"Garold, you seem to know this place somewhat. Would you be so kind as to acquire some drinks, maybe some food?" Wendel tries not to react to Bane's behavior, sliding ten silvers from his pouch and handing it to the ranger. "Don't take too long, my new friend. No telling if the Dark Lady's eyes are among the crowd out there."
Though she was intent on finding Lucia as she entered, Isabeau could not help but notice the dark haired man with streaks of grey at his temples who paused stock still, staring at her with a haunted expression. For a moment, she studied him too, looking for signs that he wore a disguise... Rake was a master of the art. But despite the seeming recognition on his face, she saw surprise and confusion there as well. And somehow she felt certain that the day her eyes found Rake's, he would not be surprised to see her. She offered the man a tight smile and then broke off from his gaze and sought out Lucia instead.
Isabeau's stomach growled loudly as the smells of cooking food reached her. She blushed as Lucia noticed and looked at her, "Apologies, my Lady. It has been a long day since breakfast. For you too of course... silly of me to forget. Would you like me to get you some food?"
Lucia smiles up at Isabeau warmly, but wordlessly. A few seconds pass as she simply stares up at the raven haired woman. She then suddenly jumps a bit and snaps her fingers quickly followed by pointing up at the ceiling as if having a eureka moment. She turns her attention to her belt pouch and puts a gold piece a few silver on the table and slides it to Isabeau. She then makes a gesture like eating, then waves an upturned hand at all assembled. She then places her hand to her mouth and drops it in a 90 degree arc, palm face up accompanied by a slight bow, the smile permanently drawn on her features.
Garold takes the coins, nodding. Yes...everywhere.
Watching carefully, he slides up to the end of the bar. M'lord wants drinks and food brought to the private room. He drops the coins on the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd... only to see the familiar face he can't quite place, yet again... and so he lingers, lost in thought...
At the bar, the grey haired woman is pouring drinks, sweeping up money and giving back change where it is due with a cool efficiency that is broken for a blink when she sees the pin Stanrick sets on the bar. A moment later, her hands sweep past, collecting coins and turning the pin upside down.
"We do have a barrel of just such a mead that we tapped just this morning. Be careful. We'll settle your tab in the morning." She pours a mug of golden mead from a small barrel and turns to one of the serving girls. "Show this gentleman and his friends to my old table, and bring them their drinks there."
The girl seems startled, but clearly knows better than to question her orders. She plucks at Stanrick's sleeve with a shy smile and a toss of her head. "This way, Sir," she says, and weaves expertly through the patrons to the kitchen door.
At the same time, Bane, Bliznap, Garold and Wendel find their way into one of the private rooms, their recent acquaintance, Annette Dubois, mistress of Alain Baton, pauses for a moment in the common room. She looks around her, eyes jumping from face to face, until something catches her eye. A pin among some coins on the bar. She quickly moves into the private room, pressing against the wall to avoid contact with the hunchback as he makes his way out.
"There is a man at the bar," she whispers to Wendel. "He will help us. Pale, with blonde hair and a red cloak."
As Garold makes his way to the bar, to the dismay of serving girls and patrons alike, he sees a pale, blonde man in a red cloak accompanied by two strikingly beautiful women, one with black hair, one with red, following one of the serving girls towards the kitchen door.
Marissa blushed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we both woke at first light and ... well ... after that, he had to relieve himself. That was when he found the man."
"I understand your desire to protect his identity, but I can't leave any lead unexplored. I kept my promise to you to be discreet and I will continue to do so, but I really must speak with him. Please, tell me how I can find him."
"You'll find him at the jail. Ask for Anton, but please, be discreet. If he thinks I've betrayed him, he'd never forgive me."
"About the victim... (Looked back and found two different potential names for this guy: Lerenz Dezonari and Feodro Zari. Which one shall we use going on?) Do you know the man? You said he was some sort of spymaster? If that's so I will have to proceed very carefully. Do you know of any people connected to him? Also, did he have a more mundane business? It looked as if he might be a member of a prominent merchant family, perhaps he traded some sort of wares I could inquire about."
