Neighbors, Friendly or Otherwise (City of Splendors #3)

So, today we took a tour of the house. Actually, we took a tour of practically the whole neighborhood, but I’ll get to that later.
 
We met up with Volo again early this morning. I figured that if there really was a spirit lurking within our acquired property, we should learn as much as we can about its past. I asked Volo about it. Apparently, he knew nothing, but he did say that the records could be found in the Court Magistrate. It will take time and paperwork to get to all that though, so we’ll be holding off on that. I also asked about fire insurance.
 
I heard that snort of laughter, Zloton. Don’t think I didn’t. We share a similar sense of humor, but in this instance, we must diverge. I’m dead serious. In answer to my inquiry, Volo said that the Firewatch is connected to the Guild of Magus Protectors. You know, the guild I’m nominally apart of. Now, I’m imagining being contracted to guard against fires myself. Yeah, you can laugh at that. It’s funny. In a morbid sort of way. I think we’ll have to wait on the Firewatch as well in the end. It’s probably too expensive
 
We still wanted further information about the house, so we popped into a neighbor’s shop. It had a tropical plant greenhouse on the second floor defended by what we were later told was magically enforced glass. Within was a wooden interior. There were counters all along the walls filled with bottles and bottles of things. There was a sign of the Guild of Apothecaries and Physicians on the wall, which made me vaguely happy. I had been the one to guess this was an apothecary from the street. The wall outside gave the apothecary a name: Corellon’s Crown.
 
Corellon is an...elf god, right? I found myself hoping that we didn’t have a god for a neighbor. I think that might be inconvenient. Anyway, of course we didn’t. The apothecary was an elf named Fala—black hair, pale skin, I heard Ristrien say something about “moon elves.” Is that important?
 
Anyway, Fala was nice, welcomed us into the shop graciously and told us all that they knew about the former occupants of our acquisition, which unfortunately was not much. They didn’t even see the former owners *leave*, which is disconcerting. I mean Fala says that they are away enough that it was possible that they left while they were gone, but still.
 
We chatted for a little bit. Nettie spoke of her elven bard mentor: Vindaloo, which pleased Fala. We also told them about our plans to open the tavern and Fala pointed us to Griselda's green grocery to talk to, which I thanked them heavily for. I showed Fala my grandmother’s lavender and they recognized it! They had never seen it in person, but recognized it from a book. They had never heard it as having any properties beyond normal lavender. That probably settles it. Grandmother was probably mistaken when she said they were magical. I mean, I already assumed that, but it goes beyond that. If Fala saw it in a Faerun book than my Grandmother must also probably be mistaken that hers is the only left in Toril. That gives me hope. What if other lost plants of hers have siblings elsewhere? How glorious that would be!
 
We left Fala to their work. Pete told them on opening night that he was buying drinks. He told literally everyone we met that today. I can see you wince in my minds eye. Your greed would not allow such money go to waste, but perhaps we should think of it as a promotional event. Drinking with Pete is an event onto itself after all.
 
I saw smoke billow from the chimney from a shop a couple doors down. I guessed it was a blacksmith and wanted to confirm my suspicion, but Pete and Flynn were impatient, so we went to the house immediately instead. I was not sure that was a good idea. I figured exploring the neighborhood and understanding its history before entering that supposedly accursed place was wiser, but I can't really protest. I'm so eager as well.
 
None of us were so eager as to enter without extra senses. Nettie cast detect magic, while I cast alarm over the entrance we were to enter. It was not impossible to suppose we might be surreptitiously followed by the Zentarim, the Xanathar, or, you know, *you*, so I might as well while Nettie is taking the time to ritual cast her more relevant spell.
 
But at last, with Nettie's gaze enchanted and the kitchen door alarmed, we entered. A musty smell permeates the air. A coat of dust covers everything including chairs, some of which are broken. The chimneys need sweeping. A third of the windows are broken. The bathrooms don’t have any real plumbing. Pete went down to the former wine cellar which was cool in temperature and made of hard packed clay. Some of the stones of the wall down there need repair. Pete was telling me how he wanted to stock the cellar with barrels of fancy wines, like cognac. I asked him if he had ever even tasted cognac, and when he confirmed that he had not, I made my water taste like cognac and offered it to him. He was excessively delighted. I do admit I love inciting his enthusiasm.
 
Nettie’s enthusiasm was equally as infectious. She has plans for a revolving stage in this corner of the eating area. It sounds like an excellent idea. Every tavern in this City of Splendors seems to have some sort of draw or attraction that sets it apart. This stage could be our draw. I told her so and they all said that my food would be the draw. I know, isn’t that sweet of them to say? None of them have had my food though, so they are the hollow words of bias, but still, what a thoughtful compliment.
 
