After their long and treacherous journey through the Waterworks and adjoining sewers of Stormreach harbour, the three returned to the harbourmaster after a nights rest. Harbormaster Zin had presented them with their writ of commendation the previous day, but they had agreed to search for Venn as a last favour to him.

Unfortunately Venn had been found brutally murdered in the underground prison of a clan of ruthless kobolds. After delivering this news to the harbourmaster, Harmen, Seras and Xzantor tentatively approached the gates to the marketplace. After presenting their documentation to the guard on duty, they entered into Stormreach marketplace – the central point of the city where most inhabitants and visitors could be found.

Once the group had settled into sleeping quarters at the nearest tavern, the Rusty Nail, they split up for the afternoon. Xzantor headed for the Phoenix Tavern on the other side of the marketplace, where he had arranged to meet Vornimar. Harmen headed out in search of more ways to pay off his slowly decreasing bar tab and Seras decided she would embark on some shopping...of the five fingered discount variety.

Work in the marketplace, as Harmen would discover, was slow that day. Only a handful of people were interested in hiring him, and those that did only had short, fairly easy jobs that needed attending to. By far the most exciting part of the day for Harmen was cleaning out a spider infestation for Basil Tallbarrow, and even then it had only been ‘exciting’ as he had unexpectedly found a rather large Troll lurking in the basement. Still, he had earned himself a hundred or so gold coins, which was better than nothing.

Xzantor, on the other hand, had a much more enjoyable time. Vornimar had left Despval whilst Xzantor was training to be a cleric, so it had been almost two decades since they had last seen each other. Subsequently, it was not surprising to see that they quickly became quite drunk whilst regaling each other with tales of their travels. The hours passed and their table filled with empty tankards quickly as the pair entertained each other and made a pact to protect and assist each other whilst in Stormreach.

Whilst Harmen was killing Trolls and Xzantor was working up a bar tab of his own, Seras was browsing the street stalls of the Marketplace. After a few hours, she had made her way around most of the outskirts of the market and after a quick pause for some food in the Phoenix Tavern (where she spent most of her time laughing at the state of Xzantor and Vornimar) she headed for the ‘big tent’ where the majority of the stalls were set up.

As Seras wandered through the tent, eyes gleaming at the sight of thief’s tools, bucklers and intricately designed armour, she got the feeling that she was being watched. Every now and then she would catch a sliver of blond hair or a glimpse of brown armour slipping behind a post behind her. Eventually, Seras happened upon the melee weapon vendor. A portly, aging man, he made polite conversation as Seras looked over the selection of swords and axes that he had on display. Her eyes lit up as they rested upon an delicately engraved silver dagger at the front of the stand, an old feeling of danger and excitement igniting in her stomach.

She picked up the dagger, examining it more closely as she turned it over in her hands.

“These weapons are all very charming” she purred, putting on her best smile, “but I’m sure that you have something with a little more...finesse for me to look at?”

“Certainly, good lady” the man beamed, “I know just the thing you’re looking for.”

As the vendor bent down to rummage through the crates beneath his stall, Seras slid the dagger into her boot, turned and leapt silently from the central stand. As she started running, she heard a cry from the old man behind her, alerting the guards to her actions.

Seras flew through one of the entrances of the tent and jumped up onto the wall opposite her. Turning, she ran along the wall until she reached the end, pouncing onto a rooftop and sprinting across it. Seras made her way to the Rusty Nail via the rooftops of the marketplace, until she reached her goal. Having lost sight of the guards some time ago, Seras tried to compose herself as she entered the tavern.

“Not planning on paying for that then?”

Seras froze, blushing, and turned towards the voice, though she knew the face that accompanied it before she saw him. Harmen stood behind her, eyes gleaming as he grinned at her.

“You’re lucky you can run so fast” he said, as he walked past her towards the bar. “You’re very hard to keep up with you know.”

Seras sat down at the closest empty table and waited for him to join her. “You...you were following me?”

“Well, business is slow today...I was bored so I started wandering around and I saw you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you...”

“Tell me something, Seras.” Harmen said, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Why do you do it?”

“What do you...I mean...what gives you...who do you think you are?! You have no right talking to me like that!!” Seras exploded.

“You’re right” Harmen grimaced. “It’s none of my business. My apologies.”

Hell. He knew women could be tough, but this was just ridiculous. Seras scowled as the pair of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Why are you like this?” she asked, not looking up at him. “I mean, you’re so polite and cheerful all the time. Even when I’m downright rude to you, you act as if I’ve paid you a compliment. I mean...is it even possible to piss you off??”

“Have you been trying to piss me off?” Harmen grinned.

“No, I just...forget it” Seras sighed, standing up.

“Don’t go” Harmen said, catching hold of her wrist. “Please, stay and keep me company, I was only jesting with you.”

Seras stared into his deep green eyes and her frown softened. She tried to hate him, she tried so hard to dislike this elf in a way to honour the suffering her ancestors had gone through centuries before. But try as she might, she could not find a single reason to be rude or unkind to Harmen, and she almost resented herself for it.

“Well” she said quietly as she sat back down, noticing that his delicate fingers did not let go of her wrist straight away. “Perhaps one more drink will not hurt.”