Liamae nods. "I'll be at the river, then." She walks off to get clean, offering no protest if the others wish to join her.
Túrante shakes her head with a smile and says, "Any excuse to get wet, eh?" For her part she simply makes a series of mystic gestures and slowly wisks away the grime and sweat with a simple application of practical magic.
Iagon gulps audibly and clears his throat. Indeed, Attai...you should...um, do that. He, on the other hand, heads back to the outpost in order to get some well deserved food and rest.
Attai smiles to Rilli and shakes his head
"Rilli."
...........
Scratching feverishly still, Attai nods and nods again as Iagon labors the point.
"Yes, yes. Muck and stink. It's the damn'd bugs in my head that leaves me unable to think straight. I'm off to wash - could someone enquire as to an efficacious cure for grimple-lice? Magical, alchemical, natural - I care not and will part with coin!"
The sylph accompanies Liamae to the river, and given his disturbing river dreams, keeping his morningstar close by, strips down and scrubs his body with the coarser river sand.
Liamae is pleased when Attai accompanies her to bathe. What good is a show without an audience, after all? She watches appreciatively as the sylph strips down, admiring his leanly muscled body. The elf then makes a show of peeling off her elegant boots, gloves, and scant wisps of clothing, piling them neatly on the shore.
She stretches languidly, her graceful curves on full display. Then she wades into the water and sighs as she slowly sinks down to her chest, the ends of her long blonde hair floating around her.
"This is nice," she murmurs, regarding Attai through half-lidded eyes. "So, we haven't had a lot of chance to talk one-on-one. Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself?"
Attai stops scrubbing for a moment, then bends down and scoops up a new handful and continues, his gaze cast out along the river.
"There isn't so much to tell. My parents, both human, were adventurers. Retired long since, they spoke little of it to me growing up. Somehow, somewhere one or both of them were air-touched and out I popped, sylph." Attai stops to look at Liamae, somehow honestly assessing her without guile.
"I've always been somewhat of a loner, different from my peers, and different from my parents. It wasn't until a distant relative introduced me to the Harrow that I found...passion."
He continues to look directly at Liamae, though he is clearly focusing on scrubbing, now moving onto his itching head.
"What of you Liamae? What tale brought you to this distant and wild locale?" he asks, his thrusting arms somewhat muffling his voice.
Liamae smirks at Attai's choice of words. "Ah, passion! Yes, that is what has driven me here. I've always had a taste for the exotic and unusual delights that life has to offer. I was raised among the courts of Kyonin, but longed to see the greater world beyond the forests of my home. And so I became a courtier for the elven nation, ensconcing myself among the upper crust of Taldan society. That was fun for many years, but I can only stay in one place for so long before it starts to wear thin. Thus, when I heard of this expedition, I felt it was time to spread my wings and give adventuring life a try!"
The elf glides through the water towards Attai and then rises to her feet, water dripping off of her body. "Would you like some help with that?" she asks as the sylph fiercely scrubs at his head.
Attai listens appreciatively then blinks as Liamae approaches.
"Mmm? Oh. Yes. Or, well, I have a feeling we might need some magic to rid me of this infernal infestation."
The elf saunters back to shore to fetch her gloves. So armed, she returns and tries to pick out the lice she can find while being sure to not actually come in contact with them. This, of course, places her naked body awfully close to Attai's...
"Hmm... A shame these pests are bugging you so," Liamae says, pun intended. "I'm sure you would enjoy bathing with me much more were you not so distracted..."
Attai and Liamae find that with enough scrubbing and washing, the lice are easily removed from his person. As Liamae leans in close to the Sylph, she happens to glance over to see two large yellow eyes watching from the water. Slowly, Rilli’s head lifts from the water. He holds a newly caught fish in his mouth, it’s tail flapping in desperate struggle towards freedom. He pulls it from his mouth and holds it aloft for the two to see.
“Rilli!” croaks Rilli.
.......
Later in the evening, dinner is rather light and hurried, as Yaloni bustles about, frantically trying to get the place in order for the Marquis’ arrival. Hans somewhat helps, but he’s mostly busy tending to his own black eye and forehead lump, as well as his son’s cuts and scrapes.
