…they first make mad.
Idrik looked over the sheet one last time, and then, sighing, looked across the meeting hall, around which lounged several dozen individuals of dubious intent and questionable ability. He’d drawn the short straw and was stuck here today, going through the register of people who’d come in response to the summons, and calling names when it was time for the next interview.
As his gaze traveled the motley collection, he saw a few he recognized: a disgraced man-at-arms who was obviously looking for work anywhere he could find it; a couple of brothers, knights bachelor, who were similarly seeking a sponsor with the hope of acquiring land and station; one somewhat scruffy looking chap who’d come to town in the last few days and already caused a minor commotion by magicking the fireplace of one of the inns when it wasn’t putting out enough heat to suit him; and two rather seedy looking gentlemen who’d been poking around and asking questions, and were certainly members of the Lia-Kavair trying to infiltrate the proceedings.
(As to the latter pair, Idrik was only partly correct; while they were indeed in the employ of the Thieves’ Guild, it was as decoys meant to draw attention away from their quieter agents, and it was a task at which they had thus far excelled.)
Idrik gave an exasperated sigh, and made another check mark on his sheet. Looking up and calling with an air of utter disdain, if not outright disgust, he spoke the next name on the list: “Gavron of Dehlmark, door to the right if you would be so kind, come along…”