"I believe I do," the half-elf returns with a tap of his fingers on the map, at the same time rising from his chair. Taking a deep breath, he turns to his companions. "And now I do believe that some good old-fashioned male bonding is in order."
With that and with a quick look at Tebati, whispering to her "Wish me luck," Kieran leaves the room, his destination the sparring chamber, which is where he finds Qhude.
"I had a feeling you would be here," he says calmly, his tone friendly, as he looks over the various armors and training swords provided to the trainees. "You appear to be bleeding."
She watches Kieran leave the room with both a smile and a wince. Qhude's quarrel is with Jakob, not with him. I pray he remembers that and does not leave him broken and bloody. As Kieran recedes from view, she looks over the companions left at the table. Jakob ... she will have to speak to him at some point about what happened to him after he leapt into the sea, but that is a matter best touched on in private. Her gaze alights on Ansha, and she narrows her eyes skeptically. Arising from her seat, she sidles into a chair left empty next to the elf-woman. "Really?" she asks her leadingly. "You never ...?" Her gaze darts to the door through which Kieran just exited and back to Ansha.
N'bellocq looks about just noticing others have left. He rises from his place at the table, a plate piled with rinds, pits and cores in front of him.
Seeing Ansha and Tebati huddled, he gives Jacob a smile, and performs a large stretch. To Tebati he says, "I think Shimye-Magalla is having some fun with me. Sending me right back to the jungle I just escaped. But without a chain on my ankle, I think the odds are more even now."
Interrupted by N'bellocq, Tebati rises from her chair with a smile to reply to her cousin. "Indeed, she has smiled on both of us, and her laughter is more pleasant in our ears when we can laugh with her. I doubt not that your familiarity with the Laughing Jungle will serve us well, even if it was hard earned with misery at the time. Praise her who turns the tides." With a nod and a blessing on N'bellocq's day, she returns to her chair to see if Ansha will answer her.
A flicker of surprise crosses Ansha's countenance as Tebati sits down beside her. Her gaze follows Tebati's toward where Kieran exited, then snaps back to the Mwangi shamaness. A faint smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head. "No. We have known each other for...some time, but never like that," she says. The smile broadens, though it still seems guarded, somehow. "He is a fine gentleman--you could do far worse."
N'bellocq did not know quite what to do with himself. No tasks fo rtwo weeks, more money than even could have ever imagined and now the promise of more within some snake-filled temple.
The sounds of yells and blows catches his attention from his thoughts of golden Azlanti idols. Coming to the door, he sees Qhude and Kieran in the room set aside for sparring. What better way to work off that morning feast.
He pads in the room. "Kieran. Let me spell you. It will likely take the both of us to tire him out."
A flicker of surprise crosses Ansha's countenance as Tebati sits down beside her. Her gaze follows Tebati's toward where Kieran exited, then snaps back to the Mwangi shamaness. A faint smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head. "No. We have known each other for...some time, but never like that," she says. The smile broadens, though it still seems guarded, somehow. "He is a fine gentleman--you could do far worse."
Tebati gives a half-shrug. "A man and a woman traveling together," she explains her curiosity. "He said you were not kin. I know sometimes a," she speaks the Polyglot word for 'courtesan,' hesitates, and then translates, "a beautiful woman travels with a eunuch, who has the strength of a man to protect her from the hazards of the road but not the propensity of a man to expect something in return for his protection. But he provided me with sufficient proof that he is not that," she smiles. "He said you had not known each other in that way, but I can understand why he would feel he should lie to me if he had. You are more beautiful than I," she states frankly and without jealousy, "and," she glances at Ansha's fair skin and silver-blond hair, "more like his own people."
The elf tilts her head to one side slightly, then nods in acknowledgement. She chews lightly on her lower lip for several moments, contemplating something, then takes a deep breath. She hesitates for a moment more, then says, "He is...a friend. One can never have too many friends--something one can become painfully aware of when one is thousands of miles from home."
She reaches for the banana on her plate and begins peeling it, "If you are simply curious, that is all we are. He reminds me too much of some...bad times in my life, to desire anything more." She glances up at the Mwangi woman, flashing a wry smile. "Besides, from the sounds of it, he is quite happy with what he has found in you. I wouldn't underestimate the value of the exotic, where men are concerned."
Tebati laughs. "Perhaps it is the same on my side. I have never been with a man from the northern continent or an elf of any dilution of blood. He is ... different," she concludes with a smile.
"Oh? Do tell." Ansha grins conspiratorially and leans closer to the Mwangi woman, the fruit forgotten in her hand. "I must admit I have never been with a Mwangi, but...I would be lying if I were to claim immunity to the novelty of the exotic, myself. Unless I have long-ago forgotten my temple lessons, the Unquenchable Fire encourages the pursuit of new pleasures, and I would be remiss to ignore that particular dictum."
"I had a feeling you would be here," he says calmly, his tone friendly, as he looks over the various armors and training swords provided to the trainees. "You appear to be bleeding."
Breathing heavily though far from out of breath, Qhude looks to his hand and shrugs "It will stop." Continuing to stretch, Qhude notices that the presence of two of the trial champions, though Kieran in particular, has brought some more attention from the Mwangi and Colonial guards alike. Those not actively sparring are taking sneaky sidelong glances at the pair.
"Have you come for words?..." waving one hand at the guards "As with last night we are still before an audience" Straightening and moving to stand about ten feet before Kieran and seeing him give a wooden sword close to his own Aldori blade a few test swings "Or are you here for sport?"
N'bellocq steps into the room at that point in time to join them. Qhude gives him a nod of acknowledgement before awaiting Kieran's reply.
/QUOTE]
Nodding to N'bellocq as well, Kieran maintains his friendly tone and posture as he answers the Mwangi pugilist. "You are too preoccupied with audiences, Qhude. I told you, I do not care either way for them really and, as I remember it, last night I was quite against making a spectacle of ourselves. As I said quite recently actually, I do not necessarily seek them out, but neither do I shy away from them if they happen to be around."
He sighs as he tries the wooden replica. "This will have to do, I suppose," he mutters to himself before turning back to address the warrior.
"Sport, game, dance," he says with a smile, "call it what you will. Either way, if one survives it, one learns from it even if one loses. And if one survives it long enough, one may get to never lose again."
"So, armor or no armor? Either way is fine with me." Inwardly, he thinks, 'No armor probably only means I get to have my bones bruised -or broken- that much sooner, anyway.' The thought is accompanied by a wry look on the half-elf's face, as if sharing a joke with none other than himself.
Flexing his hands to fists and back, Qhude pauses for a few long moments as though mulling something over internally. "I have no wish to cross fists with you Kieran, nor with N'bellocq. You are shield-brothers in this endeavor, and unlike another have given me no reason to doubt you."
"If you truly wish to dance, let us be partners and not quarrel over who gets to lead..." A wry smile crossing his face as he turns to regard the rest of the room and the gawking guards "There are plenty impala for an mbube to cut his teeth upon."
