“To nearby towns to buy and sell. What is your goal?”
“Uncover whatever Baron Dalin is hiding,” Drakor replied. “Our backer suspects wrongdoing but has nothing concrete.”
(Is… is concrete a thing?)
(If not just pretend he said “nothing solid”)
“How good is your memory?” Drakor asked.
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Paprika looked slightly irritated, though she’d expected this outcome. “That’s not what I asked. You are not your backer. What is your goal?”
Of course, concrete was invented thousands of years ago in Taldor. In the modern day alchemists have also developed an alchemical version that dries much more quickly.
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The woman who was biting her fingernails earlier brings her dishes up to the counter and leaves the building, casting one last nervous glance behind her as she goes.
“Touche.” Drakor tapped his hood in recognition of the point.
(Does fantasy France exist??)
“I have people to protect. Completing this mission is a small step towards that goal.”
He leaned back against the wall. “How good is your memory?”
(I accidentally made Rika’s last name fantasy French instead of fantasy German so IG so)
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(LOL)
(We are looking for a baguette the next time we’re at a fancy bakery)
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yes! it’s called Galt. They’re doing the French Revolution thing, specifically the French revolution thing where they cut off the heads of everyone who was just in power. They’ve been doing the French Revolution thing for <checks notes> 37 years.
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(If you eat the richest people at a given point instead of a defined rich class, then you’ll have many more people to eat)
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Also, rather than having regular guillotines, they have magic guillotines that trap your soul and stop you from going to the afterlife 
(this may be an improvement in the specific case of people who would otherwise go to the Evil afterlives)
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(probably the Taldor version was not the first thing that could arguably be referred to as concrete, just the first thing that’s “the thing that comes to mind when you think of concrete”. but possibly I am overthinking the historical correspondence here.)
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(Taldor isn’t even fantasy Rome, it’s fantasy The Byzantine Empire, just,)
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Canary subtly looks over at Drakor’s and Rika’s conversation, through the group to make sure she doesn’t see- and staring more at Drakor to make sure if she does see that she’ll think Canary is looking at Drakor.
Which might slightly impact how well she actually sees Rika. But who knows.
Hi! To find out what I can do, say @discobot display help.
“Well, that’s rather vague.” If Paprika had a cat’s tail, she would have swished it in mild annoyance. This is the most natural method of communicating this sentiment for somebody who grew up roleplaying Warrior Cats. “Either you especially require the protection of the baron or you’re exceptionally distractable. I doubt you’d phrase it as protection if your family were merely tight on money.”
“As for your question, my memory is excellent.” (And fantasy France exists.) As Paprika speaks, she fiddles with her sleeves a bit in boredom. “Tell me about the weapons you’re carrying.”
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(U see the this also:)
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Drakor brightened. “Ah, yes. This here is a very high quality falchion.” He gestured to the large sword at his waist. “A two-hander, of course. Big problems require big solutions.”
He unrolled a sling from his belt. “Of course, range is also very important. Ammunition for this thing is practically free, and it does a lot of damage for how compact it is.”
He nodded to the greataxe on his back. “This is my father’s greataxe. I mostly use it for crowd control, though admittedly a halberd or a staff would be a significant upgrade. Still, my father killed a dragon with it when I was three, so I’m not getting rid of it.”
He tapped a small dagger at his belt. “This is a dueling dagger. I like to use it in my off hand - helps me parry strikes and presents an extra threat for my enemies to keep track of.”
Drakor unslung his pack and withdrew a long staff with a metal head at the end. “Depending on the situation, I’ll pair the dagger with either this warhammer or my short sword.”
He took the aforementioned sword out of his bag, letting the light of the tavern shine on it. “It’s a bit old, and definitely seen better days, but this was my first weapon.”
He smiled wistfully at the sword, then began slowly returning the weapons to their storage places.
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