The Flaneur & The Tailor
Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2022 1:10 am
54th Frost, Year 4621
For the first time in his life, Thomas had nothing to do. He'd spent his childhood cleaning houses, including his own, and going to school, then his adolescence cleaning houses, going to school, and making medicine. Not much had changed after he'd quit school at 16; he didn't discover depths of theretofore unknown leisure, he just spent the extra time working more, and had never really stopped, until now.
He wasn't certain how much the Lords of House Venger brought in, or really even where the money came from, but he knew there was a lot of it. It wasn't readily accessible, and neither Latham nor Wendall tolerated too many questions about it from him for reasons that were insulting if understandable, but their creditworthiness to the locals was beyond reproach. Latham obligingly gave him generous sums of farthings whenever he asked for them, and his counterpart the other Lord Venger had once or twice, as well. It was nice, Thomas thought, to be kept. At least, it would be nice, for however long it lasted.
The gnawing anxiety of when the other shoe would drop led him to taking daily walks around Retzen. It was never bad to get to know a city, especially because if Latham wavered on his presence in House Venger, even for a moment, he would be back where he started. So he got to know the city, casing it as he would any other. Like other parts of Lorien, it had multiple emporia for curiosities that could be studied, analyzed, or tinkered with by intellectuals. He thought to unload his final crate of reagents, but likely by this point news had traveled from Westfalen and interest would be low. Still, getting to know how goods flowed through Retzen was a worthy goal. It did not have so much of a secondary market as areas in other countries, but they still flowed from the rich to the less fortunate in Lorien, just as they did elsewhere, and there were still shops that had little hidden areas, cordoned off from prying eyes of casual shoppers. Most just appeared to be items of particular interest for collectors, but some of the shopkeepers, when asked, looked fidgety enough that he had a sense that they would be willing to accept goods from him.
If he were selling anything. Which he wasn't, because he was, he realized with some horror, now a member of the idle classes of Lorien he so much despised.
With the eye of someone who has become a touch too acquainted in his short time in Retzen with what the main markets held, he spied a new vendor. A tall Hyr'Norai woman with a regal bearing to her seemed to be peddling fine clothes and fabrics. Thomas looked down at his old, much-patched coat that the wind seemed to blow right through. He mulled it over, drinking hot mulled wine he bought from a stall, before heading over to her.
"Such a pleasure to see a beautiful lady from so far away here in Retzen," he said, letting his Grisithian accent come to the fore so it was clear he was addressing her as a fellow Nameless foreigner. "If you have the time to take upon a major commission, I'm afraid I'm in dire need of a completely new wardrobe for the climate here. Perhaps we could discuss it in more detail?"
