(123-06-01) A Little Banking, A Little Chat
A Little Banking, A Little Chat
Summary: Tellur Snow and Ser Malolm Storm talk to Valjean Soze at the Iron Bank in Oldtown.
Date: Date of play (01/06/123)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:123-02-11-a-little-word-from-braavos
Players:
Malcolm..Valjean..Tellur..

Malcolm is in his best doublet, a plain but well cared for Braavosi sword on one hip and a rather fancier dagger on the other. His hair and beard are fresh dyed in tricoloured stripes. He has a cloth wrapped bundle with him as well as a friend.

Valjean Soze is probably the least likely of any 'official' of the Iron Bank to handle mundane matters of finance, but there are times when there is simply no one else and those of greater rank and influence are not available. Depending on the problem though he may be exactly the one summoned anyway so in the final moments of the banks operation his appearance can either be seen as a boon or the sign the higher powers have gone off to shake the tree of power. He is dressed completely in black, seated upon the bench performing minor functionary duties, . At his side lies a carved and well worn cane. The banker hums an 'old' (or as ancient as one can claim when speaking of Braavosi) Free City tune to keep the sound of the scratch of pen from being the only sound within the room.

Tellur is apparently the only man of a bit less than average height around - not such an unusual thing, alas, for him. He arrives and then glances around - he has a matching dagger on his hip to Malcolm's. The scabbard and wrappings are of black leather with pale grey leather pointings. The hilt is done up with Wolf, Shadowcat, and Stag, inlaid with howlite, dragon glass, and lapis lazuli. That, alas, is where the graceful similarity ends - with the grey looks of the Starks, Tellur manages to go in the wildling direction with red hair, and eccentric clothing - he mingles the light materials of the South with the styles of the North. One does what one can. He seems, however, in an excellent mood, and is accompanied by a massive hound.

Not being sure of the man's rank, and always willing to exhibit polite manners, Ser Malcolm gives a polite bow, efficiently graceful. His words are fluent Braavosi, though he does have a bit of a Storm coast accent. «Greetings Master Banker. I do hate to intrude, but I did need to speak to someone here before leaving for Dorne.» He switches to his very Stormlander accented Common, "I hope you will not mind if I switch to common for the benefit of my friend Tellur Snow. I am Ser Malcolm Storm, Acknowledged of Kellington. We are sworn to House Stark."

There are two things that might stand out. The first is that Valjean is obviously not Braavosi, and for all the obvious presence of limp and cane his eyes appear terribly sharp. His smile is polite, patient even as he finishes out the round of his song. His fingers seem to see them before his eyes do, a slight crook and point to the left indicating for them to shuffle slightly to the side as the book is closed. As if to say 'these are no great secrets, but there is a protocol to these things'. It is only then that he shifts up and to his cane, walking towards the drawer and placing the book inside before walking as nobly as one can given his condition back towards the bench, taking the seat. The second thing standing out that there are local features about the man if one knows where to look, and that the subsequent speech is utterly devoid of accent. "I speak the Common and Trade Tongues, whichever would be most convenient for your friend." His tone brisk but not unkind. Time perhaps being weighed out against the number of dragons it consumes. The hound by contrast receives a kinder look, a worn hand smelling of lilacs suppressing an urge to pet the animal. "What brings you hopping, skipping, and jumping over the wall to honor me with your company?" Acknowledged or unacknowledged seems to hold very little weight with the banker, though the comment might be a poke at color of hair. "You may call me Valjean Soze. Either is acceptable as address."

Tellur gestures, his fingers graceful, even as he speaks a few of the rough words, which translates neatly enough to «And I speak Trade Tongue, but I do not think that Ser Malcolm does. We must be compelled to speak 'Common'.» He does look briefly up at the sky, as if amused by the whole idea of 'common'. And then he glances down and nods. The gigantic hound steps forward to put her head into Valjean's hand, but then sits and offers a paw, quite politely. Tellur knows how to get someone on his side. He adds "She does not bite." And then, honestly compels him to add "…you." He coughs a little, and says "Tellur Snow, as my more articulate friend says."

