Something

The first crate bursts open, and yellowish-white Bone Charms clatter across the twilight of the hold. The Greencoats trample them to powder with their heavy boots as their leader looks on, playing with a pair of dice. One is cast from brass, and the other chiselled from bone. You raise an exasperated objection.

The Dicey Inspector tut-tuts, points to some minuscule discrepancy on your papers, and orders her men to pry open all the crates. You protest, of course, and she recites her interpretation of municipal codes, and how the stickers on your cargo fail to meet these standards.

You sigh. The flatfoots try this from time to time, and your barrister, the Weaselly Lawyer, always slaps them down in court. That does not stop them from making life difficult for you. Their crowbars and lack of care are a danger to the cargo, and with the Captain out of the picture, spending the night in lockup goes from a personal annoyance to a logistical nightmare.

And so you protest, again. The Dicey Inspector, to your surprise, agrees to postpone the search while you plead your case. The two of you enter the captain’s cabin, now strangely empty, and go through the documentation again.

You lost 1 Reputation.

Your Reputation is now 3 -- Sought for the Wrong Reasons

”What a shambles.” She sets the papers down on the desk. ”What a waste of both our time. Nothing more pathetic than office intrigues.” Her dice rattle over the polished tabletop. ”I will have to write a report, of course.” She stops them to show you snake eyes. ”Just our luck.”

There is a moment of meaningful silence.