"Oh? Do tell." Ansha grins conspiratorially and leans closer to the Mwangi woman, the fruit forgotten in her hand. "I must admit I have never been with a Mwangi, but...I would be lying if I were to claim immunity to the novelty of the exotic, myself. Unless I have long-ago forgotten my temple lessons, the Unquenchable Fire encourages the pursuit of new pleasures, and I would be remiss to ignore that particular dictum."
"We Bonuwat, we are ... straightforward. You have seen how N'bellocq approaches a meal," she nods at the rinds and pits on his plate, gnawed clean of the last morsels of fruit. "It is our way to act, to seize the moment. Kieran...," she shakes her head with a smile. "As soon as I heard his voice through my door last night, I knew I would take him to bed, and when I opened the door to him, that is all the invitation a Bonuwat man would need. But he, he had a pretty speech prepared. He made me believe he would be satisfied with mere words and go away again, but perhaps he was only teasing me, to whet my desire." She pauses a moment in thought. "I don't believe he really means half the things he says," she concludes, as if it is a great revelation.
Ansha nods in acknowledgement, glancing at the plate Tebati indicates. "It's been my experience that he means everything he says...Just that what he means isn't always apparent. Quite the wit to him," she says. "Are all Mwangi so straightforward, then--or just the Bonuwat? I can certainly appreciate something a bit more...aggressive."
Tebati shrugs. "I have heard that the Bas'o are slower in their approach -- that to be courted by them is to be stalked by a panther -- and then the consummation is silent and ... strenuous." Her lips curl in a teasing smile. "But you will have to ply your charms on Qhude if you wish to know for certain."
Tebati shrugs. "I have heard that the Bas'o are slower in their approach -- that to be courted by them is to be stalked by a panther -- and then the consummation is silent and ... strenuous." Her lips curl in a teasing smile. "But you will have to ply your charms on Qhude if you wish to know for certain."
The elf returns the Mwangi woman an eyebrow raised in bemusement, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. "I don't know about you, but that certainly sounds 'exotic' to me."
She stands slowly and heads for an exit from the room, sparing a glance over her shoulder at Tebati as she chews on the banana in her hand. "For now, though, I think I'll content myself to taking advantage of the library. Perhaps other things will follow," she says with a wink.
Flexing his hands to fists and back, Qhude pauses for a few long moments as though mulling something over internally. "I have no wish to cross fists with you Kieran, nor with N'bellocq. You are shield-brothers in this endeavor, and unlike another have given me no reason to doubt you."
"If you truly wish to dance, let us be partners and not quarrel over who gets to lead..." A wry smile crossing his face as he turns to regard the rest of the room and the gawking guards "There are plenty impala for an mbube to cut his teeth upon."
"Might as well," Kieran shrugs. "I would indeed prefer to fight at a comrade's side rather than against him or her."
"And as for leading, you would get no quarrel from me, as I find it to be too much trouble and too little fun," he adds with a wink, the Aldori sword replica resting comfortably in his hand. "Care to join us, N'bellocq? We should get used to fighting side by side sooner or later, yes?"
"This will seem a bit odd, but I have never fought...with someone. I mean on my side." He gives his shoulders a shrug, "Who would have fought on the side of a slave? With that in mind, any suggestions would be helpful for how I could aid you during a fight." N'bellocq steps up while peeling off his shirt and lays it carefully aside. His body is thin, despite the past two meals, with ropey muscles and a complex network of whip scars crossing his back and shoulders.
Tebati smiles after Ansha, but her smile fades as she turns her attention to her last remaining companion at the table. She gets up again and slips into a chair next to him. "Jakob," she murmurs leaning close to him. "My teacher back in Nantambu once told me a story. When she was a young woman of my age in Port Peril, a ship left the harbor in fair weather, but a few hours later a fierce storm swept out of the Eye of Abendego. The ship never arrived at its destination; after several days, it was assumed lost with all hands."
"Three weeks later, a wreck of a ship, its masts broken and sails shredded, came to rest on the shoals in the Shackles. As always, scavengers went out in their boats to strip it of anything of value, but when they set foot on the deck, they found a man, weak and emaciated but still alive. They took him ashore, and he was tended at a shrine to the Pirate Queen. Eventually, he made his way back to Port Peril."
"Every sailor wanted to hear his tale and know what had happened to the ship and what had become of the crew. There was no man in port that wouldn't pay for his drink in exchange for his story. He said the storm had come on them with great fury and drove them for several days. When the wind finally faded away, they were becalmed in the middle of the sea, with no land in sight to replace the masts and, worse, the food supplies and water casks cracked and ruined. For days they prayed for help but finally their tongues were too dry even to speak. Some of the men drank sea water in their desperation and died in madness. Those who remained did not even go down to their hammocks to die, still hoping to catch a sight of land. And so they all sank down on the deck as they succumbed, and those who died last were too weak to put the dead bodies overboard."
"This man also sank down on the deck, and the world faded from his knowledge. But some time later, he was awakened by the sound of movement on the deck. With an effort, he opened his sunburned eyelids, and he thought he saw two women walking on the deck between the bodies of the crew, rolling dice for each one. One woman's skin was ashen, as if she were a walking corpse, and she wore a hooded robe; the other was bright-eyed and beautiful, with green hair swirling in the air, though there was no wind. The ashen skin woman walked in silence, but when they stopped by the sailor, they threw their dice again and the green-haired woman threw back her head and laughed in triumph."
"The next thing he knew, his face was cool and wet. He opened his eyes, and a heavy rain was falling. He opened his mouth and drank it in until he had strength enough to sit up and look around, but of all the men on the ship, only he had survived. He found some bowls and containers to catch the rainwater and consigned his shipmates' bodies to the sea. Then he sat down again to watch for land or wait to die. He doesn't know how many days later it was that the ship came to rest and he was saved."
Tebati turns her eyes to Jakob's face to gauge his reaction to the story. "Like you, he went into the sea and was given up as lost by those who knew him. Like you, he returned a hero. But ever after that, he was never alone. He said that as soon as he had buried his shipmates at sea, he turned back to the deck and found them still around him, not lying dead as before but standing and staring at him balefully, as if they wondered why he was living and they were not. No matter where he went after that, the spirits followed him, and strange things happened around him. He was a marked man, a haunted one."
Jakob considers the story his eyes on the breakfast table
"That is a fine tale Tebati, and I see the parallels. Both myself and your sailor placed their lives in the hands of the sea, and both returned due far more to luck than anything they did. Yet they were heralded as heroes. But that is where the parallels end. I am marked as you say, but not by the sea."
Here Jakob picks up an orange wedge that somehow survived N'bellocq's assault on breakfast. He whistles a snatch of birdsong and the still, orange light of early morning flows from the fruit.
"I'll have to tell you about it sometime." His face glows red for a moment as he pops the fruit into his mouth.
