Yer Elfness, Silas thinks, Don't hear that too often.
To the Kobold, he thinks, and says, "Well... I'm a magicy man, though I've just arrived here. What was your message? If I get the chance, I can pass it along, but it might be a few days at least."
Since it's a sunny day, he'll wander the town quite a bit before heading over to the council at the latest hour that won't seem rude or suspicious.
The kobold looks up at Silas, head tilted oddly, his eyes blinking side to side, No I not know messagess. Meepox not for words reading. Meepox only write them down. I to give to the big stabby stab man or honey tongue man. That is what his awful smelling not good Chief Tartuk commands. But then, head tilting sharply to the opposite side, he adds, Kind old plays with eggs shaman not say not who to show, so ok. Meepox feels around in the satchel, stuffed with dried cave moss and other bits of unidentified things, pulling out first a wooden doweled scroll, tied with a purple ribbon but quickly stuffing that back, instead drawing out a dried but supple piece of skin with a tight scrawl upon it. He hands it to Silas, You read, but you give back now. Meepox hold for meeting with his barum-ship.
Silas thanks Meepox. "You can have this note back, certainly; I will remember what it says, and put in a good word. I have a great personal faith that your "shiny rocks" may be something of use to us."
Since the town has a Weaponsmith and Blacksmith, Silas will ask about reserving time on the third forge for Armorsmithing, and make himself a new, neat little sign that says "Silas Lavein, purveyor of fine Hats, Suits, Suits of Armor, and Armored Hats." If the council has nothing special for him, he's now got a business he can tinker away at.
Midday had carried rumors in the tavern of another being slain by the lackeys of the Stag Lord. This made Grailmont sigh, as he finished his pint and stood, tightening his cloak and pulling up his hood he stepped out of the tavern into the town, making his way to the Watchtower to confirm the rumors.
Stepping inside he pulled his hood down and spotted Ulfric, walking over to him. Greetings old friend, whispers stir that we have lost another to the hand of the Stag Lord.
Turning to Kesten he raised a brow. Can you two confirm this? And if that be, where-in the colony was he slain? He asked with a concerned tone.
The militiaman from the night before informed the council that "guests" have arrived in town with charters similar to those when the caravan set out back in Calistril. Intrigued, the council asked the gate guards to watch for anyone else who might have such a document, and to inform them a council meeting has been scheduled for just before the evening meal. Word was sent out to the Guardians to likewise make an appearance. The halfling Anando Veresisi has worked himself into a tizzy over the development, topped over by the announcement that the Castellan is coming for a visit.
Preparations for the council meeting have begun and a few off duty guards have begun assisting in preparing a small feast for the new arrivals. A young boy who acts as crier for the town has begun calling out for new arrivals, Those with letters of charter or marque to please attend this special gathering.
Meepox takes back the note and returns it to his satchel. Not know why rocks so good. He holds up a small nodule of stone, run through with a vein of silver color. Good weight but break bad when thrown. Not good for hunting. The little kobold resumes his perch on the tree stump, taking interest in the soldiers scurrying about the bailey.
The smiths look Silas over, taking a moment to talk amongst themselves. They decide together a dwarf, human, and elf should be able to share space crafting and forging side by side. They agree to inform Mayor Leveton of your desire to lease the third forge when next he visits the work site. From the progress, it appears to be at least two more weeks before all is set for anyone to start up the hearths. Two of the three hearths have been lain, the third is underway. The forge furnaces are next, with Master Kinbad's son Kan and Markain Steele framing the first furnace.
Can you two confirm this? And if that be, where-in the colony was he slain? He asked with a concerned tone.
Aye lad, tha man wert a trapper an furrier name a' Thaddy Dunn. 'e past through first o tha week 'eading ta tha north end o tha Thorn River. Patrol brought 'im back last nite. Definitely tha band o Kressle's I wager. We'll discuss it tanite at tha meetin. Ditcha ear, wes got guests wit more charters, ya guardians may hae some new blood, or mehbe competition yeh.
As to the increased patrols, the men want to move up the rotation to every four days instead of six, and in size from six men and a sergeant to eight men, a sergeant and either the lieutenant, the captain, or Ulfric himself leading each patrol. One patrol would head out to the east and make a circuit through those lands, two days later the next patrol would head out to the west, each taking four days to complete their current routes.
Grailmont stiffened up and showed an inquisitive look. New folk with Guardian charters yeah? He gestured towards Kesten. Kesten, if you could be so kind as to gather these new guardians and bring them here, Ulfric and I will work on the changes to the patrol and will confer with you when you get back. Once that is done and Echo is done addressing his matters we will convene and exchange formalities. I would greatly appreciate this.
