Now listen here, whatever you are. I have no idea what you are talking about and nor does my valet. Do not address myself or Ostravach again or I shall speak to Estovian and have you thrown out of here! My family has been coming here for a hundred years and I will not be bullied by some.... half-dead thing.Come, Ostravach, our mount awaits. she says curtly, taking his arm and half leading and half pushing him out of the music room.
"As we are insisting on such protocols, sir, Your Ladyship, perhaps it would be meet for you to address my friend as "Inquisitor". Surely such frequent and historied visitors to Usatalav would have no wish to offer...insult to Pharasma's faithful. Though there is no longer any need to refer to me as "Inspector". Good day to you, madmam." Kaz's face is bland, but his tones clipped and frigid. He ends his short speech with a sharp, heel-clicking bow, and quite deliberately turns his back on the departing pair.
When they have left, Kaz looks, slightly penitently, at Zed. "Pray, forgive the invocation of your Church - no disrespect was intended - at least by me. They were already on their guard, so I saw no need not to shake their confidence further."
He pauses a moment, then says, in a a lower voice, "I cannot pretend to know what your life has been like, dealing with...that. Nor could I swear that I have not offered such to some undeserving person at some point. But it..." he trails off, shaking his head in frustration at not being able to find the words, finally just shrugging an apology to the dhampir.
Vala shakes her head and shrugs helplessly. "Delgros had a lot to say about the wolves, but no one we spoke with could help with regard to Kendra." She seems forlorn, somewhat detached from the discussion.
"Maybe we'll have more luck at the feast", Vermundr suggests. "Full bellies and strong spirits tends to loosen lips."
"Has anyone spoken with the madam? Working girls are known for collecting secrets in a place like this."
Once bathed and dressed, the party make their way down to the Dining Hall The room is much smaller than the Great Hall but still contains two large dining tables and a large hearth with a fire already burning merrily away.
As you enter you notice Duristan already seated and part way through a bottle of port. He makes polite small talk with Cilas Greydon who sits opposite him but doesn't seem to be making much effort in the way of conversation but rather swills his crystal glass of whiskey around in his hand whilst staring into the fire wistfully, perhaps the news of his friend playing over in his mind.
Over the next hour the rest of the guests arrive. Firstly the Markiza Welgory. This forty-something year old woman looks far younger and wears an exquisite gown of pale green lined with mink fur that accentuates her curves. Her jewellry sparkles in the candlelight and she takes a seat beside Cilas. Her guardian and companion, who must be the Ostrovach you have heard of, takes a seat beside her and they whisper among themselves for a while. Ostovach is a trim, broad-shouldered young man with neatly trimmed hair a neatly combed beard, a sleeveless tunic of green cotton that shows off his well muscled arms and shoulders and accompanies it with silver bracers that look more like ornate arm-guards than jewellery.
You notice on several occasions she steals a glance at you and then whispers to her comapnion whereupon they both proceed to laugh quietly to eachother.
You take your seats among the guests and are offered a variety of drinks from fine wines, to spirits, liquors and various other drinks both hot and cold.
Hello. Duristan says, politely to you all. How has your day been? Enjoying the Lodge so far?
The two scullions you saw at breakfast are busy darting around the tables filling glasses and otherwise trying to remain attentive but out of sight. Despite their young ages they seem to do this very well, suggesting they have extensive experience.
Belik enters from the kitchen and greets everyone for dinner. He then outlines the menu for the evening.
