Siril, the bandit seems mostly receptive the efforts to open a dialogue on religion, if a tad overwhelmed. He continues to sit quietly in the back of the wagon - not that he could go too far, anyway.
----
Dendarial and Tyanos peer deeper into the woods, their eyes desperate to find the potential danger. Tyanos, smells the man before he spots him - human, upwind, mixed with something else. Probably straight ahead somewhere, but he can't quite see the man through the trees. Dendarial's keen eyes pinpoint the source of the voice - a middle aged man with a bow raised and pointed right back at him. Behind him was a younger man, his bow trained on the sorcerer at Dendarial's side. They stand a good 60 to 70 feet away, covered well behind heaps of brush and branches. It would be hard to get a good shot on them from where you stand - they've done a remarkable job of ambushing you with just a (visible) pair of men.
The elder man stiffens, his arrow wavering slightly. "I'll ask just once more - who are you folks and what're ya doing here?"
Tyanos raises his hands, not that he would need them full to strike ether man.
"I have a question of my own. Why is a grown man and young boy hiding in the bushes with bows drawn on a couple of people traveling with a wagon? Seems to me like your bandits, thinking about robbing us are you. Your actions don't match your words and we already know where you are and your numbers. You picking a fight or are you going to come out and talk. You could also leave, makes no difference to me."
Personally he thought they were hunters scared from the recent bandit problem, maybe father and son. Still they going about meeting people in a bad way, as if anyone would react well to ambush tactics or demands.
The words seem to waver the man's resolve, but he does not back down. "And seems to me like'n your out to take what you need and leave corpses in your shadow. Wagon full of purloined goods ain't no reason to let my guard down. No, I reckon I'll be stayin' right here with'n my boy until you lower your weapons."
Tyanos lowers his hands, the man had stepped into his palm.
"Leave corpses, really do tell. When, where, and who? Or do you accuse everyone of that. As for the wagon and goods, well do they belong to you. Is that how you know that we are not the owners or acting on their behalf, or is that another baseless accusation. As to lowering our weapons, why would we when two strange people have theirs pointed at us on the road for no reason. You provoked, threaten, and demand things from us. Were you in my place, how would you take that?"
He gives that a moment to sink in, people had a strange sense of reasoning sometimes. After all they were headed north towards civilization, if they were bandits they would be heading deeper south. With less law and more black markets that asked no questions.
"I see no reason to let you near us or explain ourselves to strangers. For all I know your bandit scouts wanting to get information to attack us later. You want trust, you give it. You want a fight, you can have that too if you keep threatening us. If nether is to your liking then be on your way and think of better ways to speak to someone on the road next time. Hiding in bushes with bows pointed at them does not work, that I can promise you."
Thomas sits quietly, letting Tyanos carry the conversation. But he does move a bow a little closer using his foot.
"We might be bandits? Hah! Speak of yourselves, ya loudmouthed-"
The younger of the pair grabs the shoulder of the man in front of him. "Pop, I don't-"
"Shut yer mouth, boy. I've got this. Now I reckon there's no reason this has got to end badly. You won't tell a fella yer name, well that's just peachy. But I ain't got a reason to trust a man who ain't givin' me his name. Me? I'm Mikred. And this's my boy Vadren. And by the looks of things, you're a lot of thieves out to take whatever you can get your paws on! Out here, a man owns what a man holds, and I ain't letting go a' nuttin."
"Pop, they don't look much like the others..."
The elder shakes the arm off and grunts loudly. "Dangit, boy. Keep quiet and keep your eye trained on that one. Can't trust a nameless man and he's mighty loathe to let them loose lips tell us his!"
Excuse me, sir. If you need names, my name is Hadin, Hadin Cassoren. I follow Erastil's way.
Hadin walks toward the men, slowly, putting his weapons on the ground until he's visibly weaponless.
I have nothing but peaceful intents. We are, in fact, trying to bring some law in these bandits-infested lands. We have recently defeated a woman named Kressle, who was one leader of a small bandit group. We all got a charter signed by the authorities.
