carl@fire

Carl strode forward.

The stone steps of the Creature Market posed no threat to him or his bare feet as he took them one a time. Still, though, they aggravated him by existing and being so plentiful.

The point of his spear left gouges in every second step as he ascended. It helped him to get deeper into his character by further irritating him. Stone shouldn't be so fragile.

Carl was role-playing now, and he was finally focused on it as a result of the still-simmering anger he felt on behalf of his companion.

His skeleton minion scurried in front of him and struggled to throw open the huge metal doors—both of them, as was necessary for him to walk through without needing to adjust his stride or posture and remain in character. He continued into the massive building, dimly noting that its smooth, paneled-stone exterior formed one of the extremely rare non-brick buildings he'd seen in the city so far. Such things did not interest him, however.

Carl was here for one purpose only.

The large atrium of the Creature Market met the barest standards for lavishness as far as his refined sensibilities were concerned. The floor was a glossy, light-colored, tiled stone that shone in the light of many, many small illuminating rocks that were affixed to the walls and high, arched ceiling. A three-tiered stone fountain rose up out of the center, taking up most of the room and separating the entrance from a number of curtained-off doorways, and Carl stopped taking in the sights after noticing it. If anything, he was a bit disappointed; this wasn't nearly as nice as some of the hotels he'd stayed in, and those were handicapped by being real.

He immediately walked past the guards stationed just inside and made for the elegantly-dressed, early twenty-something woman sitting behind what he supposed was intended to be the reception desk off to the left. Gasps echoed from the door he'd just entered through, and he heard the sounds of rustling and metal moving, but such things also did not interest him. He was focused.

"Your supervisor," Carl said in a voice that was neither loud nor quiet, directed at the woman behind the ornate desk when he was reasonably close. "Bring him to me. Now." He rested the butt of his spear gently on the stone floor to avoid breaking it, not looking back at the guards who, based on the approaching sounds of boots, were moving closer.

His skeleton minion stood faithfully by his side, also not looking anywhere but to the fore.

The woman at the desk stared.

"Halt," called one of the guards from behind in an authoritative voice. "Weapons are not permitted here. Neither are undead. And…we do require our patrons to be fully clothed."

Carl watched the woman, but she made no move to adhere to his prior command. He sighed, shaking his head as he turned to face the pair of guards. The duo were each clad in armor which seemed more for decoration than safety, but they also bore bulky-looking handguns which looked like they were capable of a credible amount of stopping power. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tapping his spear on the ground.

The guards looked at each other. One of them shrugged. "No?" said one of them, the same voice that had accosted him a moment earlier, at once seeming a little less certain of what he'd just said.

Carl grinned widely. "I think the man in charge here will, and he's likely to be very upset with the lack of respect I'm being shown."

The guards looked at each other again, seeming unconvinced.

Carl slowly walked towards the fountain in the center of the room, just to the side of the guards, his spear clicking away on the ground with each step and remaining between him and the armed men. "One hundred coins," he said loudly, angling his free hand towards the water in the basin of the fountain.

A hundred coins shot out of his hand and into the fountain over the next one-point-five seconds. Perhaps it was not a large sum of coins, but this was only a start, and he intended to make a point.

"One thousand coins," he said at the same volume, watching the guards as their brows raised slightly.

A thousand coins shot out of his hand and into the fountain over the next one-point-five seconds. This was supposedly an amount of coins that might be made in a year by a poorer player in the city who did not go adventuring, and he discarded it carelessly into the fountain as though it was worthless.

The mouths of both the guards had fallen open, and the woman at the desk had finally stood and made her way closer.

"One hundred thousand coins," he continued, raising an eyebrow.

One-point-five seconds later, the basin of the fountain was completely overflowing with coins. This was a sum of coins that, he was told, was not likely to be casually thrown away by all but the wealthiest.

The guards and receptionist goggled.

Water began overflowing from the fountain and onto the floor. It pooled around a pair of bare feet, then gravitated to the butt of a glowing spear. The water began to travel from the floor swiftly up around the shaft of the spear in a spiraling manner that left the largest man in the room comfortably dry.

Carl turned to the receptionist woman. "I may tire of standing here if this continues, at which point I imagine the room would begin to grow uncomfortably damp. And if I miss the auction I've come for…" he trailed off, his eyes moving up to the tip of his spear where a globe of water was forming that somehow didn't reflect light in the way that one might expect.