1 Selection of canapés
2 Green Asparagus and Chervil Velouté with Pea Shoots and a Soft Poached Quail Egg
3 Seared Fillet of Red Mullet with South Coast Squid, Courgette, Smoked Sardine and champagne Vinaigrette
4 New Season White Asparagus with Crab Mayonnaise, Wild Garlic Panna cotta and Andorian Ham
5 Poached and Roasted Lemon Sole with Razor Clams, Lemon Oil Emulsion and Round Lettuce Hearts
6 Best End of Valmeray Lamb with Confit Wet Garlic, Ragout of Peas and Smoked Bacon with a Mint Jus
7 Cheese Selection
8 A Tasting of Lemon and Blood Orange
9 Valrhona Chocolate Mousse with Honeycomb, Salted Peanut Ice Cream and elderflower Jelly
10 Coffee and Petits Fours
As the porter is part way through the door to the dining room swings open suddenly and a young man with an untucked but clearly expensive silk shirt enters. He has shoulder length golden hair like pale straw and a scruffy growth of beard. His leather doeskin pants probably cost more than your entire wardrobe and he carries a half empty wine bottle in one hand and an ornate cigarette holder in the other.
As he enters, he sweeps both arms out before him dramatically and bows his head saying; Forgive me good Porter, it was not my intention to disrupt your flow. Prey, do continue. He flashes a dazzling smile and as he notices the party his gaze lingers overlong at Hazel and he only breaks it with a wink as he takes the seat beside Duristan.
When they have left, Kaz looks, slightly penitently, at Zed. "Pray, forgive the invocation of your Church - no disrespect was intended - at least by me. They were already on their guard, so I saw no need not to shake their confidence further."
"It is nothing to be concerned with. I doubt it changed their mind either way."
He pauses a moment, then says, in a a lower voice, "I cannot pretend to know what your life has been like, dealing with...that. Nor could I swear that I have not offered such to some undeserving person at some point. But it..." he trails off, shaking his head in frustration at not being able to find the words, finally just shrugging an apology to the dhampir.
Zed pauses, looking side-eyed at Kaz as he trails off. He looks back forward and keeps walking. "I know what this looks like to you. But mankind has a tremendous capability to evolve and progress. Eighty years ago her demeanor towards me would have been considered downright pleasant. It is a slow process, but a process is underway. And if pushed too hard it is likely to only slow it further. Have faith in human decency."
"Maybe we'll have more luck at the feast", Vermundr suggests. "Full bellies and strong spirits tends to loosen lips."
"Has anyone spoken with the madam? Working girls are known for collecting secrets in a place like this."
"I have seen a century of human development, and although they are apt to change often that is one quality that has never wavered."
~At the Feast~
Zed gives a nod of acknowledgement to Duristan, inquiring about his brand of whiskey to show interest before ordering tea for himself.
As the young scruffy man walks in Zed catches the attention of one of the young servers and leans in close. "Who is that man?" He inquires softly.
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Ah, Corvin Tergsvor. Duristan replies. A poet and womaniser if ever I have seen one, and I know a thing or two about that..! haha! he notes Hazel sitting opposite him. Uh... that is... I am also a fan of poetry <cough!>
He's here on his father's money, same as me I suppose, but all he does is sit here and drink and wait to pick up his inheritance when his father passes.
Zed gives a nod of thanks to Duristan, can't helping but to note the man's increasing self-awareness. All that is reasonable to ask is improvement. "Perhaps you may give us an introduction?"
Of course. he says, sipping his drink before leaning across:
Corvin. Corvin! he has to shout to break the man's attention away from the rear-end of one of the serving girls. Ah, these are my new but already dear friends. Adventurers! he says the word with relish. Real ones too. Already proven hardy enough to stand up to the werewolve out there, what do you make of that?
Corvin looks unimpressed.
Wonderful, I'm sure. he says disinterestedly before tucking back into his Red Mullet and continuing his conversation with Cilas.
With his furs beaten out, leathers oiled, and beard neatly brushed Vermundr hoped he cut a civilized enough figure for the assorted nobility that they would open up to him. Normally he didn't give a s#$! if soft southern lords and ladies thought him a savage but tonight was different - he and his companions needed information and lodge was the kind of place that frowned on my aggressive forms of questioning. Between courses, he breaks away from the party and mingles, briefly, hoping the free-flowing drink might have loosened some tongues.