Malcolm obediently shuffles as he is pointed to do and waits with a swordsman's stillness for the man to be ready for them, no fidgets, no wasted movement. As it turns out, he looks rather more Braavosi than the banker it would seem. When he is bid to speak he explains, "We are here on two matters. The first is, I have a small account in my name in Braavos and would like to make a deposit here that i might access the money there on an upcoming trip. I would also like to add two names to the account that they might draw on funs there as well." He flashes a smile at Tellur, "I really ought to learn. Perhaps as we sail north."

"I think any conversation of substantive note would be difficult in the Trade Tongue, sailors profanity and the choice insults of caravanners being the primary forms of punctuation." Valjean notes dryly, his hand reaching for and giving the dogs hand a single shake, his hand sweeping along her paw and slowly up along her back, giving a slight application of pressure as he scratches behind the hounds ears. The hand is withdrawn almost in an instant, the instant shared with the dog over as quickly as it began. "A fine lady." He says of the hound. His gaze narrows as they make their request and he nods. "A deposit is not difficult, though if you intend to go to Braavos I do not understand why you would not simply carry it with you, being a man at arms and no doubt in formidable company as you are. Your names are a matter of paperwork and not difficult to add, though I would urge you to give thought as to how they will identify themselves as…joint holders of the account. We are not in the habit of releasing money on good intentions and honorable words, Ser Malcolm."

Tellur says to Malcolm "It is not so hard to teach." He looks back at Valjean, and says "Not so surprising for a Bastard or a Brigand to learn - but perhaps more so for a Banker." He seems amused…but his expression is pleased as he talks about her dog "She is," he allows, pride in his voice. The beast herself moves back, and sits at Tellur's feet, patient. Not even a tail wag - though her ears cant forward, relaxed. Tellur says "Last year, there were issues with Mercenaries on some normal Trade Routes on the water side - while we are both goodly fighters, being out numbered twenty to one tends to leave one looking like a pincushion - I am trying to give that up." He considers, then he shrugs "I have a mark no one else does. For that matter," he adds to Malcolm "No one else has the daggers."

Malcolm thinks on it, "They would both have daggers like these, as he says." He touches his dagger, then gestures at the similar one at tellur's waist. A sharp eye might notice that the three beasts are in a different order on Malolm's belt. "And distinctive scars. I wish to add Tellur snow and My Lord Carolis Stark, Heir of Winterfell and brother to the warden of the North to my account. My people back home said the storm season has started, and we'll be sailing along the storm coast. I would like there to be money we might be able to reach at any of the branches between here or there if we are separated."

"There are those who deal in figures and those who deal in….accounts." Is all Valjean says in the matter. With the dog having done her sociable duty he focuses on the two men, fingers running along the curved eagle of his cane. "Understandable, and done easily enough." The banker says. "Leave the funds with me and make your respective marks, and have your Lord do so the next time he visits one of our branches and it will be taken care of." He promises, shoulders slipping forward as if in thought.

Tellur says "I will add to the fund, Malcolm - it benefits all of us, and I am not generally happy to carry such a large sum on me." He unbuckles his dagger, and he says "I can draw them, as I draw herbs or animals for records, and I can make Lord Carolis' dagger's shape too. As for the marks, simply done." He frowns, quietly, at talk of the storm season, and sighs at the idea he will be on a boat at this time. Then he gives a slight smile, and inquires, simply "What is the commission?"

Malcolm's eyes go wide, "Ah. I didn't mean that and I'm not trying to… purchase services, only have the money where we might get it while travelling." He reaches into his cod and draws out… a sizable sum in coin, half his tourney winnings for the last year, less the Dolphin purse and sets it on the edge of the desk. He flashes Tellur a smile, "It will be worse for the Prince. He gets queasy in calm water."

