Berrin leans forward and his dagger going limp in his hand as he listens intently to the bishop admonishing Verik. 'He's just gona take it?' Berrin thinks in surprise. 'Comon Verik! Grow a backbone! You're a great asset to this expedition! Don't let this pompus a&*~%+* turn you into a clerk. Your a cleric for crying out loud!' His frowning face bears testimony to Berrin's disaproval, but he ramains silent as he knows this is Verik's fight, not his, he'd be doing noone a favor but opening his mouth.
Glancing at Jemini and Taisper his face is an open question to them. 'Do we interfear?'
At the merchant's makeshift camp, Alder gladly gives Alexius a plate. "Your meals are included in the price of the jorney, Master Morai-Thrune. I can only apologize that the lodging is not more civilized." Rothland seems amused by that or some private joke. They eat in silence, conversation not coming easily to them. As darkness takes them to the late evening, Alder issues his instructions. "As we are still in bandit territory, Corwin and I will take watch tonight. Corwin, if you could take first watch, wake me up in four hours." He takes his leave, setting a bedroll up a few dozen meters away from the others. Rothland follows suit, settling down away from the horses and wagon.
Taisper listens to the bishop's admonishment of Verik with a neutral expression on his face; while the bishop is perhaps a bit excessively...dominating in Taisper's opinion, it never even occurs to him that his words are an insult. Indeed, to be commanded by a superior of the church to help oversee the building and organization of what could end up as a city, or perhaps even a nation, is almost a compliment in his mind. There you go, Verik. No more doubts about where you're to be, although I'm sure you'll still think about it.
Catching Verik's glance, Taisper does his best to keep his face completely neutral. When he sees Berrin jump up, he gives the warrior a stern look and shakes his head. He holds his index finger up to his lips in a 'Shhhhhhh' gesture. He knows as well as Verik does that even if the cleric is a great asset to their party in the wild, he must accede to church law, even here in the wild.
The young inquisitor then returns his mind to the bishop's words. Alright. So. 'Request received.' Is it possible that Verik only requested supervision, and church blessing of our endeavor? Here's hoping, I guess...
"Your Eminence, I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment. We are hoping to celebrate Taxfest shortly - then move out in force to vanquish the bandit who falsely claims kingship over these lands. A priest is unsuited in such a mission and may compromise it's success." Jemini speaks quickly, hoping not to get interrupted: "Your Grace, if I may voice a personal request: should our efforts succeed to rid these lands of the bandit blight we will prepare to settle the Stolen Lands and raise farms and cities in its interior. To this end we will need a skilled architect of civilization to measure the land and determine suitable sites for urbanization, mining and agriculture. Allow me to commandeer priest Jarrow for these tasks, should more pressing duties not find him first."
"We don't know the Bishop's intentions and willingness to enforce them; let's just see where he's going before we make any decisions."
Taisper blinks once, slowly at Jemini to indicate his understanding.
Taisper blinks once, slowly at Jemini to indicate his understanding.
Berrin's expression doesn't change though he leans back and picks up his tankard. Sipping it he shoots both Taisper and Jemini a dark look. 'I don't like this. Feels like we're leaving a buddy to hang.' putting down his tankard he sets back to his nails with the dagger, sparing glances every now and then at the parade.
Taisper blinks once, slowly at Jemini to indicate his understanding.
The bishop nods at Jemini's words. "You understand me completely, Lady Jemini. Cleric Harrow received the blessing of Church in this endeavor, but I do not believe they intended him to go gallivanting about with..." He eyes Berrin with a disdainful eye. "More veteran combatants. I believe that the temple of Abadar he is to oversee here will be the first step in the advance of civilization to this area for the first time in generations." He turns to Kesten, the matter of Verik apparently closed. "Kesten Garess, I presume. I had heard you were in Restov following your ignominious exile from your family's holdings. It gladdens me to see you here, improving your station." His words cause Kesten to look down, barely capable of hiding his shame. Vinodragov barrels on, his words clearly carefully chosen. "I will remain the evening here, then return to New Stetven for Taxfest."
