The tavern's atmosphere was as usual, thick with smoke. This particular venue proved popular with higher levels of society. This demographic consisted mainly of scholars, well-to-do merchants and high ranking militia. Rook did not belong amongst these crowds, the male knew that very well. But his reputation was enough to protect him from harsh words. Rook had discovered long ago taverns were an optimum location for people in his specific trade. Rook traded in information, a commodity that proved priceless in Aequitas. Providing of course, one could find the correct buyer.
Rook's heavy leather hood framed and shadowed his features as he walked with a purposeful delay. He scrutinized the face of each male that moved within his field of vision, searching for his latest client, a travelling merchant who neglected to offer a name. The peddler's garb was all that was needed to notice him sat amidst the gathering crowds. As he drew closer, Rook noticed the chequered board and game pieces situated upon the table his companion had chosen.
"I hear you're fond of chess." The merchant spoke once within earshot. "Quite fitting, I suppose. I might assume Rook is not your real name."
The hooded male sniggered derisively. "Says the man not willing to tell his?" Taking a seat, Rook flitted his gaze between the other male and the chess board. He knew the merchant was a man of guile, never speaking in certainties, possessing a penchant for games.
"Shall we?" Rook's company suggested, gesturing with open palms across the table. "Unless you would like a drink first?" Preferring to get the charade over with, Rook waved dismissively indicating his wish to start. Being white, the Merchant began. Rook watched carefully as they exchanged moves, taking particular note of the merchant's opening, Queen's Gambit. Was this one of his riddles? Time, Rook hoped, would tell.
Rook's heavy leather hood framed and shadowed his features as he walked with a purposeful delay. He scrutinized the face of each male that moved within his field of vision, searching for his latest client, a travelling merchant who neglected to offer a name. The peddler's garb was all that was needed to notice him sat amidst the gathering crowds. As he drew closer, Rook noticed the chequered board and game pieces situated upon the table his companion had chosen.
"I hear you're fond of chess." The merchant spoke once within earshot. "Quite fitting, I suppose. I might assume Rook is not your real name."
The hooded male sniggered derisively. "Says the man not willing to tell his?" Taking a seat, Rook flitted his gaze between the other male and the chess board. He knew the merchant was a man of guile, never speaking in certainties, possessing a penchant for games.
"Shall we?" Rook's company suggested, gesturing with open palms across the table. "Unless you would like a drink first?" Preferring to get the charade over with, Rook waved dismissively indicating his wish to start. Being white, the Merchant began. Rook watched carefully as they exchanged moves, taking particular note of the merchant's opening, Queen's Gambit. Was this one of his riddles? Time, Rook hoped, would tell.
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