|
Edric takes a ragged breath as the woman dies, as his mind returns from a very dark place. The dance itself had had relatively little effect until he realised that his control was slipping away from him. That was what sent him spiraling downwards. [i]You can't hang on! We're waiting for you! The darkness waits!"[/b] Despite all his work, all the fasting and meditations he still couldn't resist, and the moment he failed the darkness was there - full of whispering voices and promises of pain.
He leans against the wall, convulsively clutching at his shield straps to try and stop his hands trembling. It takes a couple of minutes before he trusts his knees enough to stand straight again and his voice wavers, but only slightly.
"Thanks Gav, Naralesh. This could have ended badly without you here. What next?"
Concord
Vosil calmly sips his coffee (imported, sadly - the Brevic climate doesn't support much beyond the basics) as he looks up at Jubal from the book that he's reading (a poorly-translated copy of Tian philosophy). "I think you and our Viscountess will get along well: you both have a flair for the theatrical."
He reads aloud from the book: "'If you wish to know someone, live with them for forty years. Share their meals, and speak with them on every subject. Then, tie them up and hold them over the volcano's edge, and on that day, you will finally meet the person.' Personally, I have always regarded the so-called Minkai sages as delusional psychopaths, but it is possible that something is lost in translation."
He looks up at Jubal. "What do you think?"
Talia shakes her head as if waking from a deep sleep. Having missed the combat, her focus so completely on the Dancing Lady, Talia missed Gavriil and Naralesh's heroics. Still, she knew enough of enchantment to piece together most of what had happened.
Frowning slightly, the Viscountess looks around the room. "Search the Lady's quarters? Then see if she has any more of her little companions about?"
Before the words leave the viscountess's lips, Gavriil is already looking around for anything valuable. Old habits die hard, and even though he is part of the dignified gentry now, Gavriil was a thief and a smuggler for a good portion of his small life. Besides, the lady tried to curse him for not falling head-over heels for her, which meant she owed him one and she wasn't going to be using anything of value here anymore...
As he combs through the dancing lady's stuff, he smirks at Talia, Edric, and Dregan as they regain their senses, "You know, if you all want to talk about these confusing feelings you're having I'm always here. It's all natural that people of your age would start having feelings and urges. It's nothing to be embarrassed about..."
|
|
"If you really want to experience some of my feelings you'd be welcome to them." Edric retorts, the beginning of a smile tugging up his lips. "Even your optimistic spirit might finally admit to having a tough day!"
Having finally recovered somewhat Edric helps with the search, being as methodical as he can.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gavriil gives Edric a sideways look. "On second thought, Edric, you can direct your feelings towards Asha. I'm not sure if I'm the one to uhh... handle your hammer."
The Dancing Lady possesses a number of treasures salvaged from the ruins and stolen from her victims: a life-sized alabaster statue of a nude, dancing elven woman (worth 900 gp, but weighing almost 500 pounds), a masterwork harp, a small, carved jade statuette of a coiling snake (worth 75 gp), and an ancient filigreed elven water clock (worth 1,000 gp, but weighing 200 pounds).
The Lady’s bed is covered with a snow-white bearskin coverlet (worth 50 gp). A finely carved, wooden wardrobe beside the bed holds two royal outfits (worth 200 gp each), three courtier’s outfits (worth 30 gp each), and several other tasteful, once-expensive articles of clothing (heavily stained with blood and now worthless). A small wooden coffer atop a rosewood table contains 3 vials of exotic perfume (worth 100 gp each), a gem-studded tiara (worth 350 gp), and an elixir of love. A nearby chest holds 431 sp and 370 gp in leather sacks.
Concord
"I like these Minkai already." Jubal says. "Hold them over the volcano, eh? Could get someone to talk that way too." He pulls his feet down with a stamp.
"Turns out your man in the town square is a bit of the faceless type. No one remembers when he got here, no one remembers him saying anything about where he's from. The only thing we have is that he's staying in a room at the inn. His coin is good, straight from Restov."
"Maybe..." Darrick says carefully, with a sidelong glance at Vosil, "we should pay this room a visit."