Perception
Corwin takes his watch duty seriously even this close to civilised lands, walking irregular circuits of the camp and checking the horses.
Alexius pulls an impossible large blanket and pillow from his pouch and makes his bed near the fire, but he turns away from it so that he can preserve his night vision. He takes off his armor and lays it next to him, so that he can done it quickly. Over the armor goes his sword, still in scabbard. The black and silver scabbard and wolfs' heads on the pommel look ominous in the half-shadows thrown by the camp fire. Mourn, wake me if something happens", young man says as if talking to a sword. Finally, he lays down on the blanket, looking at the darkness around the camp before he goes to sleep.
Jemini nods, "It is an honor to host Your Eminence here. May I inquire if Your Grace will offer a sermon in the evening? Although we can only muster a small congregation, it would offer moral and a compass to our actions in the coming weeks."
The night in south Brevoy is quiet. Corwin reflects on its similarity to the Lake near his father's lands. Like the night tonight, it seems calm on the surface but something lurks underneath just out of sight. Considering the secrets and hypocrisy of Brevoy's nobility, it could be true of Brevoy's upper society as well.
Corwin turns away from the distance, stretching as he does so. For all the talk of bandits, his watch has been fairly unremarkable. When he turns, he notices a gleam from a piece of metal in camp, light bouncing from what remains of the fire off a vicious-looking long curved dagger. Corwin's martial training identifies it immediately: a kukri. Holding the blade is Rothland, the strangely unremarkable fellow with whom they've been traveling. He stands over Alexius, blade ready to kill the Cheliaxan in a silent coup de gras.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Corwin's voice carries over to Alexius, waking him to the sight of Rothland ready to strike. Fortunately, he looks to Corwin in reaction rather than finishing his strike.
Alexius
Corwin
Rothland
Corwin rushes toward the clumsy assassin, smoothly drawing his axe from its sheath as he goes.
Assassin in the camp! He yells in his battlefield voice.
Bishop Vinodragov, like all powerful men, is easily swayed by the deft combination of a beautiful woman and flattery. "Of course, it is practically my duty. You all must understand the importance of your presence here. Allow me to rest and to take dinner, after which we will have a service." He walks to Oleg, clearly expecting to be shown to his room. Oleg looks around a little before grudgingly leading him to the guest house.
Oleg mutters to them as he returns, "Guess you're sleeping on the battlements tonight. Maybe I really should invest in some nicer accommodations if we're to be receiving guests." His tone is even more sardonic than usual.
Taisper walks around, glad to be free of the Bishop's presence. As he does so, he feels a strange presence in one of his pockets. Taking it out, he notices the red wax seal marked with a plain signet. The sight of it makes his heart jump. To his eyes, the unassuming mark is the very mark of the Inquisitorius.
Verik sheepishly wanders over to Jemini. "I suppose I won't be joining you any more out in the wilderness." He seems disappointed, even a little hurt. In a smaller voice, he asks, "I suppose I always knew that you found me to be a drag on the group. I wasn't born with the skills needed to survive in the wild. If not for you and the others, I'd currently be working my way through the digestive tract of a damned tatzlwyrm!"
Zander barely seems fazed by the entire thing, having seen his share of pompous priests. Except for his mentor and Verik, most of the clergy were a rather insufferable lot with a vastly overinflated sense of importance. "It's as if he thinks that Abadar chose him, not the other way around." He says to no one in particular, though Berrin is still next to him.
Alexius opens his eyes, woken by the guard's shout. He sees the dagger glinting above him and just for the moment his eyes turn completely black, like the blade of his sword and the bleak voice leaves his lips. "I am going to eat your soul, worm." The Chelaxian rolls away from the assassin, for the moment leaving his unarmored back open to attacks and grabs his naked sword, then quick as lightning he turns and strikes, murmuring a spell under his breath. Mourn's blade turns green for just a second...