"I only know him by reputation." She shakes her head, looking around fearfully. "His family owns farmland in the river valley. They sell grain, and the Lady granted Feodro a monopoly on the trade to Richemulot, but everyone knows his brother manages the business. Feodro hardly ever left the Dark Maiden. People say that he knew every secret in the land, and that only one or two people reported to him. Anyone could be one of his spies, and they wouldn't even know it."
"And finally, how may I contact you again if I have need to?"
"The gentleman with the red cloak," she says. "I gave him a pin to show to the innkeeper at the Thorn of the Rose. Leave word with her if you need to speak to me."
Bliznap peels the curtain back to take a look. His eyes hang for a moment when he sees the women accompanying the man Annette is speaking of.
You mean him, the one with the... um. Red cloak over there.
He points.
Well I guess I can take the hit and go and ask the man to join us, I am sure his companions would feel left out if they were not invited, so I will just go ahead and ask them too.
Before anyone can say anything Bliznap leaves the room and hurries up to the women with Stanrick. He is combing his hair and making small adjustments to make himself more attractive. Once he reaches the group he clears his throat an bows.
Excuse me, but I could not help but notice you ladies are in need of a seat and wondered if you would care to join me and my companions in our private room. It would allow for some quiet conversation, and perhaps we would be able to get to know each other a little better. And before I am accused of being impolite and not introducing myself; the name is Bliznap. Might I ask what you fine creatures are called, other than angel of course.
Trying to be as smooth as possible Bliznap bows graciously once again and motions for the person behind the bar to give him a drink.
"There is a man at the bar, he will help us. Pale, with blonde hair and a red cloak."
Wendel nods. Garold is already at the bar, ordering food and drink. In fact, he seems to be giving the man in question a few looks of recognition.
"You mean him, the one with the... um. Red cloak over there. Well I guess I can take the hit and go and ask the man to join us, I am sure his companions would feel left out if they were not invited, so I will just go ahead and ask them too."
With that, Bliznap moves off to the bar, smoothing over his appearance to remove the last few hours of activity.
"Let's wait here for now. I'm sure between the two of them they'll be able to get the attention of this potential ally." Wendel lets the curtain fall, then gestures to the table. "Why don't you have a seat, Miss Dubois. The chair by this wall here. It will keep you from direct sight of the opening when they return."
The warrior places his back against the wall in line with the curtain so he can easily slide over to peek outside. After a second, Wendel draws his dagger and places the blade along the length of his forearm in a reverse grip. He looks to Bane then to Miss Dubois and shrugs, as if to say: Can't be too safe...
Stanrick turns his head to answer the male voice he hears. ”We’re not,” he begins to say, when he is interrupted mid-sentence by recognizing someone from his childhood. He breaks out into a huge, beaming smile and laughs. Patrons near them throw curious looks.
”Garold! Remember me? It’s me, Stanrick! I’m so pleased to see you,” he offers his hand in friendship and will hug the man if Garold acquiesces. He signals to the girl leading him away, asking for a moment.[b]”I’m in Levkarest for the festivities,” clearly there are many thoughts angling to be expressed, but for now he pauses unsure how to proceed. He looks between Isabeau, Bliznap, and the girl escorting his group to a table then chuckles.
Garold blinks slowly, his mind going back to the gardens.
Stanrick?
Stanrick!
Garold almost straightens...
So long...been...years...
Garold lifts the younger man in a crushing hug, with surprising strength before reining himself in.
Follow...
Garold leads the way back into the private room, towing Stanrick..
Isabeau stood to join Stanrick at the bar to arrange for food as well. She noticed the hunched man looking at him and Marissa's words of secret spies came back to her mind. The fear that had taken up residence in her chest reached out with icy fingers, tensing her muscles for action. Her eyes gave away some degree of her anxiety, flashing too much white as they moved from face to face, searching for a threat.
