Garian will make a show of slowly inhaling a huge breath of air apparently in preparation to yell the question at the top of his lungs.
If the steward doesn't interrupt him he'll stop and let out the breath before asking conversationally, "But I really don't need to do yell, do I."
Asim stands taking in the story and watching the buttler enter. He smiles at the exchange with Garian.
Your master has died, why play games with us? We are here in service of the new Boyar. Do you not wish the new Boyar to inherit the estate? Or you do know something of the girl, but old secrets are still secrets you swore to keep. Your service to the familly is commendable, but we are in service as well now and any information you could share would be helpfull.
Vuk listened with great attention and at the introduction of the locket he peered intently at the jewelry.
Perception
But notices nothing of import about the locket or portrait. As the boyar finished Vuk piped in: "House Gniewom is always at the disposal of House Ribalka."
As the boyar starts to leave, Vuk stands and moves close to him.
"Boyar Alexi, you most likely do not remember me. You were but a young child when your father fostered me and I rarely spent more than a few days on the grounds. My father, Boyar Grigor Gniewom, has sent me to pay our respects to your family and to reaffirm our oaths to House Ribalka. If you would allow me a few moments in your family shrine, before your priest or seneschal, I will renew our commitment to you as our rightful Lord and Protector."
Diplomacy
The Boyar bows deeply to Vulk, and pauses, I do not have the honor of remembering you, I'm afraid. However, your father ,and grandfather have always enjoyed the esteem and gratitude of the Ribalka, and my father spoke highly of your father on several occasions. I'm honored that you should wish to renew your oath of loyalty, but to be honest...
Here he seizes you by the hand, and whispers into your ear...
-Back to present-
The old butler straightens up, and stares you straight in the eye, he suddenly speaks directly to Asim Il-Lord ta 'gideb huwa dejjem jaraw, u imur fejn hu se, jisimgħu l-cries ta' l-dgħajfa, u jfittxu l-erwieħ korrotti, li titgħawweġ u torbothom sabiex se tiegħu
-To the rest of you he continues in Yazik You aren't welcome here and I for one feel the boyar should have taken his secret to the grave. Yes there was a child. Yes it was dropped off in a basket, and he asked me to 'take care of it'. I did so, found a local, nearly blind elderly woman, and dropped off the girl. Never went back, arranged for a sum of money to be given to the old woman once a year, and carried out the masters orders. Now, what's all this foolishness about? It's been more than 20 years. Why now?
Asim hears the words and has a look of bewilderment for a moment.
We know not why. Why summon us? We all possess some sort of tie to the late Boyar. The why is what we hope to find. This old woman, is she still alive? Can you tell us where to find her? Thank you my friend for your help.
Asim smiles and bows continuing to be polite as possible.
Vuk nods.
"As you wish Boyar. Please consider this, for the moment our oath—By Dazhbog, House Gniewom will do what is necessary to aid you in your quest."
He then bows and exits the Boyar's presence, just in time to hear the old servant launch into his diatribe.
He responds in Yazik
"Be glad old fool that this is a house in mourning, for I will not trouble your master to allow me satisfaction for speaking to invited guests in such a manner. But do not think my patience with your insubordination will be infinite. Do I make myself clear?"
-Not daring to speak back to a superior, which the Cavalier most certainly is, as well as a minor member of the aristocracy, Petrushka blushes, and and drops his eyes.
No, my lord, I should not have...I'm quite sorry sir. It won't happen again.
-He seems fairly intimidated by the knight's threat.
-As I said, I don't know if the old woman still lives, after a few years, there were no more requests for gold, and so I think the old woman, and perhaps the child died, or moved away. Or relatives came. I don't know. It was a long time ago. More than 20 years.
-The butler picks nervously at his coat before going off on another outburst Where will this all end up, house full of elves and orcs, and an angry aristocart all standing in the library. What did I do to deserve this? I'm just an old, tired man, and don't know how to handle this. My heart will burst. Ah!
"Where was the money sent?" Garian asks calmly. "What was her name?"
The elf listens to the questions of the others and the old man’s answers. He then asks, ”Do you remember the late Boyar knowing a woman with eyes like the child? Also, as you said, perhaps the child did die, but she must have lived long enough to have this portrait made. Five years or so after her birth. Was there any particular Elven painter your late master favored? Do you have records of money paid to artists?”