At night, everyone assumes their post at watch. It is the same as the nights before, the fog rolling off the river, the white lantern lights of the Will-o-the-wisps gently floating in the breeze, but the fiery red lights of the fiendish flies are now noticeably absent from the tree line.
At dawn, a signal horn is sounded by Rilli down at the river. Sure enough, an imperial clipper ship slowly cuts through the fog and makes anchor near the pier. Gang planks are lowered as figures on board prepare to disembark. Hans hustles to open the gates, dressed in his best attire, while Yaloni lights a few lanterns to light the path down to the riverbank. Ashilia pokes his head out his cottage door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Túrante waits with the others in the early morning for the clipper ship, wearing her elegant dress and sparkling earrings. Her weapons are stowed; for this meeting, she is starting with the social niceties. She takes up a position next to Liamae as the assembled adventurers wait for the Marquis to come down to the riverbank.
Liamae laughs heartily at Rilli's appearance. Though whatever the moment with Attai had been building up to had been spoiled, the elf was merely bemused. There would be more opportunities later...
***
Clad in her usual extravagant and provocative clothes, Liamae squeezes Turante's hand excitedly as she cranes her neck to get a glimpse of the marquis.
Kytes spends the time sharpening his sword, pressing his tunic, and polishing his armor to high-shine. He makes sure every thing is neat and orderly about his uniform and appearance, knowing that impressions are important, and the marquis will certainly notice if anything is amiss.
When all is parade-ready, he saunters out to the landing dock to meet his new liege lord, waiting in the sunshine with the others.
Túrante gently squeezes Liamae's hand and gives her a quick glance with a smile.
Attai smiles as his friend regales them with his usual call, somewhat spoiling the moment.
”Rilli!” the sylph returns. ”My thanks Liamae...I feel cleansed, and refreshed.”
****************************************************************
Attai dons his outdated parade armor, scuffed and soiled as it is. He waits on the dock for the arrival of their employer.
Iagon searches about for something presentable, but of course finds his wardrobe not quite satisfactory for greeting their employer. He sighs, then shakes his head.
He didn't hire you for your clothes, Iagon.
Making himself at least clean, he follows the others down to the dock, keeping a keen eye out for any dangers even as the ship approaches.
As Iagon steps through the palisade gates, he swears he hears the sound of horses moving in the distance. He stops for a moment and tries to peer through the fog, and just as he thinks he sees large shapes moving in the mist, Ashilia bumps into his leg.
“C’mon lad,” the gnome gestures him along, “Can’t keep the old man waiting.” Ashilia flashes a mischievous grin up at Iagon and proceeds to run and skip down the trail behind the others.
Down at the pier, the first figure to appear at the top of the gangplank is familiar to most but Turante. Captain Rodrigue, who escorted the party to the Isle of Arenway after the goblin raid, stands rigidly, his hands clasped behind his low back, as he surveys the site before him. Seemingly unimpressed, he descends to the pier, chin held slightly aloft.
Behind him emerges the Marquis, whom, again, everyone less Turante has met. His slightly peppered hair is windswept, and he sports a beard which is just turning to grey. He is finely dressed in semi-military regalia, well polished breastplate, and a falcata on his hip. He too surveys all before him as he inhales deeply. His chest puffs out and a broad smile crosses his face. He descends behind the captain, his step far more casual then the rigid imperial naval officer.
After the Marquis, a beautifully elegant woman appears. Unlike the men, she does not pause nor survey anything, but seemlessly descends the gangplank to the pier, delicately lifting the hem of her finely tailored dress with gloved hands as she does.
Immediately behind her is a shadowy figure. Slightly stooped, maintaining a well practiced and close step behind the noblewoman is a figure completely draped in black silks. Even their head is covered, and a black veil covers their face so that only their eyes show. Piercing blue feminine eyes stand in contrast to the exotically painted dark eyeshadow, and woul be stunning if they were not constantly cast downward at the noblewoman’s feet.
Finally, a small parade of sailors and porters carry the Marquis’ luggage off the ship and onto the dock. The Marquis Markus Lambert quickly gives Hans a hearty embrace, then teases him about his bruised face. “What happened here? More goblins?”