The older fellow dips his head. "See, now there's a man who I can respect." He lowers his weapon, not even waiting for the others to do the same before he strides out of the brush and towards the group. "Say you killed Kressle, eh? She was a brute of a woman. Hope she died a painful death for all the misery she's caused. Any slayer'a bandits is a friend'a me and my kin. Consider the Learys friends." He abruptly looks over his shoulder, the younger of the two still hesitant. "Well get on up here and introduce yerself, boy."
He obeys, dropping his weapon to his side and dashing up with a hand extended to greet Hadin. "Right. Vadren Leary. We're uh, hunters and trackers in these parts. Been on the trail of something good, reckon it's old Tuskgutter and we'll finally be able to claim that bounty." The graying man beside him gives him a strong nudge.
"What he means to say is thank y'all for killing a mean ol' birch. And if'n that's all, we'lls a be going on our way. Reckon we'll sees ya around again."
The ranger, having never drawing a weapon, has nothing to put down. He shoots Tyanos a hard look for his callous approach and after Hadin speaks he adds And I am Dendarial. I also am a hunter. Well met. We are helping Oleg at the trading post for now. But we expect to be about these lands for some time. We mean to map them proper. Hey, perhaps we could trade information on what is about these parts? I am sure skilled hunters like yourselves could provide some useful information. It would be worth a hot meal...
At Dendarial's look he snorts. Outlander elf had no idea about the river kingdoms or her ways. If he was lucky he never would, not that such a thing held up for those outside of Desna's favor. It rarely did for those in it.
"I don't apologize for my ways anymore then you have for yours."
He says with a smile. Something it seems everyone did not pick up or choose not to address. Telling enough to him about these locals and what they considered true respect.
"That being said I am Tyanos, a merchant for the most part. Would you happen to know Oleg?"
Seeing the situation calm down, from the wagon, Thomas relaxes, and then looks around, to see if there was any more.
Wetscale hadn't noticed the ambush, though the dance of diplomacy that followed after was somewhat more surprising. He never truly grasped the parley at arrowpoint between people, and his curiosity grew into mild astonishment at their opponent's relinquishment of his superior position at Hadin's words. Were I on my own, I would've had to fight or flee. Then again, they would have probably just shot him, he thought - ferocious-looking creatures didn't get second chances.
So he made his first impression decidedly NOT that.
He instead waved to them, knowing extending a clawed had often had the reverse-desired impression. "They call me Wetscale. Kressle's kind mentioned something about small blue people bothering them. Do you know who they might be?"
Though not tactful in many regards, Wetscale had become adept at making himself seem less weird in a relative fashion over the years. If a tall, scaled warrior would be out of place, then perhaps blue raiding assassins would make him seem a bit more palatable to these new folk.
Karina sits still on the wagon during the confrontation, ready to grab the crossbow and duck into cover at any moment. Eventually the situation passes, though the silly farmboy needn't have disarmed himself to make it happen. Hadin's willingness to abandon his weapons could prove dangerous if faced with a treacherous enemy. Karina would have to watch him.
Though she might disagree with him from time to time, at least Tyanos was far more cautious than the others. Winning the trust of the cautious was far more difficult, and therefore valuable, than winning the trust of those easily swayed, and far less likely to be lost to deceit.
Karina remains in her position on the wagon content to watch and wait, while seeming to appear unassuming.
The older man nods, offering his hand to Tynaos in turn. "Aye," he mutters, "And I'd expect nothing less. A man can't be too careful, though a man shouldn't be 'fraid to give his name. If'n we did intend you ill, it ain't like it'd make a lick of difference. Way I sees it, neither of us got nothing to be sorry for."
Mikred shoulders his weapon with a practiced hand, slipping it over his heavy leathers and thick clothes with ease. He looks a little surprised at Wetscale's civility, but he shrugs it off and keeps talking. "But aye, I know Oleg. And them little blue folk."
His son steps forward, mirroring the elder's gesture but fumbling quite a bit more in disarming himself. "Yeah, they're called mites, I think. We've only ever seen them twice, traveling in a group of five or so. Short and bug-eyed. Weird little things, so we just avoided them. Never even saw us!"
