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Wonky absently smiles at the negotiations, cautiously probing the primal stirrings that she feels as she engages closer and closer with the First World. A tingling, an impulse, a momentum? Something seems to swell within her, grounding her in this place, this land.
She doesn't seem to be the only one. Nearby, Sprocket wriggles on his back, scratching his shoulders and the back of his head into the forest floor by writhing in a serpentine fashion. He springs up and shakes the forest detritus from his sleek coat, new ridges of muscle rippling beneath his stout form. He yawns loudly, revealing unnervingly-sharp teeth, ringing a large maw - larger than it previously seemed. He then lifts his leg to urinate on Tiressia's tree.
Oops, Wonky thinks, making an apologetic face at the dryad.
The dryad appears utterly unfazed by Sprocket's gesture, presumably accepting it as merely a course of nature.
"The matter of a fey ambassador - which itself will be a curious change - brings to mind some other pressing business," Asham says on the ride back to Horace. "The air grows bitter. How shall we handle winter?"
Kingdom Turn 6 - Neth 4719
Upkeep Phase
Determine Kingdom Stability:
Stability Check Effect: +1 BP
Consumption Cost: 3 BP
Fill Magic Item Slots: None
Modify Unrest: No change
Edict Phase
Assign Leadership: No change
Claim or Abandon Hexes: None
Build Terrain Improvements: None
Create and Improve Settlements: Inn (10 BP) and House (3 BP) in Horace
Create Army Units: None
Issue Edicts: No mechanical edicts
Income Phase
Make Withdrawals from the Treasury: None
Make Deposits to the Treasury: None
Sell Expensive Items for BP: None
Collect Taxes:
Result: +13 BP (+1 from Kobold Mine)
Event Phase
25% base chance of event; 75% base chance if no event last turn.
But she makes sure that Ash knows the truth, including the ugly parts. Some of it’s come up before, and she noticed he much better things felt with Ash once Addison wasn’t afraid to show her vulnerable side.
She makes sure not to leave any of her past untold, that there are no secrets between her and Ash. At least not any she’s keeping. Maybe Ash has a secret, and whatever it is, it won’t change a thing.
Eventually, the winter solstice will come, and that’ll be the day Addy will give Ash her covenant ring! She makes sure Ash will be ready for the day, and in the meantime, she works on crafting an outfit for her, and for herself, green dye for the hair. For her goddess, Addison Lane will don a color other than vermilion red…
“Honestly, I haven’t been in the mood to celebrate Crystalhue since Vikki’s death. You brought that desire back to me, so I wanna plan something big...”
“…if ye can help me gather the artsy people—musicians, dancers, actors and other theater types—I think we’ll serve the capital and me goddess well. O’ course, if ye need me to help with the serious winter prep, I can always drop the dress-making—especially if I ain’t the only seamstress in town.”
When the First Citizens Edict is delivered, the people of Horace and Tamlyn fall into two camps. The first group seem not to understand the pronouncement, perhaps discounting it as merely noble rhetoric. The other group, though, cling to their superstitions, and talk of fey walking among the town streets leaves them afright.
The following month unites the two camps in shock when the fey arrive. Tyg, Perlivash, Falchos, and Melianse are the familiar faces you see among them. There are a few other small strangers, though, that Wonky readily points out as sprites, atomies, pixies, and even a pooka.
A deluge of complaints are heaped upon any authority the people can reach. Captain Garess, Akiros, Father Kavken, Eunomia, and even Lord Ahto are hounded as every misfortune that happens around Horace is now attributed to these fey. Of course, given the fey's penchant for pranks, at least some of these incidents are genuine - especially when Mr. Welkin reports that he woke up to discover his shaggy cows' fur dyed bright shades of pink, yellow, and green.
However, there is one practical factor that begins to quickly redeem the fey.
The fey bring treasures from the forest, exchanging rare herbs, berries, tea leaves, and lost Iobarian treasures for alcohol, sweets, and bits of metalwork from Taured's smithy. What's more, farmers and herded around Horace have begun leaving offerings in hopes of attracting "house sprites" to help them with their chores. A sudden rise in morale and productivity suggests that brownies or domovoi may have indeed taken residence in local households.
Asham delivers a friendly punch to your shoulder after hearing out your story.
"You goose, you had me scared!" she exclaims. "When you were talking about some 'ugly past', I was expecting to hear that you were part of a dark cult, one of those bandits, caught up in the Chelish slave trade, or - heavens forbid - raised by goblins."
