By the time Gardinal and Origdall sat at the bulky stone table in the cellar, mugs of frothing krag in hand, they had both slightly calmed down. A simple oil lamp atop the table lit the large room. They were surrounded by barrels of ale and bottles of wine. Not to mention all the other various liquors. Some were Origdall’s own personal collection, others just aging here until his brother could sell them for a premium. A small barrel sat nearby, full of the krag they now drank. By the strong alcoholic taste, it was fortified, something Gardinal appreciated right now.

“You look terrible.” Origdall finally broke the silence. “I’m assuming my shipment is at the bottom of the Mudport now?” He asked with tension in his face.

“No, last I saw it the crates were all whole on board that little schooner of yours.” Gardinal responded. “All those weapons should be right fine once they get back to shore.”

Origdall seemed to breath a bit easier at that. “Good to hear, the cursed things cost a small fortune I tell you. Khazimi forged from Kol’dirgav. That really got her attention.” He boasted. Her?

“Whose attention?” Gardinal asked. He needed to know what was going on. If there were gang problems in Southshore then things could turn messy far too quickly for Gardinal’s taste. Especially with the Prophetess around.

His brother shifted uneasily at the question. “Y’know I did look into that cult…”

“Who’s attention Origdall?” He asked again with more force this time. Origdall bowed his head.

“Aye, her name’s Tabitha. I think you might have passed her in the hall yesterday. Jöln girl, likes to think she’s a man.”

Gardinal nodded at that. He thought something had been odd about that Jöln yesterday. A slum lord Jöln? A woman at that. What was this city coming to?

“Who is she leading? Why are you involved? What does this have to do with the Cult of X?” Gardinal asked in rapid succession. He needed answers and he was growing tired of fencing words with his brother.

“Hey calm down now. I’m not one of those bloody Chaos heretics. So, you can just leave that one right at the door. I wouldn’t go touching the Chaos with a smith’s tongs. I’m a good Zethor and Sent worshipping Khazimi and you know that.” Origdall slammed his mug on the stone table with a clank.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Gardinal grunted an apology before Origdall continued.

“Thank you. Now, as for Tabitha. She’s leading this gang she calls the Silver Skulls. Good coin in there I tell you, she controls almost everything from the Mudport to Small Town last I heard.”

Gardinal nearly gaped. He had heard that the Silver Skulls were large, but that was nearly half of Southshore. “How did she get all this power?” He asked.

“She’s smart as a whip and can very a’near talk circles around a’me she can.” Origdall said, his accent peaking through. It always came up in Origdall when he was inebriated. “She took the Red Curtains first, just about every whore house in Southshore belongs to her or the Pitsmaster now.”

Gardinal gulped at that. “You’re not crossing him now, are you?”

Origdall nearly spat out his krag at that. “Who!? The Pitsmaster? True Father above Gardinal I’m not mad!” At that, Gardinal relaxed a bit. As long as his brother was keeping it to low level crime, he could still work with him. “No, I’ve only been talking with this Tabitha girl. She has some good thoughts though I tell you.” Origdall waved his mug at Gardinal. “She has some ideas on how to fix Southshore.”

“Ideas from a slum lord Origdall? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Aye, I am. And so is she. I could organize a meeting with you. She’s hinted at wanting to a’meet you and Her Radiance as well…”

“No.” Gardinal snapped. He would not have The Prophetess sullied by this filth any longer. Even the idea that this whoremonger Tabitha had thought of Her Radiance in any way. That made him boil with fury.

“Alright, no need to spill your krag.” Origdall waved him off. “Besides, I did ask around for you earlier. About this whole cult business.” He shined that mischievous grin, that one that meant he knew he had something you wanted. Gardinal hated that grin.

“Alright then, out with it. You know damn well from my current state that I’ve already done my end of the deal.” Gardinal motioned to the blood and ash that covered his clothing. His older brother measured him up and down, nodding.

“Only fair.” Origdall relented, before pulling a thick ledger out from his night robe pocket. He plopped the large book down on the table, then flipped it open. “This,” he eventually said, poking the book. “This is what you asked for. I had one of a’my best runners dashing around Southshore all day to get this a’mind you.” Origdall leaned back and poured himself some more krag from the near barrel.

Gardinal looked over the ledger. It looked like a mess of dates, locations, and itemized lists of seemingly random products and amounts of money.

“What is all this?” He eventually asked. Giving up on trying to decode it, he pushed it back to his brother.

“A map, little brother.” Origdall grinned as he picked up and looked at it. “Clearer than any you would find in the king’s war room if you ask a’me.”

Gardinal rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “Then what does this map say?” He was growing impatient.

“It says where this cult of yours is coming from.” His grin widened, smug bastard. “Each of these little a’marks are a shop, all across Southshore. They seem to be using those stores as a front for their a’money.” Origdall leaned in and plopped the ledger on the table once more. “The interesting part is the where. Each of these little shops is only a few steps away from one sewer outlet or another.” He grinned widely.

“I already knew they were in the sewers Origdall. That doesn’t…”

“Southshore has over four dozen sewage outlets. Were you planning on investigating each and every one alone?” Origdall raised a brow at his brother. Gardinal shook his head. No, he wasn’t. Were there really that many in the city? Gardinal knew the sewers were supposedly some wonder, but he never thought about it. Save for the few unfortunate times he strode through waste along the Southshore streets. Those times he missed the clean streets of Silvermarket.

“Thank you Origdall, I do appreciate this.” Gardinal relented. It was good information, a solid lead he could give the bishop.

“Was that so hard?” Origdall responded with a chuckle. “This was a nice visit little brother; I could get used to having you around more.”

Gardinal shook his head. His brother always pushed him to visit more often, but it seemed there was always another task that took priority, and even now he felt the itch to get back to Her Radiance.

“I should be going Origdall.” Gardinal shifted and moved to rise.

“At least finish your krag brother. We weren’t raised to leave the table with a mug still half full!” Origdall admonished him. Gardinal looked down at the mug, it seemed he had barely touched it.

But he couldn’t stay, not with what had happened to The Prophetess earlier. She needed him. With a suffering sigh Gardinal chugged down the whole drink. It was thick, not particularly fit for taking in one swallow. Still, he chugged it all the same.

Origdall sighed. “Is it really so hard for you to spend time with family?” he asked. Gardinal felt a pang of guilt.

“It’s not that Origdall it’s…”

“Her. I know.” Origdall shook his head. “Go on then, I’m sure she’ll be needing you.”

Gardinal bit his tongue, it hurt to leave, but she did need him. “I’ll return soon, I promise.” At that, Origdall seemed to force a smile.

“Aye, I know you will. Next time you need something. Until next time little brother.” Gardinal bowed his head and rose to leave. As he approached the door, he just barely heard his brother whispering. “Ethinia, if you listen to Khazimi a’merchants, look after my little brother. I don’t be intending to see his funeral.”

Gardinal left.