...and Alexius feels it impacting his assailant. Not knowing if he has wounded the assassin, he raises his blade again ready to strike him at the unprotected head...
"Yeah, guide us if he saw fit he said. I'd like to see him try, the blubbery bastard." Berrin replies to Zander in low, dark tones, eyeing the self-proclamed holy-man through the corner of his eye as he works his dagger with a whetstone.
Standing up Berrin heads over to Verik, displeasure evident on his face. "So, your just gona take it, huh? Just sit down and scribble papers and plan streets for the new city?" Scorn drips from Berrin's voice like venom, his feelings bubbling to the surface. "After all we've done here, Verik! How can you even concider it? Seriously man! You can't just leave us man. Frak! I grappled a frakking bear for you man! We climbed down into a wyrm's lair after you! You think we'd do that for just anyone, Verik? Hells! We're a company of friends, stuff like that builds bonds stronger than anything. You can't just sit down and send us off. I won't have it! You hear me? I won't!" Berrin has his finger in Verik's face at this point, his face redening with growing anger as he works himself up. "You'll follow this through even if I have to clap you in irons and lock you in a box! Clear?"
His finger wavers as Berrin comes to a loss for more words. Turnig on his heel he throws his arms upp with a shout and stalks off to the battlements to sulk. "Keep that frakking priest away from me." he warns as he stalks off.
Rothland, if that is even his name, recovers quickly from being startled by Corwin. As acid eats through his shirt, it reveals studded leather armor underneath. He grimaces and grunts, but otherwise remains silent as he fights. His skill with the kukri is quickly evident, as he takes a short series of steps to position Alexius between him and the charging Corwin, using the momentum of his movement to deliver a quick pair of slashes to Alexius. Blood gushes out of the wounds, which are surprisingly deep. He holds the kukri up in a defensive pattern, warding off any more dangerous strikes from Alexius's magical blade.
Jemini looks at Verik seriously. "Berrin is right you know. We've set-out together, overcome and celebrated so much. We're more than the sum of our parts." She eyes the sun for a moment, then continues, quietly, "I've specifically asked His Eminence to grant a loop-hole - whenever you feel up to it we can ensure that whatever we're doing out there, we're also surveying and prospecting in preparation for a nation; and a competent number cruncher will be needed then, right?" She punches Verik on the shoulder.
Round 2, Init 18
Keeping his battle lust in check, Corwin moves to flank the assassin with Alexius, cutting low and then high, slicing a deep gash in his foes side.
Greataxe (power attack, flank)
(power attack)
Best be throwing that pigsticker down. You get one chance.
AC19, hp 32
Signifier grunts in pain as curved blades slash across his back, but he just shifts his grip on the Mourn's handle and viciously attacks the man who tried to pry him for information during the trip, once again summoning the vitriol in his blade.
Rothland senses an opportunity as Alexius closes his eyes to cast another spell, deftly catching the hilt with his kukri. The black blade goes spinning as Rothland wrenches it away with the maneuver. It slides through Corwin's legs and lands behind him in the grass. With his blade gone, Alexius reaches forward and sprays the acid directly on the assassin.
Rothland spins back to Corwin, repeating the disarming strike that sent Alexius's blade flying. The massive axe drops out of Corwin's hands with the torque of Rothland's maneuver. He sends it flying the other direction, underneath Alexius. With both his enemies disarmed but his own strength rapidly fading, Rothland analyzes the situation and makes the prudent decision: retreat.
He rushes to the side of the campfire, probably looking to get to the horses to make a retreat. Even from this distance, it's clear that one of the horses has been unhooked. The assassin must have foreseen the possibility of a failed attack and taken precautions to make a clean exit.
Round 3, Init 18
Corwin grunts in surprise as the heavy weapon is torn from his hands, although his weapon cord keeps it in his reach. Momentarily weaponless he can do nothing but watch as the assassin slips away.
