#do i really think the shadowbaker is essek? probably not. however

[tarydarrington]

Eadwulf Grieve is done with politics.

He runs as far as he can get: takes a road trip to the edge of the continent and takes ship to Tal'Dorei, takes a few odd jobs that mean nothing much to anyone in particular, then buys passage on a trade ship heading miles and miles away.

He finds a city big enough to get lost in and settles there. The first time he goes a month without hearing the words Cerberus and Assembly next to each other, he buys a round for the tavern. The elf-orc with the fiddle follows him to bed; parting ways when the morning comes is quick and uncomplicated.

A few years pass, and things start getting a little weird. He takes a mercenary job from some old man, only to be brought to a manor where the head of the household–a second old man–handily beats Wulf and the others with a cane. He begins to hear whispers of disappearances in the city, and buys better locks.

Then, one day, in the middle of a job hauling cargo, Wulf swears he sees– no, that doesn't make sense. This is halfway across the world from the Empire; there's no reason for any of these crates to be marked with the symbol of the Cerberus Assembly. He finishes the job, quits, and puts it out of his mind. He ignores the moon, which has begun to act much less moonlike than he'd like.

A week later, he hears about a group of newcomers attacked in the street by furniture, and writes that quarter of the city out of his immediate plans. His new route takes him past a fancy-looking manor with an H over the gate, and Wulf does a proper double-take, one morning, at the sight of a figure disappearing through the front door. Long white hair, blue and silver robes, elven ears. It couldn't be, though. He's imagining things. There is no reason for Ludinus Da'Leth to be here.

He writes it off as paranoia, and rubs at his arms all day.

A tower explodes, because of course it does. There are whispers of werewolves involved, of all things, and no matter how hot that sounds, he's not touching any of it with a ten foot pole.

He meets a robot in the market, the next day. It wishes him a smiley day and rolls away after a woman who looks more than half a corpse.

Wulf reevaluates his booze budget.

It's all bearable, he thinks over his fourth drink, as long as he doesn't get involved. Even if the Martinet himself is here animating silverware, it doesn't have to be his problem. There's no Astrid here to give him orders, and no Caleb to give him puppydog eyes.

He does miss the free pastries that came with being in proximity to the blue one, though. City this big, there's got to be a baker somewhere.

Eadwulf stumbles through the streets three sheets to the wind, following pointers from the locals into a dark alley. Odd place to find a patisserie, but he does call himself the Shadowbaker. Edgy-ass title. He must be pretty flexible to be able to bake with his head so far up his own ass, but Wulf won't be picky.

The Shadowbaker takes one look at him and goes so wide-eyed with surprise that, just for a fraction of a second, his disguise flickers.

The two of them stare at one another like a pair of skittish cats. Then Wulf turns on his heel without a word, finds his way to his landlady's door, and informs her that he'll be gone by Grissen.