that was richly furnished.

Ottomans and chairs of red velvet upholstery and ebony woods were scattered around, providing small areas to sit and converse around small tables that sat in between them. In the center of the room, where the chairs ended and only massive bookcases filled with texts of all sizes and various decorative instruments, was a large desk of the same wood. Behind the desk sat a rather unassuming man.

He had medium length brown hair, slicked back, and a clean shaven face on a nondescript nature. Everything about him screamed average and mild. He was the type to blend in no matter where he was, either at a gala, or fighting for the last slice of meat the deli threw out as it shut down for the night. The only thing that lent to his status was his clothes, while also simple, they were finely embroidered. The only luxury he seemed to allow himself was a single gold chain running from his breast pocket down to a pocket on the stomach of his vest.

“Please,” he said with a rich, warm voice, gesturing to the few seats that stood across from his desk, “Make yourselves at home. You are my guests and I intend to honor that wholeheartedly, both in spirit and letter.”

A strong smile spread, one that seemed genuine enough, but Gild had trouble believing any smile he saw, especially those on thieves and those of the shadier side of the law. The three sat in the chairs across from his desk. They were thickly stuffed with what might have been a form of down, strong enough to support even Turwyn's weight, while light enough to feel like a cloud of air.

“Prisolyna says you are here for some information on a previous client of hers. Ah, but where are my manners?” he said, his smile never dropping. He clapped twice and a butler appeared from the shadows of the wall to their right with a silver tray on hand. He brought the tray to the table and laid out four silver tea cups. Pouring a deep brown liquid from a carafe, the butler did not make a single sound as he worked. He left as quickly as he came, as if he were nothing but a figment of Gild’s imagination. Or maybe a wraith.

“My name is Gerard,” he said, offering a small bow. He grabbed his cup and took a small sip, closing his eyes and savoring it. After opening them, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Please, have some. It is coffee imported from the jungles of Harani. It really is quite an exquisite bean, and so expertly roasted and brewed in house by my butler. He really is something, you know? I'm quite sure I wouldn't know what to do without him.”

“You are probably wondering a bit about who I am and what it is exactly that I do. I facilitate discussions and the exchange of information and goods between lovely law abiding citizens, such as I am sure you all are, and those who find themselves on the other end of that spectrum. Shall we say, those who act with the more… less enlightened side of the law?”

He smirked before continuing, “As you can see, I have made quite a fortune in this business and do intend to keep working at it. If you require anything else, refreshments, drinks, snacks, let me know and I am happy to provide for our little confab.”

The three said nothing once the man had finished. Gerard sat, sipping his coffee happily and watching them. Gild reached out first and grabbed a small cup. Sniffing gingerly, he found the scent warm and comforting. It had been a long time since he had had a cup of coffee, let alone a good one. He took a small tip and had to almost physically restrain himself from moaning. The coffee was rich, warm, and with a hint of slightly sweet nuttiness to it. He allowed himself to look over at Turwyn and the elf, hoping they would understand and share the sheer happiness in his eyes at that moment.

They did, though maybe not to the full degree he was. Turwyn’s shoulders relaxed, some of the tension easing them and his face losing its tautness. Prisolyna had relaxed too, easing back in her chair and enjoying the coffee. It was amazing what a well prepared drink could do.

“I’m glad to see you are enjoying the beverage,” Gerard said. “Now, let’s get down to business here. Exactly what sort of information are you after? Just the name, the whereabouts, known accomplices and people they run with?”

“We need to know everything about the necromancer you set me up to work with a little over a year ago.” Prisolyna said, setting the cup down. “Who they are, how we can get in contact with them, are they amenable to just talking, or will they attack on sight? Anything at all you can tell us to help us get in contact with them.”

Gerard nodded slowly as he listened, his hands steepled in front of his face. “All excellent questions and ones I have answers to, at least enough of an answer to get you in contact with this person. But, I must ask, what is in this for me? What sort of payment are you offering in return?”

Gild opened his mouth to ask what he expects, as it is hard to discern the value of something if you don't trade in it, but Turwyn leapt at the question first. “What we will do is not turn you in.”

The smile finally fell, though it seemed theatrical, and Gerard raised a hand to his mouth to cover it. “I am appalled you would think I have done something to be turned over to the law for. I merely facilitate communication and the exchange of information between parties who would rather not meet each other. I do absolutely nothing wrong.”

“I can't believe that. Any business that operates through shady means and in the dark, especially the selling of information, cannot be entirely legitimate,” Turwyn said. Gild tried not to groan. He’d grown to like the paladin, but his damned adherence to the law and ‘what is good’ could be a real pain sometimes.

Gerard smiled again. “You are a member of some form of order belonging to the Seraphim, aren't you?”

Turwyn nodded cautiously.

“Then I will not take what you have said to heart. I trust your elven and gnome friend here will keep you from trying to go to the law, though they will likely laugh and send you away. You see, they are one of my biggest clients. Don't act so shocked. Come back once your task involving this necromancer is complete and let me tell you a bit about the Seraphim and their precious orders.” Gerard’s voice lowered to barely more than a whisper. “I don't think you will like the truth I have found out about them.”