The old man spits. "Ya say that like its a badge of pride! I'd have taken 'em if'n they were worth sumtim. Way I see it, they're a waste of a good arrow." With a gesture to Dendarial, Mikred continues, "I don't see no reason we can't tell you what's what. But most of it's just game trails and the like, and I ain't never put none of it on paper. We try to stay away from those bandit folks and the wilds are plenty big 'nuff to keep to ourselves. Got us a little shack of our own up and around a bit."
Dendarial thanks the man for his information and shares what he can of what he knows. Then he keeps his word, inviting the to their next meal.
"Mites?" Wetscale tested out the word. "They do not sound dangerous. Why not let them be?"
I don't know what a mite is, even I know a few legends.
Hadin is serious. Maybe he misheard the word, or he's just confused.
"Well, they're little and they're blue, and they fit the description..." Vadren shrugs. "Dunno how dangerous they are, but they was carrying pointy sticks and knives and roaming in a group."
"And were uglier than a old ass with a big ol' boil on 'er face," the old man adds. "I'd just avoid 'em if'n I were you. As fer the food - well, we've got plenty of our own right now, so I'm thinkin' we'll take a raincheck."
The younger of the pair frowns behind his father's back. "Aye," he agrees weakly. "I'm sure we'll see each other again, and perhaps we can have a bit of your food then..." He looks more to Mikred than the adventurers for approval. The gruff man nods.
"Been a rare pleasure," Mikred says with a grin. "I reckon we will be seeing more of you lot."
The ranger offers both his hand, stepping forward as needed to do so. A pleasure indeed. Good hunting, and if you should ever need us leave word at Oleg's.
Tyanos shakes the man's hand.
"Names can be useful, they can also be dangerous. That may not change depending on knowing them or not but it could prove a problem or boon should you only learn it after the fact. I'll leave it at that."
As the conversation turns to the mites, he mostly listens.
"Unless they become a problem, I am of the live and let live mindset."
His eyes drift over the wagon.
"The bandits have been our problem sense we set foot in this land it seems. Hopefully that's over."
As the man takes his leave he simply waves. He would have to ask Oleg about the man, to check his claim as well as get a better measure of him.
"Best to be back to Oleg's, if the mites become a problem we can deal with it then."
Let's hope the mites still have Svetlana's ring. I guess Oleg and his wife will be happy to know some of the bandits will no longer pose a threat.
The rest of the day's mapping goes well, particularly thanks to the Learys' help detailing various landmarks in the immediate area. Once more night falls over the Narlmarches and you are forced to retreat to camp, lest you wander about in the dark with nothing else to guide you.
As the stars make their entrance into the grand stage of the sky, another day calls on the morrow, with only a few miles between yourselves and Oleg's.
Well, it seems that things are going well, and I hope that they continue to do so. As for those mights, if they become a problem, then we will have to deal with them.
Thomas then takes a meal over to our prisoner.
Let's hope the mites still have Svetlana's ring. I guess Oleg and his wife will be happy to know some of the bandits will no longer pose a threat.
"What would they want with a ring? It might not even fit them."
Hadin kept mostly silent on the way back to Oleg, but did what he could to help mapping the wilderness
Tyanos kept a look out as always.
It is the minor things in life that make it worth living - a clear blue sky, a calm spring breeze, and a lack of unexpected, bloodthirty murderers coming out of the woodwork to steal your belongings and/or feast on your bones. Today is one of those days.
As the hours wear on, the rolling plains just north of the Narlmarches seem to drive you closer and closer to Oleg's. At several points during the mapping you pass over a rise and see the trading post in the distance, a warm beacon of safety in the wilds. Darkness begins to fall and, at long last, you pass through the front gates and into Oleg's Trading Post. You're expecting to see Oleg's grizzled but amicable visage or Svetlana's seemingly boundless pleasantries. Instead, you are greeted by a pair of armed swordsmen bearing the heraldry of Brevic military.