Retrieving his weapon , this time Corwin lets the rage come , flooding him with energy and blanking anything but the desire to put his enemy on the ground. RAAAAARGH He charges across the open ground, swatting aside the blocking kukri with brute strength and sinking his axe into Rothland's ribs.
Greataxe (rage, charge)
(rage)
"Asmodeus take you!", Alexius shouts in surprise, while Mourn flies from his grasp.
Jemini turns from Verik and goes off to see if Svetlana needs some help - or at least company - with the new task of accommodating the bishop. She grins back at Verik: "Considering how much you oppose legitimate authority, you do cave in fast in this case, ey?"
Corwin's axe plunges through Rothland's armor, weakened by the acid, as if it weren't even there. His ribs crack and break and give way as Corwin's momentum carries the axe into his torso. The assassin falls to the ground and pushes himself up on one arm with one final burst, then collapses on his back. Staring up at the sky, he spits up blood with his last gasp, then is still.
Alder looks on from near the wagon in horror, having woken up to the sounds of the melee. "What is going on!?" His eyes are wide, fixed on Rothland with a mixture of terror and worry.
Making his way to the battlements Berrin restlessly paces for some time before stopping suddenly, drawing a deep breath he seems to sag with a great sigh. Leaning over the battlements he stares into the wilds, wondering what they'll throw at him next.
Panting from the burst of adrenalin, Corwin sinks his bloodied axe into the dirt before answering the merchant.
One of your passengers tried to kill the other.
He bends down to examine Rothland but with the final wound it doesn't take long. He's dead. If he is affected by the gory killing of a fellow human being he doesn't show it.
This was planned. He readied a horse. But not very well or he would have tried to kill me first. Or better yet waited til I was asleep.
He looks over at Alexius. Better get something on those wounds unless you want a pair of scar to impress the ladies. What did you do, beat him at cards?
Alexius walks several steps to pick up his sword from the ground and from his belt pouch produces a silk cloth. Ignoring his wounds, he quickly cleans his blade and sheaths it. Holding it in his left hand, he approaches the mercenary and extends his hand. You have saved my life. I am indebted to you - and a Hellknight always pays his debts. My name is Alexius Morai-Thrune." He grimaces, in obvious pain. "No, I do not play cards. I am afraid that I can not reach my wounds. Could you help me? Or is there a healer in this caravan?"
Verik looks a bit ashamed at the words of both Berrin and Jemini. "I'm sorry. It's just... There are rules, and orders. If the Bishop says that it what I have to do, then I have to do it unless one of the Archbankers comes to override him." He looks down, obviously upset. "I prayed for guidance, for an answer as to why someone like me was with people like you. Abadar seems to have given me an answer: I'm not." He walks off to find something to count or organize.
Svetlana is working on preparing some food for their unexpected guests. She hits some meat of what looks like elk, tenderizing it. She hits it with unexpected gusto and none of her usual cheerfulness. As Jemini comes up to her, she offers a terse smile. "Who does he think he is? He comes into our home, giving it as much respect as some backwoods trash dump, then humiliates poor Verik in front of the entire group like that? Kesten, too! Now I'm making something that he is probably going to insult. Oh, he makes me so mad I could scream!" Svetlana seems to have taken quite the dislike to Bishop Vinodragov.
Zander finds Berrin up on the battlements, joining him in staring off to the distance. "I'm pretty sure I could hit him from here." He gestures to the Bishop, speaking with his acolytes near the guest house. "One arrow and he'd go down. He probably has never left the city and seen the dangers that lurk in the wild. Wouldn't know what to do with a sword. Verik may not be a natural at this sort of thing, but at least he tries."
Taisper quickly rolls up the message, doing his best to keep his face blank, though he feels a surge of adrenaline. They know. It begins. This timing...I cannot believe it is coincidence. As he walks off to the side, still holding the paper, he summons a ball of acid into the same hand, obliterating it and directing the off into the ground away from anyone who might see.