As the gnome drew near, she turned back toward Lucia and intercepted him, placing herself protectively between them. But when the Gnome met her eyes and spouted pleasantries, she relaxed somewhat and offered him a polite smile. She flourished her cloak slightly as she produced her white hand and extended it toward him in greeting, also happening to expose her black-leather clad hip and the sword hilt glinting there. "Well met, Master Bliznap. My name is Isabeau and you will have to forgive the angel, for she does not speak." She freely indicates Lucia, the idea of being included with her not even occurring to her.
She jumps from the outburst between Stanrick and Garold and her hand finds her sword hilt before she realizes it is a friendly exchange. She blushes slightly as she realizes her error and again tries to regain her composure. She looks between Stanrick and Lucia, a little confused and uncertain about the happenings and very clearly on edge.
M'lady I speak of you both, however I am saddened to hear that an angel's voice has been taken.
Bliznap bows his head solemnly at Lucia while taking Isabeaus hand a kissing it gently.
Might I offer you each a drink?
Wendel glances through the tiny gap provided between the wood door frame and the heavy curtain. His right arm tenses when Garold approaches the blonde haired man, but relaxes once more when he sees them embrace. Okay, a friend to our cause perhaps.
Bliznap makes good on an introduction to two women at the bar who look to be part of the blonde-haired man's group. There is a brief moment of tension in the small of Wendel's back when one of the women's hands darts to weapon, but it passes. Apparently Garold's embrace of his friend took her by surprise.
"Looking amiable so far," Wendel whispers over his shoulder. "Perhaps our list of allies has grown."
With that, the warrior slips his dagger back into its sheathe but maintains his position to the side of the doorway.
"Perhaps." Bane says to the armored knight. "The day I can count higher than one hand the number of my friends, is the day a knife appears in my back." he says grimly.
The serving girl stops, realizing that she's not being followed, and turns to the older woman with uncertainty in her eyes. The older woman scowls at Stanrick, more exasperated than angry, and glances towards the curtained off room where Bane, Wendel and Annette wait.
"Perhaps you'd prefer to join young Master Bliznap and his ... friend?" she gives Garold a worried look, but speaks to Stanrick. "I can't help you if you insist on staying in the open."
Sputtering the beginning to a variety of sentences, not sure how to begin, Stanrick allows himself to be pulled by Garold towards the back. Looking over his shoulder, he makes a silent plea for patience from the girl, from Isabeau, and his other companions. He nods in understanding to the barwoman.
”I can spare a few minutes now, but you see...oh how do I explain this? Do you want to meet some people I met today?” Garold helped him as a boy and is one of the few people from the orphanage that Stanrick trusted.
Looking back and forth between Stanrick and the Rat catcher and the gnome speaking to the two of them. She didn't know what they should do. In this situation, Lucia decides to take a back seat and let the events play out on their own, though she personally wanted to follow the young barmaid to see what help she meant to offer.
A look of surprise crossed Isabeau's face as the sophisticated Gnome kissed her hand and she looked back toward Lucia, suddenly worried she would be angry. But she merely smiled her warm, enigmatic smile, so Isabeau smiled too as she turned back to him. "A drink would be lovely, thank you." She used the manners her father taught her when speaking with one above your station, though she looks a bit stiff, as if out of practice.
Keeping his eyes locked with Isabeau's Bliznap says:
I am going to assume that your companion will be drinking the same as you.
He then turns to the bartender and orders 2 bottles of the best wine he could afford with the days take to be brought to their private room with 8 glasses. He then reaches out both arms in an attempt to lead the ladies back to the private table.
Garold, do hurry, I don't think anyone wants to wait to long before eating.
Garold stops just inside the private area, where he can't be seen,and turns to Stanrick...We have trouble...maybe I shouldn't involve...you...old friend. Look good. All grown up. Not like me. Garold stops to chuckle at his sad joke.
You...disappeared. Where? That...boy...I hurt him...bad. He...doesn't walk right. Never will...
Garold's last thought trails off, leaving his eyes downcast.
As soon as Stanrick is inside the private room, a young, dark woman (Annette, to those of you who know) jumps in front of him, grabbing the front of his shirt with a desperate look in her eyes.