The larger of the two men raises his hand, requesting the wagon to come to a halt before him. He steps forward, a youthful man but clearly carrying himself with some manner of authority. He keeps his hand on his weapon's hilt, as though expecting to need it at any moment.
"Well, well," he begins, neglecting to introduce himself. "Who've we got here? Couple of rather motley looking traders... If you've come to rob the place, you've come to the wrong trading post, thieves!" He leaps back, drawing his sword. Behind him, the other guardsman rolls his eyes.
Oleg comes stomping forward, a scowl on his face. "Dangit, Kesten! I told ya I was waiting fer some folks to return! Put yer damned sword away!"
The swordsman glances at Oleg, suspecting a ruse. Slowly he puts his blade away. "Very well, Mr. Leveton. But do keep in mind who is in charge of security around here!" He turns back to the wagon, taking a short, formal bow. "It would be myself. Kesten Garess, of the Garess house. It is a pleasure to be of service." Oleg closes his eyes and sighs loudly. Kesten does not seem to notice.
Tyanos took it all in and smiled, but his eyes had a coldness that did not match his face.
"Well Sir Kesten, would you be so kind as to explain where your security was not so long ago. What with bandits burning down homes and running amok. I dare say, you have been lacking. Perhaps merely misinformed, I am sure you did not intend to threaten us, lawful agents under writ from the dragonscale throne. That you yourself serve."
His smile was gone.
"No surely you did not disrespect the lawful owner of this trading post and land. I am sure a man from such a house and in service to Brevoy would not do such a thing. After all you are here to serve, not dictate in any sense or obstruct those within their lawful rights from running their business and home as they like with in the law."
He dismounted before continuing.
"You were not sent here for such a purpose. I think you were sent here in answer to aid, which you have yet to render. A temporary condition I am sure. After all if we, motely and lacking in formal training, have returned from destroying a bandit camp and the source of Oleg's recent troubles in the form of a vicious bandit named Kressle. Then no doubt his trading post will be in safe hands from danger. Sadly that is not his only concern, if so your services I dare say would not be needed. His is a place of business as well, without customers it would not be. So while I am sure you have his best interest at heart as is befitting a man in your position. Your eagerness may bring harm in different ways, such as a loss of business. That would be distressing for all involved no doubt. I would suggest a more observant approach, one that Oleg approves of. You are here per his request."
He mentally swore, if bandits were not bad enough some self important guard with a large head and small brains was sent. No doubt that among other reasons was why he was sent, you don't send your best out to the frontier. If this fool treated the wrong customer like that, it would ruin Oleg or bring more trouble. Even if Oleg was protected, what did it matter if he went out of business. Bled dry by bandits only to be bled dry by a fool that chases away customers. Perhaps Oleg should make some offerings to Desna, he was starting to think his luck was in dire need at this point.
Kesten tilts his head in consideration of Tyanos' many words. After a good, long pause he finally turns to the guardsman behind him. "Drekal, summarize that man's speech. I don't have time to decipher the babbling of the peasantry. Not when there's evil afoot!"
The man sighs. "He said you should try not to offend our gracious hosts, sir. He is concerned for the Trading Post's mercantile successes given the presence of such greatness."
Kesten's face lights up. "Ah! Well, why didn't he just say so!" The guardsman turns back to Tyanos and forcibly grabs the man's hand to shake it roughly. "Fear not, simple lowborn! Kesten Garess is here to protect Oleg and his establishment from any and all troubles from here until the end of days - or until I am given a proper position at the court of the Dragonscale Throne! Whichever of those may come first! Traders will come from far and wide once they hear that this land is under the protection of Kesten Garess! And, in protecting the good Levetons of this land from harm, I am too bound to protect yourself and his other trading partners. Though I must ask you to keep your scaled creature on a leash, lest he eat the horses, and keep the owl hooded at all times within the confines of the fort, lest it peck at my personage or my horses."
Oleg's face is now firmly hidden within the palms of his hands. "Kest- Sir Garess, I'm not sure all that's necessary..."
