"Isn't this shilling the one I just dropped?" Lowry asked, his tone deliberately casual, though there was an edge of tension beneath it.
"Is it?" Luther replied, tilting his head with a curious expression. His smile was warm and inviting, the picture of innocence, like a well-mannered gentleman who couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive. His squinting eyes glimmered with an almost childlike amusement, and he exuded the aura of someone with nothing to hide.
Lowry's lips twitched, suppressing a scowl as he lowered his head, feigning a cough. "Cough, cough, cough!" His shoulders shook violently with the performance. Inside, though, he was seething. 'You shameless bastard,' he thought.
The shilling hadn't fallen by accident. Lowry had dropped it intentionally after plucking it from his own purse to serve as bait. Yet, here stood this man, turning the situation on its head. The nerve! Lowry gritted his teeth but kept his composure, his years of operating in the church's shadowy underbelly teaching him how to keep a mask of calm.
"So... it's yours?" he finally muttered, lowering his voice and forcing an air of resignation.
"Oh, so 'that's' who dropped it!" Luther said with exaggerated delight, stretching the syllables of his words. He bent down and picked up the coin, holding it up between his fingers like a prize. "Hehe, lucky me," he said softly, though the words were loud enough for Lowry to catch. "To think I'd find money just lying around, what a good day!"
Lowry could barely keep his composure. His mind churned furiously: 'Do you hear yourself? Did you really just claim my money as your own and call it luck? Shameless doesn't even begin to describe you!'
Before he could respond, Luther stepped closer, still wearing that disarming smile, and said, "Since it's such a beautiful day, why don't I treat you to a drink? Call it fate that we met like this. My name's Luther." He extended his hand, the setting sun casting a faint halo around his figure, giving him an almost ethereal glow. "I just arrived in Grendel Province, and I'd love to make my first friend here."
For a brief moment, Lowry hesitated. The light behind Luther, the easy smile, the casual warmth; it all felt… entrancing. He blinked, almost wanting to drop his guard and abandon his mission entirely. 'Could this man be genuine? Could someone really be this… pure?'
But that moment of doubt passed as quickly as it came. Lowry's sharper instincts reasserted themselves, and as he looked at Luther's face again, the same smile now seemed irritatingly smug. His earlier frustration returned in full force. 'Picked up my money and now wants to buy me a drink with it? What's next, asking for my life savings?'
Still, Lowry adjusted his expression, replacing annoyance with an awkward grin. Scratching his patchy, balding head, he feigned humility. "Lowry," he said, offering his hand. "I work down at Grunt Harbor as a dockworker. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Luther."
"Likewise!" Luther beamed, clasping Lowry's hand in a firm, friendly shake.
"Since we're so fated to meet," Lowry continued with an exaggerated smile, "let 'me' buy 'you' a drink. It's the least I can do for my new friend."
Luther's face lit up with enthusiasm. "That's very kind of you, Lowry. But how about we head to the Crossroads Tavern? I've heard it's a fine establishment."
Lowry paused, caught off guard. He thought about correcting Luther's audacious assumption, that 'he' had invited Luther, not the other way around, but then stopped himself. He glanced at Luther, whose expression was almost childlike in its eagerness. 'Is he really this clueless?' Lowry wondered. Or… 'is he playing dumb?'
Deciding to test the waters, Lowry threw an arm around Luther's shoulders in a friendly gesture, his face lighting up with false sincerity. "Ah, Crossroads Tavern is fine if you like stuffy places filled with noble brats sipping watered-down wine." He leaned closer, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "But if you want a real drink, with real people, there's no place better than the Dusk Tavern down by the harbor. That's where you'll find the city's most passionate drinkers. What do you say, Brother Luther?"
Luther's face remained unchanged, his cheerful smile unwavering. "That sounds perfect, Lowry! Lead the way."
Lowry froze for a heartbeat, his mind racing. 'Wait. Did he just agree? Just like that?' He had been expecting hesitation, maybe a polite excuse or even a cautious refusal. After all, who would willingly follow a stranger to an unfamiliar tavern in the seediest part of town? Only a fool would accept such an invitation. 'Unless…'
Lowry squinted at Luther, searching for any crack in his demeanor, any sign of pretense. 'If he's as clueless as he seems, I can take him out tonight without much effort. But if this is a ploy…' He suppressed a shudder. If this man was pretending, if he knew more than he let on, then Lowry could very well be walking into his own trap.
Still, he couldn't back out now. Smiling broadly, Lowry gave Luther's shoulder a squeeze and began leading him toward the docks. "You won't regret this," he said warmly, though his mind remained sharp and calculating.
As they walked, Lowry glanced at Luther out of the corner of his eye. The man's cheerful expression hadn't wavered, and his relaxed stride spoke of someone either completely oblivious to danger… or someone utterly confident in his ability to handle it.
