Two quick raps against the plain, unadorned ironwood door roused Hayek’s attention. His eyes flicked around the office, suffused in orange by the glow of the setting sun, before settling on the book that lay face down at his feet, pages buried in the thick pile of Sassarene carpet. With a small grunt he leaned forward in the leather chaise and scooped it up in a large, heavily calloused hand, turning it over to discover a handful of pages were now heavily creased. Hayek’s eyebrows drew together in a heavy frown as his fingers tenderly bent the pages back into place, before closing the book and placing it underneath an artfully carved block of obsidian on his desk. It was only then that he turned his attention towards the knock on his door that had shaken him from his slumber.
“Enter,” he barked at the door, attempting, and failing, to temper his irritation.
In stepped Hayek’s aide, Lily Auroch; an austere woman whose implacable demeanour was unmatched throughout all of Caer Cyflen, and had stymied many an angry ‘citizen of note’ who attempted to barge into Hayek’s office with some complaint or another.
“Reminding you of your dinner meeting tonight”, cool and collected, as always. “Ghudpa Cin. The Burning Reed.”
Hayek grunted in reply, and kneaded his temples. He could feel a headache building, and meeting with Ghudpa, that greasy little rat, would only make it worse. He needed an evening alone. He needed a drink.
In through the mouth -- one, two, three, four -- out through the nose. A long, drawn out breath filled the silence of the room before Hayek pushed away from his desk and turned to face Lily.
“Right. Still on about demolishing the Lucky Rose?” Lily gave the barest of nods. Hayek sighed again. “Just what I needed. Another evening of implied bribes and…” he waved his hand about his head, as if brushing away an insect, “... politicking.”
“I fail to see the distinction, Mister Hayek.” A sardonic twitch of the lips was all that betrayed Lily’s amusement at the man’s obvious distaste with the evening ahead of him. “It is with great regret that I shall retire to my bed, and struggle through the dusty pages of Tragedy in Tairmos.”
Hayek grimaced. “Still reading that pulp romance nonsense? Why not Goldflower’s treatises, or Vindmar’s memoires? Spirit’s take me, I have Pyke’s collected works in my office! First editions! Right there, just take them!”
Lily arched a single eyebrow. “To spend my evening in such esteemed company, Mister Hayek, would truly be a tragedy.” She turned on her heel, a single hand waving goodbye over her shoulder, leaving Jaro Hayek prepare himself for what appeared to be a most unappetizing dinner.
"Ghudpa Cin. Why does it have to be Ghudpa-fucking-Cin?"
Hayek went rummaging through a small wardrobe behind his desk, picking out a well-tailored outfit of timeless fashion. He was a man not given to peacocking himself with flouncy sleeves, or brightly coloured cravats. As he reached for a pair of well-polished boots his fingers brushed against a tooled leather scabbard at the back of the wardrobe, and paused there. A small kernel of unease fluttered in his stomach, at the prospect of dinner with Ghudpa Cin, or… something else? Hayek’s brows drew together, and with measured deliberation he withdrew the scabbard and attendant smallsword, buckling it about his hips.
Something told Hayek that tonight was going to be interesting.
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Jaro Hayek - (Human or Half-Elf) - Male
His Most Honourable Magistrate Jaro Hayek, former three-time Duelling Champion of Caer Cyflen, is a haggard man of middling age turned grey before his time.
Hayek’s story begins while he was still a young man of little consequence, strong of arm and swift of hand, who fell in with a crowd of street toughs where he dabbled in black marketeering, alleyway muggings, and petty extortion rackets. Occasional run-ins with the law were unavoidable but, somehow, Hayek managed to avoid any serious repercussions for his myriad misconducts.
That is, until one fateful morning, when an otherwise ordinary turf war turned into a veritable bloodbath. One thrown grenado, a half-dozen innocent casualties, and the law’s mailed fist came crashing down with righteous fury. Hayek, the only one there to escape grievous injury, was clapped in irons and thrown into the gaol to await sentencing by a Caer magistrate.
