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[Willow Smythe]

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The merchants constantly enticing customers to buy their wares was mind numbing. She knew she was searching

for something old, that was a part of his history. It was unseasonably warm, cloaks of all shades were draped over

several patron's arms. Britain shops were far less crowded than those of Luna. Willow typically went to Luna

herself simply out of convenience. As vast as the shops there were they wouldn't have what she needed.
She had already been searching for hours now becoming increasingly frustrated. As her eyes scanned each vendor

for something unknown, her feet rooted her to the ground. She had passed this building several times since her

residence in Britain. The merchant inside was known for selling older items. As Willow opened the door ever so

slightly and was instantly hit with an odor of dust and mold. The history of the ancients assaulted her sense of

smell. Everything inside was decrepit, including the old man that worked with in it. Before Willow could venture

inside, she heard another voice besides that of the shopkeeper. Willow stayed just on the entry stairs listening and

waiting for their exchange to conclude.

"It's genuine, had it for years, I am.... just in a spot right now and need to sell it. I'll let you have it for

twenty." The voice said.
"It's worthless, it's been marked on the collar. I wouldn't get more than twenty for it" The shopkeeper insisted.
"I guarantee you will get at least double that in less than a day's time." the voice insisted.
"You get eighteen, no more,"
"You are taking advantage of a man in a hurry Drenlyn." The other man said
"You're problem not mine, do we have a deal?" the old man asked.
"Aye we have a deal."
Willow then heard then heard shuffling and the sound of foot falls coming closer to the door. The man ran into

Willow as he walked through the door. The collision didn't even break his stride. He didn't even so much as look

in her direction.

"So many people in such a hurry..." But then, time wasn't the same to her as it was to others. She could afford to

take the time others couldn't. Willow shook her head as she entered the store.

"Ah, hello miss. What can I do for you today" Drenlyn asked as she walked over the threshold.
"I'm not sure..." Willow trailed off as she looked to the dusty relics.

Knives, pocket watches flasks of former Britain soldiers and law the like... all appropriate but not right.

Willow trailed her finger along many of the rusted blade hilts.
"Perhaps if I knew who you were looking for, miss. Your father, brother mayhap your husband," Drenlyn politely

pried.

A burst of laughter escaped Willow's lips as it often did when people inquired about her husband. Drenlyn not quite

sure how to respond just waited patiently for her chuckling to subside. As Willow shook her head to give her typical

response to such questions, an article caught her eye. First she thought it nothing more than curtains shielding

another room from view. She walked over to the article and ran her fingers along the backside. Her fingers

caressed the leather exterior. Willow ran her hand along the inside of the cloak, an almost velvety interior. She

held it out before her to get a better look.

"That's a genuine Britainian Royal Guard Investigator Cloak there. Nearly pristine condition....."

Drenlyn continued with his description, Willow nearly gasped as she looked to the inside of the collar. She blinked

her eyes a few times to make certain that it was no trick of light. The leather of the cloak seemed to send an

electric surge. This was what she had been searching for.
"... be wretch to part with it but for fifty I could let you have it"

Willow frowned. Despite how taken she was with the cloak, she was no fool. Something told her that this was the

item he just bartered of the man that barreled into her for less than twenty.
"I will give you the twenty you didn't expect to get"

"You want this miss, I can see it. I will not go lower than forty-five."
Slowly, Willow turned her gaze to the old shopkeeper and arched her eyebrow, "Have me figured do you? Twenty- three,

final offer. I doubt much you will find one that wishes to buy such a thing for more. Especially with it already

being marked"

"Forty" Drenlyn offered.

Painstakingly Willow let the leather slip from her fingers to fall onto the floor. She turned away from the old man

and made her way for the door.
"Twenty-five" Desperately Drenlyn called to her.

"Deal"

She gave him the gold and he wrapped her purchase handing it to her.

"Pleasure doing business with you Drenlyn. I look forward to our next transaction" Willow said with a smirk as he

looked to her begrudgingly laying out more items for sale.


She made a few more purchases to complete this gift and returned home. As she arrived home, she set her purchases on the

table and began to wrap them for Orelen. Willow laughed as she placed the other miscellaneous items into nearly

forty bags and pouches. She couldn't wait to see his frustration. Willow pulled out the cloak of it's wrappings and

gazed at it a moment before placing it into a couple bags alone to further frustrate Orelen, with the collar facing

up.

After a welcoming embrace but before taking a seat Willow thrust the gift of forty bags at Orelen as soon as he

stepped inside their home.
"What is this love?" He asked her not too sure what to make of the gift.
"Just open it"
It was funny to watch his face go from amused to borderline agitated. As he reached the last bag, he thanked her for

the items as he set them onto the table that was no littered with bags.
"Thank you, all that should come in handy."
"I have one more for you" She said as she handed him the last couple of bags.
"Is that so?" He said cautiously, no doubt hoping he wouldn't have to do through a hundred before getting to the

intended item.
Orelen had been on to her and carefully cut through the top of the bags and dropped them to the floor. He held the

cloak out before him, slightly stunned.
"How..how did you find one of these? I've not seen one for over ten years" He asked in awe
"I know...look to the embroidered collar. This might have been the last one you saw. I was surprised when I saw it

myself...." Willow started.