"You can get word to Alain, can't you?" she pleads. "If he comes for me tomorrow night and I'm not there, he'll think the worst." She takes a deep breath, collecting herself, and then leans close, whispering. "I won't say anything. You can trust me, but please, you must help me."
The serving girl abandons her efforts to lead anyone into the kitchen, and begins ferrying everyone's drinks and food into the private room.
Lucia's mouth opens in a noiseless gasp at the young woman's proclamation. If it were not for her customary "mute" act, she would be speechless. She simply gawks at the scene unfolding before them.
Stanrick appears utterly confused by this young woman’s greeting. He gently removes her hands from his shirt and asks her to take a seat.
”Please tell me what’s the problem,” he says. ”Do you mean Alain Baton? It appears like you have plenty of assistance at the moment. I’m not sure what I could do.”
He glances at Garold and smiles. ”I’d like to help. It’s simply we’re helping another person. Though that situation involves...Baton’s betrothed.”
For a moment he’s lost in thought then he regains his composure. ”My name is Stanrick,” he offers his hand to Bane and Wendel. ”Are you friends of Garold’s?”
You're already helping another person, with Baton's betrothed? You mean Lady Boritsi?
Bliznap tries to be sly to get all the information about the others mission.
Is Lady Boritsi your enemy, or are you trying to complete a mission for her?
Bliznap tries to think of any information he can surrounding the lady, Alain, and the wedding.
Betrothed?
Harold raises a scraggly eyebrow and shifts his gaze from Stanrick to the young lady...and looks utterly confused.
”I’d like to help. It’s simply we’re helping another person. Though that situation involves...Baton’s betrothed.” The words roll around in Wendel's mind, causing his right hand to flex of its own accord, his right foot tapping. Back home, when things were tense and he needed time to think, he'd hit the practice yard with the family's master at arms, Liam. The warrior's hand is searching for the familiar grip of his longsword, or even his flail. His feet eager to pace the ground to find a good fighting position.
"My name is Stanrick, are you friends of Garold’s?"
The man who seems chummy with Garold offers his hand.
Bliznap's question weighs heavy in the air. If they were working for the Dark Lady, this room could get bloody very quickly... Wendel's eyes flick down to his own hand, half expecting to see it filled with the haft of his flail. Then he looks back to Stanrick, searching the man. Who are you aiding, eh Stanrick?
But then there was Garold and the heartfelt tone of his eyes for the blonde man. Was he being too paranoid? Perhaps the few hours spent in company with Bane and Bliznap dredged up too many unhappy memories of his family.
Settling his mind, Wendel steps forward and grasps Stanrick's hand firmly. "My name is Wendel, it appears Mistress Annette knows of you, but it is my task to ensure she remains safe." He takes a step back and puts himself at Annette's shoulder, allowing him the ability to place himself between her and the strangers at a moment's notice. He looks from person to person and considers the dark-haired woman the more dangerous of the three...she wore the sword at her hip with a practiced ease...
"Master Bliznap's question still stands, but I would also ask, what sort of entanglement does this 'other person' have with Baton." Deep down, a stirring in the warrior's guts told him he really didn't want to know.
...Wendel makes no effort hide that he will not allow harm to befall Annette.
He's garbed in a breastplate for armor and bears a longsword on his back, a crossbow alongside, a heavy flail at his hip and a shield slung over his shoulder at the moment.
As they enter the private room, Lucia peers around in near wonderment. She had never been here, let alone in a back room like this. It felt so secretive, like one of those stories of back alley deals and underground thieves guild hideouts shrouded in plain view. Her attention was drawn to Wendel's forceful line of questioning at the group. She was so engrossed in her own fantasies that she had failed to realize that this situation was far more interesting and possibly dangerous than any story she had read. Realizing that she was now in a small room with a single exit with possibly hostile individuals, she adjusts her unwittingly adjusts her clothing and shrinks back behind Isabeau.
