An elderly mercenary arrives at the gates early and awaits the rest of the group. He approaches the strangers warmly, as one would greet old friends.
'I showed up early! I was worried my old knees wouldn't get me here on time. Dealing with those dock scum must have been good for my arthritis!' Here's hoping they have the sense to realize who I might be.
Io stares quizzically at the newcomer, trying to identify him.
The crew begins to assemble at Zellara' home on the morrow to meet the queen. Things have begun to calm down, though the middle and poor class areas of Korvosa still see some rioting before the Hellknights, the Sable Company, the Guard, with some magical support from the Acadame, the Theumaxus, andt he Grand Bank of Abadar put them down. Korvosa is now under martial law.
"Ah good sir did you come for your year exam?" Yanis says standing up and taking a painful looking tool from his doctors kit. A large smile on his face
"Ah good sir did you come for your year exam?" Yanis says standing up and taking a painful looking tool from his doctors kit. A large smile on his face
'Ah, no, no, I had my annual... what was it? 3 Months ago. I should be fine for another 9.' Spelbar grins broadly, showing an array of blacked out teeth.
Headsman nods knowingly at the newcomer. "Not a bad disguise."
As the party arrives at Zellara, they are greeted by a youthful girl of sixteen who introduces herself as Seneschal. As planned, a handful of the older members of the Court have moved in, at least temporarily, to help put some order in Zellara's affairs and clean the house for use as a second hideout.
She seems particularly interested in Io, perhaps as a result of a few tales retold by Headsman in years past.
Machaera makes her appearance in a swirl of silks, their dark colour acknowledging the fact that the Korvosan court will be in mourning without pretending that Machaera herself has been deeply moved. She obviously feels conspicuous as she meets the others at Zellara’s old home, but is also obviously enjoying a morning out of armour. It brings out how young she really is.
She surveys the others with a small smile, wondering which of the birds the old mercenary might be. The sight of more of Headsman’s friends too makes her wonder again how they all manage, and she is impressed by the towering youth’s good heart. She can only imagine: growing up at the Tower of Stars, it took Machaera a while to really process that not everyone’s first years were spent in decades of studying magic, as were hers and all her childhood friends’.
She’s delighted once again by the names of Headsman’s people, and that gives her an idea. “I don’t suppose the Court has a Huntsmaster or the like, Headsman? Someone good with animals?” she asks softly. It would only be for a few days, but they might take more kindly to it than outright charity, and I would certainly recommend them if Orkatto or someone else I know needs someone…
As she speaks, she loads a bullet into her odd dagger-pistol before carefully holstering it again. The quiet movement reveals that while Machaera certainly is a proper elven lady, she is also something else. “Shall we? We can talk on the way.”
"Hm..." Headsman thinks for a moment. "He's still just learning, but I think Quartermaster's been helping out at the stables. He might be what you're looking for."
After greeting the other early arrivals, Spelbar gathers a few of the Court members around and tells the children a few stories of foreign campaigns for diabolical Thrune paymasters and jobs with osiriani death worshipers. He also includes second-hand tales of two bird masked defenders of the people, striking from the shadows. This story is the most exciting, with the clearest heroes and villains.
"Tsk well maybe someone else will allow me to try out this blood letter, apparently it is a rage in the higher social communities it allows people to feel more alive. I don't feel the theories are solid but I might as well own one none the less."
Yanis makes sure that he has all his supplies in his bag, then goes around checking on the children to make sure they are ok.
"Hm..." Headsman thinks for a moment. "He's still just learning, but I think Quartermaster's been helping out at the stables. He might be what you're looking for."
“That sounds promising. I’ve got a familiar-in-the-making to hatch, but these days I’m busy enough that I’m worried about looking after it properly. It would be rather tedious, I’m afraid: just making sure the egg doesn’t get either too warm or too cold, and sending for me if I’m out and it looks likely to hatch.” Machaera doesn’t explain how it hasn’t been a problem yet. One of the more unpleasant bargains she struck in her passage through Geb not long enough ago, and not one she likes to think about too much.
“It wouldn’t be for more than a few days, though I’m not sure if that’s a relief or not.” She pauses. She’s seen her share of hard times, but she wasn’t born to them, and, after all, she’s mainly bounced back, so she doesn’t want to strike a false note. Then too, with the school to take care of mundane matters for the faculty and their families, her little world back home often seemed to run on favours: access to research notes, spellbooks, exchange of expertise… She continues as tactfully as she can, “I would be sure to do right by him for his time and talent, of course. And while I admit my connections are not what they used to be, I would certainly recommend him if he’s looking for a place and I can think of someone. Not everyone can boast of helping to hatch a dinosaur! If he dreams of hippogriffs, though, I confess it might be a while before I can win over someone with connections to the Sable Company.”
The group assembles for the trip to Castle Korvosa. As they walk through Midland from Zellara's home, the presence of troops and police, both local and foreign, enforce the idea that further violence for or against the current regime will not be tolerated. After a good 30 minute walk through the streets, Castle Korvosa looms in the distance, standing on the ancient Grand Mastaba, guarding Korvosa's future like an angry she-dragon wrapping her talons protectively around her clutch (yay for purple prose!). Several ramps lead up the sides of the Mastaba to the Castle itself, which is guarded by members of the Korvosan Guard. Hippogriffs fly overhead, watching for signs of trouble. Even the Hellknights make their infernal presence known...
