Bre01 - The Heart of Saturday Night

"And remember, The Law is in town tonight, and alert, so keep your hats on! Be ready to head out on the dawn tide, provisions and stores before leisure, and No Messing About!"

Captain Brennon delivers his final admonishments in a single torrent of words that tell his crew that some of them had better keep an eye on his own exploits ashore. The Law wasn't any local reference, but meaning there were other ships in port who could cross Shadow, and probably do so with military skill and purpose. Messing about was of course anything that required Brennon or the first mate, Arthos, to post a bond or pay a fine. Sometimes Arthos was worse to face, depending on how much gold was involved- Brennon seemed just to use it to keep score. That was the local authorities. Keeping their hats on was the final coded reference. Most of the crew were nonhuman, or at least different enough to cause comments in places that didn't have a variety of human types. Pretty much any of the variances could be covered by, say, a hat, or a long coat, or something like that. "Keep your hats on" meant don't stand out in public- also useful to avoid the crew catching the eye of potential trouble. Brennon wanted all the trouble to himself, tonight, and those that were like minded would have to watch him discreetly and hope he needed them to jump in.

Having said his piece, Brennon slapped his tricorne hat on his head and strode down the gangplank in a swirl of blue coat, waving goodbye to Celessia before turning to head up the docks towards the better taverns. Though immobile and pretending to be simple wood, the exquisitely 'painted' figurehead dropped him a wink as he strode off.

Now, if I were a high Prince of Amber, come to visit this shadow, where would I want to go for a quick drink, and to case the local scene? he thinks to himself.

Always one to be drawn by a crowd, Brennon heads over to loiter near the waiting shore party. He won't join in the jeering, but perhaps a closer look and some discreet eavesdropping will let him know what's amiss.

Rumors. Agents died all the time, but the timing of these two was certainly mysterious. At least the Prince was finally on his way. Brennon takes a few minutes while the launch is approaching to go over his clothes and make himself less conspicuous.


He has no badges or signs of rank, but he wants to appear no different in stance and dishevelment to any of the other sailors and longshoremen from a dozen ports hanging about here. A pity he wouldn't be able to see anything from the back of the crowd. Instead, Brennon joins some of the men on a pile of nearby crates, taking the spot of one of the men whose duty forces them back to work, making the crowding a bit thinner. A good thing he stepped off the deck in his favorite, slightly worn coat, rather than his best one.

Blue Parrot it is, thinks Brennon. The Blue Parrot has a back door, and with a small bribe Brennon might be allowed to slip in and take over an unnoticed corner with a drink before all the interesting conversation is done. Maybe even before Gerard gets to whatever back room Signor Ferrari will talk to him in. If the staff is amenable, maybe a slightly larger bribe will get him a quiet table near that room. Some of his crew are doubtless already inside drinking, so if he can get in, he'll at least have some people to drink with if his other plans fall through.