Located directly on the waters of the harbor, the heavy, narrow form of the Gaol dominates the Eastern edge of the harbor with its dark, forbidding appearance. The building was designed to appear bleak and uninviting, and its rusty portcullis that guarded the ten pace entrance arch did little to settle the nerves of those unfortunate enough to be brought here under arms. This was the city's infamous prison, a place rumored to reach as far beneath the ground...into the rocky shelf below...as it did into the sky, its topmost battlements reaching heights of almost one hundred paces.
But the bleak exterior of the Gaol was little more than a clever ruse to dispirit those brought before it. In truth, the building quivered with life and activity, for it was here that the city guard found their home. They slipped into and out of the massive, heavy construction by way of a smaller portal located to the side of the building, a door freshly painted in a bright, cheerful color of red and guarded at all times by a pair of city guardsmen. Visitors frequented the Gaols often to visit prisoners within, for while the place did house the city's incarcerated murderers, it also housed the debtors and defaulters prison, a lower security area of the Gaols and one that allowed for visitation and even a few luxurious amenities.
Just within the red door was a small room where visitors were received. A hallway led deeper into the fortress prison directly across from the entrance, its length dark and obscured due to the lack of natural lighting in the interior of the building. The reception room featured a broad carpet of woven thrush, a long, stiff bench that was unfriendly to the backside, and a small, cluttered desk opposite this behind which the watch sergeant took his ease, greeting those that entered with a gracious nod as he stood. "Greetings to you. Your business here at the Gaol?" he would ask, his voice low and even.
Laibach pulled his grey cloak more closely around him, staring at the Gaol with a look of utter whimsy upon his face. To think, a few simple whispers and betrayals, and he could be inside those very walls. It was a wonder that he hadn't, considering how difficult the past few months had been. Nonetheless, it wasn't exactly as if anyone in the Outer Ring could claim to be completely innocent. Everyone washed everyone else's dirty laundry. Everything was paid for by drugs or blood or worse.
He had grown frailer and more pale since the last time he had visited the Gaol, though he still wore the recognizable smirk and still dressed only in shades rather than colors. The bleakness of his appearance suited him in his new role at the top of Thomas Crane's trafficking and smuggling business, and it also suited how bleak his personal existance had become since taking over at Thomas's in absentia request.
"I'm here to speak with Ranier," the frail boy said to the guard. He didn't know if the man would recognize him and didn't particularly care. Laibach wasn't in a particularly caring mood at any rate. His fortunes, while certainly quite impressive from the outside, were in reality slowly decaying due to the heavy tax which Michael Ranier had placed upon the price of his watchful eye. It had made sense at the time: danger all around, death threats, stab wounds, addiction, the business deteriorating before his eyes... but now it suddenly didn't make sense to be losing money in a highly profitible business.
It was for financial discussion that Laibach had come, and he knew he had few bargaining chips to choose from. Nonetheless, he had to try to reason with Ranier, and the young trafficker certainly had a few tricks up his sleeve... if only the Captain of the City Guard would just play into his pocket.