As the trip through Midland passes without incident, Machaera’s self-consciousness finally releases its clutches on her mind. Her unease stems not so much from the bare fact of shifting between who she wants to be and the more practical demands of her carefully-honed instincts of survival – yes, armour is, generally, the better idea – but how often she has to do it given the volatility of Korvosa’s moods and overall situation. At last, though, she just slips into herself as a visiting elven gentlewoman.
The recent unrest, if anything, makes her permanently jangled nerves less obviously an effect of an over-strained sensibility. The subdued city seems like a huge excitable beast still trying to catch its breath after a frenzy of excitement rather than one actually having settled down, only temporarily bridled by the forces called in by the powers that be. Who could blame a lady for jumpiness, under the circumstances?
From the plaza that opens up before the mass of the pyramid the castle rests upon, Machaera joins the others in taking a moment to consider the sight. The Guard out in force, naturally, and hippogriffs circling… She hopes one day she’ll be able to experience flight, though preferably without needing a mount.
The sight of a few Hellknights among the guard interrupts her reverie. She is far too polite to show her disappointment too obviously by letting her face fall further than bland disinterest, but the sinister knights represent all that she dislikes most about Korvosa, and she remembers the reasons she didn’t linger in Cheliax on her way back from around the Inner Sea. Pretentious, Machaera thinks, flippancy covering a multitude of other sins she doesn’t want to enumerate at the moment. Then again, it occurs to her, who’s the young woman preening herself on a new dress? That’s hardly in the same league as dabbling in damnation, though.
Spelbar stoops to rub at his aching knees, breathing deeply. His years of wearing heavier armors showing plainly on his deteriorated body. He squints up at the castle and then around the group.
'No use in gawking. It ain't the first time you've been by the castle, is it?' With a sigh he begins the final approach to Castle Korvosa.
The party makes it to a small, walled in courtyard at the base of the Mastaba, which leads up to the castle entrance proper. A 40 ft guard tower lined with arrow slits and a ballista peers down on the courtyard while two Sable Company hippogriffs circle overhead. 10 guards stand outside the main gate, with an Acadame wizard holding a wand backing them up. Traffic in and out of the castle seems quite slow, but it has only been a couple of days since you slew Gaedren Lamm. Somehow, the world has turned upside down in that amount of time.
The guards notice your group approaching, and raise their crossbows. The guard commander, a 5'10 human woman, with red hair and blue eyes, wearing well-worn but still functional chainmail eyes, states "Halt and be identified! What is your business within?"
As the group draws up, having been joined by, Machaera presumes, someone who must be the other of the two masked hunters in disguise as they crossed the courtyard, Machaera realizes belatedly that she’s still not sure which is which, or what she should call the one disguising himself with a winged helm. Or what to do with Headsman, for that matter. She can’t think she’s ever heard his proper name, or if he would be offended by the suggestion that Headsman isn’t.
She improvises as best she can, hoping that the others will understand she doesn’t mean to put on airs or slight them, “Machaera Selanna and companions. By extraordinary good fortune, we have stumbled across a brooch lost by the queen, and it was only our duty to return it.”
As she reaches into her pouches to display the item in question, she throws an arch glance over her shoulder at the more mysterious of said companions, with a tiny shrug of her shoulders, as if to encourage them to find their names if the group does get admitted to the royal presence and has to hobnob with someone more interesting than the gatekeepers.
As Machaera digs through her pouch looking for the brooch, Spelbar catches the eye of the oldest appearing guard.
'You looks familiar, did you serve with the Mercenary League irregulars during the Goblinblood wars? Spelbar Chunt, I served under General Issimo with the 4th. We sure drove those savage bastards back into the woods.' Spelbar approaches the guard on uneasy legs as he speaks.
"I am Yanis Boulin, physician in the city, I have come with my companions at my friend Machaera says to return a broach we foudn that belongs to the queen. Just were also told to come seek an audiance with the queen"
Quite aware that his street manners would do him no good here, Headsman digs deep to recall what he learned from his father of Shoanti honor. The lessons had mostly been meant for his original return to their homeland, but it would have to do.
"My name is Tero," he winces at having to use that name again, "It's as Miss Selanna said."
The head guard looks at Chunt and says "That wasn't my area of command then, stranger. So Yanis Boulin, Tero, Machaera Selanna, old warrior, some unknown lady carrying shields, and another unknown warrior. Could the ones that have no name please present one for security purposes, and then show us this brooch you have brought? Once we see it, we should be able to escort you to the Queen. Thank you."
'I thought my old ears were bad, SPEL-BAR CHUUUUUUUNT!' Spelbar leans in and shouts his name to the guard.
"Thanks for letting me know again, Spelbar Chunt with a T. What about the rest of you, dual wielding shield maiden and random guy with a winged helmet?
Finding the brooch and making sure it hasn’t attached itself to any of the powders, scraps of bark, fur and feathers that sometimes seem to move of their own volition between the pockets she uses to carry her spell components, Machaera decides to intervene.