Turwyn looked ready to argue again, but Gild jumped in. “What do you want in exchange for this payment? I have to admit, you have me at a disadvantage here, I am not used to bartering for information and am not sure about the costs.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” the man leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and bringing his hands to a steeple in front of him again. He looked at each of them in turn. “How about I am able to call in my cost later?”

He held up a hand before they could interject. “I will not be asking for your life or anything like that. I just want to be able to call in a task later. Perhaps some information, perhaps a small task, nothing particularly illegal or lurid, I assure you,” he nodded to Turwyn who just glared at him.

“What guarantee do you have that we will honor this request?” Gild asked. “Or even be around or alive to fulfill it for you?”

“I have faith in your little group. A man does not get to the position I am in by being shortsighted. I look out for my future and try to arrange things enough that I have some, insurance shall we say, in case things change. Do we have a deal?”

“Nothing illegal?” Turwyn asked.

“Nothing particularly illegal,” Gerard corrected. “Most of the things I deal with happen to be in a rather grey area of the law. I will not ask for any murders or blatant thefts from some saintly person, but a petty theft or information gathering in a dangerous area where you shouldn't be is not off the table either.”

“And if we just skip town, never to come back once we get what we need?” Prisolyna now asked.

“I have faith you won't abandon me when I come calling. You are not limited in your travels. I have my agents who can and will find you whenever I decide to pull in my favor.”

“Is this one favor for us as a group, or one for each of us?”

“Now there is an excellent question, master gnome,” Gerard said. “It will be one favor for your group, though the favor may require you to each do something separate for me. But I promise it will coalesce into one thing for me, though it may be a sizable task.”

The three of them did not say anything. Prisolyna seemed ready to accept, though with some slight hesitance. Gild was happy too, he didnt care what this man asked. He just needed to find more information and get his wife back, the costs be damned. Turwyn was Gild’s only real concern. The paladin was frowning heavily, and did not look entirely pleased with the cost of this information.

“Deal,” Turwyn said, thrusting his large hand out across the table. Gerard took it with pleasure and shook it mightily. Gild stood up on his chair and reached across as well, taking the man's hand and shaking it, though less vigorously than Turwyn. Prisolyna did as well, without hesitation. Smiling, Gild silently thanked his friends. He just hoped this wouldn't bring any sort of bad misfortune or task on them. That would be a fine way to repay them for helping him.

“You're not worried about upsetting this necromancer, or any of your other clients?” Prisolyna asked.

“Why would I be?”

“Well, telling people where to find them for one. Isn't the purpose of using an intermediary to not be identified or sought after by anyone involved?”

“Not at all. I have no problem letting you know where to find her. I don't think she will have any problem with it either. And if she does,” his smile spread just a bit further, “It's really only a problem for you three or her, isn't it?”

With that, he stood from his desk. “Now, I need to gather the information you require. I shall return in a few moments. Feel free to wander around and look, though you won't find much beyond furniture and a few adornments.”

He turned and walked towards the shadows the butler had come from. A small door opened, and he disappeared into it. It shut again without a sound, not the squeak of a hinge or even a soft click.

Gild counted to five in his head before turning to the elf. “Do you trust him?”

She shook her head, “Not even a little bit. I do trust his information will be correct, though. He runs a good operation and wouldn't risk betraying us, it would hurt his bottom line. Plus, he got a pretty good deal asking for a favor later.”

“You said that about that fence though,” Turwyn grumbled.

Prisolyna waved the comment away, “Yeah, but he was a much smaller person than Gerard. And, Tiki did throw you out almost immediately, he didn't technically betray you. Gerard has offered to give us the information we seek. There is a world of difference between the two.”

“If you say so,” the paladin said. “They are both still working away from the law and will come to face their justice.”

“I'm pretty sure Tiki already did,” Gild said.

Turwyn smiled, “In a way, though I wouldn't wish that end on anyone I know. He didn't deserve death, just some time in a cell or other punishment.”

“Nothing else for us to do but take his information and see where this leads us next,” Gild said. “I'm sure it's going to take us into something way over our heads that will eventually involve fighting for our lives. You both sure you want to accompany me on this?”

“Without a doubt,” Turwyn said immediately. Prisolyna nodded as well.

“I am in it to the end with you, Gild.”

He smiled. “Thank you both. I promise I will make it up to you. We can figure out your order Turwyn or make our own or something. And Prisolyna, I'm not exactly sure what I can do to help your situation or that of your homeland, but we can figure something out.”

She nodded again, though her eyes had taken on a distant look and she stared up towards the roof.

Gild jumped as Gerard seemed to coalesce from the shadows again. How long had he been standing there, or had he actually just come back in? He wore the same smile he had this whole encounter and had an envelope in his hand. After settling back behind his desk, he reached out with the envelope and dropped it in front of Gild.

“Open this one you have left here and are in a safe place. It will lead you directly to the necromancer you seek, as well as offer some tips on how to approach them in a friendly manner, to help ensure their, ah, cooperation.”

Gild took the envelope, stuffing it into a pocket inside his robe. “And how will we know when you need our favor? How will we be sure it's you who comes calling?”

“You will,” Gerard's smile turned wolfish. “You absolutely will.