The statement hangs in the air. All three Council members and Jubal look at Vosil for an answer.
Gavriil looks through the dancing lady's things quickly. While despicable, the woman really did know her stuff. She had been living as a queen up in this tower. After tallying all of the stuff up, Gavriil stops before the statue to admire the craftsmanship. He glances at Talia and smirks, "Would you like us to send servants to fetch it for you back to your rooms in the castle? You can keep it as a memento of her."
Talia, her own eyes on the statue, circles it slowly, taking in the craftsmanship. If she understands that Gavriil is teasing her, the Viscountess doesn't show it. "For my rooms? No. But for Concord? We could have a large pedestal built, with a descriptive plaque, and put it in the town square, a constant reminder of the work we are doing, the dangers we are eradicating, and Abadar willing, the civilization we are creating. It is a fine idea, Gavriil. Send some laborers, with a sizable contingent of guards, to gather the Lady's things and bring them back home."
"I will personally be taking, however, some of her clothes."
The search of the remaining towers does not turn up anything of note.
"Maybe..." Darrick says carefully, with a sidelong glance at Vosil, "we should pay this room a visit."
The statement hangs in the air. All three Council members and Jubal look at Vosil for an answer.
Vosil nods. "I agree. If he is out rabble-rousing then that would be the perfect time to investigate."
Talia and the members of the Council arrive in Concord sometime mid-morning. They are surprised to find a large crowd gathered in the town square. A heavy-set man stands upon a wooden crate, exhorting the crowd.
"...not more than once have they abandoned you for flights of fancy! Why do they go? To line their pockets with riches while you toil for them! Breaking your backs in the fields so they can reap the rewards! Alliances with the the Swamp Witch! Think of your children! It is time to open your eyes..."
There is more, but it's at this time that you spot Vosil, standing to one side of the square, and listening intently to the man. Next to him is Darrick, Kesten, and Asha. They are not amused.
|
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Edric, who has once again been silent for much of their trip back to Concord - all to obviously reliving some of his dark memories, shakes off his stupor when he hears the rabble rouser and begins to make his way through the crowd - easing people aside when a muttered "excuse me" doesn't serve him well.
Eventually reaching the front of the crowd he steps out to stand next to the crate, where his considerable height puts him near the man preaching to the crowd. He waits politely until the man pauses to take a breath and then cuts in, his voice raised and calculated to carry well across the crowd.
"People of Concord, you all know me, and I am honored to say that I know you also. We are a hard working town, none of us shy away from an honest days work, and we take pride in the work we do and the fruit it produces! It has been almost a year since the bandits were cleared from this area and you first arrived!" Looking around the crowd he picks out a few familiar faces, some of the people who have been in Concord the longest. "Gregor. I remember the day you arrived with your sons, hauling your wagon by hand! You traveled here for a better life and you had the guts to make it happen! You are the bedrock of Concord! Gomur your son serves in my forces and I am glad to have him. His arm is strong, his shield quick to defend his fellows - he is the strong wall of Concord. Rachel, you've been selling pies in this square for what, nine months now? I have no idea how you make them taste so good, but I wouldn't do without them. You are the warm heart of Concord!"
Edric pauses and spreads his hands wide. "Our Viscountess, Talia, is a brilliant woman - capable, compassionate and occasionally even funny! At any point in the past year have you gone hungry? Faced attack from bandits or raiders? When the floods came what happened? We all pulled together to fix the damage - the stores were opened, the treasury raided, and Concord rebuilt itself even better than before! After the murders which plagued our fair town, what did Lady Talia do? She led the investigation that tracked down the culprit - we found him and when he tried to escape I slew him myself, to protect my soldiers and the lives of the men and women of this town!" Those watching who know Edric can see he is getting unusually worked up, speaking without the characteristic pauses and hesitation which usually mark out his speech. "You sir," he says, addressing the demagogue for the first time. "You tell these people to think of their children and fear. Well I say to you all, think of your children and be proud! They have the chance for a great and prosperous life and that is your gift to them! Everyone here makes his own fate - we are not in Brevoy any longer - we do not bow to a king or a Lord Regent. We make our own fates, and when your children speak to their children of the goodness of life then you can smile and be proud, and know that you made it happen!"