The stairs to our private rooms were back outside. There is no actual way to enter the second or third floor from the tavern. This is an inconvenience, but as an additional measure to prevent drunkards from accidentally stumbling into our privacy, I’ll take it.
 
The upstairs will need a lot of repairs, and yet, we all saw its potential. Nettie had plans for some kind of special fireplace. Ristrien might turn the den into a library. Actually, Ristrien and I had an argument because we were both trying to let the other take the room linked to the tower. She’s kind, but I cannot see by what logic she concludes that I have any right to the tower. She is the regal spellcaster, not me.
 
Speaking of the tower...you will find this interesting. The only way to reach it is through a trapdoor in the ceiling of one of the second story rooms. There obviously ought to be a ladder there, but there wasn’t.
 
Personal reminder: buy a ladder.
 
In the meantime, I might jerry rig my rope to pull people, but today Pete just threw Nettie up through the trapdoor. Apparently, she found nothing of note in the upper tower except potential. She was about to come down, but suddenly the temperature dropped and a piece of plaster fell on her head. She jumped through the trapdoor. Flynn said he would catch her, but the angle offered an excellent view up her skirt and he...got distracted. She was able to cast featherfall just in time and float to the ground.
 
The experience made us wary. The chances that it had been just uninfluenced plaster seemed...low. Pete sent out the Baron to explore and talk to other rats. Apparently his search bore no fruit. We saw no further signs of a “ghost.”
 
We saw things that needed to be fixed though. We made a list of major points.
 
Roof
Stonemason
Glass
Chimney
Privy
Furniture
 
Volo took notes on all that and said that he would have representatives of the various relevant guilds call on us tomorrow morning to give us quotes. We need to have an idea on what each job costs so that we can prioritize the tasks that will get us up and running in a timely manner.
 
After promising that, Volo scampered off. I have been contemplating this reward of his, and I suspect it may not have been as spontaneous as he attempts to portray. I mean, who doesn’t have the money they promised to give, but does have the deed to a *manor* in his pocket? The more I think about it, the more sense it begins to make. Volo purchased it from the city, so that he could do research for his book. He said so, but naturally, Volo does not actually want to *face* the ghost there. He wants data, but he doesn’t want to collect it himself. So, he decides to gift the house to someone else. They deal with the thing that has terrified owner after owner, and they report to him, giving him the research he requires with no risk to himself.
 
All he had to do was find the right people to gift it to. When we returned Floon to him, which seems to me like a legitimate mission unrelated to this scheme, he suddenly saw a way to give the house while also saving himself 500 dragons. Nettie has already promised to send him reports of the ghost (so long as she gets to be in the book), meaning now he even has assurance of the data he needs.
 
It’s brilliant Zloton, tidy and clean. I doubt even you could scheme so neatly. I’m not even annoyed at being so casually used. Why be annoyed? If my optimism does not prove to be misplaced, we will turn this reward of his into a thriving enterprise that far exceeds his 500 dragon gain and make plain what he abandoned out of cowardice.
 
So, we’ll see just who used who. Are you proud of me, Zloton? I’m sounding almost like you.
 
The first step to any of that was to meet with the guild representatives tomorrow. Before that, we agreed to visit Ristrien’s mentor this afternoon to see if he had any advice for us concerning the ghost. With those plans put into motion, we decided to spend the rest of the time until lunch meeting neighbors. Our first stop was the Blacksmith I saw earlier: Steam and Steel.
 
I know, good name, and in more ways than one as you will discover. For there are two people working in the open room that they had made their indoor forge: A red tiefling who introduced himself as Embric and a bluish green water genasi named Avi. Avi’s hair was fairly distracting. It floated as if he were underwater and not in plain air. I don't know if this is a genasi thing or if it is something he learned, but he can just conjure water. I saw him do so to cool or freeze the metal cutlery Embric was pounding away at as we walked in. I wonder if it would be possible to flavor the water he conjured. Hmm.
 
Anyway, they’re a part of Splendid Order of Armourers, Locksmiths, and Fine Smiths. As well as the Most Careful Order of Skilled Smiths and Metal Forgers. I saw the symbol for both guilds on their wall. They also frequently work with Flynn’s family, since the Manthar estate is just up the road and they are known for their mining. Flynn asked for them to sharpen his sword, literally this time. I swear, I’m so used to Flynn using that expression metaphorically, my thoughts turned filthy before I realized what he meant. I can hear you giggling with me. It’s funny how near you seem when I laugh at myself.
 
