Merchants of Elm (IC)

[Another_Poet]

May 2, Morning
Starting Locations

Morning light creeps across the town of Elm. Yesterday was May Day, a festival of springtime. Pots of early flowers decorate both banks of the river, and the garbage and hungover silence of the morning after a major holiday permeate the streets. The welcoming of spring is a fickle business in Karr, and this year is no exception: yesterday’s mild weather gave way to a hard frost during the night, leaving flowers frozen and withered. Damp hangs in the air and fog drifts down alleys as the frost begins to melt.

The Facing has the first view of the sun over Elm Hill and its the inns and brothels begin to come alive. Rustin walks down the steps of one such hostel to the smell of sweat and "the stew", a tea made of reindeer lichen. The stuff is a traditional breakfast in Karr - thick, slimy, and piping hot it has a bitter and is good for the liver and kidneys. When possible the locals mix in various herbs, especially lemon grass. Children may get a dollop of honey in theirs while adults are more likely to cut it with gin. No spices or sweeteners are on hand in this dingy inn, but cheap gin is certainly available. The stew itself is free to guests, as are hard rolls that appear to have spots of white mold on them.

Lonna has worked herself into somewhat cozier surroundings, and is able to look out a bay window in the tea room of her inn. The room is heated by two polished braziers, a bit of incense added to the warm coals in each. Her merchant friend was kind to her, but then, the papers she gave him were good. A sizeable ceramic pot of stew and a mug are placed before her on a tea tray; a few others in the room are enjoying the same. One man has clearly started his day with a mug of purple spice, and he stares out the window with the dumb smile of someone too strung out to think. The purple spice in a place like this can't be particularly high quality, but it clearly got this man tingling.

Out in the streets behind the Facing young William is peeking around a corner. Spending the colder part of the night huddled behind crates to get out of the wind is far from comfortable, but he's been through worse. More worrisome are the guards who busted up his gang the other day. He isn't sure if they saw him but he's sure he heard strange voices, adult voices, when he crept into the old hideout. No hideout means no stash, and no stash means no roof for his head. His stomach rumbles as he steps out into the street amidst heaps of dirty, melting snow and a few birds pecking at the mud.

On the shady western slop of Elm Hill, the old Kite estate is slower to receive first light. The manor house is locked and empty, all the windows are blocked with cheap curtains and a raven croaks his morning song on the roof. Behind the manor house and across the weedy garden a little bungalow puts out the only wisp of smoke. Its coal stove has burned low over the course of the night and it barely heats the house at all. In the loft, Acanthe and Natsume can hear the pitter-patter of rain beginning to hit the rooftop. Through the open door of the first-floor bedroom Padraeg and Garrin might catch sight of the mouse that creeps across the packed earth floor. The chamberpots in both bedrooms could stand to be taken outside, but there is little other incentive to get out of bed. Or there wouldn't be, except today is the day the siblings are supposed to go take possession of their new yawl.

Not far away Uncle Saker makes his way up the cobblestone lane that leads from the East Bank to Elm Hill. If he was worried he would make a bad impression arriving by foot rather than coach, his worries have given way to a more immediate concern: it appears that the iron gate of the family estate, about a block ahead of him, is wrapped with heavy chain to hold it shut. Could it be a security measure? The family was never so concerned about intruders, and in any case there should be a gatekeeper on hand.

He pauses to catch his breath and feels the rain start to fall.


...Begin!