Harmond tries to hide his dissapointment with the blandness of the food, but he does manage to eat it all. Never let food go to waste his mother always said.
"Mrs Welkin, this dish is absolutely delightful. I can't say I've ever had anything quite like it. What did you say it was called?"
The Vixen doesn’t need to bluff. It’s not so much the meal, but the atmosphere. “Oh! I almost wish we brought Lady Kavinka along—she grew up a farm girl, herself. I’ll bet ye could trade a few recipes with her, Mrs. Welkin.”
The Vixen takes in the people around her. If it’s just adults, the Vixen simply compliments the beautiful home. Having spent some years with a forest canopy as her roof, it’s not hard to appreciate a simple, rustic lifestyle, even with her comparatively luxurious home she had as she approached adolescence, and throughout her teens.
If there are children about, the Vixen asks if they are interested in a story, and if so, “What kind o’ story would ye like?”
Eunomia quite enjoys the meal. It reminds her of some of the dishes her mother used to make, back when they first came to Liberthane. They'd fled Galt with little more than the clothes on their backs, and it had taken some time for her father to establish himself as a smith in the new town. Porridge had been a staple of their diet for a long time.
She's also been out on enough patrols to be grateful for any meal that's both hot and fresh.
"Delightful. Simply delightful." She cleans her plate but, mindful that the family likely doesn't have a lot of food to spare, doesn't ask for seconds. "The turnips were particularly tasty. Were they grown here?"
Mr. Welkin has no wife or children of his own. He shares this farmstead with his younger sister, Isarna, and her husband, along with their three children. Welkin's nephew and two nieces excitedly crowd around the vividly colored visitor, namely the Vixen. In particular, they want to hear about the big wolf you fought.
"Oh, there's no need for the flattery, sir," Isarna shyly replies to Harmond. "It's just porridge and turnips. It hardly deserves a special name all its own."
Despite her protests, Ahto notices that the family receives the proffered praise warmly. They are proud simply to host such locally prominent guests.
"The turnips actually came from our neighbors," Isarna explains. "The Wrenfelds. Their farm is about a league south of here. We've come to make weekly trades with them, offering some milk or cheese from our herds for vegetables from their land. It tides both our families over until we can make proper trips to market in Horace."
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"Have you and the Wrenfelds considered selling some of your own produce and dairy at the market?" Ahto asks. "It may take some time, but if you set aside a small store of cheese, it could be profitable when sold to townfolk, perhaps even enough to hire a few hands and begin a thriving and profitable enterprise. If have some to spare, and would like to bring samples and accompany us back to Horace, we can see if we can find you customers, and perhaps even investors."
The Vixen replies to the children, “Oh, I wanted to tell ye about fairies or dragons, but yeah, the wolf-man was here on yer farm.”
She tells the kids the story, as merciless with details as she is at sparing enemies! She describes the great sycamore. “—so big, it made regular-size trees look like broccoli.” And the kobolds. “—no taller than… you,” she says to the child closest to kobold-height. Of course, the Vixen continues to pretend she can’t remember the Howling Wind’s name: “The Huff-and-Puff o’ the North! …or was it…?”
Five wrong names later, she tells of the battle. Climbing the tree! Sound effects for magic. “—not that me zwruff does justice to the power o’ Harmond’s great ball o’ fire.” She says goodness gracious in a wolfy voice, mocking the enemy’s surprised howl in a kid-friendly way. She tells of the way the wolves bumped into each other as they ran, thanks to Eunomia’s glitterdust, and of Wonky’s and Ahto’s weapons, Sprocket’s bravery standing against a pack of larger canines. And of course, “Me boots’re me weapon o’ choice. They’re fashionable, and I never have to worry about embarrassing mistakes like leaving me weapons at home.”
Ahto's conversation with the family heads is occasionally interrupted by gasps of awe from the children, enrapt by the Vixen's tale.