Asham's mood quickly subsides. She seizes you and pulls you into an embrace, placing a hand on the back of your head.
"Thank you for sharing your life with me," she coos reassuringly.
"That's all in the past now. You're here, with us, with me. You are safe here. You are right here."
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When complaints of the fey's mischief are brought to Ahto's attention, either by the public or by officials, his responses fall into two general categories: for harmless pranks, he states that such things are ways that fey creatures show interest or affection, and should be taken in the spirit of friendly intent. He asks his officials to give this same explanation to the plaintiffs. For anything dangerous or destructive, he takes the incident report to Melianse and Falchos, explaining how such behavior cannot be tolerated, and the possible negative repercussions that might result if they continue (public outcry and resentment of fey folk). He asks that they please handle the discipline of the offenders, so that he does not have to do so publicly. Also, the offenders should offer restitution for any and all damages inflicted by their pranks.
Anything that is being falsely attributed to fey should be investigated and debunked as soon as possible, so that negative sentiments are not allowed to gain a foothold in the minds of the populace.
Addy is amazed by the diminutive sprites, knee-high next to the adorable pixies. She didn’t know what a pooka was—until now!
She gathers as many as she can, though not as the Vixen and not really with a whole lot of concern about the complaining. She says to them in Sylvan, <I’ve a plan for the upcoming Winter Solstice. Maybe ye’ll like what I’ve in mind.>
She tells them of the plan she shared with Ash, only the purpose should bring a greater benefit than she had anticipated!
<Think of it! Humans and fey combining their talents in a single performance! That’s gotta be more fun than any prank. It’ll be the first performance of its kind… umm… far as I know, anyway.>
Addy certainly takes an interest in things that the various fey can do—such as the sprites’ ability to will dancing lights, splash colors, and make their skin glow any color of the rainbow.
Eunomia can't help but smile at many of the fey's pranks. Particularly when they change the color of Mr. Welkin's cows, which causes her to quickly retreat into a private area where she can laugh at the multicolored beasts. Much like Ahto, she encourages the citizenry to take the pranks in good spirits. "While your cows may be a bit more colorful, they haven't been harmed, Mr. Welkins. They'll return to normal soon enough, so for now just enjoy the added splash of color in your life."
However privately, (and without consulting Ahto), she encourages the fey to spend some of their pranking energy on the officials of Tamlyn, rather than the citizenry. "If the citizens see me walking around with a wild new hair style without me paying much mind to it, it'll show that we mean what we say about the pranks being harmless. And, maybe, make them smile a bit in the process."
She's far more serious when it comes to the matter of false allegations. "Not every accident is attributable to the fey. We consider them to be citizens of Tamlyn, same as you, and as such will treat false allegations against them with the same seriousness we would if you made such an allegation against your neighbor." When the fey start bringing gifts and morale improves, she breathes a sigh of relief.
Finally she can get some actual work done instead of wasting all her time investigating broken steps that just had to be the work of the fey.
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Wonky busies herself during the month, as she normally does, with various pet projects and apparent frippery. One of her main "pet" projects becomes considerably apparent as Wonky is sighted numerous times throughout the month instructing Sprocket in complex battle strategy. The formerly-small dog seems to be taking on the erudition well, along with a considerable caloric increase that sees the canine jump in size.
Wonky takes a chunk of time out of the month to continue her work as the official mapmaker of Tamlyn, including any information provided to her by the new First Citizens.
Wonky spends a good deal of time this month pestering the officious Taured into showing her some of his tricks in working with metals. When the First Citizens begin presenting precious and rare metals for smithing purposes, Wonky tries to procure some for her newest weapon creation.
Just before mid-month, Wonky retreats into her alchemical lab and creates a small cache of fireworks to set off on Evoking Day (18 Neth). She spends most of Evoking Day at the People's Library, reading adventure stories involving heroic magic-users to enthralled children, punctuating her stories with Sprocket acting out certain scenes (to some dramatic effect) and fireworks in the appropriate spaces (strangely enough, inside the library).
Wonky then returns to Taured's forge (much to his chagrin), spending the better part of the next two weeks alongside the taciturn metallurgist.
At the end of the month, Wonky retires to her quarters, engaging in a self-proclaimed sabbatical from official affairs. For five whole days, the gnome barely leaves her quarters, and speaks naught but a word or two to her companions.
Wonky's schedule for Neth 4719 :
Ahto and Eunomia make inroads mollifying their citizenry.
However, for now the situation that settles in and around Horace can best be described as a tense truce.