He then turns to the assembled party and takes stock. Again, one of his hired men is gone, and in his stead, and unfamiliar face. Perhaps sensing something of Turante’s nobility, the Marquis slightly bows his head in her direction before stepping forward closest to Kytes. “I thought you were to keep my estate free from harm.”
To this, Hans interjects quickly, “They’ve performed quite notably, m’Lord. Saved me an’ m’boy from gremlins an’ devils conspirin’ in de woods. Dis ‘ere is Lady Turante. She’s wantin’ ta join you ‘ere in yer service, m’Lord.”
The Marquis extends a hand to Turante, “Very well. You are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you wish. If you wish to serve with my company, all the better. I am The Marquis Markus Lambert, this is my wife, The Marquess Monica. Her word is law as much as mine around here.”
The noblewoman gives both Turante and Liamae scrutinizing stares before offering a polite nod.
“Come!” the Marquis motions the whole crowd onward to the outpost, “I can’t wait to hear more of these devils living on my lands.”
Túrante frees her hand from Liamae's and curtseys gently for the Marquis and his wife.
"I am the princess Túrante Poicellë," she explains, "and I have been sent on behalf of my people from Kyonin to seek better ties with the human settlements of this region. I am versed in swordplay, magic, and woodcraft, though I have also performed the functions of the courts. It is my great pleasure to be able to aid this new endeavor."
As they turn to follow the Marquis, Iagon steps in line. He half-listens to Turante's greeting, but his ears are tuned in to the surroundings. The horses he'd heard earlier could be some unwelcome party crashers, and if that were the case, then he wants to be in a position to keep the Marquis and his retinue from harm.
Kytes opens his mouth to speak to the Marquis -- to defend what has transpired and to tell him they HAVE been keeping the post safe, but Hans pipes in before he can, and the paladin merely nods in agreement and obeisance.
He snaps a smart salute to Captain Rodrigue and bows low to the ladies, as they pass along the jetty. The half-orcs eyes are drawn to the mystery of the woman dressed in black silk, she was unexpected and curious to him. He made a note to detect her aura when there were less people around.
He follows the retinue at a respectful distance heading towards the structures.
Liamae curtsies deeply before the marquis alongside Turante. She retains a respectful silence, ready to attend to any of her princess's needs.
As the group parades back to the compound, through the clearing mist can be seen the shapes of large figures standing in the marshy field just south of the outpost. Obscured by the fog, their numbers are uncertain. Their lower halves are equine in nature, but where a horse’s neck and head should be sprouts a humanoid torso. They appear to be armed, wielding long spears and swords.
One figure steps out of the fog and begins galloping across the field towards the group. A muscular Centaur wielding a great sword approaches. He is dark skinned and his head is half shaven with a crop of white hair that obscures one side of his snarling face. His chest is bare and covered in war paint. As he approaches, the company comes to a halt. Both Captain Rodrigue and the Marquis begin to draw there respective blades, while the Marquess watches, her face masked in a bemused expression. Yaloni suddenly hugs Kytes, and Hans turns a worried eye toward the compound, where Linus has stayed behind. Master Ashilia breaks out in a cold sweat and tugs at Iagon’s pant leg. “Uuhurn” he is heard to whisper.
Attai nods to the Marquis and his Captain before following the party. Intrigued by the veiled woman, Attai remains patient, that is until the arrival of Uuhurn and his retinue. The sylph steps forward, empty hands raised in a gesture of peace.
"Uuhurn, let not the sacred river run red with blood! Do you wish to talk or kill? Do you seek peace or annihilation? We found grimples in league with devils - do the fae now treat with infernal forces?"
Iagon looks nervously to the Marquis, then moves to stand in front of their retinue with Attai. He stands, not threatening, though prepared to hit the centaur with a torrent of splinters. He tensely awaits the response to Attai.
Liamae watches with narrowed eyes, ready to act to defend herself and her friends.
A second Attai steps forward, arms raised, calling out Uuhurn’s name, the centaur comes to a stop about 20 feet from the line of people. He hears onto his hind legs, his forlegs kicking as he swings his great sword above his head. Then, with a thunderous stomp, he swings the large blade And drives it into the ground before him. There he stands, his hands resting on the sword’s hilt, staring at the crowd before him. The Marquis returns his blade to its scabbard, keeping a hand on his hilt as well. He raises a brow at Attai’s words and steps forward as well, eager to hear what the centaur has to say.
