The flagstone sinks into the floor beneath Dro'gan's foot, stopping at a depth of about three inches with a click. The concealed door swings inward by an inch or two, having been freed from whatever latch, built into the frame, held it firm in place. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, you gain access to the secret chamber in the old tower's foundation.
The bare stone walls are immaculate, appearing to be scrubbed regularly. The room is comfortably furnished with a bookshelf, a low table, some bowls, mugs, and wooden cutlery, and three simple beds - all sized for tiny people, smaller than two feet tall.
Standing out quite singularly among the rough tools and straw brooms arrayed around the room is the "shiny stick" that Snips had seen before being driven out during his exploration. It is a longsword, its blade strangely curved. There are five gemstones set in its pommel; four are cracked, but the fifth, white gem in the center remains intact. Despite the condition of the stones, the sword is pristine, appearing oiled, polished, and sharpened regularly.
Dro'gan moves to pick up the sword without hesitation.
He then casts a quick Detect Magic!
Amandine is very much a city girl, and finds all this very much outside her wheelhouse. She follows along with the others, mostly watching things unfold.
She does speak up when Dro'gan starts messing with the sword.
"That sword has either been very scrupulously taken care of or it's very special. There's no way it should be that pristine. Best leave it where it is until we know a little more about all this. You might catch something."
Dro'gan shrugs, his voice obviously ignoring any good-natures talk or attitude. He's all serious business and in the moment.
"Obviously it is not a trap. It is well taken care of, and I have a feeling the owners...caretakers?...are keeping it for specific reasons we are just not aware of yet. I'm merely try to ascertain the possible value and nature of the blade, in case someone wants to use it against us. By picking it up I'm guaranteeing the former and I'm also preventing the latter too."
He points the blade momentarily at Amandine merely to make a literal point.
"Lion's Rule#2: A sharp mind is the sharpest Blade of all."
"Oh." Chana looks disappointed when the room underneath the tower is inhabited by some kind of bed-using creatures rather than a nice den of cave tigers. She's sure she's heard of cave tigers before. Somewhere. Probably.
"Maybe the sword is magical? As for the beds, they're awful small. Some kind of runty people hiding around here. If there's tricks being played on us, doesn't that have to be fey of some kind? Sophia taught me that there's some of those out in the wilderness still."
Seeing that there isn't an obvious foe in the room, Bartolo lowers his hammer cautiously. "Huh. I suppose there isn't a tiger or something equally ridiculous down here. Though, this mystery just became a lot more fascinating than I thought! Ha!" Raising an eyebrow at Chana's question about the fey, he shrugs. "Frankly, you'd be the experts here. Though, I've heard a tale or two that fey do have a taste for joy and revelry, and that's one thing we have in common."
"Hala ere, hona hemen harridura!", he sings out, and a lute appears in his hand, offset by the massive hammer in his other hand. "Perhaps they'd appreciate us playing them a song, to show that they should come out?"
Amandine tries calling out greetings to the room's inhabitants in Halfling (because they seem to be small), as well as Elven and Draconic (because she knows them and why not?).
She also concentrates on the sword to see if she can find any magical aura. Finally she checks for the presence of the kind of chaotic residues fey might leave.
As you appraise the sword, you also notice that its smithing is peculiar, as well. The metal used for the blade was not folded over while being forged the way you would expect.
Regarding the unseen inhabitants of this secret room, you've heard many stories about so-called "house sprites." Such fey are known to bond with a household and help with small tasks, like churning butter and mending clothes. A family might leave a piece of bread under the stove or an old boot in the closet to attract such sprites to their home.
If these sprites were bonded with the Betony family, they likely see your group as intruders and are trying to drive you out of the house. Gifts of bread, clothes, or whiskey might help win them over, however.
A family might leave a piece of bread under the stove or an old boot in the closet to attract a domovoi to their home. They usually keep out of sight, using an innate invisibility; however, they can also take the form of cats and dogs when they want to wander more freely. Domovoi help with small tasks like churning butter and mending clothes, but mostly protect the home from intruders and misfortune.
If these domovoi were bonded with the late Allis Betony, they likely see you as intruders, and they are trying to protect the house. Gifts of bread, shoes, or alcohol might help win them over, however.
Furthermore, your magically attuned senses confirm your suspicion, and you detect the lingering, chaotic aura of capricious fey. Strangely, the sword's own aura seems to ward away the chaotic resonance. You doubt the sword itself is lawfully aligned, but its magic is quite distinct from that of the fey.
You suspect that the blade of this sword was crafted from steel salvaged from a sundered shield or broken suit of armor. This is a practice you saw used infrequently among the Mendevian crusaders, although more commonly among crusaders hailing from Taldor.
"The sword is enchanted, abjuration and the aura is strong."
Amandine looks around the small room as if she might see something more, even though she's fairly sure the the other disturbance is too weak to be more than residual.
"There's also a chaotic presence not from the sword. Fey I would think.
"Not just fey, but Domovoi. They're uh, House faeries, I think. I remember something about them getting bound to a house and its owners through gifts and things, and then helping out. They're awful nice, considerin'." She nods "Must be they're tryin' to protect the house for old Lady Betony, since we're intruders and all."