He hangs back and watches the Bishop, then. learn all I can of his intentions. very well. Reckon there should be two minimum, five maximum spots near him at dinner. Have to see what I can do to be by him.
After Oleg leads him to his room, Taisper walks over there, wanting to be around when the bishop comes out. When he does, he immediately engages the man in conversation.
"Bishop Vinodragov, hi, hey; My name is Taisper, I'm helping the other fighters here -- " he jerks his head in the direction of Zander and Berrin " -- to clear these lands of bandits and beasts, make way for civilization, you know?" The slim young inquisitor holds out his hand, though he doesn't really expect the Bishop to shake it, and smiles brightly.
"I got no talents what could get me into the clergy, but I believe in the Master of the First Vault, and the Lawgiver especially. I grew up in a pretty rural place, but priests from the city would come and teach sometimes, so I got a copy of the Order of Numbers and studied it a lot, still do. So, but hey; I recently came across this phrase, someone we met said it, some old trapper fellow. I think what he said was...it was something like...'What is right, is not always law.' Does that...well, I guess what I'm asking is, what does that mean, to you, as a real Man of the Cloth, you know?"
Taisper's questions seem to amuse the Bishop. He takes Taisper's offered handshake, though it is clear that he patronizing the young man. "Taisper Stozs, I presume. Cousin to my wayward Cleric Jarrow, correct? I imagine that you are well-schooled in the ways of Abadar, if you have been traveling with him since you left Alkenstar City. I'd hardly call that rural. But, if you were to ask me, I would tell you that it is nonsense. Law is the thing that separates us from animals. The power to create a system that binds others from barbarism and animalism is not to be trifled with. With the proper ability, one can write the law; right and wrong is irrelevant to the discussion. What is law is what is right. Law does not flow from such amorphous ideas as right and wrong, but rather what is most beneficial to society."
Vinodragov seems awfuly pleased with his answer and himself in general. He keeps talking, likely to hear his own voice. "For example, Taisper, let's say that you are a nobleman tasked with advancing civilization and giving security and stability to society, and that you are beset by criminals preying upon your lands. A draconian policy that calls for execution of the family of any man caught in banditry might be considered too harsh, too severe, even 'wrong'. But, so long as it is necessary for the survival of your land, and so long as it is law, nothing else matters. Do not burden yourself with questions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, for the law itself answers them."
Alexius walks several steps to pick up his sword from the ground and from his belt pouch produces a silk cloth. Ignoring his wounds, he quickly cleans his blade and sheaths it. Holding it in his left hand, he approaches the mercenary and extends his hand. You have saved my life. I am indebted to you - and a Hellknight always pays his debts. My name is Alexius Morai-Thrune." He grimaces, in obvious pain. "No, I do not play cards. I am afraid that I can not reach my wounds. Could you help me? Or is there a healer in this caravan?"
Corwin retrieves his axe and waves away the thanks although he can't help frowning at the mention of hellknights. Corwin.
No healer unless our friend merchant is hiding one in his pocket although we can probably rustle up some bandages and some spirits to wash them in. I've no talent for mending things. This is going to hurt.
Tandlara spent the morning with young Nicholas, telling him stories of ancient lore and magic, of silly fey and the jokes they play ont he big folk, man and elf alike. She tells him of psuedodragons which may be kept as little friends and of the real thing, rampaging across the land, stopped only by the bravest of men and women, heroes. As the morning goes on she plays with him, showing him simple magicks, and even Riddleskin warms to him, the elfs affection overwhelming the rat's naturally grumpy state through their empathetic link. Tandlara sings little lullabies to herself as nicholas later goes off, and explores with the wonder only children can possess.