"I wonder though why the dead sailors bothered the poor man. He had no part in their deaths. Better they should point their rotting eyes on the two women. They could have saved the men and they chose to make it a game. Life, death, kill or die, that I can understand. But to make a moments amusement of taking a life... Well I just hope I never meet your fine ladies. I have a feeling my luck is all used up."
For the next two weeks Jakob seems withdrawn. You rarely see him but he does not seem to be avoiding anyone but Qhude. He spends time in the library reading history and philosophy into the early hours. You also hear of him scaring his minders by slipping out of the palace and spending a day or two with some coral divers. He is kept on a much shorter leash after that but he does return with some lovely pieces of pink coral that he gives to Tebati and Ansha. As the time for leaving approaches Jakob spends time in the stables of all places. He lends a hand with the horses and can even be seen falling off one once or twice. On the second to last day he makes a rare appearance at breakfast sporting new leather riding gear and a lovely black eye. Word among the servants is that the guards led him to ride one of the Generals warhorses without properly introducing the Jakob to the high strung beast. It promptly threw him but they choked on their laughter when Jakob promptly got up, walked over to the now docile animal, leapt onto its back and rode the beast. Both horse and rider showing every indication of enjoying the experience.
Noting N'bellocq's scars, Qhude feels a pang of sympathy. Thinking of his own markings I know that his were given in anger and not earnt in battle. He was once livestock... He replies to N'bellocq's question "Worry first on your own opponent, then turn to aid your brothers. Trust to your heart, in the heat of combat it will guide you true." thumping his chest as he speaks.
"A moment" as Qhude takes a minute to remove the cestus from his fist "I doubt the Induna would see it kindly if I added a scar today..." In the time that it takes to remove the rope, Qhude watches the guards sparring. It seems that most of the colonials and Zenj view each other as equals; though there is one bearded and belligerent Chelaxian who is taking pleasure in denigrating the Zenj. Eyes narrowing aye, that tsotsi will be my partner.
Qhude leaves the covering cloth on his fist, then stands and moves over to the guards. Picking out the bearded bully, Qhude addresses him "Warrior, my brothers and I are in need of opponents. Would you match arms with a Bas'o? - or do your loins soil themselves in prospect of being beaten by a black man?"
The bearded man bristles at the suggestion and arrogantly accepts the challenge, picking out two of his colonial buddies as his second and third. As an aside to N'bellocq and Kieran before beginning "You need not be gentle with these...." he gives a malevolent grin before turning to face the Chelaxians.
Facing up against the bearded man Qhude stands relaxed, sneering and ushers him forward with a beckoning hand "Come, I'll take pity and give you first blow." As his opponent charges, Qhude subtly shifts his stance. Taking the Chelaxian's wooden sword across his face, Qhude counters with a forceful rising knee into the man's gut - knocking the wind from his sails. The bearded one bends over sucking heavily on air as his stomach becomes a knot of pain.
Circling him like a sadistic hyena stalking crippled prey, Qhude licks at the trickle of blood leaking from his creased cheek. He goads the Chelaxian "Up tsotsi, up!" waiting for him to barely regain his breath before dancing forward and delivering a spinning fist to the side of his head. The blow is not checked so makes contact with a sickening crack.
The bearded man maintains footing through sheer force of will, though most of the fight is gone from him. Grabbing his beard with his left fist, Qhude drags his face close and delivers a gravelly worded threat "Treat the Zenj as you would your own mother, or I'll not be so gentle next time" before pushing the man away and knocking him out and to the ground with a forceful open-handed slap.
Flush with the adrenaline of combat Qhude looks to his brothers to see how they fare...
Jakob considers the story his eyes on the breakfast table
"That is a fine tale Tebati, and I see the parallels. Both myself and your sailor placed their lives in the hands of the sea, and both returned due far more to luck than anything they did. Yet they were heralded as heroes. But that is where the parallels end. I am marked as you say, but not by the sea."
Here Jakob picks up an orange wedge that somehow survived N'bellocq's assault on breakfast. He whistles a snatch of birdsong and the still, orange light of early morning flows from the fruit."I'll have to tell you about it sometime." His face glows red for a moment as he pops the fruit into his mouth.
"I wonder though why the dead sailors bothered the poor man. He had no part in their deaths. Better they should point their rotting eyes on the two women. They could have saved the men and they chose to make it a game. Life, death, kill or die, that I can understand. But to make a moments amusement of taking a life... Well I just hope I never meet your fine ladies. I have a feeling my luck is all used up."
Tebati presses her lips together tightly as she looks down at the table unhappily. He does not understand. None of the colonials do. Marisama said they would not; it is why it is forbidden to speak of holy things with them. But I thought I could ease his burden, help him to embrace his destiny. If only he were not so certain he knows everything! "There is no end of luck," she tells him tersely as she pushes to her feet and leaves the room, "but not all luck is good."
She walks quickly down the corridor, barely noticing where she is going for several seconds. When she takes some deep breaths to calm herself down, her pace slowing, she hears the sounds of wood striking wood, short cries of exertion, and the tap of boots against the floor. Curious, she peeks into the sparring chamber and is relieved to find N'bellocq, Kieran, and Qhude fighting side by side rather than against each other. She pauses a moment to watch the mock battle, then decides to go check out this colonial "meditation chamber."
The elven enchantress's fingers ran across the spines of many books, trailing down each one almost sensually before brushing on to the next. A Polyglot Primer, one read. Blackhammer Mining Company Operations Manual, read another. The Sargavan baron's library even included a copy of The Book of Joy, the holy text of Calistria, Ansha noted with a mixture of surprise and amusement. She hadn't figured the Baron for the sort to be interested in the Lady in the Room--but perhaps he was gifted it by an emissary, she thought. Her slender fingers traced lightly over several other books, wandering lazily until she was certain there were no other hidden gems in the palace library. Polyglot was a widely spoken language in the region, and she couldn't count the number of surely interesting conversations that she had been unable to comprehend...That book, she would return to, soon. The name "Blackhammer" sounded familiar, but more importantly, it looked like she and her companions would soon be braving some underground temple or something. Surely the operations manual of a mining company would have some insights into that.
For now, though, she removed the Book of Joy from the shelves and wandered back to her assigned quarters. I wonder whether anyone would notice if I took it, she thought as she opened the book and began reading, still walking as she did so. "Three-fourths of the people you will ever meet are hungering and thirsting for sympathy. Give it to them, and they will love you," she read. "When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity."
She barely noticed that she was reading on her bed now. "...So if you aspire to be a good conversationalist, be an attentive listener. To be interesting, be interested. Ask questions that other persons will enjoy answering. Encourage them to talk about themselves and their accomplishments. Remember that the people you are talking to are a hundred times more interested in themselves and their wants and problems than they are in you and your problems. Think of that the next time you start a conversation."