Anyway, the blacksmiths were probably annoyed at Flynn’s request, but as they really didn’t want to annoy his father, they oblige and I stress *literally* sharpen his sword.
 
Through their conversation I learned quite a bit about the family I didn’t know before. Apparently, the Manthar family has a mercenary company called the Steel Stingers (I know, another great name). It is always lead by the firstborn of the family when they come of age (so Flynn’s brother) and it guards their holdings in the mining industry and...the perfume business? Yeah, apparently a wife of the head of family a couple of generations back began it as a side business for her own benefit, and then the husband became very interested when it turned out to be wildly profitable. I could have told him that. Smell is crucial in my business, and one can never overlook it.
 
Embric and Avi took us all in stride. Their behavior toward each other was very affectionate. They seem very close. I find that inevitable. People need some form of connection to work efficiently in a kitchen; the same must be so in a forge.
 
Being a tinkerer, Nettie is also a member of the Splendid Order of Armourers, Locksmiths, and Fine Smiths. When she said so Embric exclaimed, “Oh that's the West wing of our guild!”
 
Nettie showed them her boxes and they talked of the technicalities of her work, asking advanced questions and admiring with enthusiasm. I felt proud of her. There was no reason for the abrupt feeling. That's a lie, I know the reason. She reminds me of my sister and I always feel pride when people praised my sister. Don’t scowl, Zloton. I’m allowed to love my sister, even more than you are allowed to disapprove.
 
She endeared herself as she did in the Skewered Dragon, and soon they told Nettie all they knew about our new house. They themselves have been there nine years and in that time the house has changed many hands. The last owners only stayed three months. They, like Fala, never saw them leave, however they said that some of the past ones they saw leave, although it was always hurried, sudden, and without goodbyes. They had of course heard that it was haunted and Avi also heard a rumor that the bartender of the tavern, back when it was a tavern, killed himself in the building.
 
We told them about our plans for the tavern. They were pleased. They said they would be willing to help with any repairs they could, but that we really needed to talk to Tally, the carpenter across the street. They thought he might be able to build this stage that Nettie wants built.
 
We decided to take our leave as they start on a sword blank, and head over to the carpenter in question. His shop was called Bent Nail, a name hinted at by the blank wooden sign with a bent nail. The place was filled with rows of canes, quarterstaffs, and wooden shields of every description. Tally himself was a rail thin human. Tethyrian, I think, (you know, the dusky skin, brown haired ones) but I'm still learning the intricacies of human groups so I cannot be sure. He was friendly, and provided the same gossip as Avi. He saw some of the previous owners leave, others he didn't.
 
Nettie talked about her stage. He said he was once part of a crew that built one, so he could definitely help her. When we talked about the repairs, he said that roofers are a different part of the guild, but that he could help with other things, like the furniture. Pete was interested in customizing a chair for himself, claiming that Tally ought to make measurements of his ass. Tally tactfully said he knew how to eyeball it. He told us he would come over when he closed at sundown for a quote, not for the chair, but the important things.
 
We then visited Griselda's Green Grocers. She was a very kind middle aged northerner. She got her produce from various farmers, including her sisters who were farmers themselves. That of course warmed my heart for obvious reasons, but I will change the subject of farming as I see no need to be tempted to write spiteful things.
 
Griselda has been here nine years, and has seen five or six owners of our house come and go. She seemed optimistic about us though. Apparently we are the first owners to actually take the time to seriously greet the neighbors. All I can think is how deplorable manners they all must have had. I mean I, no offense intended, have had *atrocious* experiences with neighbors and yet even I would not dream of not making an effort to connect. Would even you be so uncivil?
 
Anyway, continuing our neighborly tour that is apparently uncommon courtesy, we crossed the street to the Sign of Undermountain Enterprises. Inside we found its motto: “When your party brings you down, we bring you up” on the wall, along with decorations, dwarven weapons, and many mounted giant fish heads that I later learned are actually creatures known as sharks. They had so many teeth! Fascinating!
 
There was a clerk doing paperwork, but we were welcomed by a dwarf with gnomish ears and a white mutton and beard. His right arm is made of a dark blackish greenish metal, Adamantine apparently. He later told us that he acquired it by the drow (off the dead body of one, based on his tone) and the dwarves reworked it. Nettie was fascinated, and through her questions, we learned that he had full sensation of the arm through magic. I wonder. If magic can do that to an inanimate arm, could it restore...hmph. Best not to dwell on that.
 