He addresses the others. ”We know the late Boyar had multiple offspring that were well-cared for. This is an exception. She was placed with an old, near-blind woman. Money was provided, true, but other than this portrait we wouldn’t think the Boyar cared for her much. The birth mother must have felt the girl would have a better life if acknowledged by the Boyar, either from resources or perhaps the mother wasn’t in a position to care for the girl. Maybe she was betrothed to another. I shouldn't speculate -- I don't want to bias our investigations. Sir Vuk, do you know of any noble families that have similar eyes as the girl? None leap to my mind, but let me think.”
"Her eyes? What about them?"Garian takes another look at the locket
"I wonder where the Boyer got this locket if he had no contact with her."
Kuraj has a basic understanding of reading but refuses to do so. Instead he paces around the library muttering to himself in orc.
"Regrettably, I paid little attention to the members of court and instead studied warfare and matters of faith instead. Still, perhaps, we can find something in the library."
As he enters the library, he looks around and asks his companions.
"Outside of it's peculiarity, do multi-hued eyes represent anything? I can think of nothing in the religious texts I've studied that would hint at that."
”Nothing leaps to mind, Sir Vuk, but perhaps the answer can be found in here.”
Frunthpyllin lightly traces his fingers across the spines of many of the books. He’s impressed with the family library. Not as grand as some he has seen, but very satisfying, despite poor organization. ”I can read these books in City Elvish and Old Church Yazik. The Dwarvish too. Anyone have a preference about which books you get?” Opening the drawer of a writing desk, he finds ink, pencils, parchment, fine sand for blotting, and one pen. ”We can take notes if we need to.” He takes a pencil and a sheet of parchment and claims a chair near a window.
”If the Boyar kept a diary, I doubt he would have written about the curse and this mystery child. At least directly. At the very least we might know where he was all those years ago. Would you mind asking the butler if diaries exist?” he addresses the orc.
As he begins to read, he makes notes. From time to time he will glance at the others to estimate their demeanor. The eclectic group speaks to the Boyar’s openness or pragmatism. An orc, two elves, an Iftarin, and a knight. An interesting mix. One book leads to others and he begins cross referencing what a legend says in Old Church Yazik with a summary of a text in Dwarvish, leading on to other tomes that haven't been touched in years. Hours pass and he calls in a servant for a plate of blini, mushrooms, and cheese.
Garian doubtfully picks up a tomb on family history, "I'm more at home hunting through the forest than dusty pages."
Garian will continue researching family history the next day (6 hours a day is probably about as much time as he's willing to spend in a library!)
Kuraj refuses to read anything, even in his own tongue.
Vuk, unsure where to start, takes up a book of Boyar genealogy and starts reading. Looking in particular for a family with multi-hued eyes. It was unpleasant, to say the least, reminding him of the lessons of his youth, when he was forced to stay inside and read rather than work on his jousting and martial skills.
Still, there was a season for everything, as his tutors had said.
Vuk, called out for the old servant.
"Please prepare my companions and I some tea," he asked with a bit more politeness. His father had taught him to use his position wisely when dealing with servants.
Diplomacy
As he waited on his tea. He continued reading.
Knowledge Nobility How this isn't a class skill is beyond me.
Asim will crack a history book and give it a shot.
Knowledge History
After reading through the book, Asim sits back and taps his finger on his chin. Interesting, that was not a bad read, but what the hell did I just read? I didn't understand any of it.
The elf clears his throat, ”This is from the book Journeys in the Southern Steppe by Ussad Abn-Rachim, Knight of Tal’al, as translated by Gougri of Starigorod, but I’ve seen similar references in other sources here. ‘The offspring of a hag and a mortal man is a blight and an offense to Tal’al. These changelings, or hag spawn, should be drowned at birth. You shall know changelings by their sign: females with odd-eyes and black hair.’ That sounds like our mystery girl. I’ve read elsewhere hags are found in the bogs and salt marshes of this region.”
Garian replies absently, "I was reading earlier that there are still some Kett in the area. Witches served by enslaved, enchanted tribes.
Crossing his arms, he waits silently, and maybe a little sullen. His unfriendly eyes stare at you, as you 'clutter' up the library.
"Thank you. We will be on our way as soon as we find the information we need." Garian tells the steward pointedly.
Before pouring himself a cup of tea, Frunthpyllin admires the thin porcelain cup, smiling at the craftsmanship. Sitting, he takes his time with the tea, inhaling the scent and slowly sipping the hot drink. ”Subtle citric notes. A hint of mint. Very fine. I remember this well from my previous time here,” he tells the butler.
With the scone, he adds a dab of strawberry jam, and happily eats it.