The painfully beautiful cherubic face peers over Isabeau's shoulder, luminous red and gold streaked locks frame her almost orange orbs, rosy cheeks and unnaturally red lips. Sporting a small, thin frame, her priestly robes cling to her shapely body, cinched by her cloak that has been wrapped and tied around her like a dress.
To the well trained eye, a twitch is perceived around her waist reagion and her pack seems to sway awkwardly if suspended a few inches off her back rather than sitting flat against it.
Stanrick... this Wendel. Can trust Wendel.
Garold still seems tense... expectant.
Bane ran a hand through his lightly greying black hair and stood as the new group entered. He set his hand crossbow on the table in front of him, his longsword at his side and falchion at his back. Bane's blood red hooded robe hung open showing the pitch black leather armor underneath.
He looked over this new group, the haunting beauty who might as well be a ghost of his wife, a golden streaked haired beauty who clung to the dark haired one like a child, and this overly friendly man whom Garold appeared to know. Well in his life overly friendly people were often trying to rob you.
Bane smiled at Wendel's intimidating display, he was a fearsome sight. Pointedly looking at "Stanrick's" outstretched hand, Bane opts to not take it, instead saying "Well, Garold vouches for you, if I were inclined to take the personal recommendation of a rat catcher as meritous, noble though our rat catcher may be, however that doesn't clear the rest of your group and I would like you to answer the gnome's question."
He gives the group an inquistive look, not the what's up kind, the are you dangerous kind.
Isabeau felt the shift of tensions in the room like the swell and shift of the sea on a skiff in a maelstrom. Her eyes shot daggers of blue ice at Stanrick for so casually referencing their business to a room full of strangers... spies, her thoughts corrected her. Marissa's words sounded again, like a prophetic warning in her head. 'Anyone could be one of his spies, and they wouldn't even know it.'
Her eyes flit around the room, travelling from face to face and finally landing on Wendel and his suddenly aggressive attitude. As the heat of Lucia's body and the brush of her hair touched Isabeau, her mind reeled as her heart pounded in her chest. Wendel found his posture mirrored by the raven haired woman as she too took up a protective stance, sheltering Lucia's body with her own at all costs. A grandiose vision of Lucia, bright and shining with light and warmth, guarded by her moon pale servant swathed in night's darkness forms in her imagination.
I shield the sun... she thinks, and nearly laughs wildly at the thought.
Afraid that Stanrick would blurt out Marissa's name, she decided to take control of the conversation. "Lady Boritsi? No, I'm afraid I've never even laid eyes on her. We only just arrived today and came upon a rather horrific murder scene not far from the city. I spoke to a guard there, and he... encouraged me to look into the matter. Seems they are held to a rather high and deadly standard here. Master Bliznap, your friends seem like they do not want company. I think perhaps asking someone for help and then making threatening demands of them is a bit gauche, not to mention counterproductive. Don't you think?"
Stanrick has seen it so many times over the years, animals seeking dominance and marking territory. For the past eight years he has spent nearly all his time with Volfill and the hierarchy is clear between the them. Now, like a wolf encountering a new pack, he is unsure of the positioning. He knows people are aggressive in cities, but the man seems exceptionally so.
After Isabeau’s explanation and comment about rude behavior, Stanrick speaks. ”Trust? Hmmm,” Stanrick locks eyes with Wendel. After a long moment studying the man’s face he nods, lips curving in a grudging smile. Holding up his right hand for peace, he takes a few steps backwards and leans his spear in the room’s corner. He motions to a chair and sits.
”Garold apparently vouches for you. I have respect for his judgement. I realize, in attempting to be protect privacy, I was too cryptic. Please forgive me. I’m a herbalist and don’t spend much time around more than two or three people. I traded the cap,” he holds up his rabbit fur cap he’d tucked into his belt when entering the Thorn of the Rose, ”for a basket of truffles. The pants I did make myself from a stag Volfill and I brought down. Not bragging. Just giving you an idea about my fairly remote life.”