Although some of the fey bring valuable goods to trade in Horace, the younger fey offer rocks and leaves in lieu of coins or gems. What's more, they do not adhere to the concept of "business hours," resulting in tradespeople rising for work in the morning to discover their goods have vanished overnight and questionable barter items have been left in their place.
Tanith the baker is rather forgiving when a tray of sweet rolls is replaced with a sextet of toads. Jocelyn restrains herself to mere grumbling when four left boots are taken from their partners, and four boar tusks, carved with floral patterns, are left as payment. Taured, however, is furious when his tools are "purchased" from him for a bear cub left in his smithy.
Horace, still being very much a frontier settlement, has only recently begun seeing full families settling or forming anew. Nevertheless, children make up a very small portion of the population. While being isolated from peers of their age group can be maddeningly dull and depressing for such youngsters, there is no shortage of fey willing to volunteer as playmates.
Although this impromptu social arrangement means that the children and fey of Tamlyn have never been happier, there remain many parents worried - if not terrified - that their children might be spirited away, never to be seen again.
It may take some effort to conduct them into a coherent spectacle, but a spectacle it is guaranteed to be.
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A somewhat-dour Wonky presents herself to Ahto's office on the evening of Evoking Day. Her voice sounds hoarse, as if she had been talking aloud the entire day (and indeed, she had - reading stories of sorcery and adventure aloud to children and fey at the People's Library until just after sundown).
"We should draft some form of agreement for the First Citizens specifically addressing the unlawfulness of child abduction," the gnome says as a means of greeting to Ahto, plopping with a touch of fatigue onto a wooden stool. The hulking form of Sprocket trots behind Wonky and begins wagging its back quarters in elation as he sees the inquisitor, leaving Wonky's side briefly to nuzzle Ahto's leg and accept a scratch of his haunches before returning to Wonky, walking in a circle, yawning loudly, and flopping into a heap.
"I had an earful from the wife of the fishmonger at the evening meal about her concerns regarding the issue, and while I found many of her worries illogical, I do recognise that the First World denizens regularly interpret the rules of society in creative ways. We should be explicit," Wonky finishes with a nod.
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Ahto gives Sprocket a friendly pat and scratch behind the ears.
"We have laws against kidnapping already, and the First Citizens, being citizens, are subject to those laws, just like anyone else," Ahto replies. "Rather than drafting an additional treaty, it may be more practical to educate them on the explicit meaning of each statute."
Ahto paces a moment, then pauses. "Perhaps we could add a clause in the treaty we still need to draft that protects the First Citizens land, something along the line of 'no non-fey under the age of recognized adulthood for their race may be taken into the First Citizens' territory, and any such found within the territory must be returned alive and unharmed to a duly sworn officer of the Tamlyn government' - perhaps a boundary warden or the like. Do you think that would be sufficient to assuage the fishwife's concerns?"
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Addy speaks to the tiny fey in Sylvan. “That’s… something. We got ’til the end o’ next month to make it something organized, and I ain’t the one to do the job.
“That said, I’m loving the potential here. Ye’ve all amazing talents, along with some humanly impossible gifts.”
Addy whips out a sketch pad and measuring tape.
“Ye’re lovely as y’are, but I aim to make costumes. For ye sprites, if ye think clothing’ll hinder flight or ye simply want to fly naked, that’s fine. Can ye change the color o’ the glow around ye? Shelyn’s celebration needs every color o’ the rainbow!”
Whether the fey want to be measured for costumes or not, Addy asks that she be given names and a talent or three for each fey.
She is clearly enjoying the company of these sweet little creatures!
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Wonky considers Ahto's suggestion.
"I like that it states that none can be taken, but 'age of adulthood' is a difficult policy to set, I would think. I know not the intricacies of what it means to be human, but we gnomes have quite a variable view on when someone qualifies for the mantle of adult responsibility."
Wonky ponders.
"It also strikes down the free will of any mature child fleeing authoritarian or abusive homes. How else would we have fairy tales to tell if that was an impossible choice?"
Wonky blinks, holding a serious expression on her face for a long five second pause before laughing uproariously, enjoying her joke a bit more than Ahto does.
"I think it needs a bit more work to preserve personal freedoms," Wonky suggests, "and I think I know just the right person to ask. Do you know where the Vixen might be found?"
