Baron Faygor steadied himself on the cushioned seat. The wine he consumed earlier began to twinge a muscle behind his left eye. His mind foggy, the Baron thought back to the meeting he was just attending with several of his colleagues. The economy of Rhundil was going to change, and he planned to ride that change with bankrolled profits. His insider in the Capital provided valuable information that would most certainly make him even wealthier than he already was. Longshoreman guilds were demanding higher wages for the abrupt increase in voyages they had to make in an already swamped season. In response, the Chancellor threatened to place the Longshoreman guilds into a higher taxation group in order to offset the potential cost for labor. The thing was, if you were a Shipping owner and a member of the local Charter, the taxes would not be passed on to you and profits for goods would increase with demand – such was the case for Baron Faygor. Laughing inwardly, the Baron reached for the half-empty skin of wine and tipped it towards his mouth. A bump in the carriage caused him to spill wine down his rotund front. He cursed loudly and threatened to have his driver flogged.
His head starting to spin, Baron Faygor demanded that his driver change their destination to his in-town apartment. The journey to the manor was too much for his oncoming headache and he wished to rid himself of the confounded prison he called a “carriage”.
Moments later they came to a stop in front of a modestly decorated, but overly clean building. The Baron did not want to flaunt his wealth in the city for fear of robbers, but he also couldn’t bear to reside in “utter squalor” while conducting business! The gentle light of early morning was making a slow crawl on the horizon as he entered into the apartment. A servant took his jacket and helped remove the vest, for his bulk would not allow his arms to move that far back. Breathing a long sigh, the Baron made his way up the wooden stairs to the master bedroom; the floorboards creaking under his tremendous weight.
As he reached for the chamber door handle, he heard a sound just on the other side. Some sort of movement. A thief?! he thought to himself. He reached for his oaken night cane near the door frame and held it up in front of him; one hand on the brass handle, mentally preparing himself to strike whoever was on the other side.
Holding his breath, the Baron flew open the door and found the culprit.
Scratch that, culprits.
On the bed before him was his wife, Elandra and beneath her, a small, but stout dwarf with a close-cut goatee. Both had been caught in the folds of passion when they were interrupted by the Baron’s abrupt entrance.
“Elandra! Wh-what is the meaning on this?!”, he roared.
Elandra hastily rolled off the dwarf and grabbed for several articles of clothing to cover her not-so-slim form. “I-It’s not what it looks like, Gede!”, she protested.
“Aye, but it more than likely is!”, said the dwarf merrilly. He was already tightening his trousers when he said it. The Baron roared with rage and moved closer to the center of the room, brandishing his wooden cane at the squat intruder.
“Begone, you devil!” he yelled, swaying a little from the drink. As he neared the bedside he swung out at the dwarf, who dodged it easily. The half naked dwarf grabbed a flute from the side table and danced a wide arc around the fat man; careful to stay out of range. As he made his way around the room, the dwarf passed by Elandra and slapped her exposed rear end with a loud SMACK!
It was too much. The Baron roared with uncontrolled fury and dove at the dwarf, who once again easily danced out of the way. Baron Faygor crashed into the bookshelves and yelled with rage as he fell to the floor; books falling all around him.
Flesios Gordion moved quickly to the open doorway. Before leaving, he turned to the partially exposed girl across the room, winked, and gave her a charismatic smile. Elandra blushed as the door closed behind him.