Grailmont finished, turning to Ulfric. Alright, I think the request of the troops is reasonable, however sending them behind a lieutenant will suffice seeing as these attacks just so happen to take place AFTER we have cleared the area. Clearly patrolling the areas themselves isn't quite preventing these attacks, so I think it would be in best interest to start placing pitfalls and net traps along with other booby-traps to thwart these attacks, along with watch towers to surveill them. We should have some hunters that can lend their expertise to this matter, and the extra resources used in the process pales to the cost of lives. With trapping the woods the could also increase the danger of our foragers, so we can have Echo release a vague statement to everyone in the town to use their senses when out in the forest. What say you Ulfric, whats your two copper on the matter?
Kesten informs Grailmont that the council just put out a call for all such charter holders to meet at the council hall this evening, hearing the crier passing the Seven Silver's tap room. They're to show together when the entire council can be present. He imagines Steward Anando has sent a rider to fetch Sir Eagle and Jhod Kavken too, before they travel too far away from Olegton.
Lad, trapping may be a good idea fer rabbits and tha 'alf blind tatzlwyrm, but these bandits make use o traps themselves. We'd be just givin em more ta be used agin our own folks. I be thinkin tha best approach be ta hit this Kressle 'ard n fast, afer she be knowin we found 'er camp now. Take a patrol or two ta sweep tha north n west of 'er base, wit you Guardians comein up tha Thorn to gi'e 'er tha good deep gut punch. Take 'er out an meebe any others will go runnin fer their master, buy us time ta find 'im too. Ulfric downs his half ale and wipes his mouth over the back of his sleeve. Tha'd be wat I'd do laddie. Pay tha blood wit 'er own now.
Grailmont nodded Aye Ulfric, blood will have blood, but we still have to expand not only as a town but as a kingdom. We should still establish a few more smaller watch towers around the outlying areas and outfit them with warning bells or signal fires. As for Kressle, we should scout her base, have someone with a strong perception gather a dossier for our target and her bandits. Kressle will pay for her crimes against these lands. At all costs I request that Kressle is not killed, but captured and questioned, tortured if need be, and then publicly executed to make a statement against the Stag Turd. Grailmont said, grinning. Oh and as for them "running" to their master, I will do everything in my power to ensure that every single last one of them is completely destroyed..what say you to that??
Well laddie, these be tha things ya need ta bring up ta tha Council meeting. They be deciding policy, and tha's where they'll decide which o us is tha right. But iffin ya wanna kin tha truth, I prefer ta ride tha roads seeing to it tha settlers make it 'ere in one piece.
After waiting patiently while the caravan has been halted by the crimson guard under the command of Captian Radet Tens. Now at the edge of his patience and biting his irritation back, Ser Brandon invites the Captain the to dine with him. Pouring the little remaining good wine he carries he says to the Captain. "Captain, if I may speak plainly. I understand you duty here but so do I have mine and my orders." he says pulling out the rolled up charter in its case."I have here a charter signed by Castellan of Issia, Waldorf Dupreux with the King's Seal. You understand that my duties as sanctioned by the Castellan cannot go hindered. I would naturally be very embarrassed if I had to add in my reports the cause of my delay in arriving at Olegtown where those whos... interests may run a different course our King and Castellan. I'm certain you understand." he says letting the words sink in, hoping the Captain doesn't risk probing deeper or uncovering his true intentions.
"Now in order not to cause you any inconvenience with the rest of the caravan, you will appreciate that I shall set out set out after our meal under cover of dark. My horse is saddled and awaits at the ready. You have the thanks of house Lodovka."
After completing their meal Ser Brandon mounts his fine black charger. The black stallion is clearly no ordinary horse and bred for war. Shadowmist rides into the night with Ser Brandon atop arriving at Olegtown at day break.
As dawn approaches a well armed knight in armour, draped in a black tabard (not bearing the colours of any house) approaches the town with his limited supplies, a top a fine and muscular jet black charger.
The captain thanks Ser Brandon for his patience and asks that he indulge him only a bit longer, allowing that for safety it would be best to approach the town in daylight to avoid the appearance of a bandit slinking through the dark.
The next morning Ser Brandon finds the captain rushed two wagons out of the holding area while he slumbered. Furious but not wasting any time, Ser Brandon rushed himself ready and road off at a good clip, arriving not long after the two wagons made their approach to Olegton.
This occurs roughly at 10AM, giving Ser Brandon a few hours to familiarize himself with the town. A crier is passing the streets calling for any new arrivals who possess "charters or marques" to please come to the council hall within the Watchtower this evening at four bells.
After waiting three days in a soggy wagon, just out of sight of a warm hearth and the final destination, Orin arrives in Olegton on the second set of wagons to be allowed passage. This occurs roughly at 11AM, giving Orin a few hours to familiarize himself with the town. A crier is passing the streets calling for any new arrivals who possess "charters or marques" to please come to the council hall within the Watchtower this evening at four bells.