Taking a step back he confronts his adversary, although his voice still reaches the whole crowd. "I do not know you sir, I do not know where you come from or why you are here, but I will tell you this. We are Concord, and as long as we stand together then our Concord is unbreakable, and no witch, bandit or pandering demagogue will threaten it - not as long as I live and we have faith in each other!"
Flipping her cloakhood up, Talia steps back and circles around to Vosil as Edric speaks, frowning momentarily when Fairhaven's General states Talia is occasionally even funny!
Stopping next to Vosil, the Viscountess sent him a few whispered questions.
"Who?"
"From where?"
"When?"
"I trust your eyes are on him, then. Send a rider north, see if he passed through Oleg's." Making her way towards the front of the crowd, Talia paused, waiting for Edric to finish his argument. His speech was a good one, Talia had to admit, even if the crowd seemed only mildly interested.
Stepping forwards, Talia flipped her cloakhood down - dramatically, with a flourish - a cleared her throat. Wavering for a second, the irony wasn't lost on her: just two short years ago, she was penning a scathing rebuke of the Surtovas, and now, she was having her own reputation besmirched by some demagogue. Still, whether the man was a Surtova spy or just an ambitious upstart, the man was a threat - and must be shut down. Immediately.
Offering her best stage smile, Talia raises her hands, palm up, in the popular Brevic debating style, and begins her defense.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Thank you, Edric. Your words are kind, and true. And everyone here knows it. Those gifted with Desna's favor are by their very nature strong and honest, I'm sure our friend here would agree."
Turning to the stranger, Talia keeps her green eyes locked on his, her tone lilted and curious. "You're new here in town, yes? You're a fine speaker, obviously an educated man, but I'm afraid I don't have a name for your lovely face? Where do you come, from, stranger? I understand that you've been staying at the inn the last few days? Forgive me for asking, but how do you know the goings-on in our peaceful and remote realm, having just arrived? Is the reputation of our fair haven so great that gossip fills foreign courts? That would truly be a testamant to the fine realm that we -" Talia gestures to the crowd "- all of us - have built."
The Viscountess keeps her smile planted firmly on her face and nods as the man responds. Regardless of his answers, Talia tries to figure any information she can, ransacking her memory for a story or bit of gossip for a man matching the upstart's description, judging his mannerisms and accent. The Viscountess especially keys in on the accent. Where does it sound like he's from? Does it slip? Once he's answered her questions, Talia cuts the man off - no need in giving him any other openings.
"Forgive my appearance, sir. Had I known we'd had such a gifted orator in our fine capital, I'd have dressed up to meet you. I doubt they'd be up to the standards of the courts of your homeland, as I don't own as much as our neighboring royals, but I would do my best."
"Alas, you see, I was... how did you put it? I've been on a flight of fancy?"
Turning from the provocateur, Talia lets her smile drop, and faces the crowd, her tone serious.
"We've been gone some long days, this is true. We found, to the west, an ancient elven keep. Outside, we were attacked by a fey assassin, who nearly ended the life of our scout. Inside, a more insidious creature - a beautiful elven woman, or so we thought at first. She captivated most of us with her beguiling nature, save our wizard and our scoundrel. And if they hadn't had the mental strength that they did..."
Talia shakes her head and shudders, just oh-so-visibly, before she continues.
"In the end, the creature was a fey, the kind that lures men and women to their deaths with flattery and sensual promises. She's no longer a threat, killed by the might of Fairhaven's metal and magic! And, within a fortnight, we'll have a new statue, here in the town square, so that the message is never forgotten."
Talia once again turns her eyes, this time blazing with intensity, on the stranger.
"Enemies, those that would hurt the citizens of Fairhaven, are not welcome here. And they will be dealt with. Harshly."
Clearing her throat, the Viscountess once again faces the crowd.