Tandlara smiles, filled with memories she could never confess that she had told to a child woven in with the fairytales. Old companions, now long dead, old love, still a ghost. Kraggor? Are you still alive, the only person beyond this outpost who knows me. Even you old friend were always resistant to the passage of the short lived, you were so pragmatic when they passed, yet you loved them all, how did it not kill you? Did it in the end? Bokken had stirred in her old memories of a friend long lost, a dwarven hero who survived the dragon's fire with her. Nothing like Bokken but it doesn't matter that much. I just needed the seed of a memory. I'm losing stray decades as I age, the mind doesn't have space enough for more than two centuries of detail. Will I someday forget him? Will he slip my mind, as if he had never existed? In all my remaining centuries? Will I find anything worth continuing for?
But Tandlara looked out at Nicholas, the bustle of the outpost forgetten behind her, and she found something worth fighting the tide for, something worth screaming defiance for, something worth being human for. Innocence Your beauty is fleeting, maybe thats the point. I would give all my long live to extend your brevity, if even by a day.
I won't forget that. Of all things I won't forget that.
Singing now aloud, Tandlara sheds tears, greiving in truth, and burying her lost love in her heart, as she did nearly a century ago on a stormy day overlooking the sea.
The archbankers, ey? Jemini thinks to herself, their words certainly would overrule the Bishop. I wonder how long it'll take Verik to realize...
"Don't be angry at the elk, Svetlana, your cooking is great because of the love you put into it," Jemini's quite poor at menial tasks, but she can lay a hand on Svetlana and a sense of ease touches her as well. "The Bishop is not unlike the weather. Come wind, rain or sunshine - we have little influence on it and must simply endure through it. Tomorrow will be a new day. We don't know much of the Bishop yet, for all we know, he too is dancing to the strings of some invisible puppeteer - but there is a chance that he'll be able to provide our expedition with additional money and resources; that can make it all worth it."
Through a window Jemini notices Verik pacing somewhat dejectedly in the distance. He's a smart lad. He'll figure it out. A vision from Abadar Himself certainly overrules a mere Bishop...
"I'd rather tar and feather him, send him riding back to New Stetven on a donkey." Berrin replies to Zander, staring darkly at the bishop. "Hells with him! He'll leave soon enough." Berrin spits out, turning away from the source of his anger.
Clapping Zander on the soulder he mutters somthing about needing a drink and heads off to find Oleg.
Alder Debesti did not sign up for one of his clients trying to kill another. This is the sort of thing that is bad for business. Shakingly, he paws through his own possessions looking for part of his emergency kit. This, he reflected, is the sort of thing that constitutes an emergency. He finds what he is looking for an brings it to Alexius. "Master Morai-Thrune, let me express my most sincere apologies. I had no idea what the fellow was planning. He seemed utterly normal, though I suppose they all do. Here, perhaps this will help." He hands Alexius a vial, one with a teal liquid inside. "It is a healing potion. Please, take it along with a full refund of your trip fee. Let me assure you, House Lebeda will spare no expense in finding out who sent him."
With Tandlara's prepared dinner being passed around and a number of makeshift pews set up, Bishop Vinodragov prepares to deliver his sermon in the late afternoon. Zander passes in favor of standing watch, while pretty much everyone else takes a seat out of various motivations. The Bishop is flanked by his acolytes and herald atop the battlement as he speaks. He holds his hands out to gain the attention of the assembled crowd.
"Blessings of the Lawgiver be with you. We join together today to celebrate the march of civilization into these untamed lands, demonstrated by brave entrepreneurs such as Olag Leventon, owner of this trading post. With luck and determination in Abadar's will, by the next generation, this will no longer be the frontier; civilization will grow and tame these lands."
"I commonly reflect on civilization itself, its value and its purpose. I believe that Abadar commands us to bring order out of chaos, for only in order can mankind know peace. Our rules mean nothing without the means to carry out our will, and without these means, the chaos itself will swallow this world. When you are out in these lands, building a new civilization out of nothing, remember that it is the rule of law and the means of acting upon that law that makes you part of a civilization."
