After a rather difficult journey to the village where Murgen has set up his dying shop your three wagons finally rattle into the village. Its a pretty normal village with houses around a green, a handful of people curious about all these visitors, and a few cows moo-ing as they are hustled off the green. You are given permission to set up your wagons upon said green and then free to go visit Murgen's workshop, or ask around, as you prefer.

Sira has not stopped scowling once since the wagons got back on the road. She's miserable and has nearly forgotten why she even made this wretched journey. When she gets down from the wagon she is riding in, she looks around the small village in disdain. "Some amazing fashion innovation happened here?" Skeptical. Very skeptical.

Zakhar has proven that he can sleep anywhere and its with several nudges and a check with mirrorsilver to see if the old man is breathing. Someone whispers ever lightly about having tea and the motion the old man shows leaves little to anyone's imagination that he actually needs the cane that he carries about with him. Slipping to the grassy green and sinking in a little as he lifts a foot to check what he might have stepped into there's a look over to Sira, "I've seen fashion come out of caves. At least they have some..." he waves at the people, "Is this civilisation?"

A woman comes on over. "Hello visitors." she smiles. "I brought you something to eat and drink. Will you be staying long? We thought there wouldnt be anyone else this year but Master Murgen's workshop has been so popular.""

Zakhar looks pleased to have a drink and small nibble as he leans forwards upon his cane, slowly wiping his foot to the grass and trying to make it to the gravel road. "What has Master Murgen been coming up with? I've only heard rumors per say. And we all know how rumors flow."

"Hello," Sira replies, trying to keep the negativity in her face out of her voice and failing somewhat. She clears her throat. Tries again. "Thank you." She doesn't accept the offered refreshments. There's a glance to Zakhar, them a nod as she looks to the woman with curiosity for her answer.

"He dyes the prettiest fabrics." The woman tells them both "With an orange more vibrant than anything you will have seen before. Thats why you are here isn't it? To buy some of the fabric?"

"We can start with having some tea, discuss fabrics, life, what has him hiding all the way out here..." Zakhar tries to keep his voice low as he looks over to Sira. "This is Master Sira Illuso, she's a famous tailor y'know."

Sira bobs her head slowly when Zakhar introduces her. "And Voice of the Silver Consortium. I have come to discuss the trade opportunities that exist with the dyer." She looks around the village again, taking in the details.

"How exciting!" the woman says earnestly. "All this trade is going to be so good for the village. Why we're already talking about building an inn!" she offers them each a bundle from her basket. "Here is some fresh bread and cheese to help soothe your hunger after the journey." she points to a larger building on the outskirts of the village. "And that is master Murgen's workshop. I'm afraid you will have to talk to him to organise any sort of trade." he leans conspiratorially "He's a little.. difficult."

The note of Murgen being difficult has Sira cracking a smile. "Is he?" Suddenly she seems much more spirited. Nothing like a difficult negotiation to get the blood pumping! She accepts the bundle with a bow of her head. "It seems an inn would be quite welcome if trade will be changing the traffic through the area.".

Zakhar tears into the bread and cheese with quick flash of small knife, proceeding to make a sandwich of sorts, brushing at his beard when crumbs are caught within the snow-white bush. "Difficult is just code for amusing fun." He looks from the woman to Sira with a nod. "Do you have many carpenters in the area? I can help with any designs if you're seeking." His gaze lifts from Sira as the tailor looks to be engaged now.

"Well theres Dora's boy" The woman tells Zakhar "He does most of the carpentry in the village." she purses her lips "But I suppose an inn might be rather beyond him. What a dilemma." she looks to Sira and then back to Zakhar "Its a big undertaking an inn but such an exciting prospect. I've always loved having guests over." This woman isn't part of Murgen's workshop herself it seems but she might know something about the dyer.