Turning to his left and seeming to speak to his own shoulder, Orin Earthglider whispers I wonder if everyone here is as... quietly biased, as those guardsman and the good Captain Radet Tens. A chocolate brown, narrow head pokes out from Orin's mane of steel gray hair and twitches his silver little whiskers. Yes, Fáinní. I think a lay of the land would be a good thing. This place is not nearly the as small as I imagined.
Good Sir! Excuse me. Orin shouts at the crier from his wagon seat. Where would one go for a local map and possibly conversation?
Try the Seven Silvers Inn, good dwarf. It's a three story inn with a small stables and corral. Many travelers tend to wind up there. It's a commons and tavern. You can't miss it. Ask there about maps. the crier responds before heading off in the opposite direction.
he says to the figure's retreating back. Well, Fáinní, I judge that to be slightly better than the previous guards. So not expansive and accepting, but acceptable. He snaps the reins of the mules and steers his wagon further into the settlement, nodding here and there to those with which he happens to make eye contact.
This charter is sufficient for the time being, but in addition to this, I need to insert myself somewhere my talents will be appreciated, similar to Grayhaven. Orin thinks to himself.
On arriving in the town the Ser Brandon starts to gather enough as much information as he can about the town.
"Good man, the asks a passer by. Where could I find a stable for my horse. He's quite precious to me and I'd like a good place."
"I've just got into town. I'm looking for a decent inn. I'd rather not be robbed in the middle of the night. And where's a good place for breakfast. I've been on the road a while I could use a good hot meal."
And so Ser Brandon strikes up conversations with the locals and attempts to glean some insight into the workings of the town, who the important inhabitants and the general sentiment.
Orin finds his way to the Seven Silvers easy enough. The large inn is situated along the main open expanse that leads to the Watchtower towards the northern end of town.
As he enters the white plaster and redwood framed structure it takes a moment for the dwarf to adjust to the change. The noise of the street is lost as the door shut behind him. The lighting is fair, with light from the windows along the frontwall falling across the floor. A few wheel shaped chandeliers cast additional light from their four cardinal point oil lamps, two of the six being light at this time.
The room holds several round tables surrounded by chairs, a few longer tables placed along the left wall flanked by bench rows. A pair of doors stand against the back wall to the left of a long wooden bar fronted by stools. The frontpiece has a series of low steps allowing persons of shorter height to rise to the seats and be at height for the bar. To the right of the bar, another door leads back out of the room. Along the right wall three doors are evenly spaced, possible private rooms.
The bar stools are currently empty, save for a single human, young adult, dressed in common garb, somewhat threadbare, nursing a mug. His short brown hair is matted to his head, perhaps a bit dirty and greasy. A round table near the door holds three men engaged in conversation. They stop as they realize you are there, looking over to you. While not overly friendly, nothing in their demeanor would indicate hostile intent. One is older, balding, with a bushy mustache, the others resemble . A fair haired, light skinned, half elf lounges over one of the benches to the left, his long table covered with a lute, songhorn, and several sheets of papers. He is humming to himself and scratching notes down as if suddenly the information comes to him.
A young red haired, pale skinned girl approaches from behind the bar, her height dropping as she moves through the bar's swinging door. Hello sir, I'm Asina. Are you here for a room or do you wish a meal? She wears a homespun but well maintained dress, a white apron tied around her waist. She holds a large tankard in one hand, a drying cloth in the other. Ohh, sorry, I mean welcome to the Seven Silvers Inn, the finest inn in Olegton. May I offer you a drink while we prepare your room. The girl gives a relieved breath of air, almost a whistle, as she quickly spilled out the last, smiling proudly to herself.
The rotund gentleman looks Ser Brandon up and down, wiping his sweating brow with a small towel from his work apron. A smear of damp flour remains as he does so. Oh well, welcome to Olegton good sir. I am Thorrius Jay Carterson, Thorry to everyone but my mother. The chubby human leans in close, almost conspiratorially, glancing up and down the street as he does so. If you are looking for an inn, we have the Seven Silvers just up the street. It has good walls, good floors, fair beds, decent meals and the absolutely finest baked goods in Olegton. He puffs up his chest a bit, I should know, I provide them their breads and cakes. Highhill offers some lodging amongst his tents, but that is more for those looking to spend only a few minutes, err I mean a few hours, if you know what I mean. turning red faced and a little eager.
As for your horse, a fine steed that, I would again recommend the Seven Silvers, even though they did not take me up on my offer for equine biscuit treats. Small, but the boy does a good job with his charges. We have a common stables, still a tent fair, over in the outskirts near Highhill's, but don't let that fool you. Gurcaryn is a wonder with the horses. Can't say he's much for people though, grumpy old half orc.