"I appreciate the advice, my lord, but that's already what we're doing," Mr. Welkin responds politely. "Our families only swap a bit to supplement what we eat ourselves. Most of the cheese we've made is down in the cellar to age, and it'll be ready to go to market in a week or two. With the milk, it's harder. We gotta pot it up and take it to town straight away."
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"Good, good," Ahto replies. "I pray that Abadar will bless your enterprise and grow it. May the demand for your fine cheese come from all corners of the continent, and may you and your family find prosperous wealth as a result."
Ahto says this in a tone of both sincerity and reverence.
The Vixen clearly enjoys her time at the kiddie table. Don’t tell me I’ve got maternal instincts! They’re wasted on me! That last thought is countered by the next, and so the Vixen fantasizes about…
“Lady Kavinka,” she tells the kids, “is at the capital, teaching me self-defense course while I’m away. Everyone knows we’re good friends. Care to hear how our friendship really took off, just one day after we first met?” Oh, how boring. Two grown-ups making friends, she imagines the kids are thinking, and so she says, “Nah... ye don’t wanna hear about two grown-ups making friends.
“I mean, it’s a story about friendship and and army o’ bandits AND a wyvern…”
She pauses to see the kids’ faces change. And if she sees signs of interest, the kids hear all about the battle at Oleg’s!
"Why, I thank you for your generous prayers, m'lord," Mr. Welkin replies humbly.
"Of course, I hope that good fortune gets shared among our neighbors. We aren't looking to become some highfalutin dynasty of cheese merchants," he adds with a smile. "We're just glad to have our own bit of land here, away from the sharp blades and sharper corruption back in Brevoy.
"See, at least down here it's only the wolves out for a bite of our livelihood. Back home, in a single week, we had men from three noble houses, two guards, two confidence men, and one upfront crook all come to our door to demand their 'dues.' That's what made up my mind about trying our luck here in Tamlyn. Thankfully, it's turned out all right so far."
Meanwhile, the children's eyes light up anew at the mention of bandits and the wyvern. They don't even know what such a creature is, but almost instinctively they know to be excited, if only by the telling.
Concerned with the mans's tale Harmond chimes in.
"Not that I am not grateful that you moved here, but why didn't you bring the issue to your liege? Certainly he would have employed men at arms to drive off those attempting to rob you? Thats part of what the taxes are for after all."
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Ahto nods. "There will be no tolerance for such behavior from anyone who wields power in my name. If this ever happens, notify us immediately. We will handle the matter from there. Officers of the kingdom must work for their wages like anyone else. They are entitled to neither the sweat from your brow nor the skin off your back."
The Vixen has an urge to seek out these men… but instead she makes a mental note: such corruption is the norm. Ahto will be tested, as will the rest of us by extension.
“It all starts when I met Lady Kavinka. Kind words, mutual respect, boring meeting with a lady with titles whose name escapes me—and that’s certainly not me being petty ’cause Princess What’s-Her-Face’s a prettier redhead than meself. Anyway, boring meeting ends, Lady Kavinka and I practice archery together, neither of us remembers to keep score.
“Meanwhile… Ahto’s forgiven a fallen priest, and it seems Abadar approves. The priest feels the touch of his and Ahto’s god in the form of a warning: bandits will attack—which we knew—and they’re bringing a wyvern—surprise!”
The Vixen describes the creature, then sums up her own words “in short, a dragon too stupid to exhale fire. Anyway, Wonky has a plan, and she’s so smart, I’m to her like wyverns’re to dragons.
“The plan involves sticky goop and turning a man named Sams Tallfellow to an even taller fellow. I just plan to bring me bow and I pray to Milani, especially for all me aforementioned friends, including the female soldier ye now know as Lady Kavinka.
“Next morning, tasty breakfast, morning exercise, and… yes, dreams do come true. There is a huge blue not-fiery-thank-the-gods—our fortress was made o’ wood, y’know—but still… DRAGON. No. Wyvern. Scary anyway. It picked up one mighty soldier and threw the man through a rooftop. Dust and splinters fly! Spoiler: he lives this day.