Tyanos remains silent for the most part. It seemed this man was in need of a hard lesson or if his ego was truly unchangeable he may just have to kill him. In a completely unrelated matter of course. Their were monsters aplenty that would do the trick and who could blame him if he did not aid him in time, he was sure such thoughts had crossed his "men's" mind as well if they had suffered under him for longer then an hour. Alas hope for change but do not expect it.
"Thanks"
Turning to Oleg.
"In case it was missed, Kressle is dead. Along with some other bandits from her camp. We recovered everything they had there and suspect a good amount of it is rightfully yours. That's why we have suddenly gained a wagon. We also brought another prisoner with us. Speaking of which, how are the two that we left? Any trouble?"
Thomas rolls his eyes in the background as he stiffly dismounts from the wagon.
Mental note, any dealing that I have to have with the security, should be with Drekal. This Kesten, is stupidly arrogant
Oleg, where do you wish this wagon, and our prisoner. Also, I wish to return this. handing back the borrowed longbow.
Hadin frowns
Nothing wrong with being "low born", as he says...
Then he speaks
This "scaly creature" is named Wetscale, and he is a valorous fighter, and an honorable.. errr..lizard. He will not be leashed.He has proved his value to us, and to Oleg and Svetlana. I hope you'll prove yourself to be as honorable and valiant as he is, Sir Kesten.
"Kesten of House Garess, I am Karina of House Orlovsky. Hail and well met. I would bid you not treat my companions as your vassals."
Oleg nods a thanks at Thomas. "Surprisingly 'nuf, they've ben more pleasant than some folk I've had stay 'round here." His eyes subtly glide towards Kesten before snapping back to the group. "The bigger fella ain't said much, so we just left 'em where he was. Was thinkin' bout throwing 'im o'er the walls but then I figured y'all'd have a fit about it. Sos I left him tied up in the stalls. The little fella's been right handy, though."
"Indeed!" Kesten chimes in, his hands on his hips and his eyes staring above everyone's heads. "The boy does do an excellent job polishing my finest leathers! Had you not said it yourself, Mr. Leveton, I'd have assumed he was no criminal, but a man in your own employ."
This "scaly creature" is named Wetscale, and he is a valorous fighter, and an honorable.. errr..lizard. He will not be leashed.
Kesten chuckles. "Ah, a muzzle man, are you? Well, I left my hounds back at my family's estate, but I'm sure we can find something suitable for this 'wet of scale.' I'm sure he is as fine a hunting beast as any good hound - and look! He is so well trained!"
You notice Oleg opens his mouth with the intent to correct the man, but shakes his head and stops himself. Instead, he returns to the more pressing matters - "So that b@*#! queen's dead, eh? I'da liked to see 'er hang, but I'll settle fer her dead. I owes y'all a real debt of gratitude - you've saved my business. I'll talk it over with Lana and get you a right proper reward for your services to my family." Kesten clears his throat. "Uh, right - and thank you, Sir Garess, fer e'rything you've, uh... done, I reckon."
The man bows deeply. "A pleasure, my good man of the people. Do remember the honor of House Garess when you retell this tale!" He turns to Karina and repeats the gesture. "And good greetings to a Lady of the Orlovskys. I mean no disrespect to your entourage - I speak only of these simple men in the simplest of terms, surely!"
The merchant groans. Oleg tries his best to ignore the man, but the grimace on his face says it all. Kesten does not seem to notice in the slightest. "Right... Well, just park the wagon o'er near the stables and throw your friend in with the other. I'll pick what's mine outta the wagon whens I get a chance."
Hadin freeze in anger. When he salutes Karina with courtesy, he rushes to the noble scion of the House Kesten and confronts him, without touching him
Listen, man. Wetscale won't be leashed, muzzled or treated like a beast. You might be a high born somewhere else, but in theses dangerous lands your title is worth nothing. So if you want people to come to your help in your times of need, and there will surely be times of need, don't treat everyone who isn't Prince Whatsyourname like manure.I'm a son of peasants, so I know what manure is. But right now, I'd prefer to got my hands deep in manure after a good honest day's work than to touch you. And I'm pretty sure that if you were a SO important noble, you wouldn't be there, in these lost lands, acting like a guard's captain for an humble trader. Ain't I right, Sir Kesten of the house Garess?