Of course, you don't have to take my word for it. Why just today I was speaking to the baron, I find I often have his ear, about our fair Olegton. He values my advice, my thoughts for improving things around here. He is in the small manor just near to the Watchtower. There, or maybe he has gone over to the Council hall.[b] Again leaning close, [b]I believe he has been seeing the council clerk Ilimara for a few weeks now. A fine young woman, I think she will make a fair baroness some day. But you didn't hear that from me.
As the man begins to regale the knight further, Ser Brandon takes the sound of the town crier as a cue to break off from what must likely be the town gossip, saying Thank you good sir, I look forward to trying your wares. I best hurry don't you think, while their fresh. With that the knight makes a quick though cordial move back and away from the man, heading on down the street, ostensibly towards the inn. The chubby man waves and calls after him, Good day to you sir, and again, welcome to Olegton. He then turns and waddles on down the road, turning down a side passage.
Asina's demeanor and smile coaxes an answering grin on the dwarf. He sketches a bow and says I admire the enthusiasm, lass, but I'll just have water, if you do not mind. I would consider a meal, though.
Orin walks over to the table with the three men, and begins speaking in his slow, gruff voice That is an impressive mustache. It indicates good breeding. he says as he strokes his own facial hair in, what is possibly, an unconscious gesture. Would any of you mind if I sit with you? There is plenty of seats here at the moment, but not much company.
I am Orin, by the way.
Hoping off the wagon, she quickly exchanges farewells with the family, shoulders her pack and bow and heads for the nearest guard or militiaman she can find, her woodland cloack wiping in the wind behind her.
A half hour more and she stood before the Watchtower at the center of town, near to the tall post pole holding news, fliers and information of interest to the peoples. Through the open gate K'lana spied someone she recognized, a tinkerer that had shared a wagon a few spots ahead of hers, he searched herself to remember the elf's name, Sila or Silas I think.
The elf passed K'lana by in a rush, mumbling something about a smithy. In his haste he failed to recognize her. A militia man approaches the girl, not noticing at first she her elven heritage, thinking her a local maiden. 'Ere now, tha council is only open ta tha aggrieved ta day, is you on tha lists/
He suddenly realizes she is not who he thought, an embarrassed cringe flashing over his face. He stammers quickly, Oh sorry milady, thought youse was a local girl. My pardons an all. 'Ow may I be 'elping ya. Is ya lost? The inn is back down the yonder, gesturing back down the large open street.
Tha Seben Silvers, ya can't miss tha sign. They says thar's a full seben on it, looks right, kina say meself. Or is you lookin fer work. Ya look ta be one what kin 'andle 'erself. Master Ulfric be seeking a few 'ands fer tha guard. Ain't got a perty girl yet, though doan be telling Gerta wat I dun said that. Pausing he sees her blank expression.
He straightens up, pulling his leather doublet straight, smoothing his plain green tabard.]Oh sorry 'gen, I tends ta talks all too quicks sometimes. I's 'erbert, guardsmen o' Olegton. Welcome to Olegton, He says swinging wide his arm, holding his spear out as he does so.
'Ow may I be 'elping ya today. Gonna be a guddin I figures.
A young boy runs past, exiting from the council hall and out into the street. Ayyy'alll by orders of the council, all persons holding letters or writs need to come to the council hall four bells today. Meal provided. By orders of the council, all persons holding letters or writs need to come to the council hall four bells today. A free meal provided.
The youth continues on down the street.
I am Orin, by the way.
Asina nods and runs off to the kitchen, yelling Mom, need a plate for a guest. He doesn't want the room, her voice taking on a bit of an "I told you it wouldn't work" air.
The moustached man looks the dwarf up and down, running his fingers over it to smooth it down, a proud smile breaking through his failed stern gaze.
Kesten is a wee bit more proud o ' 'is 'airs than 'e is o 'is kids I think. The one's wat cost 'im 'is pate, the other 'is chin. chuckles the larger man, invoking a broader smile form the older man. The speaker appears to be of Ulfen descent, bearing many of the manners and features of that race. I am Ulfric, this be Grailmont, he says, taking care not to refer to his youth though it almost shows in his eyes. Welcome ta Olegton. Our business 'ere be bout done, so I thin twould be aight. Kesten, take these back ta tha tower, we'll work 'em up a schedule this af'ernoon, afore tha meeting handing the older man a leather ledger book and sheaf of papers.
The greying ulfen calls over his shoulder towards the door the girl left, 'Ey Amelia, make that two bowls now, an a round o' drinks, Redmik's Applejack if'n ya still 'as it.