“I shoot and can’t for the life o’ me tell ye how I missed a target so gargantuan. Wonky does NOT miss, which is fortunate ’cause she fired a Goop Bolt. Imagine if the Man o’ the Moon has a nose, he sneezes on a creature half as big as yer house and it’s all snotted upon. If ye can picture it, then y’know why the winged wyvern can’t fly.
“That’s good. Not good: it landed right by me new friend, Lady Kavinka. ‘Ash’ I cried—first-name basis, y’see—and I can’t remember if I said her name aloud or in me head. What I remember well: Ahto’s sword has to hack through layers o’ moon-snot before he can even scratch the wyvern. Sams at twelve feet tall, weighing a full ton, can’t grip the slippery thing. And I’m a rather lousy shot with a bow, so I leap onto the giant man’s back, spring off his shoulder, stomp me boot on the wyvern’s head, and shield Lady Kavinka with me body!
“She looks at me, and I promise to her I won’t leave her. I tell her she’s the better shot, and she gets me meaning. I take on the wyvern, sending a high kick through its tail, and Lady Kavinka’s among the first to loose her arrows upon the bandits despite the wyvern lurching o’er her.
“Ahto, Wonky and Sams’re on the other side, and though we suffer some scrapes and bruises, the toppled beast never wakes. Ahto and I’ve li’l trouble talking the surviving bandits out o’ continuing to catch our soldiers’ arrows. We even got a fellow named Topper Red to quit his path o’ crime and work proper for a living.”
The Vixen silently reminisces on how far Ash has come.
“Lady Kavinka still practices archery daily. She’s such a sweetheart, and the people at the capital just adore her. It’s her who yer uncle came to about the trouble here at the farm, and perhaps he knew she was once a farm girl, and at heart, she still is. But there was a step in between Farmgirl Ash and Lady . She was the one female soldier at Oleg’s Post, and her battle at me side was the first o’ many deeds that led her to surpass her own cap’n.”
"We hailed from Restov, governed by the lord-mayor, but with no single liege to speak of. A few of the noble houses kept...well, houses in the free city. The Lebedas, the Garess - supposedly even the Surtovas kept a presence there, keeping an eye out for treason," Mr. Welkin speaks quietly, as though worried that such sedition could even be heard from so far abroad.
"While each house keeps their flags firmly planted in different patches of Brevic soil elsewhere, the free city is more of a free-for-all. They vie for influence like pigs wrestling in the mud, fighting alongside them swordlords, too, to control every block they can. Territory changes hands day by day. The prize is the right to wring every copper they can out of the neighborhood. The guards get in on it too, asking for 'donations' to help them 'protect' against these struggles."
The Vixen’s head whirls around. “Garess… I know the name.” She doesn’t say how. She doesn’t want to deter this good farmer. “And Lady Kalima’s from Restov herself. I s’pose we just never talked about the corruption there. Though I still remember our very first conversation. She didn’t seem fond o’ sword-lords, to put it mildly.
“But Free City… being taxed in the form of a protection racket. That ain’t free.”
Her to look to Ahto has a meaning that’s immediately clear to him.
She says to the farmer, “If ye ever find a garrison so corrupt under us, y’know ye can speak to Lady Kalima directly. Or directly to me, if ye prefer. Corruption’s a disease that I’d gladly kick to the curb.” And curb-kick.
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Eunomia listens intently to the Vixen's tale of the wyvern. She'd mentioned saving Ash from one, but Eunomia hadn't had the chance to hear the full story for herself. She'd suspect some of it was exaggeration for the children's sake, but the Vixen is nothing if not brutally honest.
Meanwhile the others are discussing corruption in Restov. Having never been there herself, she wasn't aware how bad it had been.
Human nature, I suppose. Those who have much always want more.
"No clear chain of command," she mutters to herself. Realizing she said that aloud, she clarifies, "It seems much of the problem was because Restov was a 'Free City.' No one was fully in charge, and so there was no one to rein in the corruption. No one responsible for stopping it. Everyone could tell themselves it wasn't their problem."