She flipped to the next page. The style of the book shifted from advice on influencing people to mythology and advice on more...intimate matters, a quirk of the Savored Sting's holy text she had forgotten in the past several decades. "Chapter 5. In those days, Calistria wore the shape of a flaxen-haired elf of great beauty when she felt the desire for a new conquest....So it happened that the elf, Levandlar, a bard by trade, found the Savored Sting in her chosen form on the hidden paths of the world, far away from the lands of men. 'A fair day to you, milord,' she said, and he replied, 'A fair day to you, my lady. Are you alone? 'Tis a dangerous place for one so fair.' The goddess smiled, and it was as though the world stopped for Levandlar. He knew then and there that he must have the damsel--and, as if reading his thoughts (for she surely was), the Unquenchable Fire purred, 'Come with me to my boudoir, noble sir, and perhaps you can keep me safe by the power of your...sword.' Dumbly, Levandlar nodded, and numbly, Levandlar took her offered hand as she led him away. It was not long before the goddess and Levandlar were clad in only that with which mortals enter the world. Pressing hotly against him, she wrapped her legs around his waist and...."
The enchantress noticed with a start that she was blushing, a tantalized smile on her lips and new ideas in her head.
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"Novennia, dear," Ansha called. She motioned to the raven-haired Chelaxian servant who had been attending to her since the first day of her extended stay in the palace. "Come here, would you?"
The girl--a young human with thin, arched eyebrows (a trait she shared with Ansha herself, the elf had noted after she had seen the two of them in a vanity mirror) and a pretty face likely to be prematurely aged by the cares of a servant's life--turned on her heel and obediently (if not without a hint of longsuffering) returned to the doorway to Ansha's room. "Yes, mistress?"
The elf motioned her inside, then shut the door and leaned against it. "I need your help. I want to try something," Ansha said, smiling at the woman's back. Her hands weaved behind her back in the beginnings of an arcane spell and a droning chant tumbled from her lips as Novennia turned around, her face going slack as she caught sight of Ansha's hypnotically rhythmic hand-gestures, "What do you w--"
"Kiss me," the elf said, and the blank-faced Novennia stepped forward, throwing her arms over Ansha's neck as she pressed her full lips against the elf's own. Surprise and elation showed in Ansha's delicate features as she stopped the girl--experimentation had been upon her mind, but a different sort of experiment, one of magic more than one of passion. "That will be all, Novennia," she said softly, opening the door again. The woman blinked once, then gave Ansha a self-conscious smile as she left the room.
O, but if Novennia had proven too strong-willed for the spell...! What was it that she had read in the Book of Joy a few nights ago? "Follow your desires as the Unquenchable Fire follows her own, and know that the goddess herself declares, 'Damn the consequences'"?
--------------
Three days. The elf took a pinch of colored sand she had found in a bit of rather-striking pink coral Jakob had given her and took a deep breath. Still so much to do, and so many plans to set in motion....
At least she had been successful with most of her initiatives. She had defined the limits of the spell she had tested on Novennia earlier--it seemed that the servant-girl would kiss the elf without hesitation now, but nothing more and nothing else. She remained friendly, but not particularly...enamored. Thankfully, Ansha thought, the elf had had the sense never to test any of these things where someone else might overhear.
The Grand Custodian had seemed surprised, Novennia reported (without jealousy), but he had granted her request: to share dinner with him again. Even with the weak compulsion Ansha had placed upon her, it seemed the girl was herself--but for receptivity to that single suggestion. The thought of the Grand Custodian reminded her, she had wanted to ensure her evening gown was still up to the evening's task, several hours away--as he had met her at first, so he would see her at last, she thought in amusement to herself.
She replaced the pinch of sand in her spell component pouch, which hung over the vanity mirror near her door. It was mildly inconvenient that she seemed to need the material focus, but she had found a use for the stuff in a spell that had otherwise eluded her ability to perform: a spray of colors that had varying, usually unpleasant effects for all that saw them. Emerald eyes wandered over to the far side of the four-post bed that dominated her bedchambers, and her feet followed a moment later. Bending down, she dug carefully into the backpack that still contained most of her worldly possessions, withdrawing the vine-embroidered evening gown carefully. As she unfolded the gown and placed it upon the bed, something floated out from the dress. A small, folded piece of paper. Her eyes narrowed as she picked it up and unfolded it again--Jakob had given her this, a coded message in the possession of the captain of the Shackles galley. A puzzle, then? Surely, I can parse this out, she thought to herself. Besides, I still have plenty of time before dinner.
Unfolding the paper, she sat down in the cushioned chair in front of her vanity mirror and, lips pursed in concentration, got to work.
"So, how about it? I promise to be gentle if you will," Kieran says to the bearded man's two friends.
Once his challenge is accepted, the half-elf moves a couple of steps back to give both his opponent and himself the room necessary, as well as a moment or two to get ready. His fighting stance, if it can even be called that, seems an extension of his attitude; relaxed and with his sword arm kept away from his opponent, only his free hand stands between him and the rogue. Still, once both men nod that they are ready, Kieran's reflexes allow him the opening that he needs, as he moves faster than the guard and swipes with his curved sword, managing to score a solid hit to his foe's ribs.
"Alright, maybe not so gentle," he quips as his sparring partner goes into the offensive, although the pain of the blow is evident on his features. There is a look and smile of genuine exhilaration gracing Kieran's face as he avoids strike after strike, either by simply not being where his opponent's sword is or by deflecting it with his own. His style seems more defensive, if one were to exclude his preemptive strike at the beginning of the duel, and his movements graceful, making this look almost like a dance, a sharp contrast to Qhude's more offensive and brutally effective way of fighting.
Still, the guard is better trained in the ways of the sword, considering his profession, and he manages to land a blow after a succesful feint. And once the first one has connected, there is a second one and Kieran falls to his knees, clutching his stomach where he was hit, head bowed and eyes facing the ground. A few seconds pass and his opponent starts to move away. And then there is a cough followed by a sigh. "Again," the half-elf says simply as he slowly rises, the smile still on his face.
And this is more or less how it goes for the next couple of weeks. Between the sparring chamber and the athletics hall, Kieran has enough to keep him occupied without having to leave the palace grounds. And every time that he falls or fails, he simply gets back up, dusts himself off and tries again, usually with a joke or witty remark accompanying his failure or success.
What time he does not spend in those two places and usually in Qhude's and N'bellocq's company, however, he fills with getting to know the palace a little better and enjoying everything it has to offer. And more than a little of that fun has to do with sneaking around the place, usually after the sun has set, to find a certain lady's room, all the while trying not to get caught. Although, considering the fact that he does not bother to get back to his own room before the sun has risen again, as well as his coincidentally being in the sparring chamber most of the times Tebati is there practicing, it is probably safe to say that he only does sneak about because he enjoys it or as practice or both.
Between his various obligations, so to speak, he does try to find some time to meet up with Ansha, although the enchantress does appear particularly busy as well. But they are friends, be it a friendship born out of circumstance or not, and one can never have too many friends. Besides, despite being a little wary of her, he likes the elven woman. Well, that... and he suspects that Tebati and her have talked.