The dwarf introduced himself as Tobiasterix Vandingenhagen, although he stressed that just Tobias would suffice. There was more to his name than that. He wore some sort of mountain pendant that Flynn said was the symbol of the Melairkyn clan, also known as the dwarven clan that *built* undermountain.
 
Yeah, that made me pause. Apparently, the business we found ourselves was an adventurer's insurance of sorts. If you have paid him, went down into the Yawning Portal and then met an unseemly end, they would go down after you and retrieve your remains. However, he said “It's a tiered policy" and for enough money, they would do a proper search and rescue for your living selves. I have vague memories of seeing their flyers in and around the Yawning Portal. Nettie took a brochure so that we could read it over, although currently even the lower options were above our pay, so to speak.
 
I introduced myself, although I had to remind my associates to do the same. I’ve noticed Flynn has a tendency to skip pleasantries and get straight to business. Useful trait, although a little out of place when introducing yourselves to neighbors.
 
Nettie introduced herself, but Pete added, “she goes by naughty Nettie."
 
“I do not,” she retorted, horrified.
 
Pete’s response, Zloton? “You did when we were climbing that rope.”
 
Everyone got a kick out of that. Even Tobias chuckled even though he didn’t know the context. Tobias was very helpful with regards to our house’s history. He and his business have been there 20 years, and as such, he could go so far as to give us the *name* of the bartender who commited suicide: Leaf.
 
We told him about our plans to open the tavern, Pete offered his drink, and I offered to cook his favorite food as a neighborhood warming gift. I should say that I gave this offer to literally everyone that we spoke to in the neighborhood. I only mention it now because Tobias is the only one who took that offer seriously. He wasn’t sure what his favorite food was, although the only thing he could think of was shark. He said it tasted like a cross between a tuna and a basilisk. Hmm, interesting. I guess I’m going to have to hunt shark now. Tobias certainly does, which lead to him telling the remarkable tale of how he lost his arm. I will tell it to you since I suspect it will entertain you.
 
Apparently, he picked a fight with a guy in a Dock Ward bar who turned out to be a wereshark. This shark person transformed, ate his arm, then preceded to use that arm to beat his friend with it. Eventually he dove into the ocean, taking Tobias’ arm with him. Ever since, he has hunted sharks, looking for the man who took his arm. I know! What a story. I’m glad to have heard it. There were more stories to come for next we went to a place of stories
 
Three doors down from Undermountain Enterprises was a sign with the symbol of a golden dragon curled around a treasure trove of scrolls. It was a bookstore known as Bookwyrm's Treasure. The first two stories are nothing but books set in dark hardwood shelves, and yet, it still seemed to contain more books than it should be able to have, considering the space. It was dusty, and the book smell hung thick in the air.
 
The establishment was run by Rishaal, a cloaked kobold two inches shorter than Nettie. He shrugged off his cloak, revealing wings so he could fly to the second story and get a book for Flynn. Flynn tried to buy Tobias’ family history surrounding Undermountain off him, but thought better of it after hearing the price was fifty gold pieces each. I could copy one of the half orc’s spells into my own book with that kind of money. I am not surprised at all that Flynn tried though. He has hidden his longing to make his fortune beyond the Yawning Portal very poorly. Naturally, he would like to acquire books that could give him insight into the layout of such a deadly place. Apparently, Tobias has written a bunch of books on Undermountain, although they are apparently a century out of date. Dwarves sure do live a long time, don’t they.
 
Rishaal and his bookstore had been there fifteen years, but unlike Tobias, he had no new information about our house to provide. He apparently keeps to himself and doesn’t get out much, meaning he didn’t really know the bartender even though he was here while he was still alive. He was still helpful though. When I asked about potential newspaper clippings about the suicide, he told me I could probably find them at the City Hall and the relevant broadsheet place.
 
Over all, I thought Rishaal was a gracious host, although he did look at me strangely, but I suspect not for the usual reasons. There was something like...awe in his eyes. He asked me if I had any magical scrolls to sell. I told him that I was a chef. He laughed at me, and said, “Of course, you are a—” he winked at me, “—chef.” I gave up convincing him otherwise at that point.
 
The exchange might imply that he stared at me because I’m a wizard, but that doesn’t make sense. If he stared out of interest for magic scrolls, he would be staring at Ristrien, the one here that talks and acts like the librarian she is. No, he stared because I’m Thymari. He asked about it: if I was a dragonborn from Tymanther. He knew there weren’t many in the city; he said he saw us very rarely. Do kobolds worship dragons, Zloton? Ancestors watch over him, I hope not. But I cannot shake the memory of his gaze. There was an intensity there that was difficult to forget.
 