"Seems like a real gem of a fellow," Hazel whispers dryly as Corvin expresses absolutely no interest in their status as 'adventurers'. She also takes note of the Marikiza's glances and the quiet laughter shared with her companion and scowls.
"I'd love to go over and ask them to share what's so funny with the rest of us," she mutters. "At least you," she nods at Duristan, "and Cilas seem decent enough. Is there anyone else living or staying here that's actually worth talking to? Oh! And Delros, he seemed alright too."
I am charmed to be considered 'decent enough,' my lady. Duristan replies with a teasing smile. From you that is a compliment I will cherish!
Cilas can be quite grim and serious, you get him talking about military matters though and he'll have you there all night. Same goes for Corvin I suppose except he is more interested in poetry and philandering.
Ostravach likes a drink after a hunt and I've found him and interesting companion though between you and me I don't think he likes working for the Markiza much.
I have not met Madame Ivanja. he says turning his nose up. I... ah... don't necessarily approve of her chosen vocation. Honestly, Quienne is the one I spend most time with - she is the stablemaster. Mistress, I suppose.
My goodness she takes pride in her work. In truth I think she enjoys the company of her horses more than mine but we will often share a fire and she tells me about her family back home - Canterwall - her husband is in the militia there but she is trying to earn enough at the Lodge to move them somewhere safer.
Duristan leans toward Hazel and Vermundr and says;
So have you given any more thought to having a scar ward? It might save your neck, you never know.
Meanwhile, toward the other end of the table, some of the other guests are deep in conversation;
...and this huge monster, that they had in custody, and had spent years raping and killing children, murdering travellers through the swamp and even burnt down a hospital. You hear Corvin saying to the Markiza during the second fish course.
How ghastly. She replies, transfixed by the sordid tail.
Indeed. But do you know what they did with it? the poet asks, a sly grin on his face.
Skinned the bastard alive, I should think. Ostrovach offers.
Ha! You would think so wouldn't you! No. They let the thing go. Poof! the poet says, giving a gesture like dust blowing in the wind to accentuate his point. Just like that! Apparently a bunch of fancy lawyers got it off on a technicality! And the rumours are that they wanted this thing to help them rob graves...!
They continue in excited and shocked chatter that is difficult to follow.
Vala cuts in, growing happier with the idea of putting off both Corvin and the Markiza the more they reveal of their respective character. "Excuse me, but if you're referring to the late unpleasantness out of Leipstadt, you've got the story all wrong. A skin-walker and a worshipper of Norgorber had been on a murder spree in the region for years. It was they who had been skinning people alive, my dear Markiza, flaying the flesh from their victims' bodies to then fashion the still-warm skin into macabre suits kept in a wardrobe like evening wear. The pair even went so far as to burn down a sanitarium to cover their crimes." The former history professor then adopts a too-sweet smile, the edges of which don't rise to meet her flat eyes, before demuring, "Oh, I'm sorry. You were telling stories about a fairy tale and some 'Beast of Leipstadt' weren't you and here I go interrupting again. Forgive me, please."
She then turns her attention to Corvin and waves him on encouragingly, "Don't mind me. Tell another, won't you? Perhaps you've stories about all the grand military campaigns that General Dumpty served in before he fell from that fateful wall?"
The Markiza looks a little shamed but Corvin reclines easily in his chair, taking a drink of wine straight from a bottle.
Very well informed aren't you? he says, with that same sly grin. But then someone as old as you has probably seen a lot in her time. Why don't you relax? he clicks his fingers and looks around for a server Hello? Can I get a sherry for my dearie, here?
Ostravach grins around a mouthful of fish.
Corvin! Cilas Greydon growls. Mind your manners at this table.
The poet scoffs and flicks his blonde hair out of his eyes.
I'm not in the military, old man, and this isn't your table so why should I listen to you?
Cilas stares over his glass of whiskey with eyes like steel and a brief silence descends in the banquet hall. The sound only briefly broken by the crackle of the fire and Ostravach's loud chewing.