"Zakhar here has rebuilt nearly the whole of Duskshire Keep," Sira offers, nodding to the old man. But her attention lingers on the woman. "Could you tell me more about this Murgen? Any thing I should be aware of besides him being difficult?"

Zakhar continues to munch along at his dry sandwich of cheese and bread. "Perfect. You have someone. If they need additional things, or a hand with tools I have some folks along that would help. Anything to ensure trade and prosperity." He looks over in the direction of where the workshop is, something keeping him here instead of seeking out the 'difficult one' first. "Do you have any tea to go along with the bread and cheese? Miss... I don't believe you've shared your name..." He pats to his chest trying to offer a smile that doesn't look as if he's about to raid and pillage the town. The creeping curl of his lips fail him and he's left to plainly stare at her instead with brow scrunched up, "I'm Zakhar." A little pause as he looks to Sira, now nodding as the tailor has asked the question on his mind as well.

Sira checks charm and manipulation at normal. Botch! Sira fails completely.

Zakhar checks wits and manipulation at normal. Zakhar is successful.

"Oh yes, of course" The woman waves a small child forward with a teapot. "I got so distracted. Pour it nice and careful Morri" she looks up at Zakhar "Oh! Yes, sorry, I'm Clare. Its lovely to meet you Zakhar. Tailor Sara." she blinks a few times at Sira's question before blushing a little. "Well I wouldn't like to speak ill of my neighbours." Morri, the small child, helpfully pipes up with "Siree hates him." Clare immediately shushes her.
It seems you wont be getting more here.

Sira looks about to ask something else, but she is wracked with a shiver from the cold. "This is miserable," She mutters. Then she looks down at the child. The seamstress is NOT good with children. "Oh. Who is... Uh." Barely even looking at Zakhar, the woman decides to just start walking toward the workshop.

Zakhar looks to be as happy as the old man can be, still failing to be able to smile without it coming across as creepy. He is left to awkwardly stare at the child as he lowers his teacup to allow them to try and pour easier only to catch Sira wandering off. Taking the tea kettle from the child and drinking some directly from it, what should be a scalding scream is him letting out a sigh. "Good... Marv... Marvelous. Ahhh... tea. Yes. good tea. Who's Siree?" He watches Sira turn and walk away as he looks to the child and holds out a small doll of Princess Alarissa Thrax. "A trade perhaps? A lovely dolly for information?"

The workshop has the typical telltale waft of smells upon approach but it proves to be a clean and well kept workshop where three or four people can be seen stirring cloth around in a vat whilst a man watches and even helps. He looks up when Sira walks into the workshop, barks some instructions to his workers, and then strides over to the doorway. His hands are slightly orange up to the wrists. Definitely a dyer. "Are you from the caravan that just came in?" He gets right to business.

The girl gives her mother nervous looks before reaching out to take the dolly from Zakhar "Siree lives in the big house" she whispers. "They argue over their grandpas painting all the time."

"Yes," Sira answers the man. "Master Sira Illuso, Voice of the Silver Consortium and master seamstress. I've xome to speak with you about your dyed cloth." Her eyes scan the workshop, the orange dyed hands, the people within. Her gaze is scrutinizing .

Zakhar dances the doll a little, showing off the small flap to the backside where different interchangeable pieces are hidden away. Slow to give it right over to the child. "Do you know why they argue over grandpas painting?" He hands the dolly over to the child at last and looks towards the big house with a nod as he hands the teacup back to Clare. "Excellent tea. The doll is rare, only five were ever made." He looks for Sira, and not spotting her in the immediate he then heads for the big house.

"Good." The man tells Sira with that same bluntness. His mouth thinning as he sees her peering around. "I'm Murgan" he steers her into a side room where bolts of fabric have been stacked up the walls. "This is what we have left. You can take the lot for 100,000 silver and before you start trying to haggle me down - Its not negotiable. If you dont buy it someone else will." Its actually not that unreasonable a price, especially compared to Arx prices, and its true that the fabrics have an unusual lustre from whatever his new and secret technique might be. The orange in particular is so vibrant its almost unreal.

