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Wonky speaks up.
”I am no healer, but I do have knowledge of common pathogens, and I would be available and willing to provide services of a sensitive nature to those of your employees that should require them. What is more, the creation of a rapid reagent designed purely for the detection of such disease states would be within my agency as a practitioner of population health.”
She subsides into silence again without clarifying her dense statement.
Harmond remains silent during the proceedings blushing several times as various activities are mentioned.
“Is it always on the women to prevent conception?”
Addy blushes. Despite her raunchy novels and a steady girlfriend, she’s about as far from an expert as one can be on this topic.
“I mean… if the men could have a temporary, preventive, umm…” She doesn’t even try to fake that this isn’t awkward for her.
So, do me cheeks look good in vermilion?
“Ye know what? I’m gonna focus on the Crystalhue performance, and Miss Tremaine, I’ll see if I can get the fey to meet ye.”
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"I only make the recommendation out of practicality, Miss Lane," Ahto replies. "If a woman in Miss Tremaine's employ does not want to fall pregnant as a result of her daily exertions, it would stand to reason that she would take precautions, rather than trusting her customers to do so. Night Tea is also more effective and reliable than a sheep's bladder, and has no chance of accidentally rupturing or falling off at an inopportune moment."
Ahto looks to Melisandre. "Do you feel any of this is an undue burden to your business, Miss Tremaine?"
Surprisingly, Eunomia is the one to answer Addy's question. "Should it be? No. Is it? Practically speaking, yes. The men visiting such an establishment have far less reason to worry about an accidental pregnancy and are therefore far more likely to 'forget' about such measures, or simply refuse to take them in the first place. Although there is a male equivalent of night tea, bachelor's snuff, which should also be required of any male companions taking female clients."
Realizing she's just gone on at some length about contraceptives, she flushes. "I was a soldier. Commander Parsall didn't care about, er, consensual activities between adults, but he did care about the possibility of his soldiers leaving unfortunate women with children they didn't want, or being saddled with children we didn't want. We were given more than a few lectures about contraceptives and repeatedly told it was our responsibility to ensure they were taken. Fair or not." Glor, perhaps through experience, had delivered the whole thing with a completely straight face. Pina hadn't been able to stop giggling, while Eunomia had trouble looking him in the eye for weeks.
Addy’s eyes widen at the phrase: “Fall off?!” Then she realizes: “Oh… the sheep thing, not… no, o’ course not.”
Addy hears Eunomia out on fairness, glad to hear a female soldier’s perspective.
She replies, “Well, fortunately, I won’t be needing a spot o’ tea—” …aaaaand she immediately regrets the implication. “—not that we—” Well, now it looks like I’m friend-zoning Ash. “—yet.”
The Vixen makes a request of The Child: Please shut up.
Addy just stands there looking awkward for a moment. “Well, would ye look at the time?” She looks up at the sun. “Aww, f~#&.” Blinking a bit, she says, “The fey ain’t gonna meet themselves. So… pleasure and all that.”
Addy tugs her ear and excuses herself.
When the notion of children caught up in such business is broached, the emotion that crosses Miss Tremaine's face is caught somewhere between aghast and haunted. She quickly reasserts her composure, though, as she responds.
"I believe my companions and yours will be of one mind regarding the protection of children. After all, there's a reason why I did not stay in Razmiran."
A shudder punctuates the thought and unspoken memory.
"Suffice to say, I will employ no one against their will, and no one who is not of age will be allowed to work with us. At least not as a courtesan. I remember all too well the plight of being a child called upon to earn money for a desperate family," she sighs. "But it is best to avoid such a terribly gray area. While I should like to offer cleaning work or even kitchen work, I fear it would be too risky to allow children near, even in such a benign capacity."
The discussion of licensing actually elicits a smile, drawing Tremaine away from more serious matters.