"I referred to what a banker speaks and what he knows, there was no solicitation." Valjean clarifies at Malcolm's abrupt shock and awe. He looks at the coins impartially, though the lack of reaction suggest comfort in handling such funds. "Five percent. However, if it is as you say and you are going to Braavos, there is a favor that might be done for myself and the bank that will see three percent refunded to your account. It is a small matter, but it needs doing and I would prefer not to have to return at this time to do it." He explains to Tellur.

Tellur says dryly "I'm looking forward to the expression on his face. I suppose we should buy all the ginger root we can find." His own purse is also kept somewhere safe - but rather less intimate. Apparently it is simply kept looped tightly inside his massive dog's collar. He undoes the knot and stands up, in order to add his own coin to the pile. Not so much as that, because Tellur's stipend is directly given to him - while generous, he is not winning at tourneys "Aye? Let me know, and I will tell you if it is something we can do to your requirements."

Malcolm cocks his head, "We can't leave until after the Skyfall tourney, but if that is soon enough… What sort of favour?"

Valjean slowly shifts to his feet, one foot dragged behind the other as he shifts forth. Lameness however seems to be overcome by grit and stoicism as the money is deposited as fast as any man with full use of two legs might do. "You will deliver two messages for me. The first will be to the harbormaster. He is to hold a load of smoked fish for longer than a week but not longer than a fortnight. The second is to a banker named Valgan Sostorze. You will know him by his great girth and his silver mask, and three plumes in whatever hat he may be wearing. Inform him that 'two men basked in the warm light of the cave, but neither has entered.' Where or when you say these words does not matter, only that you say them. Finally, there is a crate being held for me at the bank proper. Bring the crate back with you to Westeros opened, and I will consider your tasks complete. If you do so unopened, there may be a bonus in it for you, and the offer of other errands should you desire them."

Tellur says "I have no reason to pry into another man's business." Certainly, not true - but he does have a rather good nose, alas, especially when he is wearing another animal's. He then says "Hold a load of smoked fish - and speak to the banker Valgan Sostorze. A moment, let me take a note, to get this correct." He takes out his small pack and opens it - there are mostly tools there for healing, apparently, but the inside of the leather can have a few odd marks made by a charcoal stick. Apparently that will help Tellur remember. "I hope the crate is not too big," he adds "We're going to occasionally be on foot."

Malcolm studies Valjean carefully, but picks up nothing of use. "I have questions. The first is, is the Banker larger or smaller than Banker Ronio Malti. The second is, is anything you are asking me to do apt to harm my honor and more importantly my Lord Carolis' Stark's honor, or that of a Prince with whom I will be travelling. I'd not ask My Prince to risk his honor sneaking something past a kinsman by marriage's own customs officers, not besmirch my Lord's good name for 3% of anything. The third thing is, how large is the crate. The boat of Eonn of rills is not large and there will be a number of men in it."

"The same size, but much much taller. Taller than even I." Valjean clarifies. All of the questions induce something of a chuckle and wrinkles of amusement in Valjean's face, poker or otherwise. "Well then, I suppose…acknowledged men would not think themselves above my errands, but would no doubt have more questions. It will not harm anyones honor. In fact, it would do much to bring great esteem to yourselves and your Lord. It is the size of a rather large cask of wine, and undisturbed it will cause no trouble to anyone. It is the temptation of lesser men that I worry about, hence my request of two honorable yet seeming intelligent men to do this favor for me."

Tellur says mildly to Malcolm "I quite like how he cares for his cards by saying 'seeming'." He does seem amused, his eyes a fey glitter behind their brows, and then he rolls his shoulders, and sighs, heavily "And yet more tall basta…I mean. Men. This is where I am constantly at a disadvantage. We will do as you desire. If there's no harm to honour, then I am happy enough to help out - distance is a great tyranny." He adds "Besides. He likes dogs, Mal. He likes dogs."