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”A child’s will is not wholly his or her own until such time as he or she reaches the age of reason,” Ahto replies. ”Until then, the law recognizes the child’s parents as the ones best suited to care for and take responsibility for the child’s actions unless they prove incapable or incompetent. Children are often driven by emotion and a sense of entitlement, especially when they are on the cusp of adulthood. If a child wishes to dispute his or her parents’ fitness as guardians, they may do so in court. They should not have leave to take it upon themselves to self-emancipate on a whim. Perhaps adult status in Tamlyn should be an officially conferred status. This would alleviate any concerns about whose liberty and responsibility were relevant.”
Ahto seems to be firm in his position on this.
”The Vixen has not been seen today, though Miss Lane was seen observing an impromptu musical performance by some of the smallest fey folk earlier today near the library.”
Besides Tyg and Perlivash, three other fey introduce themselves. Two of them are sprites named Toughnut and Ainsel. They brag about their singing and dancing, but their voices are shrill and off key, and their dancing is largely just flailing and jumping. Despite their questionable performing skills, they look like they would be good models for costumes at least.
The third is a pooka named Snickerdoodle. The small rabbit-woman fey claims to be a skilled fiddle player, and adds that she is good at making berry juice.
"Oh, oh, oh! I know another talent!" Tyg calls out excitedly. "Follow me and I'll show you!"
The grig flits off, leading you towards the castle.
When Melianse is called in to consult on the matter, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. A rivulet of moisture runs down her slick skin.
"I don't understand this business of age. So many of the people around here treat me like a child even though I'm twice as old as Tiressia. Of course, I guess losing your children would be akin to losing the trees around my pool. I'll...try to convince everyone that they can play with the children, but they can't take them outside of the town."
Your meeting is interrupted when Tyg bursts in, followed by Perlivash, Miss Lane, and a handful of other small fey.
"Hey Melianse!" Tyg calls out. "If the biggins were to build a church that blocked a river, would that be a g@~ d#~?"
As the terrible pun hangs in the air, a choked-off sound draws your attention towards Melianse. The corners of the nixie's mouth twitch. The normally serious fey is struggling - and failing - to suppress her smile and amusement at the pun.
"See! I told you I had another talent! Do you know how hard it is to get Melianse to crack a smile or laugh?" the grig boasts.
Addison tries to suppress a laugh herself, but the look on the Nixie’s face pushes her over the edge.
“Oh damn, ye’re a real spitfire, Tyg!”
Noting the odd combination of Ahto, Wonky and Melianse… Addy wonders if maybe she was led into a meeting of a less festive sort.
She says, “So lemme introduce me li’l lady friends, Toughnut and Ainsel,” she says of two sprites, and of the little rabbit girl, “And this is Snickerdoodle.”
She introduces the fey to Ahto and Wonky, then says, “So… I ain’t sure what I’ve interrupted exactly, but I heard people expect the Vixen’s gonna buckle on her ass-kicking boots and straighten out all these fey. Well, that ain’t really gonna solve a g~$ d*@n thing. Unless nipping our budding relationship with these beautiful fey’s a thing.
“Naw, what the fey and the bigguns need’s an opportunity to understand each other. So I’m dropping the gauntlet. I got five talented fey who’ve ’til Crystalhue to figure out how to hone their performance in a way that’ll impress bigguns. And now I need five bigguns who can do the same, but for the fey.”
Addison seems to be taking this Crystalhue preparation very seriously.
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Wonky thinks on things a bit.
"I was a bit down on myself for my failure at preparing pyrotechnical entertainment for the Evoking Day celebrations," Wonky expounds, "but preparing for the next holiday might be just the thing that I need in order to confound my poor humour."
The gnome looks down at Sprocket with a smirk.
"I think we can come up with something that would impress the First World and the rest alike. You had better watch out though," the gnome warns, waggling her finger at Tyg, "or we might be crowned the best in show!"
The gnome unceremoniously wanders out of the room with her canine companion and shuts the door. A beat later, she sticks her head back through.
"Toughnut, Ainsel, Snickerdoodle...I am very pleased to make your acquaintances. I am Sprocket Prong, Jr, and my dog is Wonky," and she closes the door again.
A second beat later, the door opens once more.
"What I meant to say was: I am Wonky Prong, Jr, and my dog is Sprocket. Yes, that is more correct."
Addy says, “Yes! That’s one for team biggun! Without Wonky, I don’t think we can really impress the fey outside o’ music.”
She says to Ahto, “Crystalhue’s me goddess’ festival. It’s a time of togetherness and… joy. And I ain’t had joy in five f&!%ing years, so I’m gonna get maybe a couple musicians, maybe an acrobat? Oh… and I gotta do costumes for the fey, so that makes me impartial. Melianse, can I ask ye to be one o’ the judges? I’m thinking Eunomia as well, so we get a biggun and a fey. I’ll step in only if there’s a tie.”