And finally, there is Jakob. He is the one person among them that Kieran finds difficult to understand and, unfortunately, there is not much progress towards that during the two weeks. The man seems to keep to himself, almost to the point that he appears withdrawn, and the half-elf finds that while neither of them avoids each other, it is almost impossible to get to know him. Still, Kieran is hopeful. Adventure forges bonds between people, if for no other reason than the simple fact that failure to do so may very well get the aforementioned people killed.
Training Montage:
After Qhude's demonstration against the bearded Chelaxian, none of the guard seem over-eager to be the next to step into the ring. However the following day, the bearded bully tried to exact revenge. Sneaking up on Qhude with an accomplice who grappled Qhude from behind while the bearded Chelaxian took a few cheap shots. The white fire surged within Qhude and by the time it subsided the accomplice was sprawled unconscious with a broken nose and the bearded one trying to shuffle away on the ground cradling a badly broken arm. Breathing heavily Qhude glared at the remainder of the guards, but they withdrew from his gaze and none stepped forward.
Qhude trained only with Kieran and N'bellocq for the rest of the first week. Qhude did not understand Kieran and N'bellocq's approach to the dance - they seemed to prefer avoidance and defence over attack. N'bellocq in particular proved an elusive combatant during these practice battles. Despite this, they grew comfortable in each other's movements when side by side. Tebati was rarely in the sparring chamber, and when she was Kieran seemed to monopolize her time.
After a couple of nights in his room, Qhude forsook it - dragging off a blanket and preferring to sleep outside in the grounds the grass beneath him. He also did not take meals at the grand table, instead requesting spartan fare from the kitchen and eating it in either the sparring chamber or outside under the sky. One evening an agitated attendant took umbrage at Qhude stoking a fire on the grass to cook a hare that he had caught with a javelin.
In the sparring chamber the guard kept a steady distance from the volatile Bas'o, but some of them did watch as Qhude ran through the old Bas'o forms and his acquired fighting style from the Kalabutan back streets. As Qhude observed them in return he noticed that the form of the Zenj was lacking - leading them to suffer most when it came to the practice sparring against the colonial guards.
Taking a chance when it was only Qhude and the Zenj in the sparring chamber, he approached and offered some terse words of assistance - pointing out where their guard was weak and left them open. The words were accepted only warily, though when the advice proved sound - the Zenj sought out further evening sparring and individual training with Qhude. At first in secret, though after a few days the collaboration was not hidden and they sparred together openly.
The colonial had open misgivings at first, fearing the same fate as the bearded bully - though after seeing the improvement of the Zenj, they gradually blended their own sparring and kata with that of the Bas'o. Qhude was hard but even-handed in the sparring rink, and any advice was generally offered after bruises were dispensed in combat against the Barbarian. Qhude did not see himself as instructor - merely a fellow warrior strengthening the tribe for battle.
The times not spent in the sparring chamber were mostly outside, running the grounds for exercise. During one of these early runs, Qhude chanced upon Tebati meditating and approached the sangoma. Although at first hesitant, Qhude asked after Tebati's kin in Nantambu. Not many words were exchanged the first day, and not many more the second; but to Tebati is seemed as though Qhude was specifically timing his morning runs to coincide with the completion of her meditation so that the conversations could occur. The discussions were never longer than a few minutes each day, but Tebati could tell that they carried weight with Qhude.
He did not see much of Ansha, given that their paths rarely crossed. When they did he was momentarily amused by her greeting him in Polyglot. Her accent was far from perfect, but improved much during the two weeks downtime.
Jakob was not avoided, but was not approached. When he entered a room where Qhude was present, Qhude stopped speaking and settled his dead gaze upon Jakob. This continued with the air hanging heavy in the room until Jakob left his presence. The oracle never approached Qhude for words, and as far as the Bas'o was concerned it was still beholden on Jakob to be the one to extend himself. Those in the sparring chambers often knew when their paths had crossed as Qhude disdained live sparring for dealing brutal punishment on a wooden sparring dummy until his pent up tension was spent.
Over the second week, following the coral incident, Jakob and his now more observent minders spend their mornings in the Library. Jakob runs the minders and the staff ragged as he searches for references to the structure and information on the Laughing jungle in genreral.
@ the Gym
N'bellocq stood against his opponent and waited. He did not know the proper way to attack a man, or to make a fist a strike a man. He sees the stocky Qhude trading punishing punches but he has the frame for it. And that is not what N'bellocq has been exposed to. He has been hit for many years but he has learned to avoid the brunt of the blows, to block, to cover, to dodge. With no chain on his ankle and a piece of paper say he is free he realizes he can strike back. Not with the power of Qhude but when timed, accurate jabs and chops. Block, dodge, wait for the mistake, the wide swing, the over extension, and then jab again.
As his opponent's frustration grew the fight seemed to slow down for N'bellocq. The man's fists became like the snakes in the trees, his feet like the crocs in the river. His mind followed each movement, assessing threat and timing the reaction. His opponent had soon expired all his energy against N'bellocq's defenses and it was a simple matter to knock him from the circle. N'bellocq was bruised, but bruises heal..he had won, and winning means survival.
@During the week
N'bellocq spends time with Qhude and Kieran sparring and learning fighting techniques. But the yelling, struggles, and conflict are often too much. To escape all this he finds the archery range a haven. The morning sunrise finds him already practicing in the gloom. He even takes to having some of his meals there, after having attendants toss fruit or hide them for him to shoot. But nothing goes to waste and he eats what he 'kills'
He also spends time running, much to the consternation of some of the guards. The appearance of a running Mwangi through the grounds or on the roof, or climbing the walls often caused cries of alarm. It was not until he found a colonial guard willing and able to join him did the guards seem to relax. His companion enjoyed the change of pace, the excitement of the jumps and climbs, but for N'bellocq, this was freedom. For his body to catch up on years of imprisonment, to explode in joy at being able to soar, dangle, and race. These 'exercises' kept him from feeling too much like the prisoner he seemed to be, although a well fed one.
In addition to the indegenous song'o halfling of the jungle, you can expect the wild, thoroughly untamed jungle to be full of predators, both exotic animals and magical beasts. As you previously mentioned, exposure to both disease and poison is likely.
The jungle tribes are likely to make use of Kaava musk to drive you out if you are seen as a threat too strong to directly tackle. Such a musk has an incredibly potent smell and is likely to draw predators to you like flies to honey; the best defence is to have an even stronger scent on hand to apply to an area or person or have the affected wash themselves as fast as possible in a stream.
Though rare, dinosaurs have been known to thrive in Sargava's jungles and plain. If there is heavy flooding of the jungle's rivers and streams, giant army ants displaced from their home will also be a very real threat.
The heat itself will be a deadly enemy at times- you expect the caravan will rest during the hottest part of the day (midday) but anyone wearing medium or heavier armour may be in trouble even in the hours around it.