"No doubt, love. This is really amazing, thank you. My father wore one just like this" He said with one of the

largest grins she'd seen from him in a while.

"Orelen, the name on the collar reads Reaucher...."
_________________
Malorn ‎(12:14 AM):
I'm an idiot

[Orelen Reaucher]

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Seven years had passed since he had seen the cloak he now held. Orelen had presumed it lost to the sands of time, gone since the day his father was murdered. His joy in possessing the heirloom was unquestionable yet its resurfacing sparked so many more questions in his mind.

His heart spoke of fate returning the cloak to the proper and rightful owner though his mind questioned otherwise. It was an item quizzically absent from his father's body though something so precious to the family that his father would never leave it away.

A close examination yielded the trace of a single bloodstain tucked within the velvet interior now faded from so many years and barely recognizable. The origin of the mark was undeniable especially to one in his field. The killer had laid claim to this item as some sort of morbid trophy of his victory. Though resolution to the question of the cloak's disappearance lead to only further pondering.

His mind was uneasy; restless with the thoughts that lingered in his mind.

The recent occupation of his family's estate stood at the precipice of the argument he held with his feelings. The possibility that someone had noticed the movement was too realistic to be ignored. Without a tinge of paranoia he knew that he, and his family, were being watched.

It has been so many years. I wonder if his grudge is still so strong. Men will go to odd lengths to resolve unfinished business.

The conclusion he reached would not rest until he spoke with the vendor of this rare find. This he set off to accomplish.

The streets of Britain were alive as they have always been. The clamor of voices drowned the sound of waves crashing on the shore and breaking against the docks. The shop he sought was nestled in a quiet corner of East Britain. "Drenlyn's Emporium of Artifacts of Olde." The sign gave note of the shop's countenance as it hung decrepit upon a rusting post. He walked in slowly and nodded to the owner.

" 'Evening Goveneh." Drenlyn called out from behind the counter. His failing eye sight was betrayed by the thick lenses of his spectacles though it was obvious he could see better than this mark foretold.

"Good evening Drenlyn, it is good to see you again." He gazed about the shop slowly looking for anything to lend a certain veracity to his claim. He knew the eldered proprietor was no fence, though he obviously grew careless with the items he brokered.

"Can I help yeh with something Goveneh?" Orelen smiled in an odd way as he turned to look to the shopkeep.

"You've known me since I was a lad, Drenlyn. Let's not be so formal." Drenlyn grinned and nodded to him.

"Aye lad. So what can I do fer yeh?" Silence was Orelen's response for a long moment. He pondered how best to phrase his inquiry. He wished to not offend the man and still lend veracity and urgency to his need.

"Do you remember the murder of my family, Drenlyn?" The old man frowned softly and gave a nod in affirmation. Orelen's face was sober and calm, despite the subject matter, as he continued. "This cloak was my father's. It was sold to you recently by a man and purchased not moments later by a young lady as a gift."

The shopkeepers eyes grew wide as he realized the situation at hand. At least he believed so. "I didn't mean to insult yer lady friend with me haggling, lad. Just have to make a living, eh?" Orelen nodded with a slight smile.

"I don't blame you one bit Drenlyn. I'm sure whatever she managed to talk you to was a steal. A shrewd one, she is. That is not why I am here my friend, rest assured. The man who sold this cloak to you... I need to know everything of him that you remember."

Drenlyn nodded slowly with solemn sobriety as he recanted the details of the middle aged man. An average sized man, graying hair, and a rugged, though gaunt, frame and figure. The description fitting the man Orelen already knew in his heart this one to be.

"Do you remember Lawrence Mursdek, Drenlyn?" The broker nodded as he inclined his head towards Orelen. "Rather fits his description, doesn't he?" The question was rhetorical, though Drenlyn answered regardless.

"Aye m'lad. I'd say he does... it's been so long since the old fisherman has been in Britain though. Noh' ta mention, why would he 'ave yer father's cloak, eh?"

Orelen paused at the question and shook his head slowly. "I have only ever had one suspect in those murders, Drenlyn... I am sure he is dissatisfied with my survival."

Finally a real dawning of realization crossed the old man's face. "I'll send word should he ever come back. I don't want to be dealing with none of his type."

Orelen shook his head to the shopkeep slowly. "He is watching me, my friend. I will pay him the same courtesy. Log everything he sells here in your ledger and mark it for indication. I will come about every so often to check in... My father's cloak was not the only thing missing of my family's possessions." Drenlyn nodded to him and the two men shook.

"Be well m'lad, stay out of trouble now." Drenly said to him with earnest.

"Trouble seems to find me more often these days, my old friend. Though I think this is one trouble I do not wish to avoid." He turned from the proprietor and walked slowly down the stairs to the exit.

The man who killed his family was toying with him; he was in no mood for games.