You're absolutely right. I can't order you to do anything. What someone as old as I can do though is take you outside and give you a damned good thrashing. You and the Hound if he cares to be bold for once.
Corvin blanches and Ostravach looks outraged. He is about to say something but the Markiza's arm moves subtly under the table and he remains seated, silently fuming.
Corvin licks his lips and turns his eyes away from the grey-haired old soldier and is saved further embarrassment by a flurry of activity as the next course is served. Conversation breaks out again and the moment passes, though with the poet put firmly in his place.
From his position beside Duristan, Cilas nods to Vala and says;
I apologise, my lady. No doubt you did not need me to speak on your behalf, but your group has done me a service already and besides, I cannot abide rudeness. So ill-disciplined.
"Better to be well informed than simply well dressed, yes." She says this with that same too-sweet smile and a telling glance over the younger noble's opulent finery.
Dressed in his coat and looking somewhat dapper, Constantin is well-put-together for the dinner. He even seems to know which fork to use and when.
He listens intently to the variety of conversations going about, then in between bites of fish he dabs his lips with his napkin and says, "Well, as a scholar, I've always found it useful to listen to the wisdom of experience. Now in the case of the Beast of Lepidstadt, as I recall, there was some evidence that everything had been orchestrated; a creature like that does not come from nowhere, after all. But the Count Caromarc, whose reputation is known even here, spoke up on behalf of the creature and took charge of the situation. Now it seems that Lepidstadt has no more troubles, and the Count has the creature in his care, so apparently there was an amicable solution after all." He gestures slightly with his utensils as he speaks, though he is careful never to point them directly at someone.
"It seems to me," he continues as he puts down his utensils and picks up his goblet, "that there are some parallels to the situation here in this very forest. Why, the lycanthropes - could be anyone. You can't know that someone is a werewolf until you see them change before your eyes. All you can do is suspect on the basis of their behavior, yes? Suspicion and distrust, it is their ally. So it was with the case of the Beast of Lepidstadt. So many people had decided that the Beast was the cause of their woes, that they missed the true dangers within their midst. Only in finding that the creature was not the culprit did they discover who were the real monsters." He takes a sip from his goblet, swallows, and says, "It brings to mind the old adage about actions and words, does it not?"
Vala sighs, nodding slightly to Cilas to acknowledge his intent at least. She speaks softly, beneath the drone of the general conversation, "Don't hold anything against young Corvin on my account. I baited the hook and he just gobbled it right up. It's him you saved, you know, not me." She smiles, this time warmly, and shakes her head ruefully. "Though I'm not sure how much he'll appreciate you leaping in to his defense like that." She chuckles at the joke. "Forgive me, I know you've spoken with Constantin and Hazel earlier today, but I don't believe we've yet been formally introduced. I'm Valavastra Cross, formerly of Leipstadt University."
"Sometimes the most intimidating visage hides a friendly face. And the opposite is true as well." Zed quietly cuts a bite from his plate and slowly eats it.
Kazamir observes the exchanges, hiding his amusement and irritation, in turn, behind a bland mask. Afterhalf a glass, he leaves his wine untouched, quietly asking the wait staff for more of the thick, strong coffee they serve. Seemingly absorbed in his meal, he is sharply focused on the guests and their conversations.
The Markiza sips her champagne coolly and replies to Cilas;
Thank you Margrave. It is just a shame that other among this table cannot act like gentlemen, even if they are not gentlemen. she says bitterly at Cilas, but glancing at Zed. Excuse me, I appear to have lost my appetite.
The Markiza delicately sets down her cutlery and pushes herself from the table.
Ostovach, if you would be so kind?
Of course, m'lady. he replies, and exits the dining hall, jaw muscles clenching in silent anger.
Corvin chuckles and provides a slow hand clap.
Very well done, Sir Greydon. Even my earliest performances didn't clear a room so quickly! Haha! he takes a long draw on his brandy before getting up and swapping seats with Ostovach so that he finds himself sitting opposite Hazel.