"In truth, only a citizen can be part of a civilization. The two words are so close in etymology that they are intertwined. The citizens must be focused on the benefits and spread of civilization, otherwise they are no better than the primitive orc tribes that threaten to destroy all that we have worked for."
"I leave you with one final thought: other than divinity, it is civilization that makes all things possible. Every great accomplishment of mortality is the direct result of civilization. Thus, it stands to reason that the building of civilization is the quest for divinity in each of us."
He sits, allowing the acolytes to carry out the remainder of the ceremony and blessings. With this done, he raises his hands to demonstrate that it is time to eat. He looks down at the offered food and shakes his head, but eats it anyway.
Tandlara drifts out into the main area to see all of the activity and quickly asks a guard what has been happening. As she is informed the burgeoning smile leaves her face and her calm, emotionless mask returns once more.
Bishops. It is rare to meet men more convinced of their own divinity than those who rank high in the supposed worshippers of the gods. This won't do any good for Taispar, and poor Verik.
She moves in to the back of the sermon, to watch and observe, managing to keep her face still as she listens. She almost snarls when he shakes his head at the food. Pompous ass. Balance is the key to survival and happiness, blind adherence and total lawlessness both cause harm. It is only through patience and balance that peace can be acheived.
As the sermon ends she shakes her head and rises, moving away from the pews she goes to find Zander on the walls, regretting not having done so immediately.
Upon seeing him, she walks up and rests a hand on his elbow. 'You made the right choice Dear One. There was little to hear in that sermon. Is there anything astride in the darkening land?'
Jemini is seated near the bishop. She shows every sign of enjoyment at Svetlana's cooking. "Your Eminence, thank you for your sermon; I'm sure that those that can fully grasp the meaning of your words are bolstered and ready to take on these wilds." She motions for another flagon of wine, pouring first for the Bishop and whoever nearby desires some, before filling her own cup.
"I hope that the Vaults of Abadar can open and offer additional resources to claim this region. The expedition can blaze the way and prepare the land, but it won't be enough by itself. We will need a lot of wealth, goods, laborers, artisans, architects, soldiers and more - and the fledgling nation won't be able to make-up the money to pay for these things. I place my trust in the good will of Brevoy and, of course, the shining beacon of civilization that is Church of Abadar; please say that you can help, Your Grace." She pays careful attention to the bishop's response; hoping to find how much he's willing to commit - and how much more he could be pushed to.
Berrin takes his place by the table to suffer through the sermon, keeping close to the group he nevertheless nibles at the food distractedly as he waits for the windbag to quiet down. When everyone sets to the food the bishop is momentarily forgotten as Berrin piles food on his plate and sets to eating like a starved animal. Suddenly warm and moist on his thigh Berrin looks down to Reggie with his head in his lap, staring up at him. Laughing Berrin slips food to the thylacine, making sure it eats it's fill.
Zander shakes his head, eyes fixed on the distance. "Nothing. Whole lot of nothing, which is what I expect was coming out of the Bishop's mouth."
Bishop Vinodragov stares at Jemini intently, judging her words. "I could be persuaded into committing more resources, though I would like a say in the development of this land. I worry that if House Surtova and its allies are pushed out of the decision-making progress for what will eventually be the southmost province of Brevoy, then it will exacerbate the tension between Rostland and Issia." He signals to his herald, who brings forward a small chest. "I entrust this to you and your allies in the quest for further development of this land. The Church can be convinced to make a greater investment if they believe that the return will be lucrative." The herald flips open the chest's lid, displaying its contents. "A thousand platinum pieces, directly from the Church of Abadar and stamped with our mark." Without giving her an opportunity to respond, he signals to the herald and acolytes that it is time to retire. He leads the way to the guest house and closes the door behind him.
Watching the bishop leave the table Berrin gets up and head over to Jemini. Staing into the chest Berrinpicks up one of the coins and examines it befeore tossing it with a solid clink back into the chest. "What's he hoping to buy?" he asks Jemini directly. "Noone gives away that much money without wanting somthing in return, especially not the bankers."