Glancing to the younger man he adds, Tha' alright by you ladd, er good man? Or do you still prefer a Brevic pale?
Orin finds his way to the Seven Silvers easy enough. The large inn is situated along the main open expanse that leads to the Watchtower towards the northern end of town.
As he enters the white plaster and redwood framed structure it takes a moment for the dwarf to adjust to the change. The noise of the street is lost as the door shut behind him. The lighting is fair, with light from the windows along the frontwall falling across the floor. A few wheel shaped chandeliers cast additional light from their four cardinal point oil lamps, two of the six being light at this time.
The room holds several round tables surrounded by chairs, a few longer tables placed along the left wall flanked by bench rows. A pair of doors stand against the back wall to the left of a long wooden bar fronted by stools. The frontpiece has a series of low steps allowing persons of shorter height to rise to the seats and be at height for the bar. To the right of the bar, another door leads back out of the room. Along the right wall three doors are evenly spaced, possible private rooms.
The bar stools are currently empty, save for a single human, young adult, dressed in common garb, somewhat threadbare, nursing a mug. His short brown hair is matted to his head, perhaps a bit dirty and greasy. A round table near the door holds three men engaged in conversation. They stop as they realize you are there, looking over to you. While not overly friendly, nothing in their demeanor would indicate hostile intent. One is older, balding, with a bushy mustache, the others resemble . A fair haired, light skinned, half elf lounges over one of the benches to the left, his long table covered with a lute, songhorn, and several sheets of papers. He is humming to himself and scratching notes down as if suddenly the information comes to him.
A young red haired, pale skinned girl approaches from behind the bar, her height dropping as she moves through the bar's swinging door. Hello sir, I'm Asina. Are you here...
Ser Brandon dismounts outside the Seven Sivlers and steps into the inn surveying the main hall and its present occupants, the softs sounds of his plate mail and spurs announcing his entrance.
"Good day." he announces, his demeanour clearly indicating he thinks himself to be someone important and expects to be waited on immediately. On being attended to he states very pleasantly, "I shall be needed a room, your finest and a good hot breakfast, quickly. I've been on that accursed road for too long and I would truly a good hot meal." He takes a whiff to discern if any food smells are wafting in from the kitchen. "That smells delicious." he says with a charming smile and takes a seat at a nearby table.
A young girl, maybe just to her teens pokes her head out of what Ser Brandon assumes is the kitchen. She sees Ser Brandon and her eyes rise up and wide, a smile crossing her lips. Why yes sir, just a few moments sir, I'll be right with you. Glad to be of help to you sir. The girl ducks back into the kitchen and faintly can be heard another woman and a higher pitched male voice in a bit of a disagreement.
The girl comes out of the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a large tray covered in bowls and tankards. She stops by Ser Brandon's table, handing him a long thin board to which a sheet of vellum has been tacked. On it in Taldan common is a list of dishes, beverages, and prices. Please take a moment sir, I will be right back with you. She sets down a small bowl of warm water and a small towel. She blushes slightly and turns away quickly.
She then proceeds with her tray over to where a dwarf and two men are engaged in conversation. She sets her tray on a nearby table and proceeds to lay out a bowl of stew for the dwarf, as well as a clear glass of water. Here you are sir, todays stew, fresh from the pot. For the Ulfen man she lays out a small platter of diced potatoes and vegetables surrounding a shallow bowl holding an oblong grey green bundle, steaming and tied at each end. She sets down a tall flagon as well. The usual "Uncle" Ulfric, the haggis was seeped all morning, just as you like. For the younger man the girl sets out only a tankard of a pale ale, winking at the older man. Your pale ale Master Grailmont. The meal's smell good, if somewhat plain and hearty.
The girl returns to the knight's table, half nod, half curtsy as she greets him. I am Asina Silvers, daughter of Trelvar Silvers, your host. Of course you will be needing a private room sir, and stabling as well for your charger? half asking, half hoping. I will take your order when you are ready.
Good job with the map Shal pauses a moment and starts heading out of the tower to walk around and see if anyone has arrived yet.
Looking over his shoulder at Shal Would you like to join me?
Orin smiles at Ulfric's comment and nods to Kesten as he leaves. Taking a seat at the table, he says It is good to meet you, Ulfric and Grailmont. Thank you for the welcome. nodding to each in turn.
As Asina returns with food, he pulls four silver from his belt pouch, and makes sure to place them in Asina's hand after she sets things down but before she leaves, and says a simple Thank you.
After she moves away, he fishes out a few chunks of meat from the stew, licks off the broth, and places them to the side. A deep brown ferret looking creature with lighter rings along his body carefully crawls off Orin's shoulder where he sat amidst the coarse, gray hair, and begins tearing at the proffered bits of protein. Forgive my manners. My friend has none.