He indicates his companions. ”As she said. We met today, coming to the aid of a person. He or she was suspected...” he raises an eyebrow at Isabeau to see if that’s the proper word or giving away too much information, ”or at least wanted for questions concerning a death. The person who died was a powerful underling of the Dark Lady. We don’t work for her. I’ve never met her. I came to Levkarest hoping to sell some spices, enter a singing contest or two, and win at least one wrestling match.” He crosses his arms across his chest and tilts his head to the side.
”Does that put your suspicions at bay? We were warned about trusting people. So understand if my companions need some reassurance about your intentions.”
Wendel relaxes significantly. "It seems Garold is an accurate judge of character," he nods respectfully to the ranger. Then he steps to the table and grabs a seat next to Annette, motioning for the others to also be seated. As he sits, he unshoulders his crossbow and shield and longsword, leaning them against the wall behind him to mirror Stanrick's offer of trust. "You'll have to forgive my initial distrust. Our evening has been...stressful."
"Garold mentioned you earlier when he ventured out into the common room. Not..." he sweeps a hand to the two women - - "...not all of you. I had to be sure considering who it is we've run afoul."
The big warrior rests his hands on the table top, making it plain they no longer itched to grasp a weapon. But his earlier ball of concern still remains, the curiosity of why or how Annette recognizes Stanrick. Wendel glances Annette's way, then back to Stanrick and the rest. Time to be out with it... "We were hired to follow Baton and bring back the one whom he went to meet. Along the way, we...I altered the plan somewhat. These good men have been brave enough to accompany me on my folly, at risk to more than just their standing in this city. When we found her," he gestures a hand to Annette. "...there were men already at her doorstep, weapons bared and meaning to do harm to those inside."
"I am oathbound to keep the lady here safe until we can figure out just what's going on." Wendel nods apologies to each of Stanrick's comrades. "I did not mean to offend you both, but I will not allow harm to come to her. The Dark Lady is as cunning as she is sadistic. I can't be too cautious."
"You mentioned your situation involves Baton? May I ask how?" Wendel was testing the waters. That sinking feeling in this gut was like a whirlpool swirling about the dark cast of Alain Baton's face. The warrior knows Stanrick had mentioned Baton's 'betrothed', but that connection meant that perhaps both Baton and the Dark Lady were involved. Then there was the mention of murder... What exactly have I gotten involved in here?
I apologize for my companions rude demeanor, I only met them earlier today and they have already gotten me into the worst trouble of my life. I only wished to ask for your involvement with the nobles of this fine city because of our own personal ties with them. As Wendel has explained, we are not really on the Lady's good side... anymore. Simply put, this troublesome woman has expressed that he Bliznap motions to Stanrick could help her. I saw you to beautiful ladies standing with him and would have hated to be rude in not offering you a place at our table. I took it upon myself to bring you here and my invitation still holds true.
Bliznap looks out the curtain to check on the status of the food and wine.
Where is that wine?
He turns back to the group.
Now I suggest we all put aside irrational feeling of distrust towards each other and just enjoy the evenings festivities. The meal and wine should be here momentarily, and I feel like a good meal will do us all good. Perhaps later I can play some music, and we can discuss how we can help each other.
Bliznap fixates his eyes on Isabeau.
If things go well, I could see a fruitful... Partnership blooming.
Bliznap notices the bottle of wine and glasses on the table. Possibly only after standing on his tip-toes.
Ah there it is.
Bliznap begins pooring each person a glass and hands them out as he finishes.
To our health, and maybe our luck will improve.
He raises his glass and takes a sip.
Once everyone's fur has ceased bristling, Isabeau relaxes... somewhat. She turns to Lucia, wordlessly communicating with her by indicating the chair with a questioning look on her face. She seats her first in the chair nearest the exit to the room and then takes a seat herself before taking the glass of wine gratefully. She cups the bowl of the glass with her palm and swirls the burgundy liquid, lifting it to her nose she inhales deeply and then raises it to the suave gnome's toast and drains the glass in one quaff.