She nods at Ahto's proclamation. "We won't let that happen here. Taxes are necessary, but they'll be fair."
Harmond nods along.
"Yes, we should set an example for our neighbors. Show them the proper way to treat their citizenry.
"I normally place more weight upon deeds rather than words, yet I find yours reassuring," Mr. Welkin says, settling back into his chair. "The fact that the lords and ladies of Tamlyn are willing to speak with a mere herdsman, let alone personally deal with his wolf problem, is a blessed sign."
Mr. Welkin's sister, Isarna, picks up one of the smaller children from the Vixen's storytime.
"It seems downright rude of us to keep the 'lords and ladies of Tamlyn' from their appointed rounds," she interjects.
"We should let them return to their business."
The Vixen thinks, that’s a polite way to say ‘get the f!*& out o’ me house.’
Taking the hint (and no offense), she bids the kids goodnight, and says, “Far as lords and ladies go, I believe ye’ve two of each here. For me, just the Vermilion Vixen’ll do.
“Thanks again for the meal, Mr. Welkin. Been a pleasure. Isarna, ye’ve a lovely family.”
VV means every word. She’s a bit surprised at how much she enjoyed the company of children.
Eunomia rises from her chair, also getting the hint. "Without people like you there wouldn't be a Tamlyn." Her smile is warm and genuine. "Thank you for trusting us, and please feel free to let us know if you have any further problems in the future."
After several months of endless bureaucracy, it was good to face a problem so easily solved.
"Yes, thank you for your hospitality. We really should be back to the capitol."
As Harmond prepares to depart he has the opposite though. After several days of "roughing it" he is ready to get back to the steady reliability of the endless bureaucracy.
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As per her typical norm, Wonky drifts off into her own thoughts during the dinner with the Welkin family. Pleasant and responsive to direct communication she remains, but disengaged when it comes to discussing politics. She also seems happy to let Vixen engage in the children's entertainment portion of the evening.
On the trail back to Tamlyn, Wonky pipes up out of the blue.
"I should like to focus my energies on discerning any planar rifts between these lands and the First World. A unicorn has died and this is not only horrible, but a crime that needs thorough investigation as well as swift punishment for any involved. I would hope that you all might be as interested in seeking the villains responsible for this as you were in seeking out wolves making off with livestock."
"Of course I want to catch the villain responsible for Horace's death. Unfortunately I know nothing about planar rifts, the First World, or how to track a murderer that disappeared into thin air." Eunomia's tone is defensive, not because she thinks Wonky is accusing her of anything, but because she feels guilty for not doing more.
"If there is anything you can think of that I can help you with, just let me know. Otherwise...I'm at a loss."
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"Any murder is an egregious crime, and a murderer should never be acquitted merely by the passage of time," Ahto says. "We will not cease trying to seek justice for Horace, but we cannot forsake all of our other duties, either. Perhaps, if we review the evidence, we can find where the trail of the killer went cold, then bring them to justice in a timely manner."
The Vixen adds, “If the low crime rate keeps me schedule a bit free, I might wanna ride out with Ash to introduce her to Tyg and Pervalish. Can’t hurt to find out if they’ve seen or heard anything suspicious.
“O’course, any o’ ye’re welcome to come with.”
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Wonky nods at the assistance offered.
”I will, of course, need some time in study and concentration before I can surmise the next step to our investigation of the murder of Horace. I envision engaging in such activities to the utmost extent of my abilities upon return to Tamlyn.”
True to her word, upon return to the capital, Wonky cloisters herself away for in-depth study.
"Welcome back," Asham calls out as you approach. She stands beside the barracks. Her breath remains slightly ragged, as though she ran out to meet you as soon as word reached her of your return. Although she overs prime respect to Lord Ahto, it is obvious which of your party her eyes linger upon most.
"I'd ask how the hunt went, but there was never any doubt of the outcome," she says with a smile. "Hopefully you weren't expecting more excitement too soon, for I have no terribly pressing business to report."