He waits for the others to finish any snacks before broaching their next actions. ”What do you think our next step should be? Attempt to find the painter of the portrait? He may have valuable information. Start wandering the local area trying to find a hag? I’d rather not try such an...inelegant option.” He reads over his notes. ”Since it appears changelings gradually turn into hags, perhaps she would return to her place of birth, answering this inner voice. Like fish that travel to their spawning grounds. Or birds that return to the same nesting area year after year. I could try to find more information,” he waves his right hand at the books lining the wall.
”Petrushka, can you tell us about life in Morskaya before the baby appeared? What were the problems the Boyar dealt with at the time?”
"Are we daring to accuse the late boyar, before his body is even in the ground, of mating with a HAG!" The young noble exclaimed, incredulously.
"Yes the child has multi-colored eyes, but other than weird eyes what proof is there? I vote we find this locket painter. For all we know he had agitated this painter and he did it as a subtle insult to the Boyar."
Even as he protested, it was clear he was also trying to convince himself.
--About 25 years ago, the Boyar had just lost his first wife to illness, and so was in a bit of a depression. He was 'irresponsible' in his grief, drinking too much vodka, and seducing the peasent girls. There was one woman in particular though, a certain Agitha, who sticks out in my mind. She was a minor noble, some military family from the western mountains. She was a particular favorite of the Boyar.
The old man chuckles slightly...
--After a few months together, the woman left, and we thought no more about it, the Boyar married his current wife, and we all thought all is well. He pauses for a moment...
--After a year, about, the baby showed up on the front door. Nobody knows who brought it, and the boyar called me into his study. I was, as I told you earlier, to find an old woman to care for the child. I was to look for one either deaf or blind, as he feared a great scandal. I was puzzled since his lordship had always sent his other 'love children' to study or to the church, so why was this one special?"
--He suddenly gets much less helpful...
Didn't I tell you all this already?
In response to Vuk's outburst
Petrushka hurries to calm the knight. I saw the child, and yes she did have different colored eyes. I thought it was strange, and a sign of bad luck. It had occured to me the boyar thought she was cursed, and thus wanted her away from the family house and grounds. I would have drowned her myself, but his lordship is less 'pious' than myself.
"Mercilessness can sometimes be hidden by the modest veil of piety," Vuk responds to the insolent servant.
"Say this beggar tells us the truth. That the Boyar did indeed bed, unwittingly, a hag or a changeling, we are still left with the question of where to start looking. I stand by my opinion that we search for the locket painter."
I find it agreeable to track down this Painter. I don't see a good alternative. We could check with the witch hunters here in the area, but I'm not sure what information they could offer.
”Sir Vuk, I meant no offense to the Boyar’s character. It did seem obvious to me that he was the father, or at least thought he was, but I did not mean to imply that he willingly had relations with a hag. She could have charmed or hexed him using magic in a variety of ways.”
While the others discuss the group’s next course of action, Frunthpyllin searches for a book, quickly moving along the shelves. ”Wonderful,” he calls out, pulling an oversized tome from a bottom shelf. He sets it on the table and starts flipping through the pages. ”The Krevliskov Atlas. My initial thoughts were to find the painter too, before we spent time in the library, and learned what we did. Here we are,” he says pointing along the southern coast. ”Now the best way to find the painter would be to go to the Elf Dales. Crossing the steppe and mountains. A difficult journey, yes?” he poses to question to Garian. ”Or go by sea; an expensive and unpleasant journey. Once we reach Wynthellin, Llythrythdella, or another city where we discover the painter’s identity, we would most likely then need to travel to the painter’s location because a painter of this skill travels seeking noble patronage.” He steps away from the book to let the others peruse it.
”I like your idea, Asad, of asking the local witch hunters. Finding members of the Boyar’s traveling group could give us information too. Maybe one or two might know what happened.”
I'm sick of this place with it's books, and shelves, and tea. We should leave.
Kuraj looks uncomfortable in the library.
"We can start locally asking any of the townsfolk if they remember the Painter or the Girl, the priest may have been brought in to bless her after birth, but I think the painter is our best hope."
I agree Vuk, shall we be off then?
Asim looks around at the others. He then stands and stretches.
let us go out and get a feel for the town, and how they felt about the late Boyar. I sure we will be able to dig up somethings.
"That would be all right with me. We can always come back here if the lead doesn't work out"
The city elf raises an eyebrow at the orc’s statement and frowns in incomprehension, judging the others’ reactions to see if they understand. ”Maybe we could find the wet nurse. She might have some information. The neighbors too. They might remember what happened to the young girl. Or maybe the painter’s name if the portrait was done at her house.”
<nods>