Entry tags:
[closed] if you're here and I'm here then who's flying the plane
WHO: Flint & Yseult
WHAT: Trust exercises
WHEN: Immediately pre-hasmal invasion
WHERE: Near Hasmal
NOTES: will include content warning in subject lines if applicable
WHAT: Trust exercises
WHEN: Immediately pre-hasmal invasion
WHERE: Near Hasmal
NOTES: will include content warning in subject lines if applicable
It's almost guaranteed that their contact has utilized the flow of refugees across the border and toward Hasmal as a cover to pass into the South, though they aren't meant to meet them in that. Doubtless every breed of intelligencier currently peddles their trade there, for if an agent of one secret network might slip in that direction then why not agents of all?
Rather, after crossing the broad width of the Minanter on one of the point-nosed ferries (in the company of a pilot with a near supernatural skill for weaseling extra coin out of pocket, but who tactfully neglects to intervene in the debate his passengers are engaged in), they hire a pair of horses and turn west toward what is allegedly an all but forgotten trading post by the name of Drake's Landing which is said to boast such luxuries as a nearly empty inn and the cheapest drink in the political tri-corner.
At some point—perhaps after the fourth or fifth narrow bridge that they have to coax the horses across, for the landscape is threaded through with twisting offshoots of the Minanter—Flint remarks, "If we come this way again, it would be faster to row in."
Maybe that's how the Venatori beat them to the Landing. Or maybe the ferry pilot had a raven in the little cabin at the back of his boat who had carried word of a certain notable captain of Riftwatch swiftly North.
Regardless—

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"Farms. A port. Trade. A real place made self sustaining where those people can be what they please and earn"—chafes—"What they can't elsewhere."
A beat, like trying to chew sinew.
"I don't know how to put it more plainly. Someone once had the idea or performed the politics for making the place you would choose to live in."
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She sounds incredulous. Surely not. All of the years of machinations and secrecy and cryptic philosophizing must be for more. Something grander, more radical, more troublesome. No one foments civil war and plots to wedge themselves between the Qun and the Imperium for the chance to turn a few pirates to shepherds. Or did she imagine all of that, too?
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"Why not? Is that so unbelievable?"
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"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
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"Why do you behave as if it's some grand secret you must scheme in shadows and burn the world for? Half of Riftwatch demands more every week."
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