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Expeditions into the jungle are rare but historically the Song'o usually give such trips a wide berth, retreating from their very homes if they come into proximity with colonials. There are no recorded grand expeditions into the jungle, only minor trips by hunters or over-curious clergy of Desna or Gozreh. Despite it being such a huge area of Sargavan territory, the jungle is unmapped and mostly unexplored by Sargava.
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You don't glean much from your research; you can surmise that many in the Government would rather see your mission succeed than fail. Utilinus is a very popular and seasoned governor, even managing to out-negotiate the Hurricane King with regards to the amount Sargava pays for protection several years ago. He no doubt has enemies, but they escape your research. The military are a powerful presence in Sargava but Utilinus has them under his thumb, hand-picking many Generals himself.
One potential enemy of Utilinus is General Alban, an aged colonial veteran chosen by Grallus, who is noted to have had some dispute with Utilinus in the past in his position as Praetor of Eleder. You can't find what the disagreement concerned, but many speak of Alban's 'promotion' to Governor of Kalabutu as a cunning maneuver by Utilinus to keep him out of Eleder's affairs. Eleder's current Praetor is Ezio Egorius, a firm friend of Utilinus and a skilled guard commander who promotes based on merit rather than just family and racial background.
During a training session where Qhude, N'bellocq and Kieran are present sparring, a tall, Cheliaxian man on the later end of middle age, garbed in military uniform (with several medals adorned on it) walks stiffly into the chamber, using a gold-topped cane to minimise the impact of an old injury as he enters. Some of the colonials in the room appear to recognise him and as they salute many of the Mwangi follow suit. The man's gaze moves slowly around the room, encompassing everyone in it.
As you were, men he says firmly, taking a seat to watch the sparring.
He doesn't show it much, but there seemed to be a flicker of disdain in his eyes as he looked over the Zenj, Qhude and Kieran.
Tebati arrives at the "Meditation Chamber" to find a round room in evident disuse; it has been recently aired out and swept clean but still has a musty smell. The wall is covered in mosaic tiles, several of which are cracked or chipped and a few of which are missing entirely, but the overall picture is still quite clear. Opposite the door, the the largest part of the mosaic, Eleder is depicted as a thriving city, its streets thronged with colonials in family groups: a man, a wife, and large broods of robust children. She sees the very palace she is in, new and resplendent rather than sagging and in need of repair. The city itself seems to cover more land and be comprised of more (and more impressive) buildings than it is now, obviously the artist's vision of Sargava's glorious future more than an accurate rendition of it at the time.
As she moves around the wall, the scene changes. In one picture, colonials and Mwangi are holding out peaceful hands to one another; in the next, a Mwangi settlement is undergoing renovation, the natives rebuilding their homes in the Chelaxian style, under the supervision of the colonials; then, a group of Mwangi children are seated attentively at the feet of a Sargavan woman with a book and a chalkboard; in the final picture, as she returns to Eleder, Mwangi figures dressed in colonial fashion are kneeling in worship before the winged eye of Aroden.
Tebati's expression darkens, as she completes her circuit. She knows that things didn't occur as the artist had planned -- that Aroden died; that Sargava, rather than spreading its version of civilization across the continent, is next to bankrupt and dependent on pirates for its very survival -- but to see her own culture erased, even in fantasy! Is this still Utilinus's ultimate dream: "Chelaxian and Mwangi together," the Mwangi becoming Chelaxian in all but skin? She remembers Morvius with his foreigner's uniform and foreigner's name and frowns.
She does not return to the meditation chamber. Its vision of the march of civilization is not compatible with the tenets of Shimye-Magalla. The palace grounds are much more conducive to communion with her goddess; even if the walls block her view, she can still hear the sound of the waves. She is pleasantly surprised by Qhude's company and often takes the time to go by the archery range and watch N'bellocq shoot.
Inside the palace, she spends a great deal of time in the library, where she often sees Ansha, although their areas of research rarely overlap. She is happy to find that the collection includes a considerable number of maps, carefully rolled in tubes. She unrolls them, one by one, and leans across the table, poring over the details, especially those depicting the southern expanse of Sargava and the Laughing Jungle. One of the maps, when she has unrolled it, proves to be a map of the northern continent. Curious, she searches out the exotic locales of Varisia and Brevoy before replacing it.
She spends a dutiful amount of time in the sparring chamber; although she is obviously no warrior-maiden, she hopes to prove able to defend herself if attacked and not need anyone to come to her rescue. She particularly enjoys it when Kieran joins her in practice, laughing in delight at the steps of his fighting form, more like a dancer than a soldier, and trying to interpret his intentions and guess which way he will go next. She sends out Arkus the Vudrani with strict instructions to find her an Ijo-made trident. The one he brings back bears fluid grooves along the shaft and handle similar to the tattoos that adorn her skin, their shapes and swirls almost seeming to coalesce into some definite design before dissolving again into chaos. Whether the weapon is that much better than her old one or she merely puts more effort into her exercises through pride in her new possession, she does seem subsequently to improve.
The only time she leaves the palace grounds is when she insists on visiting the shrine to Shimye-Magalla at the harbor and receiving a blessing from the Ijo shamaness before the journey. Unwilling to be put off or to give in, she finally persuades Morvius to agree, although he forces a guard upon her whose existence she completely refuses to recognize, walking with her eyes in front of her as if she weren't accompanied by several armed soldiers. Apart from that, she enjoys the pleasures of a warm bath in the morning, of fresh fish and fruit at mealtimes, and of Kieran at night, with the whole-hearted enthusiasm of a woman who knows how rare such luxuries are.
The one nagging concern that she cannot put too far away from her mind is the problem of Jakob and his detachment from the others in the group. "It is as Qhude said," she admits to Kieran. "When we were in the boat, the rest of us chose each other; Jakob ... had to choose his own way, apart from us. How can we trust he will not do so again, if his heart so leads him?"
General's Visit:
Qhude did not notice the elderly man walking in with a cane at first. His paths had crossed again with Jakob this morning, and Qhude was vigorously engaging with a wooden sparring dummy. With a whoop "Hiyah!" Qhude delivers a kick that snaps one of the dummy's arms off. Pausing and taking stock of the room, he notices the man that the guards are deferring to...
Sense Motive:
...though not picking up on the nuances.
As the Chelaxian regards the room, he momentarily locks gaze with Qhude. Qhude maintains eye contact with a neutral look upon his face, waiting for the older man to look away...
N'bellocq continues to show up for the sparring sessions, more for the human contact than the enjoyment of the fighting. He continues to work on his reflexes. Never throwing many punches but instead trying to block, dodge, and counter his opponent's. It was not efficient but it was satisfying.
Though concentrating on his opponent, he did catch a glimpse of the older man as he entered. The guards showed some him deference, but N'bellocq's eyes were soon back on his opponent..again with a block and then a duck...