I take it the meeting is the one the criers are announcing for "writs and letters." What is the meeting addressing, if you do not mind my asking? And if you do mind, then I would be happy discussing metallurgy and masonry, as I am conversant on those topics, but equally happy discussing anything else. he rumbles out pleasantly.
Looking over his shoulder at Shal Would you like to join me?
Of course, where do you wish to start? As the pair exit the small office that once served as the chambers of Oleg and Svetlana then out of the Council Hall, they see a half-elven woman talking with one of the guardsmen, Herbert if remembered correctly.
Ulfric eyes the dwarf a bit suspiciously, stopping mid bite into his haggis. He again appraises the look of the dwarf, seemingly overlooking the ferret. Aye tha be the truth o' it. Myself and Grailmont 'ere serve on tha Barony Council. I be acting warden, Grailmont be our militia commander. The ulfen man takes another bite or two of his meal, taking a drink from his cup, then asks So, Orin is it, what be yer business coming ta Olegton. Passing on or 'ere ta stay a bit?
Looks at Shal and whispers Don't remember seeing her face, do you?
No, not at all. Should we rescue her from Herbert?
The anticipation of new arrivals had stunted his hunger, but his thirst remained unaffected, taking a huge gulp of ale, turning to Orin. Agreed with Ulfric, the last I saw your ilk, I was riding from Port Ice to Restov. I must say it is nice to see a face from the north though, especially one that isn't in abundance. From whence do you come, friend? He finished, taking a few sips from a personal flask, making a funny face at the drink.
Snickers Lets do we don't want to bore them or scare them off smiles
Agreed then, Shal says, looping her arm around Irakli's and together heading over to the pair, nodding to the little kobold as they pass by.
Hello 'Erbert. How are you today? Who do we have here now? A good day to you, miss...?
"What a pretty girl you are, Asina Silvers. I am Ser Brandon and you are correct, a good room and stabling for Shadowmist. I trust you will take good care of him. And on the business of my belly," he says with a friendly smile."I'll have a hot bowl of your stew with a peppered loaf and a mug of ale of your choosing. What's your father's favourite?"
He finished, taking a few bites of intestine, making a funny face at the meat.
Laddie, if'n ya wanta bite, get yer own now, pulling his platter a bit away from Grailmont. If'n ya be from Brevoy, I'd be ta wagerin' ya come from tha mountains, Golushkins maybe? Bit o' a way, but wit tha mountain closed I kin see tha attraction we offer.
Oh thank you sir, blushing brightly. Father does not drink much, but he does like the Brevic Pale, I will bring you one of those. We will take good care of you here at the Seven Silvers. I will be right back with your meal.
The Ulfen man at the other table signals the girl as she heads back to the bar, a gesture for another bowl at the table. She nods, disappearing into the back. As she does, another figure emerges from the kitchen, or at least a topknot does, moving around behind the bar end to end. The sound of bottles and mugs clink together as the figure works.
The ulfen man scolds the younger man sitting with him, something about "drinking your own when in another man's place."
Grailmont was a bit perplexed at being scolded. I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive my manners, you see I've spent most of my life in captivity, I'm not up to speed with a lot of socially acceptable things. To make up for it, I shall like a mug of Caydenbrew, if you have it, and a bottle of your finest spirits, my flask is out, anyways. He said, finishing off the mug in front of him.
Asina brings Grailmont a mug of the Caydenbrew, but says that by the Baron's orders, only bottles of wine may be bought at the Silvers, full spirits must be purchased at the town store.
Ulfric eyes the dwarf a bit suspiciously, stopping mid bite into his haggis. He again appraises the look of the dwarf, seemingly overlooking the ferret. Aye tha be the truth o' it. Myself and Grailmont 'ere serve on tha Barony Council. I be acting warden, Grailmont be our militia commander. The ulfen man takes another bite or two of his meal, taking a drink from his cup, then asks So, Orin is it, what be yer business coming ta Olegton. Passing on or 'ere ta stay a bit?
. . . If'n ya be from Brevoy, I'd be ta wagerin' ya come from tha mountains, Golushkins maybe? Bit o' a way, but wit tha mountain closed I kin see tha attraction we offer.
Indeed, good Ulfric. I am originally from the Golushkin Mountains. I loved my family, but as a whole, I found my people less interesting than traveling. Orin's eyes drop for a moment, and a look of melancholy crosses his face. He shakes his head, brings a smile back to his face and answers As to passing through or staying, I think it would be a bit of both. He pulls from his belt pouch a many folded parchment. Unfolded, Orin presents to Ulfric his charter signed by the Castellan and sealed with the King's stamp, though absent the signature of the Lord Mayor of Restov, granting him full rights and abilities in the Greenbelt, the same as that already enjoyed by the current leadership of the colony.
