The Trireme

After our hunt for the werewolves:

Upon the dusty road back from the encounter with the werewolves Nifen trots upon his mule next to Romulus, “Would you mind that I buy you a drink upon our return to town, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you?”

Romulus never turning down a free beverage agrees…

Next day as the party pulls into town and everyone disperses to take care of their own needs, Nifen approaches Romulus and sets a time to meet at “The Trireme” and both agree.

As day begins to make its lazy descent over the last hillock and the arms of evening embrace the city of Verune, Nifen secures a table in the furthest corner of The Trireme, hoping for some privacy and to spot an eye on the front door looking for Romulus.

The Trireme, the towns local high life overlooks the gentle banks of the languid lake Chesyl. Standing two stories high, a rather drab khaki stucco coats it walls, some areas peeling and cracking from the constant moisture of the lakes proximity, ceramic roof tiles carrying the traditional ochre colored tint from the minerals prevalent in the local clay.

Two walled in courtyards are at the front of the entrance, one for the patrons and one for their horses, both open to the sky and to the elements. The second floor’s two balconies overlook the both courtyards.

All of The Trireme’s windows are shuttered and contain neither glass nor oiled parchment, the latter being for those establishments not able to afford glass.

Alceko, the owner, a surprising portly man runs the joint, hustling to and fro issuing orders to his workers so that all needs of the customer are met. The common room, thick with pipe, and cigar smoke, has an all day haze just hovering a foot above the patrons heads. Tapestries line the walls, the top halves all but black and grey from the years of smoke permeating the fibers, only the bottom scenes visible possibly depicting adventures at work or nobles on the hunt.

A local bard strikes a tune at the same time Romulus walks into the tavern. Nifen, flicks his chin in the direction of Romulus signaling to join him.

“Greetings Romulus, thank you for joining me, sit and have a drink on me,” motioning Romulus to sit.

Upon Romulus sitting at the table and taking Nifen’s wrist in the traditional arm shake of greeting, Nifen closes the small, thick pocket sized leather wrapped book and stashes it away, along with the ink well and feather plume he was using to jot notes with, his rusty and pitted short sword casually draped just to the side of his chair.

After pleasantries and a few more ales Nifen get to the crux of the evening, “Is Nikail available to craft magic such as scrolls, rings and other items of necessity? If so I would like commission and item or two.”