"Friends. Countrymen. Loyal subjects. As we grow, as we become a mightier nation, one that all courts - not just those of our neighbors - gossip about, we will be expanding our borders. We will have to. We've already laid claim to the Greenbelt... but we have to hold it, for You have what you hold! What if, when we expand our borders, it is a farm family, or one of our hunters or trappers, that finds that keep, instead of the Privvy Council? I am sick at the very thought!"
"The truth is, these 'flights of fancy' are by design. Would you want your sons, Gregor, to find that fey beguiler? Gomur, would you rather I send our footsoldiers, including your son, against the assassin that laid in wait outside that keep? Rachel, would you be able to buy your life with a pie?"
"The truth is, we take these flights of fancy, not for enrichment, but to provide for the safety of our sons and daughters! We - the Privvy Council - go, because... and I hate to sound self-important, but there's no other way to put it - we are the most powerful individuals in Fairhaven. There is no more powerful wizard than Naralesh in our kingdom! There is no better woodsman than Dregan! We go so that your sons and daughters do not get put in harm's way. Tonight, or into the future. There is no other reason, than our love for Fairhaven."
"Please, do not let the words of strangers divide and distract us. You know the content our peoples' character, from the farms to the capital. May the gods bless all of you, my friends, my countrymen, my loyal subjects."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Naralesh, though not one with much way in words, feels he can provide at least a resolute affirmation of Talia's words. He keeps his eye on the rabble-rouser, speaking up to interrupt the man just when he seems about to interrupt or contradict the Viscountess's speech.
"My fellow countrymen," says Naralesh. "We may not have spoken, for my ways are the ways of books and study, but you know me, as you know the others of the council, and our Lady Talia. Her work is on behalf of Fairhaven and its people. At her behest, we are each of us entrusted with a great duty to this nation of such promise and potential, and it is a true honor to fulfill it. On our watch, you are safer, and our vigilance shall never falter."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Where I come from does not matter." The man replies. "I am Grigori, and I am a simple man. I came here to make a life for myself, and I see truths that need to be spoken for people who will not speak for themselves." He turns towards the crowd, voice rising to address the people.
"What is the difference between bowing to a king and bowing to a Viscountess? Do you share in the wealth that the so-called 'Privvy Council' brazenly flaunts? I doubt not that you would have 'dressed up' as you say, in clothes that were earned by the hard work of the people!" Mutters and nodding heads from the crowd.
"You take these 'flights' not out of any sympathy for the common folk, but to enrich yourselves and hide what you find before they can see it!" If nothing else, Grigori is a skilled orator. Talia has seen his like in the great debates in Restov.
"Greatness of Concord! Bah! I see common folk who have set themselves as lords and ladies at the expense of the people! This 'Privvy Council' are nothing more than pretenders and charlatans! Think for yourselves, people of Concord!" Grigori raises his arms to exhort the crowd. The overall sense of the mood is that the people are on the side of the Privvy Council, but not by much.
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
As the crowd breaks up, Talia makes her way to Kesten. "When he gets close to his hotel, invite our new arrival to be my guest at dinner. Make sure it is an offer he knows he can't refuse. Remind this Grigori that Courts are for kings. Detain him if necessary."
Turning to Vosil, the Viscountess continues, her voice just subtly shaking, as if just under the surface, her adrenaline is running high. "While we're at dinner, have your men go through his room. Find out who he is, where he is from. Take your time, Grigori will be spending night. If there is nothing to be found, leave it all as you find it." Talia looks uncomfortable. "If there is nothing, we'll have to find another way."
Next, Talia turns to Darrick. "Get some laborers, with some guards, to that elven castle immediately. I want that statue right in the square, where Grigori stood today. And I want it inscribed, in the base: The Enemies of Fairhaven Will Be Dealt With, Swiftly and Harshly. And send that rider north. I want to know if he came through Oleg's."
Wrapping her cloak around her, Talia prepares to leave, when one more thought strikes her. "Dregan, send a word to our fey friends as well. See if they saw this Grigori, and if he traveled with others."