I have come to realize words mean less than deeds. Some may be forced to acknowledge a bit of paper, but I prefer that if they listen to me, it will be because I have proven myself worth listening to. He peers at Ulfric for a moment before adding From the other's deference, I imagine you are one who has earned such treatment.
Right now, my first goal is to be useful. After that, I may get to the second.
Ulfric remembers his own times amongst the Linnorms, earning his reputation. His estimation of the dwarf raises a notch or two, evidenced by the look in his eye, the softening of his shoulders.Well said Master Orin. A man's words mean little if'n 'is steel be soft or twisted. Meself I hae traveled many years across Brevoy. Tha lairds o' Restov thought I'd be a useful man fer the trip. Twas tha folks 'ere wat thought I would be useful ta settin up tha little colony. I prefer ta travel tha roads, seein ta peoples make it safe n sound, but I 'elp where I kin.
Looking over the papers, he smiles a little to 'imself. Me, I nae ha a piece o' paper like tha. I serve at tha will n pleasure if'n ya will o' tha young Baron 'isself. If'n ya make tha meetin tanight you'll get ta meet 'im fer yerself.
Looking at Orin, gauging acceptance to do so, he passes the writ over to Grailmont. This'n 'ere, 'es got a writ. Tis one o' tha guardians and protector o' tha lands. You'd be travelin' alongside 'im if'n ya join tha merry band. Wat say you laddie?
Ayerth lets the Captains venom roll off of him like water off a ducks back.
Soon he will be wracked with age ang gout. He is a simple characature of the office he holds for such a short time.
Ayerth wakes a gentle willowy gesture as though wafting away the ill feelings.
"Not a problem Captain. I quite enjoyed our time together. It allowed me to observe you and your men and take their measure. It is something your lords back home are interested in, that along with the specific things they sent me here to observe and report upon. Good day to you sir. I hope your journey home is safe and swift. May you reap the rewards of your service."
The elf inclines his head and touches his left brow with the thumb and ring finger of his left hand. A slight rustle and his body and clothing are free of filth and dampness.
Ayerth gathers his things and speaks to the local guard. Having been given a few pointers, he makes his way towards the local inn. It sounds better than the tent city and he would like to change into his noble garb before venturing to the seat of the barony.
Entering the common area, Ayerth looks about his large almond shaped eyes are passive and kind, but contain wisdom and resolve. The elf takes in the crude yet ingenious construction of the establishment.
Humans have such a gift for industriousness and improvision. Such talent for changing what they find around them, for better or for worse.
The slender yet hale looking elf gracefully moves to a table and sets down his burden. On his belt he carries an elven longsword and an elven hunting knife. An ash wood and yew bow rides in a case on his back and he leans a well worn gnarled staff against the bar as he places his pack down on the floor.
"Excuse me, but would this establishment have a glass of wine for purchase and a chamber for rent?"
"Also, I come seeking an elf known as Silas. Perhaps you could lead me to him."
Ayerth finds a trio finishing a meal at one table off to the right, an older Ulfen outdoorsman, a younger Taldan looking man, and an average looking dwarf, though not as dirty nor unstylish as is commonly thought. They appear to be having a light conversation amongst themselves.
A table closer at hand holds a plated human knight finishing a repast of his own, the serving girl obviously flirting with him though clearly a little young to be so.
Another table against the left holds a probable bard, lost in his craft, humming and scribbling to himself.
From behind the bar a topknot seems to rise, showing itself attached to the head of a young adult Halfling, eyes bright and curious. Oi, we have wines quite a few, three rooms left, not counting the commons. One would be a double sir, though I see none else with you. Asina, fetch the green bowl please, and check up with your mother.
As Ayerth approaches the bar and Halfling, he realizes a small runner extends along both sides of the bar, allowing those of shorter stature a bit more height to ease conversation and commerce. I am Jimes, waiter and cook here at the Seven Silvers. Welcome to Olegton. I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Silas.
Quote 'im fair "Short Change" the Ulfen calls. The Halfling replies tossing a small wooden disk at the man, splatting into the man's near empty platter. Ignore him good sir. Here is our menu, more than most, though not enough for all. What will it be?
The girl returns with a small bowl of greens, cheese and dried fruits. No charge sir, we are preparing for the evening meal, shrugging apologetically, kitchen is closed just a little longer.
Eventually, having made his rounds of the city and preparations, Silas decides to stop by the inn, realizing all too late that he has gone most of the day without a single meal.
As he walks into the hall, he spies the wizard he spoke with a few days earlier on the road, and walks towards his table. "Ayerth!" he calls out. "Good to see you again. I've already found a place to set up shop, and I should have that special commission you asked me about ready in a day or two."