Taken aback by the sudden development Jemini can just look at the retreating back of the religious dignitary. To offer some closure she softly stammers to herself, "Oh thank you - you're welcome - I cannot possibly accept - but I insist - whatever will we do - I'm sure this new nation will find a use..." Oh, great. A big black bullseye is now painted on us; we'll have to act against the bandits soon - if news spreads all manner of opportunists will take a chance. This is why my father did not burden me unnecessarily with treasure. The time is not ripe yet. Wait a minute... even Vinodragov must be aware of this. She looks down at the small but heavy chest. Surtova... hmmm... their aim is to stay the dominant power, 'exacerbating' tensions between Rostland and Issia is their surest bet to get what they want. She looks at Taisper and Berrin her expression, that of a raccoon that bit into a fruit expecting sweetness but finding that it was a lemon instead.
Making sure they're not unduly overheard she lowers her voice, "I agree. The official line he'll tow is that the Church is investing in our expedition. But given the track record of expeditions into the Stolen Lands and the meager progress we've made to date, that would be a rather risky investment at this point - very unlike the Church. Particularly at such a magnitude." She looks at Berrin, "This is ten-thousand gold."
"He speaks of Surtova and its allies, and their decision-making power on our expedition. And the Bishop has effectively marked us and Oleg's as a big bounty for bandits in the region. In their minds it must be a form of win-win situation that only costs them a small fortune."
"I suggest we strike out against the Stag Lord as soon as possible; in a week the news will have spread - and a week after that the size of the supposed treasure will have increased tenfold. We need to convert the coins into certainties as soon as possible." Noticing the somewhat blank expression on her companions she explains, "I mean changing the wealth into assets, such as buildings, and items. Things where the true value cannot easily be judged or cannot easily be taken away."
"What do you guys think about it?"
"I think we should use the money to secure the mine we found. With this money we should be able to establish and fortify our holdings in these lands. Building a proper baracks should be on top of the list after that, if we're to secure this area we'll need muscle to do it, we can't hope to maintain peace in the region on our own and with the Stag Lord gone the bandits will be roaming and looking for easy marks."
Alexius calmly accepts the potion and drains it in one gulp. "Thank you. This potion is more than enough restitution for this unfortunate event. It is I who should apologize to you. It is clear that I was the target of this man."
Debesti, being a merchant of some skill, adapts as best he can to the situation. "Master Morai-Thrune, I believe that this incident proves the great degree of emphasis I place on security. While some merchants hire warriors and mercenaries of little skill or integrity, Corwin here is the type of guard we hire. Allow his skill and bravery, not the treachery of this Rothland fellow, to be what you remember of this trip." He shakes Corwin's hand, genuinely pleased with his performance. "Excellent work, Corwin! Such good work, in fact, I feel fairly confident that I can secure you a place in the retainers of House Lebeda." He hopes to himself that securing a skilled warrior, especially one who saved a man who presents a possible avenue of increased trade with Cheliax, might eventually lead to increased prestige and opportunity.
Tandlara smiles at Zander. 'You couldn't hve said it better my dear. Men like that are the true problems with gods, they think they are the rightful mouthpieces, so secure on their thrones. They filter their divine patron's words, staining them with their own thoughts. Whatever about not trusting gods, never trust a church heirarchy.'
Tandlara keeps staring out over the wall, watching the land beyond breathing, moving, living slowly in the dark.
Feeling the need to explain himself Berrin continues, "I feel it's prudent to secure a steady flow of money of we are going to be building a nation, securing that flow would greatly ease our efforts in building and maintaining towns, roads and farms. A standing army might be far off, but a well trained and equiped militia is feasable if money is a constant." he says, suspecting he is showing insight perhaps not expected of the burly warrior he looks sheepishly at the gathered party. "Am I wrong?"