Days turned into weeks, turned into months, and Hayek languished in captivity until a representative from the Dueling Guild made a surprise visit. Word had spread that there was a promising talent who had fallen in with some nasty customers, and wasting away in the gaol on charges of assault and criminal conspiracy. The Guild, Hayek was told, could exert their influence to have him released into their care on parole and, provided he adhered to their conditions, expunge his laundry list of minor offences upon the conclusion of a five-year tutorship. Knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hayek agreed.
Over the next five years, Hayek was pushed through a brutal training regimine, honing his mind and body to whip-smart, razor-sharp readiness. It wasn’t long before Hayek was capable of besting all within the Guild’s walls be it with rapier, buckler, smallsword, or dagger, and the Guild began booking Hayek some minor jobs.
Duelling in Caer Cyflen is a lifestyle for some; for others, it is a means by which to defend their lives and livelihoods. The result is a sizeable, and stable, duelling industry, consisting of both hobbyists and professionals which is largely dominated by the Duelling Guild. Aside from maintaining the rankings of all registered duelists in Caer Cyflen, and hosting seasonal duelling tourneys -- which have grown into city-wide celebratory events -- the Duelling Guild contracts the services of a number of Guild-certified duellists of various calibre and cost for those individuals who haven’t the time or talent for bladework. Ordinarily, the Guild would take a small cut from the purse of jobs that they booked for their certified duelists; however, as Hayek had a significant debt to repay the Guild, they took the entire purse of his first several contracts.
A debt which, it must be noted, Hayek paid off far more quickly than even the Guild had anticipated. Jaro Hayek, no longer the young street tough but a grown man in the prime of his ability, shot up the rankings like a bolt of lightning and was soon considered one of the foremost duelists in Caer Cyflen. His duels became larger, the purses accordingly so, and public renown became as much a currency as gold. Perhaps somewhat arrogant in his ability, Hayek left the Guild to become a privately registered duelist, invoking their fury as few men had ever managed. Challenger after challenger was sent to defeat him, and each one was sent back beaten and bloody. Hayek became the most sought after duelist in the entire city, a celebrity, revered by the masses and feared by the moneyed.
Of course, the folly of mortals is eternal, and Hayek was no exception. Though nothing was ever proven, it is widely believed that the Duelling Guild engineered Hayek’s downfall through the discreet application of tincture of nightshade, just enough to slow his reflexes and ensure his defeat at the hands of their new, hand-picked champion. Despite the significant backlash that the Guild faced from the duelling community, their plan worked, and Hayek quickly exited the duelling ranks.
Indeed, Hayek would disappear entirely from the public view for some years, before reappearing quite suddenly as a magistrate of Caer Cyflen. His misspent youth on the wrong side of the law, and settling disputes through more martial methods, gave Hayek a unique perspective on legal matters that the citizens of Caer Cyflen quickly grew to appreciate. It wasn’t long before he once again became a beloved public figure, though this time with significantly fewer individuals trying to kill him.
After administering the law for nearly a decade, few were surprised when Hayek announced his candidacy for the mayorship, and fewer still when he won in a landslide.
A gruff and straightforward individual, Hayek wastes no time and minces no words. Ordinarily such a demeanour would bode ill for delicate diplomacy, but Hayek’s indomitable will, iron-clad logic, and unwavering application of the law, have justified his stewardship of Caer Cyflen time and again. These days, Hayek spends most of his time in meetings or poring over thick tomes of dense judicial rulings, though rumour has it that he rises a few hours before the sun every morning to maintain his bladework.
While fully recognizing that the adventurers who frequent Caer Cyflen are an integral part of the city’s success and prosperity, Hayek has a none-too-charitable disposition towards them, torn between irritation at the minor troubles and inconveniences they cause while in town, and grudging admiration at the comparatively simple and carefree lifestyle they lead. While he would never seek to make undue trouble for the mercenaries or tomb raiders or “archaeologists” that frequent Caer Cyflen, nor would he be willing to bend the rules or otherwise favour them with leniency when they cause trouble.