-----------------------
Talia makes sure to keep the man waiting. An hour, then two. Eventually, she arrives, with the rest of the Privvy Council, and is seated. The castle staff bring in a course of cold cucumber soup, with a hint of Vudran spices. Talia eats in silence. Then, roast pheasant, rubbed with thyme and rosemary, and served with a sunchoke puree. Talia still eats silently, and slowly, savoring every bite. She had considered serving a meager meal, but decided, in the end, if Grigori was let go, he would slander her either way. She might as well enjoy dinner.
Last, is an apple caramel tart, simple, but sweet and delicious, one of the kitchen's finest desserts. Sighing, the Viscountess sets her plate aside and waits for the castle staff to clear the room, holding Grigori's stare the whole time.
"Not bad for a last meal, is it?"
"You see, I meant what I said at the square. Enemies of Fairhaven will be dealt with swiftly and harshly. I asked you where you were from for a reason. You see, it is important, where you are from. If you are from here, or around here, you'd know that Courts Are For Kings. If you're not, then you could be forgiven for your ignorance. But, since you feel it 'isn't important' where you are from, that is that. Courts Are For Kings means that visitors are bound by the laws of a kingdom. And Grigori, you are in my court. And I have decided that sedition is a crime punishable by death."
"And so, this is your last meal. I'm sorry. I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me."
"You're too gifted an orator to be simply some concerned citizen. And I understand this sedition has been going on a few days now. Which means you've been alive a few too many days already."
"Goodnight. And Goodbye. Kesten, see to it that Grigori is confined in the keep's dungeon. We'll execute him in the morning."
|
|
At Talia's announcement Edric's jaw drops. He sits still for a moment, trying to check that Talia, his friend, has just said what he thinks she has. When Kesten stands up and moves towards Grigori Edric leaps up, his chair toppling over with a bang. "Talia, you can't do this! We didn't come out here and build Fairhaven to turn it into another Galt! This cannot be how we deal with things!"
Talia resists the urge to flip her own chair and pinch her nose, all at once. Waving her hand to Kesten, she continues. "General, I appreciate your adherence to your moral code, and Galt is a good analogy, if not exactly how you intended it"
The Viscountess fixes Edric with a hard look, and takes a sip of fine Brevic Icewine. "General, stand your chair back up, and sit. You can plead his case. But not in his presence. Kesten, take Grigori From Nowhere Important below. As I said, he's our guest for tonight."
Once Kesten is removed, Talia exhales, heavily, her face a mish-mash of emotion; stress, worry, anger. "Edric, you nearly cut me off at the knees. The damage you could do to Fairhaven tonight is immense. We must show unity in front of threats. Consider..."
Taking her goblet, Talia waves her hand over it and mutters, and the wine within rises into the air, and as she talks, the wine hovers in the air, an amorphous tumbling blob. Then, it begins forming into the shape of a man, before slowly morphing into a wolf.
"If a wolf takes the skin of a man and prowls among your people, you contain the threat, yes? If a wolf is rampaging among your people, you put it down, yes? We've done as much. I for one, lost little sleep over it."
"I have spent my whole life in courts, General. Trust me when I say this; Grigori From Nowhere Important is a wolf - probably a Surtovan wolf, if my suspicion is correct. Even if he's no foreign agent, he's every bit as dangerous as the wolfman you slew, perhaps even more so. If Grigori From Nowhere Important is allowed to spread his contagion, our kingdom will fail. It will fall into chaos. People will die, families will be split, our dream will be ended. Galt will rise from the ashes of Fairhaven. Think hard, about who you are defending here. And the consequences of that defense."
"When you slew your wolf, it was the right thing. Haven't I earned your good judgement? Allow me the chance to slay mine."
Vosil nods at Talia's commands. "I have eyes at my disposal, and they will be used."