"I quite like the idea of licensure. It lends all the more legitimacy to our business. I've seen far too many peers suffer at the hands of customers and other tormentors simply because they perceived us as somehow 'lesser.' I actually discussed such an idea with my companions as we traveled to your town. Dear Nore joked that we should get badges, as though we were sheriff's deputies."
When the subject turns to contraception, Tremaine's hand inches towards Addy's before she thinks better of it. Even without the contact, her expression speaks of empathy with the seamstress and councilor's concerns about the matter.
"Verduran Fennel has been useful in my experience," Tremaine adds. "It's more often called Taldane Rose, even though it looks nothing like a rose. It's something of a...vulgar reference. It's name aside, it is quite effective when taken by men or women."
"Well, the Taldans couldn't have been too stringent, for it always managed to find its way into the markets of the River Kingdoms," Tremaine says with a faint, wry smile. "Now then, regarding the issue of disease and medical checkups, I strongly doubt there will be any objections. Such regular medical care will be yet another improvement."
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"Excellent. If there are no other issues surrounding your proposal, we will set it before the next full meeting of the Council, and put it to a vote. Assuming your proposal is approved, you and your employees should be prepared to present themselves immediately for the requisite examination, and to sign for their individual licenses." Ahto replies.
"Is there anything else you would like us to address today?"
Miss Tremaine thanks you for both your time and your expediency. She rises from her chair, offers a bow, and excuses herself from the council chamber. Although she tries to maintain her composure, you can tell that she struggles to contain her excitement and is eager to share the good news with her companions.
Barris, still somewhat recovering from the surprises that Miss Tremaine's visit brought, concedes that he has no other new business for the council today.
Harmond remains silent, looking anywhere but at the retreating Miss Tremaine, blushing furiously.
Word makes its way around Horace that you're planning to hunt down Old Crackjaw - rumors perhaps borne aloft by fey residents keen to gossip. Thus, when you alight from your castle gates in the morning, you find Arven the fisherman waiting for you.
His forehead and eyes are shaded by the wide, floppy brim of his hat, festooned with hooks and lures. His chin is carpeted by a red, scruffy beard. He wears a rolled up net around his torso like a bandoleer.
"I'm not keen to give away my secret fishing spot, but if it gets rid of that damn turtle, it'll be worth it. Plus, I reckon you lords and ladies can be trusted to keep the secret," Arven adds with a wink you can just barely see beneath his hat.
"It'd be a long march around the lake if you go by foot. I can take you across on my skiff, if you don't mind being a bit crowded together."
The Vixen replies, “Crowding on a boat can’t be any more awkward than the last couple meetings we had.”
(Despite her words—which she says with a smile—The Child within actually enjoyed meeting Miss Tremaine, who might actually end up saving the potentially-catastrophic Crystalhue performance!)
"Is Old Crackjaw in the lake itself?" Eunomia isn't keen on the thought of getting swamped herself. She doesn't have any armor, but she's not the best swimmer. "If not then I'll gladly accept your offer. A short, albeit crowded, boat ride seems much more pleasant than a long trek through the cold."
"I won't lie, you're right to worry," Arven replies.
"Over the years, Old Crackjaw - the turtle, that is," he adds with a smile towards Lord Ahto, "Has killed dozens of fisherman and floundered at least five boats. He doesn't attack on the open lake, though. Only near the shore."
Arven pauses and leans in close, drawing his voice to a whisper.
"My secret spot is a secluded pool at the lake's edge, hidden by a line of nettle-strewn cliffs. That damn turtle's turned the pool into his lair. Fishing's always been good there, so he don't need to go far for food. I'll let you off at the foot of the cliffs, far enough from the pool that he shouldn't take an interest in us or the skiff until you're ready."
Harmond gathers together all his gear, and is awake bright and early in the morning to set out on the trip. He seems energized and excited to get going.
"Ok. Lets do this. I feel like I've been cooped up for months. I'm really looking forward to getting out there and helping people again. You know, making a real difference."