The Vixen imagines she’s earned herself a reputation as some sort of hardbodied hard-ass who kicks asses hard… and she cares just enough about her reputation to not run, but walk (in long strides) to Ash.
“We can make our own excitement.”
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Wonky considers the clues presented to her when she has a moment to consider things.
A murder most foul, positioned upon the border between this natural world and the primal world. Best to start with what I know.
Wonky puts pen to quill and writes to a colleague at her alma mater.
It has been a number of years - maybe even a decade! - since I last cavorted on the campus of Lepdistadt University. I have traveled far in my time, studied much, and currently find myself enmeshed in a murder investigation that I believe you would have a special interest: a unicorn has been killed. I have been able to determine that some form of primal magic was used to sunder the creature's life from its form, shearing this in a manner similar to the way the same hideous person sundered the horn from the beautiful innocent's forehead. I am seeking all roads of inquest both official and unofficial to bring the responsible party to justice, hence my letter to you.
I would be so very grateful if you could mobilise any resources that you might have so as to assist this noble endeavour. I find myself within a wilderness outpost in the River Kingdoms - the newly chartered nation of Tamlyn - and could use any friends that I might contact.
My father, Wonky Prong Sr, still suffers from the Bleaching. I remain dedicated to finding his cure. He would be happy to share a port with you once more once I do.
Khu Ba Heteph, as I believe my father would sign off.
-Wonky Prong, Jr.
As Wonky hurries off to her quarters within the castle, Asham reaches into her belt pouch.
"I almost forgot. This...message arrived for you. Well, it was left on a window sill, weighted down with a small rock, anyway.
Your councilor offers what appears to be a large leaf, folded over into fourths and sealed with a bit of tree sap.
We've invited some other friends to meet
at the cairn and hold a memorial for Horace.
We really hope you'll come, too. No pranks, we promise!
Please come at the new moon.
Tyg-Titter-Tut
& Perlivash
“Oh! Ash! I was planning to introduce ye to ’em! They’re adorable li’l itty-bitty fey!”
VV realizes she could have taken that down a notch.
Harmond thinks it over for a moment.
"There will almost certainly be pranks. We should definitely go." He says with a smile. "But first, I get to spend a few nights in a real bed."
Ahto and Wonky each recall that the true new moon - and it seems quite likely that the fey would track such a thing precisely - arrives in four nights hence. Thus there is time to attend to your small town and, indeed, rest in your genuine beds.
The Vixen not-so-subtly asks Ash if she would join her for a bath. Regardless of the answer, VV will ask Ash how she’s doing and about the self-defense class, talk about her trip, and say how she missed her and all those things that are easier to say without an audience.
A smile flashes across Asham's face. Had she been holding any sort of portfolio or missives, they would have run the risk of being physically cast aside as the councilor wordlessly yet eagerly accepts the offer.
Eunomia smiles at the rather whimsical note, even though the event they're being invited to is a solemn one. "Of course we'll come. It's the least we can do to honor Horace's memory."
She smothers Ash with affection—heartfelt words, a massage, kisses—anything Ash both desires and consents to.
She tells Ash, “I told the Welkins how we met. Yer escorting me to Lady Kalima, me getting that meeting over with so just the two of us could spend time at the archery range, and o’ course the next day—us battling side by side fending off bandits and the wyvern! I stuck to the bits that’re interesting to children, so no mention o’ the romance that—for me—was already blooming as we walked side by side to see Lady Kalima.
“The way ye spoke of her—ye didn’t see her for titles. Ye saw an individual.” The Vixen removes her mask. “It’s that kind o’ thinking that’ll change the world, Ash! Our kingdom’s friendly to fey, to kobolds, to any sentient beings who just wanna live their lives as peacefully and happily as they can.”
She stares dreamily into Ash’s eyes, and offers her hand. The tubs are close enough for holding hands. She is content to lie back, talk or not talk, kiss or not kiss, Ash’s presence is enough. But she does ask, “Any jeweler in town? I’ve a couple pieces of art—one pewter, one jade—that I might try to sell or trade.”