Tyanos was unsurprised by how things had ended up. He felt no need to interfere just yet ether. This so called guardsman from a noble house was asking for it. In the north you only boast about what you can do, family name and such nonsense mean nothing. Kings only gain their title by defeating one of the most powerful creatures in all the land and in single combat no less. Even so they must be prepared to accept any and all challenges to their rule as well. Those in high positions gain them through merit and keep them through skill. Having someone's blood means nothing in the north, it seemed this was something the soft south had yet to learn.
Leaning towards Oleg, speaking quietly.
"I don't suppose they gave you a reason why they sent this one. Or if you could request someone else?"
Seeing Hadin's confrontation while leading the horses and wagon towards the stable Thomas stops and strings a bow and then watches
The elf watches the scene and tries to hide his smile. He too chooses not to interfere and instead tends to the horses and wagon and cargo. We recovered some skins Oleg. I believe most were yours. come and claim them and anything else that was your rightful property. When Hadin confronts Kesten Dendarial is somewhat surprised to see the anger but pleased to know that the man can be roused. That one seemed too calm to me.
Upon the uneventful return, much like what he expected the others might feel, Wetscale was at first fearful their greeter was a usurper of the violent variety. Though it turned out this man of House Garess was non-violent, he was a usurper nonetheless - words were his weapons. Yet that latter detail was beyond Wetscale's ken of diplomacy, so instead of responding with the guarded rejection and assertion Tyanos projected, Wetscale took the man's speech at face value.
Initially, he was furious at the man, spreading his stance a bit in a readiness to intimidate him or fight him if need be. Simple lowborn. Counterintuitive to some, Wetscale had been used to being seen as a beast for so long, he expected to be treated as one. The man's patronizing tone bothered him more, as did his indirect assertion of him being better than others by virtue of his birth. Were Wetscale initially treated as a serf, he might have been acclimated to that reality, though his placement in a separate, lower caste of pseudo-"people" servants paradoxically opened his eyes to that injustice.
"We are not your servants. We are friends of Oleg!"
It was hard for him to get more words in edgewise though. The others were quicker with their speech, and it was well - at first because he was irate, but later because he was embarrassed. I am a burden to them. Hadin's words were heartwarming, but they only drove home Wetscale's feelings of inadequacy. He kept his mouth shut for the noble imposter henceforth, the humility trumping his rage.
Kesten stumbles backward and looks legitimately surprised. His eyes quickly shift from Wetscale to Hadin and back again twice. "You... trained it to speak!" The guardsman takes another deep bow, his subordinate silently shaking his head behind him. "I do truly owe you an apology, for you are no trainer of hounds, but a man who brings civilization to the wildest of beasts! Had you not been born amongst the mud-caked sows of a peasant's farmstead, I would elect to have you amongst my own court! Be it as you wish - the Wet of Scale shall go unmuzzled before such a master."
At no moment does he appear to notice that Hadin was actually angry with him, nor the thinly veiled insults thrown in his direction. If anything, he looks even happier now. He pats Hadin on the back forcefully, not withholding an ounce of strength from his powerful sword arm. "But your pet is correct, my good peasant. I am aware you are no servants; it is I who assume this humble role in this humble land! A man of the Garess House - and, lo, the lady of the Orlovskys - have come to bring propriety to a land of barbarism." He winks at Karina, giving a wide smile.
Oleg throws an arm around Tyanos as they meander slowly towards the wagon of goods. "I knew them Brevic politicos were no good, but damned if this ain't the worst insult they can 'ive me. Worst of it, though, 'at poor bastard don't ev'n know he's being pushed off ta the middle of nowhere so's the rest of his family can have a moment of peace. Truth be told, I almost pity the fool."
Seeing things calm down again, Thomas goes back to helping Dendarial with the wagon and the horses.