"I—I'll find Mister Neale right away!" the receptionist said, snapping out of her daze more quickly than the guards. She edged around the perimeter of the fountain, then clicked quickly away through a doorway on her heels.

His skeleton minion poked at the streams flowing up the spear, but the water simply continued up and around the bony fingers undisrupted. The skeleton then looked to the fountain and picked a coin up off the top of the pile before tossing it up into the slowly-growing orb of water atop the spear.

The coin bounced off and landed on the floor.

The skeleton rubbed its jawbone while staring up at the water, an act that seemed profoundly discomforting to the guards.

Carl stood impassively while he continued to wait.

The woman returned in less time than he'd expected, her face flushed and her breathing heavy. "My apologies for the wait. He'll be along in—"

"Good evening," came an oily, smooth voice from the same doorway the woman had just appeared from. An auburn-haired young man with a mustache, wearing a spotless and wrinkle-free, double-breasted, black suit and matching tie rounded the corner. He took in the scene at a glance as he strode forward. "It seems I'd forgotten your reservation, Mister…"

"Carl," said Carl, playing along. "Yes, reservation indeed, Neale. I believe I was offered seating in the royal section."

"Were you now…" said Neale. His eyes flicked to the massive pile of coins covering half the lowest level of the fountain.

"Ah, I do apologize for the mess," said Carl, following the other man's gaze. "It seems my purse has sprung a leak. Allow me to tidy up." He tapped a finger from his free hand on a coin in the massive pile and his lips moved slightly.

The entire pile of coins vanished over the next one-point-five seconds, flowing up to his finger and then disappearing. The only remaining coin was the one that the skeleton had previously bounced off the water atop his glowing spear. Water stopped pouring over the side of the no-longer-full fountain.

Once the coins were gone, Carl shook his spear in the direction of the fountain. The orb of water arced downwards, landing inside the basin with a much louder splash than the size of the orb implied and filling the space completely. He then turned back to Neale with a neutral expression. "My seat, if you would. I'm certain you would understand why I might grow upset if I were to be late for the particular auction that I've come for."

"Yes," Neale said slowly, "I do believe I know precisely what you mean." He nodded as though coming to a decision. "And, fortunately, you've arrived just in time. There are still a couple pieces remaining before the one that's surely caught your interest, so you're in no danger of being late. Unless you'd perhaps be interested in making an offer immediately?" His eyes gleamed.

Carl held up his free hand, simultaneously raising up his spear and resting its haft on his shoulder. "No, no, I wouldn't want to ruin the sport of it."

Neale's expression changed to a knowing smile. "Yes, I can see now that you're certainly a gentleman of impeccable taste." He glanced back to the receptionist, who was still standing behind him just outside the doorway she'd briefly disappeared through. "Milli, my thanks for taking the initiative on this matter." He looked back to Carl. "Sir Carl, if you—ah, and your skeleton—would please follow after me?"

Carl nodded, not sparing his minion a look.

The trio started off, led by Neale who walked with his hands clasped behind his back, and passed through the curtained-off doorway on the right side of the atrium. Carl ignored the pair of guards just inside, continuing along the red-carpeted hallway and around a glowing rock-lit corner to a staircase.

"Sir Carl," Neale called over his shoulder as they ascended, "I can't help but notice the formidable aura your armament is projecting. I don't suppose—"

"Not interested," Carl said dismissively.

"Of course," said Neale.

They reached the summit a moment later and passed through another doorway at the top, also with guards on the reverse side. Neale gestured and then turned to the right, and they progressed down a long, wide, red-carpeted hallway with a series of closed, decorated doors along the right side.

"It's quite a coincidence for you to arrive tonight," said Neale. "The royal family—the Queen in particular—seldom misses any of our events, and yet here you are on a rare occasion when none of them have made an appearance. And on a day when such an incredible piece has both been brought in and will be up for sale as well."

"You seem like an intelligent man," Carl said, intensifying a certain comprehension gap.

"Ah," said Neale in a thoughtful tone. "I would have expected someone a bit more subtle, in that case."

"And yet," said Carl in a leading tone.

"Ah."

Carl didn't speak further, allowing the man to draw whatever conclusions he wished.