He has a seat at the same table, and idly begins to browse through the menu. "I take it you'll be meeting with the council soon as well? I feel it's best to get down to business about our arrival sooner rather than later."
It is a common folk misconception that Elves are by nature vegetarians, and this surely cannot said to be true about Elves heavily familiar with human Rostland culture. That said, while the prospect of warm food after a few days on the road is exciting, Silas is not yet prepared to try the sort of sausage or, gods forbid, haggis that the untamed River Kingdoms have to offer.
Playing it safe, he orders the Poached Salmon, paying more attention to the bread and vegetables, trying to get a sense of the quality of the local harvest. He orders a cup of every local brew on the menu, but only takes small sips, preferring to stay sober for the upcoming meeting.
Once he's had a bit of time to sample the beverages (and perhaps before the food arrives), Silas stands up, and announces—quietly, but not too quietly—to the room at large (and the Dwarf and guardsmen eating at the far table), "Oi, good sirs! I seem to have ordered a few too many beverages, in my haste—if any of you would like to help me finish them, I would be much obliged."
The young red haired girl speaks up as Silas orders, I am sorry sir, the kitchen is closed while preparing meals for tonight's council meeting. We have some stew still on, maybe a haggis roll, glancing towards the ulfen man, or some porridge from the morning's repast. That, and or a bowl of greens, cheeses, and dried fruit she finishes. Then as an afterthought, Oh and of course a few loaves if interested in that.
The ulfen man responds to Silas' offer regarding beverages. Nary one ta pass on a drink lad, but I hae work left ta do at the Tower afore tha meeting, best be getting to it. Perhaps Master Grailmont 'ere 'll 'elp ya out. Turning to the dwarf, the man stands and pushes back his platter. He smiles to the waitress while tossing a small wooden disk across the bar at a Halfling, topknot and all ducking out of sight. Let 'im tell ya more o tha lay o things 'round 'ere yeh. Good day ta ya all. With that he turns to leave for the door. As he reaches it he turns towards the man humming to himself, Nae finished yet El, you'll nar be dun at this rate. 'Ustle up wontcha. The man waves absently still scribbling at his papers.
Ser Brandon continues his conversation with the pretty young miss Silvers in his usual charming way, telling her stories the few battles he's been in, just loud enough for the others to hear, inquiring about the town, when her family first moved here, their experiences and of the important persons and places. All the while keeping an eye on the other customers.
It seems this a capable lot and some of them seem as though they may be charter holders as well. This Inn was well picked, that Baker has some sense it seems. I shall have to remember that."
On hearing the offer of drink he stands. It seems this one is keen to make friends, I shall not disappoint him. This as a time as many.[i] "Oh I must beg your pardon miss, I've been keeping you while you must have other duties to attend to. I shall excuse myself." he says walking over to the others.
"I have heard that Cayden Cailean frowns upon those who waste good drink and I'd rather not we invite the I'll omens of a god upon us. I shall raise a cup with you if you allow me the honour of returning the favour. I would not be in debted, even to a good elf such as yourself."
With a beaming smile on his face he turns to the others, "Now what shall we drink to?!"
If it's a choice between stew, haggis roll, or porridge, Silas will settle for the porridge, greens, and cheeses.
"Ah, pardon, I forgot about the god's wishes when I ordered." Silas says to Grailmont, reluctantly resigning himself to consuming more alcohol than intended. "I suppose we should drink to the Barony, then, and to progress."
At this point, Orin begins to simply follow what is going on as best he can without staring. That knight is no stranger to playing to a crowd. Ah. To be such a charmer. He thinks to himself, allowing himself a moment of jealousy at how easy it is for some, then chastises himself for such thought. A fish does not fly. A hawk does not dig. Angradd and Torag burn away wasted effort, including self pity.
Though only possessing his glass of water, when the elf Silas lifts his glass Orin does as well. Yes. To the Barony and Progress. he says in a raised voice and finishes his nearly empty glass.
Grailmont raised his own full mug, flashing his holy symbol of Cayden. Aye folks, indeed not I need that bearing from this one particular god, so to Barony, but most importantly, progression. Grailmont finished, drinking down his mug of brew, and handed off a gold piece to the bar tender.
"I never got your names, by the way," Silas says, returning his mug to the table. "I'm Silas Lavein, and the bookish fellow over there is Ayerth. We're here with the new caravan, and letters of charter."
And then, when he gets the chance (or hears a bit more about who he's talking to), "So... you seem like some of the more observant people I've met in Olegton. Do you know much about the Baron? I've got some matters of business and trade I'd like to discuss with him and the leaders of the colony, and would like to know what sort of tone to expect."