[CLOSED] THE MINANTER JOB

[katabasis]

WHO: Yseult, Flint, Darras, Kostos, Adalia & Six
WHAT: A riverboat raid goes exactly as planned.
WHEN: (Backdated to) End of Justinian
WHERE: The Odovacar, a sprawling floating casino somewhere on the Minanter.
NOTES: Hijinks ensue.

"We've traced the source of the funding to the Odovacar, the personal boat of Cassir Odell, a Nevarran merchant growing in prominence. The Odovacar plies the Minanter - never more than two days from the border of Nevarran-Marches border, entertaining prominent guests around its gambling tables. I've twice heard mention of a Venatori sword being in Odell's employ. They must have some hand in managing the accounts, and may know something of the many ends toward which the coin travels."

The plan born of the report is simple enough. A small team of combatants will take a light craft along the Minanter, locate the merchant's yacht, then board and capture her under cover of night. The ship's hold shall be emptied of its funds, the Venatori "sword" sheathed and surrendered into the raiders' custody, and then they will all be on their way. With the right arrangement of fighters, it's easily and quietly done. It should take no more than six to capture the kind of boat used for day cruising by a merchant of middling reputation from a country currently arrested by the very real likelihood of a civil war.

Unfortunately, the Odovacar is not that boat.

'Boat' is, in fact, maybe a misnomer altogether. The craft that the team finds meandering down the Minanter is more sprawling floating island than it is any kind of ship. Its two visible stepped decks are festooned with live greenery and winding slate paths leading between the small village worth of brightly colored open air canopies under which gambling games of every assortment are being played by the light of great burning braziers and more delicate, intimate torches. There are no less than two full compliments of musicians flocking about, and every breed and variety of Thedas' wealthy and prominent meander between the tables. On the upper deck, a full score of men and women labor under the broad swath of canvas required to manage the boat as it creeps slowly along the Minanter; who knows what lies beneath the absurd monstrosity’s waterline.

So much for simple.

Comments

[exequy]

There was another plan. A better plan. But, like so many good ideas, that plan is completely fucking ruined by people who can't mind their own fucking business.

—and by Kostos dropping the key.

But mostly by people who can't mind their own fucking business. A dropped key is not a disaster, itself, even along the walkway of the busy gambling deck, but when he touches Yseult's hand to alert her to stop and wait for him, and dips down onto one knee with the intent of gathering it up while pretending to tie his boot, someone gasps.

"How sweet," a voice says.

And then many other people are no longer minding their own fucking business, and Kostos—kneeling in front of an admittedly very pretty woman, with a very pretty view of the river glittering under the moon beyond them, dressed like someone with vague intentions of impressing people—gives them a look that skirts the border between furious and alarmed, then gives Yseult a look that's a little more on the alarmed side, while that other, better plan dissolves into impossibility.

[hassaran]

It was a better plan. It's not that this scene wouldn't suit their purposes nicely, drawing the eye in a way that isn't about to get them tossed or draw much in the way of suspicion. But there are reasons they'd eliminated the ideas requiring faking a romance or Kostos speaking at any great length, and anything that might be difficult to draw out if stalling becomes necessary. But here they are, and Yseult looks back at Kostos down on one knee with a Look that is determined, and determinedly Not Alarmed, and then suddenly transforms into plausible shock. Eyes widen, her lips part, a hand rises to half-cover an audible gasp. There's nothing to do but go with this.

"Frederico!" she exclaims, voice pitched a little high, breathier but still pitched to carry, her accent unmistakably Starkhaven even on just that one word. "What are you-- are you--? But I thought we couldn't! Your father...."