Upkeep Phase
Determine Kingdom Stability:
Stability Check Effect: Success, +1 BP
Consumption Cost: 2 BP
Fill Magic Item Slots: None
Modify Unrest: n/a
Edict Phase
Assign Leadership: No change
Claim or Abandon Hexes: Claim Sootscale Hex (1 BP)
Build Terrain Improvements: Build Mine in Sootscale Hex (6 BP)
Create and Improve Settlements: Build Library in Horace (6 BP)
Create Army Units: None
Issue Edicts: None
Income Phase
Make Withdrawals from the Treasury: None
Make Deposits to the Treasury: None
Sell Expensive Items for BP: None
Collect Taxes:
Result: +12 BP
Event Phase
25% base chance of event; 75% base chance if no event last turn.
”Really now?” she manages to squeak between happily embarrassed chuckles. ”A story about me? Those must’ve been some disappointed children.”
She leans further, closer into your embrace.
”I didn’t see Kalima as just some noble, same as she didn’t see me as some farm girl with a sword. I guess we’ve just been turning that attitude to critters with scales, tails, wings, and what-not. Seeing as they’re capable of delivering mail, I suppose it only makes sense to treat them square.”
The talk of a jewelry elicits a furrowed brow from Asham. She seems surprised, and a bit confused. However, her face tells you that she does not suspect your true intent.
”Can’t say that we’ve attracted anything as specialized or fancy as a dedicated jeweler. For something like that, we’d still have to go through our dear treasurer and his merchant contacts. Or hope that some equally connected peddler comes rolling through town.”
“The best part o’ yer story’s ye’ve farmgirl roots. Two o’ me audience were farmgirls ’emselves as their mother before ’em.”
The Vixen (or is she Addy now?) holds Ash close, enjoying the tender moment and the stability it brings.
“Yer humility is beautiful. I tend to be a bit too proud, so how about we just keep being our true selves, overcompensating for each other’s personalities. But I won’t apologize for being incredibly proud to be yer girl.”
The Vixen will go to the treasurer later. Maybe tomorrow. For now, she just wants to hold her girl and never let go.
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Harmond spends an unnecessarily large amount of time watching the crew build the library, and looking through the books as they bring them in from out of town.
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Wonky fails to get much more apart from the letter to Lepidstadt completed during Lamashan once the library construction begins. She attempts to add her own touch to the construction designs.
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Ahto uses the next few days to write updated reports for the Lords of Restov and the Church of Abadar.
He documents the current status of the burgeoning new nation, the completed projects, as well as those underway.
He hands over the warg's head, claws, teeth and pelt to be cleaned and preserved.
"The head should be mounted. Olaf and Svetlana may display it beside the wyvern's if they choose. I think the pelt would make a fine cloak or area rug."
He offers the cleaned and bleached claws and teeth to each of the officers as momentos of the battle with the beast.
Winter's first frost remains several weeks away, so the autumn soil remains pliant as the foundations are dug and the bricks are laid. Lumber, hand-planed from timber cut from the Narlmarches just to west of Horace, is erected to form the frame of the library.
The plans you drafted leave room in the flooring for a hatch to connect the library proper with this hidden space, but you are especially proud of the tunnel running westward that you have calculated to connect with the old cellar beneath the castle. Where once the long-vanquished bandits stored their ill-gotten gains, now you will have a private passage to the secret library wing.
Hexa has never before received a task from his warchief so pleasing as cleaning and preparing the remnants of the slain warg. Even if he could not join the hunt himself, your scaled warden is proud to take part in this symbol of victory. When presented with one of the warg's claws, he snatches and clutches it in such a way as to remove any doubt whether it will become a treasured possession of the hunter.
When the other teeth and claws are passed out to the councilors and officers of Tamlyn, Paval turns his over in his fingers, eyeing it curiously while keeping his possessed left hand from reaching out to seize the token. He suggests the warg's pelt be laid out as a rug in your meeting room within the castle, also suggesting - perhaps only half-heartedly - that your governing body be called the Council of the Fang.