Wisdom and scissors

Floon scooped the broadsheets off his front step. He was freshly bathed and in clean clothes. Volo had seen to that before he left the Yawning Portal. Volo was such a good friend, sending people to rescue him and all that. Every man should have a friend like Volo, Floon thought.

He reached under a loose stone and retrieved his house key. If you carry your key on your person, you could lose it, drop it, or have it stolen. Under a loose brick it was nice and safe. It was only this kind of cautious forethought that had stopped him losing it while being dragged through that sewer, after all. Floon did not mean to brag, but he did allow himself a private smile. Not everyone could be as clever as he was.

Inside, his house had clearly been searched, but that made sense. Volo had likely come to check on him, being such a good friend. Volo was as clever as Floon, he probably knew about the key.

Floon was anxious, having missed two whole days of vital updates in the broadsheets, but he knew better than to do his scrapbooking while tired. Scissors and glue, while very useful, were sly, treacherous things, and he had learned his lesson more than once.

Hulbrant’s Record was the most useful broadsheet, and Floon decided he should at least lightly peruse it while he got changed into his sleeping clothes. The Cassalanters, famously stingy, were trying to make a canary yellow work, and bring back gold trim. Floon shook his head sadly, those Cassalanters. Always trying to bring yellow and gold into fashion so they could skip buying new clothes for another season. It was a good look, but it was very much last winter’s look.

The Blackstaff had been seen at some small affair, wearing a tan overcoat and matching boots. Floon nodded approvingly. The Blackstaff wasn’t a trend setter, and indeed was famously fashion-agnostic, so for her to be wearing tan boots meant nothing. A tan boot/coat combination was a good look, and Floon was glad someone was doing it.

Larael Silverhand had been seen wearing her beautiful robs. It’s all she wore, it was all she ever wore, no matter the weather or occasion. Floon was glad this had been reported in. In these confusing times, a little stability was to be appreciated.

Ah, finally. Lady Ramelia Haventree has been sighted wearing a subtle purple scarf. Haventree was a known weirdo and very boring. If she was wearing a purple scarf, no one else would this season. Floon smacked the page in triumph, and went to fetch a glass of water. He was playing the game, and he was winning. In celebration, he’d head down to the Silken Thread and pick out a loud red scarf before prices began to rise. He allowed himself another private smile before heading to bed. He’d leave the Daily Trumpet for the morning. While it was a reliable source of news, nothing looked so important that it couldn’t wait.

If Floon had read the sheet, he may have noticed the column “Citizens Know The Truth!”, where honest, ordinary people were asked pressing questions of the day. Today’s inquiry was “Where did Neverember’s stolen gold really go?” Answers included:

''“Why, I thought this should be obvious. It was taken down to the Mad Mage’s dungeon. You could hide millions of dragons down there!”''

''“It was never stolen. Silverhand claimed it was so that she could depose Neverember and seize power. A hollow ploy, and it’s surprising that it fooled so many.”''

''“It’s at the bottom of the harbour. That just makes sense”''

''“It never left. The gold was fake, and has been all along. Waterdeep, despite being a city of upstanding, hard-working people, has been hoodwinked by the noble class.”''

''“Neverember left with it. Why wouldn’t he? Why are people so sure it’s in the city? How can you be so stupid? Question the narrative!”''

Floon would read this when he woke up, and wouldn’t care. Money was for buying things. Money that just sat in a pile somewhere wasn’t really money, was it? Just shiny floor garbage. Floon began to cut articles out of the broadsheets, carefully archiving them. People should focus on the important things in life. Red scarves, he suspected, would feature prominently.