Lowry's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions as he stared at Luther, who, by all appearances, was either the most naïve rich fool he'd ever met or the most cunning person alive. The mention of a fortune large enough to buy "70 or 80 villas" had ignited a greed in Lowry that he hadn't felt in years. His fingers twitched involuntarily, itching to grab this golden opportunity.
But something held him back. 'Could anyone really be this clueless?' Luther's offer to let him come over, his smile, his generosity, it was all too easy, almost scripted. Yet, Lowry couldn't detect any trace of pretense. The man's simple clothes, his fascination with steam machines, his apparent ignorance of city life: it all screamed "easy target." And yet…
He glanced at Luther again. There he was, smiling gently, a man who seemed genuinely concerned for Lowry's sudden burst of tears. 'Why would someone this rich act like this?' Lowry thought, struggling to reconcile the contradictions.
"Thank you, Luther," Lowry finally managed, his voice trembling. "You're… you're too kind. No one's ever been so kind to me before."
"It's nothing," Luther replied, his voice warm and reassuring. "I believe that if you treat people with kindness, they'll return it in kind. Isn't that what friends are for?"
Lowry felt a pang of guilt, unexpected and unwelcome. For years, he'd justified his actions as survival, as doing what needed to be done to make it in a world that had been cruel to him. But now, standing in front of Luther, who was practically handing him the keys to unimaginable wealth, he felt a hesitation he couldn't explain.
"Besides," Luther added, leaning in slightly, "I might need your help understanding this place. I'm new here, after all. A guide and a friend like you is invaluable to someone like me."
Lowry's heart pounded. 'He's lowering his guard. He trusts me.' The thought should have excited him, but instead, it made him uneasy. Was Luther truly this trusting, or was it a carefully laid trap? Lowry's experience dealing with dangerous people told him to be cautious, yet the allure of the fortune Luther spoke of was hard to ignore.
"Alright," Lowry said, forcing a smile. "I'd be honored to help you settle in, Luther. You've already been so generous to me, it's the least I can do."
As they continued walking, the lively chaos of Grunt Harbor came into view. The air was thick with the smell of salt, fish, and sweat. Dockworkers shouted as they hauled crates off steamships, while street vendors hawked everything from fresh seafood to dubious trinkets. Children in ragged clothes darted through the crowds, laughing and stealing small morsels of food when they could.
"This is where the real heart of Grunt Harbor beats," Lowry said, gesturing to the bustling streets. "It's rough, but it's alive. You won't find this kind of spirit in the central district with its polished floors and stiff aristocrats."
Luther nodded, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. "It's… fascinating," he said, his tone genuine. "So much energy, so many stories in one place."
Lowry couldn't help but smirk. 'Fascinating?' The word seemed misplaced here. To him, the harbor was a grimy, desperate place where people scraped by however they could. But Luther's reaction made it seem almost magical. It was either endearing… or utterly fake.
As they approached the Dusk Tavern, the atmosphere shifted. The shouts and laughter of the harbor faded, replaced by murmured conversations and furtive glances. The tavern itself was a weathered building, its wooden sign swinging precariously in the salty breeze. The windows were grimy, and the faint sound of rowdy drinking songs leaked from inside.
"This is it," Lowry said, gesturing toward the door. "The best drinks in town, and the most… colorful company."
Luther stepped forward without hesitation, his enthusiasm undimmed. "Perfect! Let's go in."
Lowry hesitated for just a moment, his hand lingering on the door handle. He glanced at Luther again, his expression unreadable. 'If he's truly a fool, then this will be easy,' Lowry thought. 'But if he's not… I'll need to be ready for anything.'
Pushing the door open, Lowry stepped inside, the dim light of the tavern casting long shadows across the room. The patrons fell silent for a brief moment, their eyes flicking toward the newcomers before returning to their drinks and conversations. Lowry scanned the room quickly, his gaze landing on the tavern owner, a burly man with a scarred face who was polishing a glass behind the bar.
"Well, Luther," Lowry said, gesturing toward an empty table, "welcome to the Dusk Tavern. Let's grab a seat and I'll get us some drinks."
"Sounds great," Luther replied, his smile as bright as ever. He walked toward the table, seemingly oblivious to the wary glances and whispered conversations around him.
As Lowry approached the bar to order, he leaned in close to the owner and muttered under his breath, "Keep an eye on him. I'm not sure if he's as harmless as he looks."
The owner raised an eyebrow but nodded, his expression darkening. "Got it. But if he causes trouble, it's on you."
Lowry returned to the table with two mugs of ale, his mind racing. If Luther was truly as clueless as he seemed, this would be a night to remember and a fortune to claim. But if not…
"Here's to new friends," Lowry said, raising his mug.
"To new friends," Luther echoed, clinking his mug against Lowry's, his eyes glinting with an unreadable light.
Lowry took a long drink, suppressing a shiver as he realized that tonight's events might not go as smoothly as he'd hoped.