“Here it is!” she says happily, presenting the brooch for inspection. As she does so, she soothes the guards’ ruffled feathers. “Forgive their shyness. The lady is Io Dorean, my squire, and the gentleman, Glaucon Aornis.”
She leans in conspiratorially and adds, quietly and with a sympathetic nod taking in Mr. Chunt too, the boisterous as well as the taciturn, “It’s a gloomy wonder, isn’t it, how all our soldiers who brave the horrors of war find different ways to cope. Our house knows it all too well, I’m afraid. Pray the gods keep the peace in these troubled times.”
Machaera can be inventive in a pinch, but she knows she’s no expert at the arts of deception. What was the last war Korvosa fought? With Kaer Maga, was it? Was that even recent enough for any human veterans to still be active? She hopes no one calls her on her inventions, and fumes inwardly at the delay, Come on, you royal minions, we’re obviously harmless!
Io curtsies to the guards, "At your service. My role is almost entirely defensive- barring a dagger, the most dangerous things I have are my fists. My lady insists I learn how to defend myself before I learn to attack."
The chief guard says, "You look like a trustworthy if somewhat worn bunch. Please leave your weapons with the other guards and I will take you to the queen. She has placed standing orders for any adventurous types to be taken to her. She is up the stairs, still in mourning for our king, so please be kind. Thank you."
Machaera stifles an impulse to frown. She took pains to look nice today, and at least she’s not wearing a uniform. Still, bandying words with soldiers isn’t going to accomplish anything, so she plays nicely and continues to reassure the commander, “Of course. We wouldn’t dream of treating her grief with anything less than perfect gentleness.”
She’s actually rather surprised that they’ve been invited in, as opposed to just being thanked for returning the brooch and sent on their way. And what was that about the queen looking for adventurers? It was beginning to look like a most interesting morning.
Following the commander, Machaera takes a moment to choose a responsible-looking guard and hands over her bundle of weapons, gently pointing out things to watch out for.
“Careful – that’s charged, this is loaded.” After a moment, she adds, playfully, specifying her rapier, “And this is sharp.”
Yanis smiles, handing over his spear to the man. Yanis steps forward since he has the least to give up.
"If this all goes well we will be on our way in no time."
Watching as Machaera tells the guard about her gear, Yanis does his best to stifle his laughter but the smile on his face gives away his enjoyment of watching Machaera poke some fun at the guard.
Headsman has to be all but forced to surrender his father's axe. He says nothing but glares fiercely at the guard in charge of their weapons.
Spelbar hands over his sword somewhat reluctantly.
'Don't lose her now, boy. Take me awhile to earn up the coin to buy a new one of the same quality. Not all of us were able to secure cushy government employ.'
The guards take the groups weapons, and issue a receipt to each of you, with the name, number of weapons, location, and date of acquisition. They inform you that you will be given them back after your audience. The chief guard and 4 escorts take you up the stair way into the main entrance stairs. The stairs lead upward along the side of the castle, passing under the gatehouse archway, then turn right towards the major gateway. The castle is carved from local granite, quite well maintained over the centuries of Korvosa's existence. The gateway opens at a yell from the chief guard, and you ascend to the next two levels up well guarded steps.
At the top of the pyramid, near the third floor steps, a stern looking woman dressed in full plate regards you with an evaluating gaze.
Picture of stern looking woman
She nods curtly at you and says, "Greetings, They tell me you've something that belongs to the queen. Is this correct?"
"Interesting scaring, is that from a weapon?" Yanis says in his best doctor voice. "We do have a broach that belongs to the queen, well I think it is a broach but best to ask one of these fine ladies with us."
Machaera’s jaw drops at the doctor’s temerity. I hope you have a miracle salve in your bag, Doctor, she thinks, and don’t come running to us if giving unsolicited advice to the queen about the side-effects of mourning lands you in a dungeon.
She moves in quickly, doing her best fine lady thing and hoping the woman hasn’t been mortally offended. “That is correct,” she says smoothly, pointedly not giving any indication that she’s heard Yanis’ curious question, and displaying the brooch again. “An overbold ruffian dropped it in a struggle after he realized that my companions and I were too much for him. He obviously couldn’t have come by it honestly, and a jeweler of our acquaintance recognized the device as royal and advised us to bring the piece to the castle, which must surely have missed it.”
Her tone is light, as she plays up the eccentric gentlewoman with an unfashionable fondness for her retinue. Thinking of the ways this could all be much easier, she idly wonders how difficult it would be to have all the others over so she can advise them on the basics of visiting and polite conversation, at least as she understands it, on the model of faculty association teas. Headsman and Io would probably have fits. While she’s dreaming up impossibilities, if she were fabulously wealthy and held her own title, she could hold a masquerade and invite the cream of the court, and then the Albatross and the Black Merlin could come in propriis personis. As it is, she wonders how many more guards are going to goggle at them all before they can finally return the silly bauble.
Utterly lost, and perhaps rather frustrated by all of this finery, Headsman resigns himself to frustrated silence.
Seriously, who needs all this fancy crap?