The look on Addy’s face suggests a scheme is brewing in her mind—
Oh, I’m counting on a tie! …unless one side clearly sucks.
—and that whatever she’s scheming, she has doubts.
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Eunomia blinks as she stares into the mirror, nose twice its usual size. Well. She had asked for it, and it was a very visible sign that the officials were not above being pranked.
For however long the prank lasts, she spends more time than usual walking the streets. Any comments on her nose are met with a wry smile and a somewhat-nasally reply. Most often something along the lines of, "Oh I don't know, I've always worried before that my nose was too small. Do you think this is an improvement?" It's pretty obvious she's joking, and even more obvious that she finds the prank more funny than upsetting.
When conversations turn to the topic of Crystalhue, she's clearly swept up in Addy's enthusiasm. "I'd be happy to be a judge, although you know full well I don't have the most fashion sense." She tries to think of other ways she could help, or other ideas for the festival, and comes up blank. She's good at fighting, talking to people, solving crimes, and not much else.
I need more hobbies.
"Wonky, do you think we could test how fireworks interact with prestidigitation? If I cast it on the firework, I'm not sure how it will affect the explosion." Realizing she needs to explain, she adds, "If it does affect the explosion, I could change the color of various fireworks. Maybe even make some simple pictures with them!"
Addy is happy that Eunomia accepts, though at the same time distracted. “Yeah… umm… ye don’t need to judge… uhh… fashion… ye just…”
Addy catches her index finger rising, intent on pressing the big nose. She quickly adjusts her pose with hands behind her back.
“It’s just that, ye’re good at telling the truth, even when it might beeeee…… socially awkward. And I ain’t. I keep me trap shut if the truth’ll hurt.
“So where I’ll need the most help’s in the preparation stages. You and Melianse’ll both come to rehearsals as representatives of the biggun audience and the fey audience. And o’ course I’ll give a bit o’ direction on some o’ the particulars—like coloring our hair, for example.”
Ainsel, sitting upon Asham's shoulder, whispers into the councilor's ear.
"No, if you lose the competition, I'm certain they won't feed you to the big dog," she reassures the sprite, maintaining her composure despite the fey intruding upon her personal space.
Melianse ushers her smaller kin out of the council chambers to attempt a serious discussion with them regarding the children of Tamlyn. Before she herself slips out the door, the nixie sorceress whispers something beneath her breath and aims a finger towards Eunomia - who quickly finds, to her relief, that her nose returns to its normal size.
"We have a few other pieces of business to attend to, although none of them are as...fantastical as a pageant of dancing fey," Asham announces.
"First off, Barris had a grievance to air. He seemed quite agitated and was holding up a gold coin, but I didn't quite follow what he was trying to explain.
"Next, there are a couple of visitors seeking audience. Mister Ismort reports that a 'noble-looking bunch,' to use his own words, arrived at the castle gates asking to see Lord Orlovsky. Akiros failed to provide their identity," she adds, her voice hinting at distaste for the lackadaisical bandit-turned-guard.
"Lastly, the new inn is nearly complete. I'm told that all that remains is to move in the furnishings, which the owner is handling herself. She has asked to speak with you, I presume to offer thanks for subsidizing her new business. She specifically asked after 'Lord Ahto' and 'Lady Wonky' by name, offering her own as Madame Vika."
Addy says to Ash, “I hope Shelyn’s festival will help our people appreciate the fey. And that they’ll also learn about us so they know when a joke’s gone too far.”
She grins at Eunomia, then adds, “Like a couple inches too far.” She taps her own nose as she says this.
Then she wonders aloud, “I wonder if they’ve a spell to slim me thighs or…” Wherever she’s going with this, she interrupts the thought with, “Nah. That enlarge potion freaked me out enough, even with every bit in proportion.”
She says to both Ash and Eunomia, “I’ll need ye both to pick three colors. Try to make at least one of ’em a color ye’d be willing to dye into yer hair. I’m going with emerald green meself, and leaving it half me natural red. Might do me nails to match. Got a moon to change me mind several times, o’ course.”
Harmond seems to somehow look a mix of pleasantly surprised and subtly terrified at the mention of visitors here to see him.
"Visitors you say? I... you didn't get names did you? Maybe descriptions? Did they say what they wanted? Where are they? I'm not prepared for visitors! I need to change!" With that he runs off without waiting for answers to any of his questions. He returns 30 minutes later cleaned and dressed in his best. "Ok, visitors. I am prepared to receive them."