Duristan doesn't get a chance to answer Hazel before Corvin swoops in;
How are you enjoying the scallops, my lady? I am told they are an aphrodisiac. Why don't we take this bottle of wine back to my room and you can let me know if it's true?
Vala sighs, nodding slightly to Cilas to acknowledge his intent at least. She speaks softly, beneath the drone of the general conversation, "Don't hold anything against young Corvin on my account. I baited the hook and he just gobbled it right up. It's him you saved, you know, not me." She smiles, this time warmly, and shakes her head ruefully. "Though I'm not sure how much he'll appreciate you leaping in to his defense like that." She chuckles at the joke. "Forgive me, I know you've spoken with Constantin and Hazel earlier today, but I don't believe we've yet been formally introduced. I'm Valavastra Cross, formerly of Leipstadt University."
Cilas ignores the Markiza's outburst and exit. It is clear he has little respect or friendship for her in any case.
Instead he answers Vala;
Cilas Greydon, Margrave of Sturnidae. he replies with a small smile and a respectful nod. Delighted to make your acquaintance.
You've a sharper mind than me, my lady. the nobleman smiles. And I cannot speak for other guests of this Lodge but I am very glad you and your group decided to visit.
Zed leans to Constantin, whispering quietly. "I regularly wade through rivers of blood and corpses but my appetite has never come so close to being spoiled as it has with that woman around." Zed quietly goes back to his plate, offering only the slightest of glances towards Constantin to show the flick of humor in his eyes.
Constantin nods at Zed's comment and replies softly, "'Spoiled' is definitely the operative word."
Corin laughs off Hazel's obvious rebuke and continues drinking regardless.
I have a friend. Duristan says. She's not a witch per se. he says, leaning in and whispering. But she.... dabbles.... and the scar ward is ancient knowledge passed down through her family. I could arrange a meeting if you'd like.
"It couldn't hurt", Vermundr suggests. "Is she on the lodge grounds or out in the woods?"
Kazamir will exchange short, polite introductions with those guests he has not yet met, but other than that, I'm done.
Vala sighs, "Our visit isn't as willful a decision as we'd like, I'm afraid. My companions already explained our purpose here to Estovian yesterday, so I suppose keeping it close my chest won't do any good now. We'd gotten word that the people who abducted my niece came through the lodge a short time ago, but we don't know why or where they went from here. Caromarc is a friend and offered to get us through the gate so we could take up the chase, but we lost a day to Belik's insistence upon bureaucratic bullishness and now here we are sipping wine and watching an endless parade of dishes come out of the kitchen." She sighs, her eagerness to find her niece plain in her tone and on her face, and she shoots Cilas a plaintive look. She drops her shoulders, "We haven't had any luck, if you couldn't already tell."
I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Cilas says, sounding like he means it. Such a loss in the family is a terrible thing to bear. If there is anything I can do, you must tell me.
The rest of the evening passes slowly, with Corvin being as obnoxious as he has been through the evening, Duristan fawning over Hazel and the rest of you enjoying undoubtedly delicious food in less than ideal circumstances.
By the time the final course is served followed by port in the sitting room, it is well past 10 in the evening and the Lodge is quiet, with most of the staff and guests having retired.
Duristan looks at Hazel and chews the inside of his lip.
I don't know much about Madame Ivanja herself, I know she's been working here for months at least I would have said. I got speaking to one of her employees a few weeks ago though. I made it quite clear I wasn't interested in any of her services - a good hunter must keep his eye on the prize and all that. The girl's name is Elida and she told me that she comes from a family of gypsies. Her grandmother was a witch and taught her about hexes and curses and the scar ward for protection.
I can arrange for her to come to my room tomorrow night and she can perform it on you and your group if you would like?
Constantin winces slightly at Duristan's unintentional slur, then says, "I think, actually, I will take advantage of the library to learn more about the history of these scar wards. I have some historical curiosity now. If they've been passed down for generations, there must be some prior record of their usage."