Beyond that minor uneasiness, I found him delightfully pleasant. I made sure to give him the proper farewell in our tongue. He replied in kind.
 
We had lunch at Yawning Portal where Nettie could sing for her coin, and then we were off to the Sea Ward and The Tower of the Order, the sparkly Mystra/Azuth gaze and all. It was just as grand and massive as the day before, but with Ristrien leading the way it was far less intimidating. We were let in through her Guild symbol. We might both be members of The Watchful Order of Protectors and Magists, but within those halls, the gap between her and me became all the more evident. She *belonged* there, a true spellcaster, a member of the magic community through and through. How could one not respect it? At least, that is how it feels for me. And she’s trying to give me the tower in our manor...ha! Absurd.
 
We passed by a magic notice board. I was so excited. I told you I had wanted to see it, and I am deeply glad that I did. It looked wonderful. I wondered if Ristrien put up my post yet. I did not ask her; we had Revered One Algeroon Windstarl (First of Azuth) to see.
 
We don’t see him, but we do find his assistant, Carina, researching a book. She's a blonde human with a crow familiar. According to Ristrien, she usually researches outer planes, devils and demons. Funny, huh? I wonder if what happened at Djerad Thymar would interest her.
 
Algeroon was not available. He is apparently planning a grand opening of a temple of Azuth, but Carina thought he was not the person we should ask anyhow. Apparently, a priest would be more useful. I know what you’re thinking. I see your grin in my mind’s eye. Don’t you dare. I won’t ask for help from the likes of...well. I won’t be finishing that sentence either. What I would say would be unkind to the lady in question, and I’d rather not write something that I shall regret.
 
Anyway, Carina said to get the help of the priests she had in mind, we would need more evidence. As it is, we don’t have enough to convince them that it is a legitimate issue. Seems sensible enough. We intend to sleep over there tonight so we may have more of that evidence soon.
 
This Carina is a generous woman. She offered to send her crow to watch over us. We declined to protect the bird, but I am honored by the thought. She must hold Ristrien and her wellbeing in high regard.
 
Pete invited her to the opening night, like he did for everyone. She took it warmly, asking if we had any Blueberry Wine. We didn’t of course, but I said that if I knew the flavor, I could provide it for her.
 
She did not seem that impressed by the idea, which is understandable. People casting prestidigitation usually do it in a very general way. The flavor is achieved, but the nuances of the real thing can so easily get lost. Carina has quite probably never tried the prestidigitation of a chef who has devoted his life to the perfection of it before, so her expectations would be low.
 
We left her empty handed, but I refused to leave the tower empty handed. I was feeling the heat of that metaphorical fire again. I let the others go ahead as I returned to the library, searching for a spell that might help with dealings with what haunts us.
 
I left with a new spell, one that offers protection from our ghost, but also demons, and fairies and elementals and divine things as well. It’s pretty all encompassing. I mean, the title was “Protection from Evil and Good.” Hmm, I wonder if it would work on you. Hehe. I jest. You are too complicated a woman to be affected by something so simple.
 
I got lost only once as I made my way out of the tower to meet up with the others at the gate. Progress! We then all went ‘home’. As we were opening the door to get inside, we noted that it looked like wine caskets were being delivered to a building down the street. It was a shop that before had seemed derelict.
 
A chill came over me. It could be many things, many benign, and yet awareness of my own mortality grew ever stronger. The one thing I liked about this location, above all things, was that there was no competition down the road. I don’t want to go through that nightmare again. But my wild imagination runs with the nightmare, and I contemplate if perhaps it could the same competition. Only you can say.
 
I have been at peace with the inevitable for some time. I haven’t *feared* it in some time. And yet, I feel dread now. I have something to look forward to now. I have a reason to avoid my fate.
 
I hope dearly that the wine caskets are nothing. In fact, I find myself hoping it was Zentarim or Xanathar sent to spy on us. I’d prefer that. Selfish, selfish thing to think. Those scenarios endanger my friends, if not me. But I cannot bring myself to fear them. As I sit here, all of us sleeping in one room with Pete in the cellar below, I realize I can’t fear even the ghost within these walls. It’s funny how a reminder like this snaps my real feelings into focus.
 
I’m getting tired. I need to sleep before I start seeing things.
 
My regard for you is great, Zloton. This, at least, should be plain. However, I respectfully ask you not to visit me yet. Things are not yet prepared and I need more time to set my work in motion, just a little more. I know I am being selfish, no doubt you are impatient, but when it comes to my life’s work, I cannot help but desire time.
 
I hope you understand.