Eunomia is clearly out of her depth when Addy suggests coloring her hair. "Um...I don't mind coloring my hair? I've just...never really thought about it."
Three colors, Eunomia. You can do this.
"Um. Violet. Teal. And...." She flushes. "Maybe steel blue? I know, it's not really a color, it's just a weird shade of grey, but...I kind of like it." Her flush deepens, and she quickly changes the subject.
"I don't care about my nails, so if you want to paint those feel free. Just don't expect me to be able to do it myself."
She's almost relieved when visitors come to, well, visit. "Harmond, would you like accompaniment?" She remembers how he'd spoken about his family, and hides a grimace. "Or I could wait just outside, and upon speaking a specific code word I could come in and insist your attention was required in order to get you out of there without questions. Maybe Melianse"
Addy jots down the colors in her sketch book. “Ain’t nothing weird about that. It’s like ye picked blue as yer center and went equidistantly in three different directions. Ye sure ye ain’t a color theory genius?
“If I had more clients as smart with color as you, I’d never’ve left the business.” She pauses. “Well, that and if I didn’t fall into a depressed stupor o’er me friend’s brutal murder. But still, me descent to rock bottom’d have been slower, if…”
Addy stifles herself.
“I’m doing that thing again. Sorry.” Blushing a bit, she manages a smile and says, “I’ll see if we can get a pro for yer hair and nails. All optional, no pressure. I’ll let ye see me Crystalhue look days before so ye can make an informed decision.”
She lets Eunomia hang with Harmony while she goes out to her little fey friends, beckoning Ash to join her if she can spare a moment.
Barris Volklev lets himself into the council room, shoving aside the pine door as soon as it is opened even slightly to allow him inside. His head remains cleanly shaven, a sign of his penitence. He wears a simple white robe that lacks even the gold fringe of most Abadaran clerics. Despite this austerity, he approaches the council table like an angry magistrate accosting a suspect. His right hand remains clenched tightly
"A travesty is what it is!" he declares, seeming to continue a conversation begun in the hall. "Your Grace, there is a serious matter that we must attend to!"
He slams the contents of his formerly clenched fist upon the table, revealing a single gold coin.
"This cannot be allowed to continue!"
The edges of the coin are worn down, unnaturally and unevenly. This is the hallmark of clipping, a practice akin to counterfeiting where the offenders shave off small pieces of precious metal coins. Once enough such shavings are collected, they can be melted down into new coins or even ingots.
Such crimes could debase the value of local coinage, even rendering your nation's currency less valuable to neighboring trade partners.
or
Such crimes could debase the value of local coinage, even rendering your nation's currency less valuable to neighboring trade partners.
Harmond looks grateful when Eunomia offers to join him.
Oh, you can definitely come. I think company would be appreciated. Yes. Definitely appreciated. He looks around nervously I'm assuming this is my parents, or maybe their representatives. I have no idea if they are going to be angry I ran off, or proud of what we've accomplished here, or both, or neither, or... I don't know!
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"A travesty is what it is!" he declares, seeming to continue a conversation begun in the hall. "Your Grace, there is a serious matter that we must attend to!"
He slams the contents of his formerly clenched fist upon the table, revealing a single gold coin.
"This cannot be allowed to continue!"
Ahto lifts the coin from the table and holds it up, turning it and running his finger along its edge. "Coin-clipping is a crime old as currency itself," he remarks. "It has always been an affront to honest commerce, and a theft of the fruits of labor. Thank you for bringing it to our attention. It will be investigated, and the perpetrators punished."
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Wonky regards the coin with a cocked head.
”Ahhh! Some enterprising—-“ here she sees Ahto’s stern look and Barris’ frown—- CRIMINAL has chosen to file bits of the metal off, surely so as to re-create the coin anew once enough has been gathered. Coin-clipping is what it is called? My, the new things that one can learn if one keeps their eyes and ears open...”
She continues to regard the defiled (or is it filed?) coin.
”Of course this would be easy to prevent if Tamlyn were to start pressing our minted coins with some form of official stamp, would it not?” The gnome looks from Ahto to Barris and back. ”A numatistic press would be just the invention.”
It’s as if you can hear the cogs spinning in her mind.
Harmond looks grateful when Eunomia offers to join him.
Oh, you can definitely come. I think company would be appreciated. Yes. Definitely appreciated. He looks around nervously I'm assuming this is my parents, or maybe their representatives. I have no idea if they are going to be angry I ran off, or proud of what we've accomplished here, or both, or neither, or... I don't know!