He heads off to search this so-called Gregori's room.
|
|
Edric nods slowly as Talia speaks, although he doesn't sit down, instead pacing back and forth, seemingly very agitated. "I understand what you are saying Talia but this is not the way. It cannot be if we wish to be better than the Surtova's. I've wandered for years, ever since my escape and even I have heard of what they can do to those that oppose them. But we... you... cannot arrest a man for doing something that you simply do not like. I fought Kundall because he was a clear and present danger - if I had not then he would have killed more. It was only by Desna's grace that he did not anyway. This Gregori, no matter how much he may rabble rouse, has not caused any harm or broken our laws. I can't stand by and let him be imprisoned with no cause."
Talia has three very different emotions run through her in quick succession, as Edric yet again defies her. First, is rage, red-hot anger that clouds her vision and causes her to blush red, ending with a satisfactory fantasy of Talia punching Edric straight in his traitorous mouth. Next is doubt. Was she really no better than the Surtovas? That thought is quickly pushed away - if she was a Surtova, both Grigori and Edric's heads would already adorn the castle walls.
No, Talia Khavortorov was something much worse than a Surtova. She was weak. Self-loathing was the third emotion, and it was crushing. Weak. Ineffectual. Her closest advisors didn't have faith in her judgement, even her judgement in the one thing she knew better than anyone in the kingdom, save perhaps Grigori From Nowhere Important: people.
"Sedition is absolutely a crime. Willful undermining of our government is a crime. And this Grigori is absolutely a clear and present danger. I asked you to trust my judgement. You rejected me wholeheartedly. Grigori From Nowhere Important is your problem. Solve it."
There was nothing more to be done. Talia grabbed another bottle of wine and retired to her quarters.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Edric," begins Naralesh, rising from his chair. He'd watched the proceedings with surprise - Talia's sudden pronouncement caught even the calm and collected wizard off guard. He knew Talia, however, enough to know there's always more going on behind the scenes. "Give Talia a little faith. This Grigori is here specifically to harm the people of Fairhaven. We must learn more about him, because his presence means our nation has an enemy out there." He comes over and puts a hand on Edric's shoulder. "Think about Talia's judgment before today. We all trust her to lead. And most of all, we trust her where her specialties lie. My skills are in the arcane. Yours, on the battlefield. Talia is a master of the courts, and one of the great weapons in the court is deception." He looks into Edric's eyes. "I don't think we're going to see Grigori's head roll for this. Talia is not irrational or cruel, and if she seems otherwise in the presence of an enemy, we must consider that her actions may be a performance." His expression is warm, but his tone is firm. "We cannot undermine her actions like that, with Grigori seated at the table with us. We all know Talia will listen to our counsel, but we must wait for the appropriate time."
"I suggest we wait for Vosil and his men to return. We must do nothing rash in the meantime - we will know more soon."
Naralesh left the council chamber and followed after Talia. Reaching her door, he knocked gently. "Talia," he said, announcing himself. "May I join you?"
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
5 Sarenith 4708
Whilst the drama unfolds at the keep, Vosil and two of Jubal's associates head toward the inn. The innkeeper does not ask any questions as they head toward Grigori's room. A dark-haired woman makes short work of the lock, and she gives Vosil a smirk and a mock curtsy as she opens the door.
The room is typical of its type; a bed, desk and chair on a threadbare rug. There is a locked footlocker near the bed, upon which the woman begins working immediately. The man with you stays posted in the hallway. Again, the lock is beaten in seconds, and the woman begins removing the contents and placing them on the bed. Two sets of courtier's clothing, some sheet music, a few odds and ends. Nothing to incriminate the man.
Then with a quiet exclamation, the woman reaches down into the footlocker and removes a false bottom. From the hidden compartment she pulls two things: a bag of coins and a scrollcase. She places those on the bed as well and steps away to let Vosil examine them.
The coins are minted in gold, with the name "Drelev" on one side, with the image of a keep on the other. Inside the scrollcase is a single sheet of parchment. The details of a contract are explained, in which it appears Grigori was paid to 'sow unrest and bring down that fledgling kingdom'. It has no signature.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Come in."
