Find a Cab

A wind blows along the deserted street, milder than at Sea but much colder than inside the Feyish gardens. The Landlocked Commodore shivers, clad only in his flimsy blue parade coat. He offers you a thin cigar, the wooden box trembling in his gloveless hand. ”Share a cab?” he asks.

You watch as the Drab Realtor departs, seated in a carriage drawn by eight horses and bearing a crest that mirrors that of HIM.

”The prices are sheer extortion,” the Landlocked Commodore says, ”out here and at this hour. And you don’t seem the type who can call on a noble sponsor on a whim.” He eyes the road, now empty. ”But I do owe you.” He smirks. ”And for more than a cab ride.”

”She’s an amazing lay. Best in the City.” A lacquered wall separates you from the driver, but the Landlocked Commodore has lowered his voice regardless. ”The very best. And you’re a stand-up guy. A real stand-up guy.” He hands you a slip of cardboard. ”My card. I will not forget this. Anything I can do – anything my office can do – just let me know.”

You have gained [1] Favours: The Navy

You now have [1] Favours: The Navy

”Matter of fact: You should come see me at work. We do employ independent agents, for reconnaissance and such. It’s decent enough pay for little additional work. A bit of writing and nothing else, really. You’re certainly always welcome.

You have gained [1] Connected: The Navy

Your Connected: The Navy is now 1 – A Possible Asset

How long are you in town, anyway?”

You spend the remaining drive in relaxed conversation, discussing politics and weather patterns, whore houses and the opera.

The driver stops in front of the Grimalkin & Rooster and hurries to open the coach door for you. You shake hands with the Landlocked Commodore, the officer reminding you to come see him and soon.