Eunomia lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If they're not proud, they should be." Seeing Harmond's nervousness, (and his careful attention to dres), she pauses for a second. "Let me change as well, and we'll be on our way." She deliberately changes into the formal outfit Addy had made for her, and spend a few minutes prestidigitating away any signs of dirt or wear.
Once she feels she's presentable enough for a meeting with a noble family, (Nobles! It's easy to forget Harmond is one), she returns with a smile. 'Sorry for the delay. Whenever you're ready."
Harmond nods to Eunomia and takes a deep breath"Ok, lets do it."
A look of inspired awe crosses Barris' face, as though he laid eyes upon the key to the First Vault itself.
"A brilliant idea!" he emphasizes his praise to Wonky with a pounding of his fist in his palm. "And a perfect symbol of Abadar's aegis over commerce and civilization! If we write to the Archbanker in New Stetven, we may be able to secure funding for this endeavor from the church."
"My little library mouse has certainly come up in the world."
The words catch you in the yard within the castle's walls.
Before you can turn to find the owner of the familiar voice, Sprocket is already bounding over with a happy "aroof!"
Perhaps a rolling stone can gather moss, or perhaps a better metaphor is to say a traveling book can still gather dust. After all, despite your very active mind, you had forgotten the name from your past. Joined with the face and voice, however, you instantly remember what was nearly lost.
"Our kitchen mutt has certainly grown, even if you haven't," she says, trying to effect a joking tone whilst also trying to avoid being bowled over by the "evolved" bulldog.
The woman's raven hair, kept in a bun left ragged by travel, shows more streaks of gray than when last you met. She has paired a new set of riding boots with her old gray dress and the dueling sword at her hip.
This is Madame Vika, previously the owner of the Lord's Scabbard in Restov, and your one-time employer before you set out on your adventure.
Harmond's eyes wander farther and find not representatives, nor simply his parents, but his entire family parked upon benches in the courtyard.
Harmond's jaw drops as he sees his entire family in the courtyard. "That.... is unexpected. I.. I think that's the entire House." He seems at a loss for words.
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Wonky is floored at the reappearance of ‘Mother’ Tika, her eyes welling full of tears before she rushes to the innkeeper.
”I-I-I missed you!” is all the overwhelmed gnome can manage at first. Gradually, Wonky physically peels herself off Tika and proceeds to bring her up to speed, exhaustively and chronologically, with all that has happened to her since she departed from Restov. Familiarity in this strange place wasn’t something that Wonky ever thought that she would crave, and yet only now does she realise that she has been starved.
Much, much, MUCH later, Wonky makes her way to her lab and tries to get some work done, her day - nay, her fortnight - made brighter by Tika’s choice.
”We should instruct our artisans and resident merchants not to accept such tampered coins and report when they discover them. I would also advise that traveling peddler’s tills be inspected before they conduct business in Horace, lest they bring in more devalued currency.”
Once Barris is duly satisfied that the coin shaving "epidemic," as he immediately views even the single tampered coin, he excuses himself to begin drafting the request on Lord Ahto's behalf.
...
Asham then ushers the next visitor into the council room.
In walks a woman clearly hailing from Brevoy, as evidenced by the simple gray traveling dress she wears and the dueling sword at her hip. Her black hair shows streaks of gray that begin to herald her age. Ahto's mind, sharp like a trap, recognizes the face even if the name had previously escaped him, as it did Wonky.
The woman, who introduces herself with a polite bow, is Madame Vika, lately of Restov and former owner of the Lord's Scabbard, the inn where Wonky and Ahto once gathered with their former companions before setting off into the Stolen Lands, seemingly ages ago.
"It's a shame that your other acquaintances couldn't be here today, but that does nothing to diminish how happy I am to see that you and my little library mouse have risen so far in the world," she says to Ahto. She briefly gestures politely towards Addy before adding, "I briefly mistook you for Lady Kalima, but I can see that you are a new friend, even if you also have a fire that you're hiding."
Vika confirms that she will be the new innkeeper in Horace, catching you up on affairs as she did with Wonky out in the courtyard.
"I sold the Lord's Scabbard to Topher and Bungay," she explains. "I question whether they'll be able to cooperate well enough to keep the place running, but I simply couldn't stay in Restov any longer. The situation there is becoming yet more...volatile, to borrow a word I've often heard our dear Wonky use. Street duels between would-be Swordlords seemed to be a daily occurrence as they vied for power and prestige. It isn't just the usual posturing, either. In the last few weeks running the Scabbard, I overheard more plotting regarding the Houses and the Crown than is safe for any one body."