Uuhurn’s tail swishes back and forth excitedly and he stamps the earth with his hind feet. A sneer pulls at his lip, then he replies in a deep and rich voice, “My sister tells me about you, tells me she has made peace with you. But you people do not bring peace. You bring war upon this forest. It is you who who league with devils. Devils who live on far side of river, who cut the forest down. My sister does not speak for my people. I speak for my people, “ he beats his chest with closed fist in emphasis. “My people will not allow the devils in. We will stop them.”
At this, The Marquis steps in front of Attai, repeating the gesture of raising his hands nonthreatingly. “It is good to see you again Uuhurn. I had hoped to get to speak to you someday. This meager plot of land you stand on is mine by right of the Emperor. I am bound, as are you, to the Treaty of the Wildwood. In the name of Taldor, I am here to broker in the best interest of ALL people, including you. We are here to work with you, Uuhurn, not against you. I am here to bring trade and prosperity to these lands, to enrich them, not to rob them. My men are sworn to me to protect these woods from villainy. I would have them fight with you, against those who violate the law of this land.”
Right now, Yaloni is fuming as she is still holding onto Kytes for safety.
Kytes stands as tall as he can with a doughty dwarf clinging to him. "My lord speaks wisely, noble Uuhurn!" he calls. "The Centaurs of the Wildwood are bold and brave, and I would stand shoulder to shoulder with them proudly. But I [fear the infernal taint of the forest is stronger than either of us apart. We should join together and together rid ourselves of the devils. After that, we can settle our smaller differences. The threat is too great to stand alone. What say you. champion of the woods?"
"Yes - the woods and the people can live in harmony," says Túrante with conviction. "That is the elven way, and we each have a different approach to life, but we can learn to live together, to be neighbors to one another."
"We have seen unwholesome creatures encroaching on the woods - infernal beings and hostile giants. Surely we can agree that such creatures are a much greater threat to the safety and peace of these lands."
"We are stronger together than we are apart. We want nothing but peace and safety for all peoples of these lands. Your aid would go a long way to ensuring we all get what we want, mighty Uuhurn," Liamae adds.
Attai pauses only momentarily. He closes his eyes and intones a deep sonorous burst of speech.
"Uuhurn, we lie not to you, and your sister knows us to be true, else you slight her more. It is true we fought unwholesome creatures in league with the fae. It is true that woodsmen cut trees, but that is their role - we only wish to make sure they have their place and do not encroach too far. I dreamt this very river ran red, awash with the blood of innocents - for war strikes unconcerned for those who stand in its way, and once unleashed, none truly control it. Do you have the power to control every warrior on every side, or will you pay recompense for every innocent life stolen by war's crude aim - on every side?"
Mostly Attai's speech strikes the wrong note, over-reaching in its morality and ending up slightly accusatory of the mighty centaur lord.
Iagon watches the exchange with interest, though he sees that the discussions are in good hands. He doesn't have anything to add that wouldn't sound foolish at this point.
In contradiction to the Marquis' placating nature, Iagon stands ready to blast away any opposition to his employer, should need arise.
Despite Attai’s continuing overture, the tension in Uuhurn’s shoulders seems to relax a little. The centaur lets go of his great sword, leaving it thrust into the damp marshy soil, and begins to walk back and forth down the line of his audience. His size and strength are made apparent as he keeps his poise, although it is easy to tell he is chewing over everyone’s words and sizing up the company before him.
“Very well,” he says after a moment of silent contemplation, “I will not war with you today, Marquis. But mark my words, I will be watching you. I will be watching those you let into my forest. Harm will come to those who violate this land, be it fae or man. Every Andoran that crosses this river is my quarry, your laws do not protect them from me. Do not let your guard down, Marquis, I am never far.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” returns the Marquis. At that, Uuhurn spurns himself into a gallop back to to the woods’ edge, grabbing his great sword and swinging it in a large arc mid stride before vanishing back into the fading mists.