At the Baron's Dining Table:
As the appointed hour of the dinner arrives, Ansha finds herself escorted to the great hall once again, an honor guard opening the great wooden doors for her and a liveried butler seeing her to her seat opposite the Baron. Brushing her fingers across the man's forearm and smiling in thanks, she takes the offered seat. "I thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to see me again, my lord. I am most flattered," she says, turning the smile onto Utilinus.
As the two sup, she makes a point to engage the Grand Custodian in conversation, inquiring about himself, his family and remarking upon the beauty of "fair Sargava," as she puts it.
Now, how to work my request to see the pirate galley's captain in...and how to word it... she thinks, taking a sip of the wine glass in front of her.
The one nagging concern that she cannot put too far away from her mind is the problem of Jakob and his detachment from the others in the group. "It is as Qhude said," she admits to Kieran. "When we were in the boat, the rest of us chose each other; Jakob ... had to choose his own way, apart from us. How can we trust he will not do so again, if his heart so leads him?"
"I believe that, at least in his mind, the choice was easier at the boat," Kieran offers after a moment's thought. "We were relatively safe thanks to your magical mist and managing to steer our boat towards the harbor, whereas the ones captured by the pirates were not. Add some nobility and a dash of idealism in all that and there you have it. I might even go so far as to say that the fact that we all know -or knew- each other not all that much played a part; I suppose it is easier to rush to the aid of strangers when your own companions could be called that without too much of a stretch."
The half-elf sighs, the smile on his face not his usual mischievous or carefree one, but that warm one that he finds Tebati brings out. "The real test will be when it is not so easy, when we -all of us- have shared joy and sadness together. Then his heart may not be so clear as to what it wants." The half-elf clears his throat gently, an awkward look on his face. "Heh... Must be the elven blood in me, making me act all deep and poetic."
At the training grounds:
Kieran stops his practice when he notices quite a few of the people present look towards the new arrival. Before continuing, he tries to get a better look at the older man, perhaps understand better what all the fuss is about. "This one has seen his share of troubles, that is for sure," he remarks. He turns to Qhude for a moment before going back to his sparring with one of the guards. "He also does not like us very much," he says with a soft chuckle. "And I have not even had the chance to do anything to him. Not that I remember, anyway."
Qhude maintains eye contact with a neutral look upon his face, waiting for the older man to look away...
Qhude waits... and waits... and waits... But it seems this man will not be cowed by his stare. The older man stares back with an intensity in his eyes that belies his age, as much challenge in it as in Qhude's own. Qhude knows he is looking into the eyes of another lion.
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I was in turn, honoured and flattered by your request Ansha... Utilinus says with a smile, raising a glass of wine to toast her. The servants around him may as well be invisible for all he does to acknowledge them. Some small talk ensues, and the Grand Custodian reveals that he has no living relatives left. He makes a great point of showing a little difficulty in talking about his wife who died at the hands of Bas'o warriors in a raid many years ago; and in showing his vulnerability plays his next card. Resting his own hand on Ansha, he smiles through the sorrow on his face.
What of your family Ansha? I understand you were born to... ah, the name escapes me, forgive an old man's frail mind... House Saeralyan? Am I pronouncing it correctly?
You are getting the distinct impression that Utilinus is as skilled in this kind of dance as you are; perhaps even more so.
The Bas'o heart within Qhude's chest beats a little quicker and his blood rises knowing that his gaze is returned. He may be grey, but he still has some steel... Replying to Kieran without turning his head "Aye...." voice trailing off as he speaks, obvious that something about the visitor has caught his eye. Qhude holds gaze for a few tens of seconds before acting.
Maintaining eye contact still, Qhude walks to where the military gentleman has taken a seat at the side of the room. Giving a small nod of the head and touching fist to chest to show some respect, Qhude breaks off the stare. He then waits a few moments before raising his head and addressing the man "Induna. What do you eyes see?"
The older military man's expression doesn't change, but after repeating Qhude's gesture a little tentatively he replies softly, almost whispering his reply-
A Bas'o who may actually be worthy of respect.
He doesn't wait for a reply, already turning to sit and watch the training.
Her sympathetic smile at Utilinus' loss freezes on her face and her condolences die on her lips at the ancient elven House's invocation. "It has been a long time since I have answered to that particular name, my lord," she replies, her voice soft. She recovers quickly, adding somewhat wryly, "But I suppose I should be flattered that you took that much of an interest in me. I wasn't sure there was a soul on this continent that had heard of that name before now. I am curious--what have you heard of my kin? Nothing...untoward, I hope."
Clever, she thinks. I should not be surprised that you looked for answers...But that you found them tells me that your reach is far longer than I had thought. Just what do you think to gain by telling me this? Or is this merely a warning?
The one nagging concern that she cannot put too far away from her mind is the problem of Jakob and his detachment from the others in the group. "It is as Qhude said," she admits to Kieran. "When we were in the boat, the rest of us chose each other; Jakob ... had to choose his own way, apart from us. How can we trust he will not do so again, if his heart so leads him?""I believe that, at least in his mind, the choice was easier at the boat," Kieran offers after a moment's thought. "We were relatively safe thanks to your magical mist and managing to steer our boat towards the harbor, whereas the ones captured by the pirates were not. Add some nobility and a dash of idealism in all that and there you have it. I might even go so far as to say that the fact that we all know -or knew- each other not all that much played a part; I suppose it is easier to rush to the aid of strangers when your own companions could be called that without too much of a stretch."
The half-elf sighs, the smile on his face not his usual mischievous or carefree one, but that warm one that he finds Tebati brings out. "The real test will be when it is not so easy, when we -all of us- have shared joy and sadness together. Then his heart may not be so clear as to what it wants." The half-elf clears his throat gently, an awkward look on his face. "Heh... Must be the elven blood in me, making me act all deep and poetic."
She gazes into his eyes for a moment, considering, then gives a slight nod. "Perhaps you are right," she replies. "Jakob always saw all of of the teams as a single tribe and Sargava itself as a common enemy, as I felt the Mwangi team close to my heart, although they were Kalabuta and not Bonuwat. The rest of us have already begun to share our lives with one another: the joy anyway, if not yet the sadness." She reaches up to touch his face with her fingertips and smiles. "But perhaps Jakob is wise to wait for hardship to come before attempting to reconcile with Qhude. He is not Bas'o and does not have it in him to trade the hard blows that would lead to respect and brotherhood, and whatever words he would try to use to express himself would only infuriate Qhude more. To a Bas'o, the only true apology is expressed in blood."
Qhude is taken aback by the old man's words, though is spared from his confusion being witnessed as the gent turns back to watch the sparring. Momentarily unsure of what to do, Qhude soon decides to also sit down. He does not sit next to the man, instead keeping a free gap of a few feet between them.