Talia's bedchamber is nicely appointed, if a little spartan for what one wood expect from a royal. A large four-post bed sits against the far wall, the posts carved to replicate unfurled scrolls, the bed's canopy a simple blue silk, finely made, but hardly ostentatious. To the left of the bed stands a small endtable, carved in the same scroll motif, atop it a single lantern. Next to it, a dresser, plain wood, sturdy, likely an antique. A small alcove off the dresser contains the Viscountess' writing desk, and assorted tools of the craft; inkpens, jars of multicolored ink, seals, wax, and parchment, stack upon stack of parchment, most scrawled upon in a tidy, neat cursive.
By the bedroom window, a small table, and two chairs. The window's shutters are open, the breeze of the warm Sarenith night blowing gently through the chamber, bringing with it the smells of the lake the castle is perched near, as well as the sounds of Concord. The city is still a sleepy one, with most in bed by nightfall, but tonight, one of the longest of the year, the sun has just set; sounds of revelry, perhaps fishermen recently returned for the day, float up into the bedroom upon the wind.
Talia beckons Naralesh to sit, sliding her glass of wine across to the magister. Taking a pull directly from the bottle, the Viscountess absently taps her fingers on the table, lost in thought.
"Did you know, in the parchlands of Casmaron, the summer rains blow in, turning the prairies to mud? There is a town called Karamesh - they build ten story buildings from this mud. Could you imagine such a thing? I wonder if we will ever have such wondrous architecture here? Probably not in my lifetime, perhaps in yours."
"But, perhaps in my lifetime as well. Did you imagine, when we first met on that dusty road to Oleg's, that we'd one day sit here, in a castle?"
"I had imagined it, to be honest. But I'd imagined myself somehow more... better, I guess. Better at this."
"You're the smartest man I know, Naralesh. How do I be a good ruler, just and fair, and protect our realm from those who are not? It seems an impossible task, without becoming a Surtova, or one like them..."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Vosil gives a thin, pleased, smile as he surveys the evening's handiwork. "It would appear that life does occasionally imitate art..." He quotes Guillaume of Galt: "If this were performed upon the stage, I should condem it as an improbable fiction."
What to do, what to do... There is enough here, he knows, to prove the man's guilt many times over - not merely sedition, but treason. The many and varied implements of execution - the axe, the noose, the cauldron - flash before his mind as he contemplates the end of Grigory's life.
No. He shakes his head. It would be too merciful merely to kill that bumptious fool. The man has sought to diminish their reputation, and must be paid in kind.
Vosil nods his thanks at Jubal and his companions. "Good work. Bring that contract with you. We are returning to the taproom."
There, in the tavern that forms the centre of the town's social hub, guarding the document zealously, Vosil will permit any who wish to read it, to discuss it, giving time for rage and scorn to give way to mockery, allowing the tale of Grigory the Idiot to take shape: a useless fop who took money to tell lies - but who was so lacking in wit that he carried the document proving his guilt around with him.
It's a good story, and it should travel well. Vosil smiles. Hell, maybe that wench will even turn it into a play one day...
Vosil's good mood evaporates as he enters the castle: the aftermath of an argument among rulers has a heavy weight. Besides, Talia can brood loudly from three floors away.
Walking in on what is left of the meal, he spots Edric conversing earnestly with Gav, and sighs. Edric has an honest face. It's one of the few flaws he has; it makes him bearable.
"Edric, have you done something paladiny-y again? Tell. Everything."
|
|
Vosil's good mood evaporates as he enters the castle: the aftermath of an argument among rulers has a heavy weight. Besides, Talia can brood loudly from three floors away.
Walking in on what is left of the meal, he spots Edric conversing earnestly with Gav, and sighs. Edric has an honest face. It's one of the few flaws he has; it makes him bearable.
"Edric, have you...
"She said she was going to execute Grigori." Edric responds, still looking troubled. "I objected. The man's done nothing to warrant execution, it would be tyranny of the worst kind." He stops and seems to see something in Vosil's face. "Or has he? I'll deal with him myself if need be."
Vosil coughs, and looks up at the tall Shoanti man with a weary expression on his face. He was - like the others - not party to Talia's plan to buy time, but he recalls her comment that Grigory would be "spending the night" and he has some understanding now of how the impetuous red-haired wench behaves.