"Thank you, I think I needed that. It's been a trying day all around it seems." She sets the empty glass down on the table and taps the stem of it with one finger as she considers Wendel's question, trying to decide whether to include these people in her investigations. For all she knew, she sat beside the murderer she sought now. Finally knowing that she had to start somewhere, and with a small sigh, she made the decision.
"Whether it involves Baton or not, I cannot yet be sure. The murder victim we discovered is a man with powerful connections, including the bride to be. Do any of you know of Feodro Zari?" She watched them all for a response to the name, particularly the woman who had already revealed a connection to Baton.
Bane takes the glass with a nod, "Thanks Maestro." he grins into his glass seeing the pale beauty slam the wine and does the same.
Standing he says "Excuse me, I'll be back with more refreshments." He begins to weave his way through the gathering, answering the lady's question as he walks past her. "I know no one by that name." he offers with a frown.
Bane makes his way up to the bar from the room, and comes back with two bottles of wine, which he sets on the table, and a bottle of brandy, which he keeps and drinks from once seated back in his place.
Garold sits back...scratches at his head, and absently stares into a glass...I think we need find Lord Baton...if he not know more than us...
After sipping at the wine, he makes a strange face, unused to the finer drink.
As the groups find a way to settle into the space together, aided by plentiful food and drink, Annette watches, her eyes wide as threats give way to an uneasy cooperation. Mostly watching Wendel and Stanrick, she finally gives into her impatience.
"I saw that pin," she says to Stanrick, her tone a strange mix of accusation and pleading. "The one you showed the innkeeper. I know you're one of them. He'd want you to get him word."
Garold just sits there, lost in thought.
At this moment, the curtain is pulled roughly open, and as abruptly closed again, after admitting the innkeeper. She scowls at all of you and shakes her head.
"You couldn't have come at a worse time," she says. "The first night of the wedding festival, I've no time for this. I'll make this short. This world is not a kind or gentle place. Nobody in their right mind will tell you that it is. People suffer through their lives, and they grow hard and cold, until it is hard to remember that there is any good at all in the world."
"There are monsters in this world. Some of them are human. I don't mean the peasant who steals or the soldiers who kills in battle. I mean souls so twisted that they are incapable of redemption." She pauses.
"Then there are those of us who fight them." She turns up the hem of her apron and shows a gold pin, nearly identical to the one given to Stanrick. She turns to him and his companions. "You were given this by someone who believes you can aid our cause."
"You," her eye sweeps over the four who came with Annette, "have come seeking help for one who wears a badge like this. You must help each other. I can find you a safe place to stay while you are here, and supply you with food and drink and what information I have to offer."
Garold's eyes go wide as he listens, and he becomes motionless, saying nothing, but his brow furrows more and more.
"Whether it involves Baton or not, I cannot yet be sure. The murder victim we discovered is a man with powerful connections, including the bride to be. Do any of you know of Feodro Zari?"
Of the names being mentioned, Wendel possess no knowledge. The warrior shakes his head in response as Bane exits the room, returning a few moments later with more refreshments. He frowns with concern seeing that the black-armored man is drawing upon a full bottle of brandy by himself. Wendel considers Bane already near unhinging without the aide of strong drink.
He has to dismiss the concern for the moment, focusing on the words the others are using. If Wendel had learned anything back home with this family, it was about first impressions. So long as the others think him the muscle of the group, it frees him up to observe and think. The first thing on his mind is Isabeau's choice of words...whether Baton is involved or not? Could this be some twisted game of nobility into which they'd stumbled? He isn't entirely sure.
Before he can ask anything further, Annette speaks up, looking to Stanrick.
"I saw that pin. The one you showed the innkeeper. I know you're one of them. He'd want you to get him word."
Ahh, that's how she knows him...well at least his affiliations. Wendel concludes. I wonder, does Mistress Dubois think her unfaithful lover is actually part of this group of pin wearers? And what would the use of getting him word be if Baton was 'resigned' to the fact of his pending nuptials...and death?