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Wonky turns up with Sprocket, looking more than ready to venture into the wilderness. A gleaming light shines from her eyes as she takes in her companions.
"I am very ready to investigate the waterways for this dastardly turtle you describe, good Master Arven. I have been preparing myself and Sprocket for the pursuit of such quarry through quiet forays into the nearby forests during the past month." Wonky turns to her colleagues.
"I have some new tricks, as does Sprocket. Let us make haste; a boat ride sounds just the thing."
The Tuskwater is a brown, rocky lake surrounded by cliffs and steep hills, such as those upon which Horace has been founded. As the area surrounding the town has been tamed, railings and wooden boards have been laid down to better secure the trails and paths leading down to the water's edge.
"This is a good time to ply the water," Arven says as he holds the skiff steady to allow you to board. "The spring thaw causes some pretty unpredictable flooding, and that leaves plenty of gullies full of stagnant water to breed mosquitoes and stirges in the summer."
A thin morning mist lingers upon the water as you cast off. Arven poles the skiff along, testing the lake's depth as he pushes the craft along.
"It'll be good to at least have the east side of the Tuskwater safe again once that damn turtle's dead. Bad enough we got that swamp witch on the west shore and that cursed tower to the south, in the Candlemere."
"Well, folks call her the Old Beldame, and they say she consorts with demons and steals children, boiling them for stew in her magic cauldron. Of course, you know how folks like to talk and spread wild stories," he laughs. "I ain't never encountered her myself, but I have a friend who's visited her a time or two. Can't say I knows why.
"Anyhow, he says she's friendly enough if you call out to her before you enter her yard, but trespassers get killed and turned into one of the scarecrows that guard her hut."
Arven pauses to shift his arms and drape the pole along the other side of the skiff, gently pushing away from a large rock jutting out of the water that has emerged from the mist.
"As for the tower, I know even less people who stray that way. The Candlemere's waters are remarkably clean and clear, especially considering that the Tuskwater's own murky water flows into it after going down the falls. The fishing's just not as good, especially since its even further into the wilds. Those that do pass that way talk of seeing them strange 'Candlemere Lights' bobbing on the water's surface and hearing the blood-curdling cries of lost souls.
"The tower itself is a crumbling old place that sits on a bramble-covered island smack in the middle of the mere. Depending on who you ask, it's either haunted, the lair of some monster, or even a place where the fey get together to hold their weird revels."
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"Hmm," Ahto replies. "Perhaps we should pay a visit to Old Beldame once we've taken care of the turtle. I am doubtful that she kidnaps and eats children; we would've had distraught parents coming to us, certainly. Nevertheless, if she is simply a recluse, someone needs to inform her that she is a citizen of this new nation, and is now subject to its laws. As for Candelmere, the ruins should be investigated; not just for dangerous spirits, but for structural soundness and the possibility of using those ruins as a foundation."
Harmond muses, "She can't be too bad if your friend has visited her a couple of times. Did he ever elaborate on why he visited?"
The Vixen thought Tiressia was the pretty tree-lady. I gotta start writing these names down.
She asks what’s-his-face—Boat Guy. Don’t write that—“Anyone happen to see this witch lady? We’ve a nixie friend. Kinda cranky, webbed hands, prefers to be naked and wet, but who doesn’t?
“Sorry. Not a good joke for a crowded boat.” With a more serious demeanor, she adds, “If yer friend’s met her, maybe we can talk to him before we talk to her.”
I’ll *be* the bad joke on the boat if it’s a lady-friend and male witch.
“Good, evil or none o’ the above, I’m interested in meeting this witch.”
This witch ain’t necessarily Horace’s murderer. However, the unicorn-killer’s either fey, or someone so powerful the fey’re scared to point fingers.
"He would always dodge the question when I'd ask him about what interest he could possibly have in the Old Beldame," Arven snorts. "I always just figured he was inquiring after some remedy for an embarrassing problem he didn't want his buddies freely knowing about."