His father, Aleksi, by contrast, blends in and could be mistaken for a scribe or clerk seeking an appointment by the Tamlyn council. His piercing eyes are the one feature that sets him apart from any ordinary visitor. He sits rigidly upon a bench, a broad but thin folio spread open upon his lap. Although not dressed as gaudily as his wife, it remains clear that he dedicates care to his own appearance. His snow-white beard has been carefully manicured until it sits as sharp as a polished rapier.
Harmond’s older brother, Winton, stands vigil over the family’s heap of luggage, sitting like a mountain of cordwood. His other brother, Sewart, only two years Harmond’s junior, gives orders to the family’s handful of servants like a military commander drilling cadets.
Addy replies, “Me pleasure to meet ye, and in fact, I actually met Kalima a few months back.
“I don’t suppose, as an innkeeper, ye’ve much experience with entertainers, do ye? I’m just a seamstress meself, but I owe me goddess a Crystalhue celebration, and I got something big—original! …maybe doomed to fail, but not if we can find some real talent.”
She pauses. “Sorry. Addison Lane’s the name, and Addy’ll do. I normally do intros proper. Ye kind o’ caught me at a moment.”
Harmond steps out to greet his family waiting in the courtyard.
"Mother, Father. Its such a pleasant surprise to see you all here! Everyone. At once? I'm so glad you decided to visit." He begins to go in for a hug from his mother before looking around, and standing up straighter, trying to present a professional appearance. His eyes shift around nervously looking to Eunomia for support, unsure how he should react.
Eunomia had put on her finest (and only) dress for this meeting, expecting nobles to require such an effort. She still feels woefully underdressed upon seeing Harmond's mother. Fortunately his father seems more relaxed in his appearance, so maybe she hasn't committed a fashion faus pax?
Trying to look at something that isn't Hibernia's dress, the mountain of luggage catches her eye. That seems like a lot of baggage to drag along for a 'visit.'
...Oh no.
She swallows hard. If her sudden suspicions are accurate, Ahto is not going to like this.
But what Ahto does or does not like is not why she's here right now. She's here as a friend, to offer support. So with a polite smile she steps up beside Harmond.
"Greetings..." She frantically tries to recall if Harmond's ever mentioned his family's exact station and draws a blank. "Lord and Lady Orlovsky. I'm Marshall Eunomia Verto." The four are standing far enough apart that she doesn't want to try and shake all of their hands, so she stands still and simply inclines her head. "Welcome to Tamlyn."
Carefully using her skirt to hide her actions, she takes Harmond's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
"It could use some furnishings, and the cellar's a bit bare," Vika muses regarding the inn, "but it feels quite welcoming. It could also use a name. I have some ideas, but since I'll be operating under a charter from your lordship, it seems fair that you get to weigh in on the matter first."
"Oh, the trip was perfectly wretched, dear," Hibernia says, turning back to the mirror and looking at her son's reflection. "No road for the coach to follow, and not a single decent inn for miles. Your father actually suggested selling some of our luggage at that run-down trading post. Can you imagine such a thing?"
She punctuates the passive aggressive comment with a trilling patrician laugh that sends her husband retreating back to his bench and his folio.
"It's a welcome relief to see that you've already built such an impressive manor for the family, but did you have to engage such a militaristic architectural style? After all, this isn't Issia."
She smiles brightly and laughs again, taking delight in her own scathing jest.
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Wonky has a few ideas about the name of the inn.
"You could name it 'The Brandy Cup'," Wonky offers seemingly out of thin air, "based upon the deliciously-warming and unique cocktail of yours that you served in Restov. You mixed the albumin from a chicken egg into it, if I remember correctly?"
The excitable gnome lifts a finger. "You could name it 'The Lady's Scabbard'; that would be a bit of historical synchrony, and rightful as well, given your, um...." Wonky looks flushed here. "Yes, that would be a possible name!"
"There is always the option of banking on the name of the newly-founded country - Tamlyn. Partnering this with the word 'Inn' gives us the moniker 'The Tamyln Inn' which rolls off of the tongue in quite a lilting, lovely way, if I do say so myself."
"I also think that you do yourself too much humility, given your skill as a bartender, innkeeper, and gourmand. If you had wanted to emphasise the high quality of the food proffered in your establishment, then I might suggest a fancy name like 'Vika's House of Victuals'."
Wonky sighs with the last offer, rocks back and forth on her heels, and looks between Vika and Ahto's staring faces.