The warrior begins to put forth another question when someone darts into the private room they share. His eyes dart back to the sword and shield he'd rested behind him, his hand going to the dagger hidden in the small of his back. But the intruder seems less dangerous when it resolves to be the diminutive innkeeper they'd spied on the way into the establishment.
Wendel relaxes, placing his hand back on the table and letting out a breath he'd not known he'd drawn and held. Too many more of these surprises and I just might put a bolt in an innocent bystander. I've got to get used to this life.
The woman speaks firmly and decisively, each word causing Wendel's heart to hammer a bit stronger in his chest. This...this was what he'd been looking for since first wanting to extricate himself from being a Duneheim. A life of meaning...a life worthy of the heroes he'd read about as a boy. A chance to turn aside from the dark life of betrayal that was his destiny as a member of the Duneheim family.
"You have come seeking help for one who wears a badge like this. You must help each other. I can find you a safe place to stay while you are here, and supply you with food and drink and what information I have to offer."
"Bato..." Wendel catches himself, reigning in his excitement and seeking the calm stillness of pragmatism. "The person in Annette's house? You mean we're to help him? Look, I've given my word to see this woman remains safe, but there are too many high-sounding and cryptic turns of phrase flying back and forth to suit me." The warrior stands slowly, stooping tall frame a bit so he can gather his weapons and gear to get ready to leave. "I'm not entirely comfortable discussing such things here where our privacy is dictated by a curtain. I want to help, Lady Innkeeper, but if you'd be so kind as to take us...or direct us to where we need to go, I think clarity is the best thing right now behind security."
An eerie tone echos through the room like a triple chime of bells, singing tone, and slithering hiss so melodic and haunting it is obvious that it is not human. Lucia tries to stay as calm and collected as possible in yet another situation today that could kill her.
Please. Sit back down. Be patient. I think our two groups can be very helpful to one another if we just take the time and talk this out.
As she speaks in her low calm voice, she gestures from Wendel back to his seat. She now braces herself for the frightening inevitability of an attack from those who she is now supposed to call allies. As the silence falls among the group she places both of her hands flat on the table, but her legs coil under her seat as she is ready to spring out of her seat with a spin and make a break for the door. She was actually quite grateful to Isabeau for seating her in his place. With a steadying breath, she peers at those gathered.
Wendel looks about the room in curiosity, but remains focused on the girl. He smiles at her, bowing his head a bit. "Don't mistake my intentions, my lady. I'm quite eager to learn more and to be if assistance. I only seek more secure environments in which to continue our conversation together." He gestures to the curtain. "If we're to speak of matters secret, an actual door would be a good start. Once we're more secured, we can take all the time necessary."
"Unless the good Innkeeper feels this location is safe from prying eyes and ears." Wendel makes no move to be seated, waiting for the Innkeeper to provide their new location as she'd mentioned. A small part of him is curious as to why the girls seems so skittish. But considering the two groups' evenings, it wasn't surprising.
Garold watches the pretty lady, unsure of what to think... and tries to figure her out.
Stanrick sits quiet, pondering Dana Yoller’s words. He nods in agreement with Wendel’s request for a secure place to speak. Lucia’s voice surprises him again, the odd harmony between tones and hiss that he can’t quite understand how it is made.
He glances around the table, judging the new people’s reactions to her revelation. Wendel seems nonchalant and Garold appears to be studying her.
”That’s very trusting of you,” he tells Lucia. ”Best to get any trouble out of the way early.”
He waits a moment, to see if anyone will say anything about her voice. While they wait to be lead to a more private location, he asks in an attempt to lighten the mood, ”Besides Garold, do any of you live in Levkarest?”
"Light, what are you." Bane whispers at the ladies eerie dually toned voice. He glances at the bottle of brandy and takes another quick pull.
Standing he grabs his hand crossbow and holds it partially raised, not directly leveled at the golden fire haired beauty, but not far off.
"So you all just waltz through the city with a monster in disguise, as if that is your idea of laying low and being productive." he spits with mocking disbelief in his voice.
"Speak creature, explain yourself or reveal your true nature so that the good souled among us my end your possibly foul existence."