The child hugs the doll to her breast as she silently shakes her head. "I don't know." they give the doll a squeeze just before their mother calls them away. Skipping away with a "Thank you!" for the gift. The tea remains behind for them to keep enjoying.

Sira seems less than pleased about being redirected away from the main workshop. Still, when the fabric is within arm's reach, she reaches out gingerly to try to take the fabric between her fingers and feel it. "What is the base material? Cotton? Silk?" Her attention is upon the man, watching his movements carefully.

Zakhar attempts to knock at the big house's door.

"Silk" Murgen tells Sira. "The method really doesn't work well on coarser fabrics." It feels like normal, weighted, silk.

As Zakhar approaches the house he can see that there is an orchard of mulberry trees and amongst that orchard a middle aged man is struggling with an old and lamed mule. An older lady opens the door and seems surprised to see him. "Oh a visitor. Please. Come in. You must be dying for a warm drink."

"Do you know why it doesn't work on coarser fabrics?" Sira asks about the dying process. She turns her attention away from the man, now, leaning in closer to inspect the luster in the light. She lifts the fabri and twists it gently. "How many bolts are there, total?"

Zakhar slows up to watch the man struggling with the mule as he studies the orchard. Turning with a nod towards the woman, "A warm drink would be lovely. And perhaps a little conversation?" He settles into the house taking a 'visitors' view of the room and space within, "I'm a carpenter and artist traveling with the caravan out on the greens. Most have gone to talk with the other one. Me? I prefer to talk with people of the town. They have much more to say than anyone that is trying to play out upon some fortune which may or may not be of their own." A nod to towards the painting as he settles before taking a seat. "Interesting technique in that."

Zakhar checks perception and artwork at normal. Zakhar marginally fails.

Sira checks intellect and economics at normal. Sira marginally fails.

Talking about the cloth with such interest and knowledge manages to get Murgen to relax enough to chat with Sira about his new dying process. Enough to let her know that he really is something different involved in producing these more lustrous colours but not enough to give her the faintest clue how it might be recreated. Eventually he finishes chatting about his one true fabric making love and instead asks her "Well? Are you going to buy?"

Zakhar is served a warm drink before polite chit-chat commences in the name of hospitality. "Oh that painting?" She looks to it. "It was my grandfather's last painting. Bless his soul. Its truly a treasure."

Sira steps back from the fabric, contemplating the whole situation. "What are your plans for longevity, Master Murgen?" She turns a scrutinizing look at the man. "How do you intend to continue to produce the material? Will you expand the workshop, hire artisans, have dedicated supply lines along protected trade routes?"

"It's a lovely piece, I can only imagine the arguments that would take place between my family and I over who got something similar." Zakhar takes a small sip of the drink and continues to stare at the painting as if he is getting lost into each pull and shift of the painter's thoughts. Looking over to the woman as he holds the mug close, "Would you have insight towards the dyer here in town? He's managed to make a fuss of some that are seeking to bring a great deal of silver through the town. I'd hate for the whole town to miss out on the riches because of one man's goals."

Zakhar checks charm and manipulation at normal. Zakhar is successful.

Sira checks intellect and economics at normal. Sira is successful.

Siree's natural suspicion fades away as Zakhar talks of shared experiences. "My brother is always trying different ways to get it." she confesses to Zakhar. "Why once he even took it off the wall during a dinner and tried to walk out with it." she sniffs. "We don't have dinner together anymore." The rest of his words draw curiosity from her. "Murgen? My brother. He loves his work, it is his joy and obsession, and it is already bringing a lot of silver into the village.. I don't understand how we are losing out.. What do you mean?"

Murgen peers suspiciously at Sira. "I don't plan to change anything. People pay far more for something rare and unique." he looks doubtful. "But I have heard there can be trouble on the road. What are you proposing?"