There is a collective sigh heard among the contingent once the centaurs have left. The Marquis places a hand on Attai’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, meeting the Sylph’s eyes, before addressing the crowd, “Please mind the interruption folks. I was not expecting such company this day. Come, let us celebrate this new peace with a hearty meal and bountiful wine.”
Yaloni’s face is squinched in anger and she lets go of Kytes. As the rest of the group moves on, she lingers, staring into the woods, her eyes burning with hatred.
Kytes watches the centaur gallop off back into the woods with a frown. His allies couldn't have been more courteous, and while it didn't end up in a fight, Kytes couldn't help thinking it was a missed opportunity.
Still, his liege lord was here, and perhaps there would be some explanations for posting them at this fork in the river, and for the strange happenings that had occurred since their arrival. He shuddered a bit thinking of the demonic imp and the larva like minions, and whispered a brief prayer of protection to the Inheritor, feeling better as he invoked her name.
He followed the others into the trading post, noting the bitterness in Yaloni's eyes as she saw the group trying to placate Uuhurn. He would need to watch her for signs of more trouble.
Iagon stands by Yaloni's side, though he watches the woods for a sign of further threats instead of the open anger. He waits until Yaloni is satisfied, then walks silently alongside her, in case she needed to open up.
Yaloni jumps a little when she turns to head back inside the protective palisades of the Outpos, not expecting Iagon to be standing there. She lets out a breath and gives Iagon a thankful nod, then begins trekking down the marsh road. “I don’ understand why de Marquis dindne just kill dat savage right den an’ dere,” the Dwarven maid blurts out, “De monsta deserves ta be killt, by all rights. Not makin’ peace wid.” she takes a few silent steps then turns to Iagon, “Nah ta disrespect de Lord’s men, Master Iagon, but I like you. You’re de quiet type.”
Back inside the palisades, Hans has a few of the porters help him shut the gates. Yaloni rushes ahead into the kitchen while the Marquis invites everyone to dine with him upstairs in his ‘grand hall’. The Marquess begins directing the porters to bring which luggage to which room of the manner house, the draped figure staying close behind behind her at her side, silently.
The Manor House is built in two wings with a tower between them, flanking an open courtyard. Directly to the left after walking into the yard is a stable, currently resided by the recently liberated donkey. To the right is the servants quarters where you’ve dined with Hans, Yaloni, Linus, and the keelboat crew. Just outside that door a staircase runs along the wall. Reaching the top there is a landing and doors leading into the tower to the left and into the eastern wing to the right. Entering into the right door leads to a dining hall, furnished with tall potted ferns, an ornamental rug beneath a large oak table, with seating for ten. It is much nicer than the common area just a floor below where you have been dining up until now.
The table is set, and the Marquis and Marquess stand by their chairs at the heads of the table, and wait until everyone has reached a seat before sitting. The table is set with porcelain plates, crystal goblets, and silver dining ware. Hans follows in with wine from the cellar below and begins filling everyone’s goblet before taking the last available seat.
Once everyone’s seated, the Marquis raises his goblet, “A toast! To fruitful beginnings!”
Iagon smiles at Yaloni, though the look is a bit grim due to the difficult subject matter. Well, I've spent much of my young life saying the wrong thing...sure has taught me to wait and watch more, lest I put my foot in my mouth. He gives a short chuckle, then looks to the woods.
I know it's hard to understand, and often these type of touchy situations are beyond me, but I think we have to trust in our patron. I'm sure that what he's doing is for the safety of us all. Trust me Yaloni, I wish nothing more than safety for this family we have here, and justice for what has happened before. If we all work together, I think we can have both! He beams then, showing a confidence that he may not actually possess...or at least trying to.
After parting with Yaloni, Iagon follows those who know much more about these social conventions, and tries to keep up. When the Marquis raises his goblet, he is almost sure that to not do so would be a slight, so he raises his well. To fruitful beginnings!
Túrante demurely takes a seat, adjusting her dress to make sure she is able to sit well, and raises a glass for the toast.
"To fruitful beginnings."
She sips the wine and then says pointedly, "My lord, it seems that winning peace will take efforts for people on all sides - what did you have in mind to soothe tensions not merely among the centaurs, but among your own people here? And how can we help?"
