Mise

Varise finally snapped, his tone growing sharp. "Very funny. I am Mise Varise Vy Le'tsen. I belong to no human, no dwarf, no government, and least of all, to you. And if you desire to see me continue in this kitchen, you'll take your whore-mongering elsewhere. Off with you." Without waiting for an answer, Varise turned back into the kitchen, glaring disapprovingly at the kitchen boys that scrambled out of his way.

Rob chuckled, turning on his heel and taking the rejuvenated coffee cup with him, sipping thoughtfully as he wound his way through the warren of sub-structures and additions across the stone-floored courtyard where someone had started trying to cultivate vegetables in a set of clay planters. He didn't think the chances of them surviving Spree's climate were good, but he'd discovered that a relatively lax approach to experimentation led to coin more often than not.

On the far side of the courtyard, he entered the collection of cellars, store rooms, and receiving areas that kept up with the ever-growing demands of the variety of businesses the Temptress had branched into. As Rob entered, he was greeted by a short figure, broad-shouldered and portly. The man nodded politely, showing deference to the owner's voice, and nodded towards the basement door. "New one's down there. Odd about the shipping, though."

Rob considered following up on that, then shrugged it off. He'd get to it later. Heading down into the basement, he let the darkness swallow him.

Author's Note: The next chapter is going to be rough. Even for this story. Please be patient, kind, and above all, remember that this is fiction.