After several hours upon the lake, sliding through the cool winter mist, Arven's skiff ferries you just beyond where the Gudrin River pours into the Tuskwater.
Here, a 3-mile stretch of the lake's shoreline rises up above the water, presenting a swath of 40-foot-high cliffs and limiting access to the water from the ground above. The cliff tops are thick with stinging nettles, further demonstrating why Arven described the site as easier to reach by water.
Your guide points out his secret fishing spot: a broad, secluded pool hidden by dense reeds and cattails, separated from the rest of the lake by the rocky shore.
"That damn turtle's so territorial that anything bigger than a squirrel that comes near the pool gets the chompers," Arven complains.
"I hear that even one of them druids got eaten. Probably thought he could tame the beast. He thought wrong. Anyhow, if you start tromping through the shallows, Old Crackjaw'll probably come right to you."
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Once his armor is fastened, Ahto calls upon Abadar to grant him additional protection.
Once he feels the grace of the Lord of the First Vault take hold, he reaches into his pouch and retrieves the extract Wonky prepared for him.
He waits a few moments while the potion causes his body to swell to ogrish proportions.
He draws his sword and looks to the others. "I should be a large enough target to antagonize it into attacking. Be prepared to hit it as soon as it tries to grab me."
With that, Ahto wades into the shallows of the fishing pond, sword ready to strike.
The Vixen says to Wonky, “Ye got any o’ that invisibility potion? I can always gulp one down and stand on the shoulders o’ giants.”
If Wonky offers VV invisibility potion—and if Ahto isn’t weirded out by having to give VV a piggy-back ride , she’ll hop a ride!
As the others are preparing Harmond will cast Mage Armor Heightened Awareness and False Life on himself. Once buffed he stands near the back ready to attack as soon as the turtle reveals itself.
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"Of course, Vixen," Wonky smiles at the vigilante. "If you I could ask for five minutes before we venture on further..."
Wonky produces the strange granite sphere in her possession and concentrates on it, tracing the green-grey lines criss-crossing its surface. Sprocket whines a bit at her side, scratching irritably at a spot just behind his head.
Whether it be a trick of the light or something in the wild undergrowth, Sprocket successfully scratches the itch on his scalp, ruffling his fur into a more bestial fashion and belying a thick rim of muscle around his pectoral girdle that previously had been hidden.
Wonky then draws a wand, considers her faithful friend for a moment, then tucks it away into her wrist sheath. She then murmurs a word to herself, reaches into her bandolier, and swiftly downs a vial. What happens next is strange: she pulls another vial from her bandolier, drinks it, but then throws back her head and gargles it before spitting its contents back into the vial from whence it came. She then tucks the back-washed vial back in her bandolier and checks her belt side pouch to confirm the presence of the enchanted sling bullets within. She un-shoulders her stonebow, pulls out a different small vial, and passes it to the Vixen.
"One potion of invisibility of four minutes duration for you, Vixen!" she says with an inscrutable look.
"I am almost ready," Wonky says, closing her eyes briefly. When the gnome opens them again, her face wears a strange aquiline shape not present before. Wonky darts her head about, a smile dancing on her lips.
"Excellent," she says, drawing another vial from her bandolier. "I am ready, good friends. Thank you, Master Arven."
The Vixen had no idea what Wonky could do in so little time. “Wow… thanks for that, Wonky!”
Once Ahto is enlarged (assuming he held off at Wonky’s request), VV gulps down her potion and clings on his back.
"Why, the shallows are right here," Arven declares, tapping his pole upon the lake bed to emphasize his point.
The skiff currently sits upon a sand bar that hosts a few stands of ferns, reeds, and cattails. Although you are still several dozen yards from the proper lake shore, it seems the water is no more than two feet deep from here to the pool where the dangerous turtle awaits, unseen.