There was a web in the corner of the room. A fly lay stuck in it, long dead and forgotten by the web’s creator. The three doorless walls of the room lay covered in tapestries to keep out the wind of a cool evening. There is no method to the haphazard patchwork other than keep the room warm. Hanging from the ceiling in each corner are candles surrounded by frosted glass to dim and protect the light. There is a fireplace at the far end of the room with the last of its embers still emitting a pale read light.

In the middle of the room is a table made of mahogany, smooth as ice on the surface. The legs reach down to the ground with space for its three chairs to comfortably sit around it. On the table rest two empty bottles of wine, A full glass, a half full glass and an empty glass. There are numerous papers scattered about on the table all not part of what the three are talking about. In a tall wingback chair Ertle sits alone next to the full glass.

In a short-back chair with the empty glass sits Sir Corvus. He has just taken his last sip, but is infuriated with Ertle’s denial of his request. In the other short-backed chair sits a man who will never to finish his drink. He is but a humble servant of Corvus. At the end of his one arm is a metal fixture with a stylus that he takes notes of the dealings that have transpired. His other hand perfectly capable of taking another drink, but he knows the tone has changed and it would be a mistake to partake in any further hospitality of Ertle.

“Perhaps if I were to say I owed you a favor in the future,” Corvus offered, with the tone of annoyance that only a deaf man could miss.

“Favors are tricky thing,” Replied Ertle after some calculation. “What do you have to offer?”

“A place to hide, next time you need it?”

“You know I cannot be seen with you. I have a reputation that does not need your association.”

“True,” Corvus laughed. “Then perhaps funding next time you need a backer for one of you expeditions.”

Ertle thought a moment before replying, “What I really need is an enchanter from a different land, someone with discretion. Do you have someone you can send my way?”

Corvus smiled the type of smile you know to be on the right side of. The servant reached over and took a sip from his glass and scribbled down a few things and handed a paper to Ertle.

“There you are Ertle, he is the best I know.”

A flame blazed up in the fireplace, letting off more smoke than usual before turning a faint green and dying. The three of them missed its occurrence, busy congratulating a done deal with a new bottle of wine.

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