Cultural Differences OR I just want my merchant's license.

Chapter 3: Riling Things Up

 At the same time as the party's revelry, Geoffrey was performing something he regarded as an art. In the social network of any small town, there is a web of both gossip and truth, and–on occasion–the two could blur together. Know the people of the network well enough and you can smudge the lines between truth and lie yourself. A few words here, a phrase there, perhaps a speculation amongst the right drunks, and, all of a sudden, people start their own gossip based on one assumed truth.

As the saying goes, they have made an ass of themselves in the process, but, in a small town, they may never find that out.

Ever so slowly, Geoffrey weaved a story about the strangers who showed up on the same day that poor Kyle Wharton was murdered. Then, he pushed those who he'd "Leaked" the story to together so they could make it their own.

Then he would find another table and do it all over again.

Late in the night, Geoffrey sat smiling at the bar, listening to the new gossip hanging in the corners of the tavern. Cory–still a bit grimy from the day's work–walked through the bar and sat down beside him.

"I made the signal," Cory said. He waved to the barkeep and soon after a tankard of ale thumped down on the table in front of him. Cory hefted it up and took a long drink from it before banging it back down. "My contact will be by tomorrow evening at the latest. Will Mr. Cooper be ready for me then?" He leaned in towards Geoffrey

"Of course, Cory," Geoffrey said, turning his smile towards Cory, "I talked with him just a little while ago, and he was quick to volunteer his services."

Cory's gaze burrowed into Geoffrey. Geoffrey waved it away dismissively.

"Oh, don't worry," Geoffrey said, "It was just a few words, nothing more. So long as he cooperates, of course." Geoffrey's smile darkened and he reached across the table to put a hand on Cory's shoulder. "Make sure you are an encouraging companion to him, alright? I would hate it if he gets the wrong idea."

Cory snorted and said, "Fine. I'll see what I can do." Then he went back to his drink.

Now, Geoffrey thought, The only thing left is to speak with Jane.

###

As soon as Reginald walked onto the tavern floor the next day, he could feel the atmosphere was different. The news of the murder had finally made its rounds.

The others were already at the bar, all gathered together except for Lucas. Amora and Rari were chatting happily with Zoe adding things in here and there. Kalin sat quietly watching the bar with her hand placed casually on the hilt of her sword. Amora spotted Reginald as he exited the stairs down onto the tavern floor, and she waved him over to their table.

All around the group were the stares and whispers of the townsfolk. It felt hostile, fearful, and otherwise unpleasant for Reginald. Reginald tightened his lip and did his best to ignore them. Silently, he prayed that they would change their minds if the group proved their own--and his--innocence.

"Good morning!" Amora said as Reginald sat down at the table.

"Good morning," Reginald said absentmindedly. Reginald could feel curious glances and hear the whisperings around them.

"Hey," Rari said softly, giving Reginald a kind smile and a pat on the shoulder. She must be the most familiar with this, Reginald realized. Tieflings were not common, and–with her horns and tail and skin–she resembled a demonic creature enough to make the citizens of the kingdom uncomfortable. "How did you sleep last night?" Rari asked, with her other hand she handed Reginald a drink.