I wish that they didn't send that man, but if we have to have dealings, lets use the assistant.
Quietly Dendarial notes to Thomas. Yes, but he is here. Let us play on his "personality" to use the man as our tool. In doing so we might be able to guide him towards our purposes and at the same time help him succeed in his own mission.
Later Dendarial introduces himself to Kesten. Sir Garess, would you do me the honor of accepting my humble introduction? I am Dendarial, a scout and huntsman. He somewhat timidly offers the man his hand. I am pleased that the Sword Lords have seen fit to send a man of your caliber to see to the safety of this strategically important trading post. With your presence here me and my colleagues will feel free carrying out our own mission of scouting and securing the area.
At least Oleg could see things as they were.
"Indeed, hopefully with some time and proper lessons in how the world works out here. He will learn the truth of things and how to keep that head in proper proportions. If not, we can always bleed him dry of his gold, I don't recall guards being housed free of charge. They get paid and so you deserve pay for your services my good friend."
He nudges the man. Their were many ways to teach a man a lesson in life, not all of them involved the physical or mental. Financial lessons had brought many a noble to ruin.
"Too stupid to even understand an insult," Karina thinks, [i]"Probably useless in any sort of intrigue, good for no more than acting as a sacrificial pawn. I can see why he got sent to this godsforsaken place without a charter."
Karina keeps her smile plastered on her face as she adresses the puffed up peacock before her. She knows she could easily deflate his ego, but thinks it best to use it instead. "And propriety I shall bring, Sir Garess, charter in hand. I could see myself finding a place for you in it, perhaps." The lie almost stuck in Karina's throat, but she carried on, after all, this was far from the most distasteful lie she'd told in her life. She give him an indulgent smile, a slight raise of the eyebrows, a gentle tilt of her hips. All signs of attraction, all feigned. Perhaps he'd be useless, but it never hurt to have more tools at hand.
Later on, Karina takes Wetscale aside and says, "Ignore all that odious man says, Wetscale. He is naught but a pompous fool, and his prejudice holds no weight. We might use him, but that is all he will be, a tool."
"If not, we can always bleed him dry of his gold, I don't recall guards being housed free of charge. They get paid and so you deserve pay for your services my good friend."
Oleg grimaces at the mention of being paid. "Damned bastard brought another one of those little papers with 'im. 'Cept instead of whatever in the godsnames yers says, his is sumtin' like 'Feed these good guardsmen.' Miserable. Fak' miserable Brevoy."
Meanwhile, Kesten smiles at Karina. Perhaps the most annoying part of it was that for all his stupidity, Kesten wasn't actually that hard on the eyes. His teeth were immaculate, pearly whites - clearly taken care of very carefully. His armor was neat and trim, shined in all the right places. His combat prowess had yet to be proven, but damned if he didn't look every bit the part of the nobleman he so kindly reminded everyone of every four seconds. "Excellent, my lady."
He turns rapidly on a heel to Dendarial, and repeats his formal greeting. "Ah, a man of the Kyonin Courts. Accompanying Lady Orlovsky and building relations between our nations, I trust. It will be a pleasure to hunt alongside you - though, alas, I have not my hounds with me. Ah, how I miss my greatest hound, Hound." He turns around without warning, practically knocking Dendarial over. "Drekal, send for Hound! A great man needs a great dog at his side."
The assistant groans. "Of course, sir."
Tyanos looks over his shoulder towards the guardsmen. Then whispers back to Oleg.
"I could take a look at that paper if you want. I doubt they accounted for everything, they can't expect you to turn out your own pockets for their services. If you could I am sure mercenaries would have been a better choice, on so many levels. Also I'll talk to the quiet former bandit that has stayed with you, see if a place for him can be found."
Thomas shakes his head, as he walks into the boarding room that was set aside for them by Oleg.
Pompous fool, only good use for them is fertilizer, but they will take too many with them when they go.
He then drops most of his gear off, and starts to clean it.
I will have to look into a pack saddle for that other horse, and maybe use the reliable one, to watch them when we are not available to watch them ourselves.