Liamae sits beside Turante, crossing her legs in a way that makes her skirts ride up even more so than usual. She raises her glass to the toast, then eagerly awaits the Marquis's response to her princess's question.
Attai finds himself sitting opposite Liamae, and finds himself seeing her through his upraised glass. He shakes his head a little, and remembers how lucky he is to abstain from alcohol and thus any inebriated entanglements, social or...otherwise.
The sylph prefers to sit and watch, the veiled figure shadowing the Marquess fills him with....uncertainty. Intriguing yes, but a little unsettling. Attai fights the urge to ask the Marquis, or worse, the Marquess just who the personage is. Luckily Turante is straight to and on point...
The Marquis drinks from his chalice after the toast, a broad smile crossing his face. The Marquess only sips, then presse her fingers together as she rests her elbows on the table, seemingly only mildly interested in the conversation. The Captain sits across from Turante, his posture and decorum immaculate. Hans, at the far end of the table near the Marquess, wipes the sweat from the back of his neck.
The Marquis turns his smile toward Turante, “Truly, your highness, I believe Uuhurn came hear today to destroy us and all that we stand for. When he saw our numbers, it gave him pause, and when he heard our words, he thought the better of it. I am grateful to have you all here, as I feel I now owe my life to your presence. The centaurs will come around in time, for they will see the benefit of what we have to offer. It all comes down to trade, to bargaining, to compromise. Those are the foundations upon which this outpost is built upon, it was through practice of those ideals that this place even came to be.”
He winks across the table to his wife, who barely lets herself smile. The Marquis takes another long drink of wine and continues, “As for Yaloni, I know she is emotionally charged. But she will come to remember why she stayed on, why her kin gave their lives to protect this place. In time, she will remember.”
He now addresses the whole group, “Now what tales of adventure do you have for me? Goblins? Devils? Fae? Please report.”
Kytes sits uncomfortably at the table. His heavy armor makes the delicate movements required for dining more difficult and, truth be told, he has never been well suited for table manners. The large tusky underbite prevents him from eating in the manner suitable to the noble table, and so, despite his hunger, he refrains from eating or drinking, choosing instead to sit at rigid attention during the dinner.
When the Marquis asks about devils, the paladin cannot refrain from responding. "Aye, my lord, we saw devils. We rescued young Linus from an imp, but the slippery beast got away before we could capture him. It seems there is something otherwordly going on in the woods here, and why allying with Uuhurn and the centaurs seems the most prudent course. Once we have identified and eliminated the hellish threat, we can solve our own differnences."
Realizing he may have spoken too much of his own mind, he adds, "If you'll permit me to speak freely, my lord..."
Attai nods at Kytes words, and makes his own report. "En route downriver we came across a waylaid boat - it's occupants were dragged away - we followed a trail to their goblin ambushers but we found no living survivors. A prisoner we took, the goblin...Umrok, now sadly hanged by your good servants at our last stop...told us that hobgoblins were amassing an army - taking Blackwood goblins for their army. Apparently the rest of the group we found had headed east with their captives. The group we bested were led by a hobgoblin who claimed Hell had blessed their leader Sog the Conqueror, and also mentioned "the Crimson Bow"."
Attai pauses.
"Given the appearance of the imp and the mention of Hell with regard to this...Sog...I see a correlation larger than at first perceived. Perhaps the hobgoblin merely spoke in general, boasting terms, but if not then perhaps we are seeing something altogether more catastrophic...
The Marquis nods appreciatively to Kytes and extends the invitation to speak freely to everyone. The Marquis and Marquess exchange glances at the talk of devils, and Captain Rodrigue leans forward with growing interest as Attai relays the report about the hobgoblin threat.