"Have you not thought, perhaps, that this was just a threat to get his attention - and not one that she intended to carry out? She is an actor, after all. Has she not earned a measure of trust, given how long we have now worked for her?"
He yawns. It's been a long day, and a busy evening. "As for what Grigory may or may not have done, I think that the Viscountess should hear it first. Be a good fellow and run and find her, tell her she wants to see me, will you?"
A few minutes pass and Talia slips out her bedroom door, dressed but still looking as if she just woke. "Thank you, Edric. I am sorry too. Today was a stressful day. Let's see what our spymaster has to say, shall we?"
The Viscountess' breath smells of wine; she rubs her eyes as she walks down the hall. Entering the council room, she slips into her seat, and sends a guard to wake the others. Yawning, Talia stretches, and looks to Vosil. "I assume, given the hour, you have news, for better or worse?"
Vosil looks like the cat that got the cream - and then discovered that mice are made from sugar. He doffs his hat briefly at the Viscountess. "Honestly, if I were any more pleased with myself I would be a Surtova."
Drawing forth the incriminating evidence, he gives Talia time to peruse it, while explaining how he spent the evening.
"...and so there are some who think we cooked this up; but there are more who I think believe it. And of course, some who just don't care. But we have damaged his reputation, I have no doubt."
"Now, Lady, I have a favour to ask. Might I have five minutes alone with the man? No harm will come to him, I assure you; it's simply that I can speak more freely if you and Edric are not there."
He pauses in thought for a moment. "Better make it ten minutes. I can be a bit wordy on occasion."
Talia hands the evidence back to Vosil. "Take your time. He's not going anywhere."
"I was planning to visit him myself this morning, whether he was to be set free or caged. If you are going to try and coerce a confession, a suggestion: get him blind drunk and then present him with the evidence of his undoing."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Vosil gives a chilly smile. "Drunk? Oh no, Lady. I want him to savour every part of his predicament - no anaesthesia will be permitted..."
Vosil has the guards gag Grigory - being interrupted when you're monologuing is deeply vexing.
"She was bluffing, you know. Talia, I mean. She wouldn't have you executed just for annoying her. If she were that sort of ruler, Edric would never work for her. She has her faults, as does Edric, but they are, at heart, good people. They want to do what's right, you see."
"But do you know what else they are?"
Vosil rarely uses his kukris; but there's something about a blade that gets people's attention. Drawing them both, he runs the edges together, as if sharpening them.
*kssshk, kssshk*
"They're"
"not"
"here."
*kssshk, kssshk*
"I don't envy you. Not just because you're in chains and I'm armed; but because your job was impossible. You probably thought this was some easy-come, easy-go little ten-a-penny realm like so many of the River Kingdoms. Easy to create strife and stir up discontent, right? Sadly, you miscalculated."
*kssshk, kssshk*
"As I said, Talia really does care and really does try to do what's right. I wouldn't say that the people love her, but there's precious little in the way of genuine unrest for you to use. And of course, it doesn't help you that we found the evidence of your treachery."
He pauses to let that sink in.
"People are much less inclined to think you have their interests at heart when they know you're being paid to cause trouble, don't you find?"
*kssshk, kssshk*
"That evidence is enough to take your head. Oh, I've no doubt that you'll get a trial, and a chance to insist that this is all a plot - but you'll lose. There's just not enough unrest here for you to rely on. So it seems you have a choice."
*kssshk, kssshk*
"You can fight, and protest, and rage, and lose; and I will ensure that the axe used on you is blunt, and the headsman is blind drunk - have you ever seen a botched execution? It's NOT a good way to go."
*kssshk, kssshk*
"Or, you can make a public confession of your guilt, and go painlessly and swiftly. Who knows, if you offer to self-exile Talia might even let you live... if your public confession is grovelling enough. She can be soft-hearted like that. But please believe me when I say that this is over."
*kssshk, kssshk*
"The only choice you have to make is how it ends."
Turning swiftly, Vosil leaves. He doesn't bother un-gagging Grigory: there's nothing the man can say that he wants to hear.
Let him stew.