Qhude sat and watched the dances ongoing throughout the room, breathing heavily as he calmed his heart and regained his breath. N'bellocq was ducking and weaving out of harms way he could do with throwing a few more strikes, but he can handle himself. Kieran was adeptly dealing with his opponent the half-elf has come far this past ten-day. There were also a few bouts ongoing between the guards, and Qhude was not pleased, but satisfied and content that the guards that had opened themselves to his words were faring better on the whole.
Trusting in the eloquence of silence, Qhude remained quiet and watchful near the old warrior.
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The elder military man sits and watches the training. He motions towards the equipment and guards while staring pointedly and enquiringly at Qhude. Its very clear he is under the impression that he is to be obeyed unquestionably.
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Utilinus smiles disarmingly.
Oh, it was very little bother to make inquiries. The information practically came to me without requesting it; a useful information network is obviously vital when ruling a nation on the verge of crumbling... he says with a chuckle, taking another long gulp of wine and sighing in satisfaction.
I've heard... rather mixed things about the Saeralyan house my dear. It seems they are rather ascendant in Kyonin politices in the past few years; how long have you been away from them? Their name is frequently cursed in shadows despite their standing I am afraid my dear; they utterly... devoured, shall we say... another fine house- I believe its name was... Gloamingdusk?
Utilinus is studying your reactions very, very carefully.
Perhaps you have heard of them, you look so young and beautiful its very hard to tell how long you've been absent... Tell me of your time in Crown's End dearheart; I understand you made rather a name for yourself there? Oh do not worry, I am not here to judge or condemn...
You can't help feel like Utilinus is simultaneously probing you for a reaction and clues to how you feel about your family while his language and facial expressions hint that he knows far more than he is letting on.
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Towards the end of the second week, Jakob is suddenly aware of a presence watching him with the horse he is riding; an elderly woman in extremely fine clothing, standing behind a wooden fence, looking in on the riding enclosure.
Utilinus smiles disarmingly.
Oh, it was very little bother to make inquiries. The information practically came to me without requesting it; a useful information network is obviously vital when ruling a nation on the verge of crumbling... he says with a chuckle, taking another long gulp of wine and sighing in satisfaction.
I've heard... rather mixed things about the Saeralyan house my dear. It seems they are rather ascendant in Kyonin politics in the past few years; how long have you been away from them? Their name is frequently cursed in shadows despite their standing I am afraid my dear; they utterly... devoured, shall we say... another fine house- I believe its name was... Gloamingdusk?
Utilinus is studying your reactions very, very carefully.
Perhaps you have heard of them, you look so young and beautiful its very hard to tell how long you've been absent... Tell me of your time in Crown's End dearheart; I understand you made rather a name for yourself there? Oh do not worry, I am not here to judge or condemn...
Ansha presses her lips into a thin line and glances away, barely even attempting to mask her reaction. "I--"devoured"? I...this is news to me. I haven't been in Kyonin in...ages," she says, avoiding giving him an exact timeline since her departure. "What happened to the Gloamingdusks? A-are they...dead, then?" Surely, my mother would not be so brazen as to openly send private guards against another House of the realm, she thinks, frowning inwardly. Though...perhaps other agents. Oh, Inari...
Thrusting her thoughts related to the news from Kyonin away, she shrugs and gives a weak smile. "My time in Crown's End was hardly a pleasant time. I arrived there little better than a prisoner or a slave...And when I left, I made a point to pay off my debts to them. That's all."
She tries to change the subject after any answers he provides to her questions. "I understand that the pirate galley's captain was to be interrogated in the wake of his capture yestereve. Has there been any progress with him? I should like to...see him myself, if it is acceptable to you. At the very least, I would like to see the face of the man who attacked us. I might even be able to get a few answers out of him, if we're lucky--maybe ones conventional methods will not grant. You know what they say about flies and honey and vinegar, ay--Yes?" She frowns to herself as she catches herself slipping into the speech patterns she had adopted in the years since her flight from Kyonin--hardly the proper speech of a lady at a courtly dinner.
Oh, Inari...I hope you're safe.
Jakob finishes his current task before turning to the woman.
Qhude observes the gesture, but is not sure exactly what was intended by it... Is this an invitation to match against him, or does he wish to see me dance with the guardsmen?...
Standing from where he has been sitting, Qhude takes a few moments to check his armor and cestus. As he goes about this he responds to the elder "Have you given over the dance to younger men Induna? - or do you still remember the steps." stopping to make eye contact again before continuing "You would honor me to cross fists against you.... or you may select an opponent for me to dance with on your behalf?" Qhude's facial expression is neutral, yet genuine. There is nothing hidden behind veils in his words.
The older man's pensive gaze crosses the room, settling on N'bellocq- he raises a hand and points at him.
You will dance with that man- I came to observe the steps of those who will be dancing in the Laughing Jungle. I'm too old to fight without my life threatened. From what I saw, the three of you seem... competent. I am Alban, General Alban. Your names?
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Utilinus seems to see right through you and your attempt to hide the specific number of years you've been away. He rises, moving close to you and putting a comforting arm around Ansha's shoulders.
Now now... I'm sorry I upset you Ansha. I don't know the specifics but the heads of Gloamingdusk were slain; the rest of the fhouse now exists as part of your own house; devoured, as I said. Theres no need to be evasive about your years away from Kyonin, i'll respect your right to hold some information back.
Giving Ansha a sympathetic squeeze, he returns to his seat and listens carefully to her requests once she has composed herself.
There has already been great progress made with him so I am afraid I must decline your services my dear; such an uncough man would only taint your enchanting charm and grace. I have little choice but to hand the man over to the Free Captain's for punishment; they don't take kindly to rogue sea captains and they'll want to deliver their own brand of justice. It seems he was working off his own initiative, allying with the team of knaves in the Trials to sabotage the final event, as they had no chance of victory; and take a few valuable prisoners in the process. Hes no longer in the Palace and is being... processed. he adds thoughtfully.
Qhude taps his chest then points out his shield-brothers in turn "I am Qhude, the half-elf is Kieran and the one you chose is known as N'bellocq... Induna, I will ask N'bellocq if he will dance to your steps... but I will not force him if unwilling." waiting to see if there is a nod of acquiescence before giving a short bow and moving over to where N'bellocq has finished his latest spar.
Addressing N'bellocq "The induna who joins us today is known as General Alban. He has come to gauge our worth, and would see you and I together in the ring opposing one another." pausing a few moments before continuing "It is your choice, I will not force it upon you..."
Alban nods his consent, although his frown does seem to only deepen as Qhude adds a condition to his orders.
Ansha offers Utilinus a blushing smile. "You flatter me, dear Utilinus. What charm and grace I still have after the...after my time in Crown's End is unlikely to be further sullied by speaking with a pirate. But, it shall be as you say."
Now how am I going to get to the bottom of this coded note?
She grows quiet for a few moments, then takes a sip of her wine. "May I request another boon of you then, milord? I had...a friend among the Gloamingdusks. Would you look into her wellbeing as a member of my...esteemed family? Her name is Inari. As I was my mother's daughter, she was hers--I fear the worst."