The Captain clears his throat, “Are you suggesting the hobgoblins are in league with agents of Hell?” He chews on this new insight for a bit then turns quickly to the Marquis, “Could it be Cheliax? Preparing to weaken our backs while all eyes are turned toward Qadira?”[/b]
The Marquis clears his throat in turn and nods “All the more reason to unite and secure this region.” His eyes turn toward you all, “That is our first order of business.” He retrieves a Scroll of parchment from a satchel at his side and holds it for all to see, “This is why I had to stay behind while you all travelled up here. The Marquess traveled all the way from Oppara to bring me this. These are the ratified amendments to the Treaty of The Wildwood, which officially establish this trading post as a barony of Taldor and allow us to conduct our business here. After years of politics and negotiations, all it needs is the signed agreements of the other leaders of the Verduran Province. You will travel with Master Ashilia here to bring it to the Druids of the Wildwood, then take it to Baroness Devy of Belhaim, then to whoever happens to be the Mayor of Wispil on the day of your arrival.”
He lets out a sigh, then returns the scroll to his satchel, “It will be a journey on the order of two weeks time, if you are met without trouble. This forest is full of dangers of every variety, which is why I need men of your capabilities to make this journey for me. In the mean time, we will have the Captain and his men here to keep us safe.”
“But let’s not worry about all that. For now, let’s eat.” He claps his hands twice, and a moment later, Yaloni appears, sweat on her brow, carrying a large silver platter. She places the brunch feast on the table, fresh river flounder wrapped in cured bacon and pan fried, along with freshwater mussels in a creamy garlic sauce. A basket of fresh baked bread accompanies the meal, as well as plenty of wine.
Kytes is a bit to self-conscious about his manners and protocol to notice what passes at the head of the table.
He listens and accepts the assignment to deliver and get the treaty ratified with a formal bow. "We shall do as commanded, my lord. The dangers of the Wildwood will not stop us from this important mission."
He sniffs the meal appreciatively, and makes sure to compliment Yaloni well for the fine meal. After that he digs in, as best he can, trying to keep from making a spectacle of his dining prowess.
Liamae notices the veiled woman's reaction. Her own eyebrows raise slightly but she refrains from commenting for now, knowing that to do so in front of the Marquis would be improper. She simply agrees with Kyte's statement and enjoys her meal for now, though she subtly keeps an eye on the woman.
Iagon notices nothing out of the ordinary, but still the mission forces him to sit back from the plate before him as he stares at the impressive fare, his mind whirling in thought. The Druids...could it be they'd know who I am...who my father was?
Putting his thoughts into words before he could think about them, Iagon clears his throat then continues in a small voice. My lord, are you certain you'll have enough protection here? What with all the threats we've seen recently, we just want to be in certain you're in good hands.
Thinking that perhaps he'd just insulted the captain, he stammers out quickly. I mean, I'm sure you're in good hands, indeed! Captain, do you have a considerable detail to main the walls, then? He winces inwardly, then begins to push a mussel around his plate with a piece of bread.
Attai also notices the veiled figure’s raised glance, but not exactly cognizant of the world’s greater political machinations, and somewhat intrigued by what “ratified amendments” might mean while also slightly confused by the enchanting Liamae while also keen to find time to consult the ever oracular Harrow - Attai has little idea of what to make of...any of it. Food however is...good. So he eats.
Feeling Attai's eyes on her, Liamae looks up and gives the sylph a smirk and a knowing wink.
Captain Rodrigue opens his mouth to speak, but the Marquis intercepts him, “We will keep the Captain and his shape safe. Haha!” The Marquis continues to laugh at his own joke, and the Captain, silenced so, turns to Iagon to give him a reassuring nod.
The Marquis relaxes into his chair as Yaloni pours him a second glass of wine. “That does remind me, Master Iagon, I deliver a gift for you. Your friend back in Cassomir, Rose, she sends her regards along with a nice mahogany coffer. Remind me to hand it to you later, once I’m settled in. You’ll be happy to hear she and I have struck a deal. She’ll be sending her sister, Violet, here to work for us directly.”
Suddenly, Ashilia breaks out in a coughing fit as he chokes on a mouthful of food.
Iagon forces a bit of a laugh at the Captain, trying not to show his unease. He clears his throat again, and nods to the Captain. Thank you sir; the Marquis is in good hands.
Turning to the Marquis, he brightens. That's great news, thank you my lord. Their expertise will help build a great foundation here at the outpost. He pauses to slap Ashilia on the back a few times, then turns back to the Marquis. Are we going to build a shop, or shed for them here?