Malcolm looks to the other bastard, "If you think it meet Tellur Snow." He laughs, "Seeming is amusing, no doubt and if your beast approves." He nods, "Fear not, we'll not tap your barrel, though we will pay the import fee most likely. My reputation is known herabouts if you are wanting to check references." He takes a breath, "There is another matter. I know it will likely be fruitless, but I feel I ought to ask. Ronio Malti dropped off a package for me several months ago. The packet came from Braavos with no information about the sender and no message. Has other word come for me or any more information surfaced about the packet or it's sender?"

"Well, I have heard that bastards and pack mules grow distrustful of too many compliments are lavished at a time." Valjean explains. He nods graciously at their assent and Malcolms statement of paying duties. "You will be compensated for any such expenses, and I do not object to anything that must be paid so long as it is arrives in the hoped for condition." He purses his lips in thought at Ser Storm's question, though he spares a conspiratorial wink for the lady hound. How difficult it must be to be the smartest one in the room! He exhales and shakes his head. "I am new here, myself, only recently arrived. I will confer with Senor Malti about your package…if it is a more urgent matter than do by all means speak to me once you have made your delivery."

"It is more that both have to start wondering what someone wants," says Tellur, who seems relaxed. He inhales, and then he says "Can we have the script of receipt? And then we should probably stop disturbing your work, good sir." He comments to Malcolm "We have to go past the armorer in the market place - my chain and the boiled leather are both finished. There, you can feel happy that you have finally won me over to the horrible stuff. You, and those arrows." The big lurcher, a killer of a dog with a spiked collar, still has her ears up and is still bright eyed. To one who knows beasts, she seems rather well trained and friendly.

Malcolm bows another efficiently graceful bow, "We will be in Dorne until likely the end of next month. I can not say how long we will be in Braavos, but if a leisurely pace suffices…?" he flashes Tellur a smile, made crooked by a small scar on his upper lip, "I want to look over your armour before I trust you to it…."

"If these were urgent matters I would not entrust them to an outsider. It will need to be done and you will be in Braavos when those errands are best run, so you need not worry excessively about pacing." Valjean says, allowing the two men to depart. However, he does pause, glancing at the hound. "Bring her again when we do not have business to discuss. I have a pair of sight hound coursers who could do with some company. A playdate of sorts." He says, musing. His fingers move to scratch behind the dogs ears again, a treat seemingly produced from within the folds of his cloak and snuck to the well trained warrior. "Travel safely, Ser Storm, Senor Snow. May the winter cold follow you slightly less vigorously than your names suggest." He at least has the decency to look mildly ashamed of his obvious punning.

Tellur _eyes_ Malcolm "You're the pup, not me," he says, irritable, and then he devolves into a low mumble - something about Dorne and heat, and armour and more heat, and then maybe dying of heat…and everything being the fault of bloody great knights who wear gob-loads of plate. He then shakes his head, finally coming to himself, and he pauses, then says to Valjean "Certainly. I should like to see them. I am the Houndsmaster of House Stark. This one, her name is 'Grace'." And Grace she is - she takes the treat, politely, but looks towards Tellur, and only when he nods? Does she eat. Tellur gives one of his odd smiles again - someone explained smiling to him once, and, damnit, one day he will master it! Or that is, sadly, how it looks. "_Hrm_," he says of the punning, raising an eyebrow. Definitely, Malcolm is the social one. Tellur just says "Have a profitable day." And out? He steps.

Malcolm laughs, "If you're bringing dogs to play, Fiona might enjoy the walk too." his smile is friendly enough even with the punning. "A half a year difference isn't so large, Tellur Snow, and you won't be needing armour in Dorne. I'll tell you how to dress not to be bothered in Braavos when we get home. They are much more civilized than we about non-combatants. It will be cooler there as well." he scritches grave behind the ears, expression fond enough. "Have a profitable day, Master Soze."

"Aye, she might," says Tellur to Malcolm "She likes to get exercise, and to run rings around bigger beasts." Oh, so now he sounds fond, human. He claps Malcolm on the shoulder, and he says "Yes, and I am _sure_ I will _believe_ everything you tell me, too, Mal. Everything. Without checking. Like that time you had me dress up for that _festival_…"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License