"They're the kind of fellas that are real hard to spot, but if we give them some gifts ourselves, maybe we can show 'em we don't mean any 'arm." Chana thinks back to the food from the party and how she should have kept some for eating later. Would have come in handy now.
"Bread, shoes, and booze. That's what they like best." She looks through her pack if she has any extra of those. "Maybe Stachys'll have some we can buy. They'll 'ave booze at least."
After only a moment, Dro'gan smiles nodding.
"Agreed. You are all quite perceptive! That will be useful as we continue forward together. I can independently confirm all of your assumptions to a certain extent. The blade must therefore be a Betony family heirloom? It's magic might only work for blood-heir. Or a paladin..."
With little fanfare, Dro'gan hands the blade to Lady Olivia hilt first.
"See what you can see."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Do you think the tiny guys, like, would be into some chew?" Greenly asks, fishing out her tin. "Ah, damn! I only got one wad left. Nevermind. I ain't giving away my last bit. Sorry tiny guys," she calls out to the walls.
A sword like this does not figure into any of the stories, ballads, or even rumors that Dro'gan has picked up on the streets and roads he has traveled. Likewise, the name etched on the blade - Koriana - is unknown to him.
Olivia recalls, having browsed the dossier on the Betonys provided by Martella during the coach ride, that the formerly extinct noble family does not count any war heroes or notable commanders among its members. The library on the second floor, however, may contain family records with more complete details.
If this sword is something of a relic, perhaps research in history books left behind in the library might provide further illumination.
While the blade surprisingly draws little interest from Bartolo, the revelation about the domovoi seems to prompt his grin. "Ah. Clever fey. Bread and booze first, music later, as it should be!" Dismissing the intrument with a wave of his hand, he nods. "I can take care of keeping everyone's thirst sated, and if there's any old and torn clothes you were going to throw away, let me take a look at them", he adds. "To Stachys, then!"
Dro'gan will leave the blade to Olivia, and eventually find an out of the way place to bunk while the others try to tempt the Fae to their side. Yawning a little fakily, Dro'gan will excuse himself.
"I need to find my bite to eat and a bed or couch to rest in. After our journey, Bartolo's stamina is obviously excessive, while mine is not as prolific. If I can be excused until needed again?"
"We should take a trip into the village to get some food, a couple of days worth until we have a change to properly provision the larders here."
Amandine starts toward the stairs, but stops and turns to Chana.
"Do you think it matters what kind of shoes? I could leave a pair out for them down here. It might help keep our things where we've put them until we're back...
On his own, Bartolo would earn guarded, wary stares from the people of Stachys, the hardscrabble village of perhaps five dozen souls that huddles at the foot of the hill upon which the Betony Estate sits. However, accompanied by Amandine and any other members of the Betony scions...well, the faces are scarcely much friendlier.
However, when they enter the Wolf's Whisker, they at least receive a warm welcome from the pub's owner, Tribune Onora Piscum.
"Good to see you, Lady Betony," the heavily freckled half-elf greets Amandine. "Also good to see that, even after that noble shindig, you haven't forgotten us."
You also get the sense that this half-elven woman, Onora Piscum, has been serving as the village's unofficial leader, but to little effect other than her own frustration.
Although the Betony heirs and their coterie seem to have won over Onora, the rest of the villagers won't be swayed by words. It will take genuine effort, not to mention considerable investment in Stachys, to improve their attitude.
"Wouldn't have expected you to be interested in spirits like this," she muses, placing two brown bottles of whiskey upon the cracking counter. "Make no mistake, our amateur brewers will be glad someone's buying what their stills produce. It makes it worth the trouble of carting the rye grain to Pensaris and back for milling."
Although Onora has food and drink on hand that would likely please a domovoi, there is nothing to be had in Stachys that would satisfy noble guests.
The Betony Estate comprises about two dozen rooms. The Music Room catches your eye, being centrally located on the first floor and without windows; however, the entrance from the foyer lacks an actual door. There is also a central, window-less bedroom upstairs, but you aren't sure if one of the women already claimed it.
|
Olivia spends her time searching through the library upstairs for anything related to swords, knightly Betonys, battles. This is something that she finds very enjoyable, and often gets sidetracked while studying.
If that doesn't produce any information about the sword, she'll start looking into the name Koriana. This is somewhat enjoyable.
If that still doesn't produce any information, she'll look up the fey. This isn't really her realm of experience, and takes much more effort to focus.
Eventually Dro'gan will wander into the Library and join Lady Vernisant without speaking, merely taking a seat and nodding off to nap in a comfy reading chair. Large hat pulled over his eyes.
Chana joins the group heading into town, rather happy to be the one that does introductions for once between the newcomers and her new packmate Onora. "Hullo Onora. We picked ourselves up some new faces. This one here is Bartolo. Bartolo, this is Onora Piscum, the big boss here in Stachys." She waves towards Bartolo "The other new face you'll probably meet later."
"Did you ever hear about fey living around the Betony Estate here? It looks like we've found some Domovoi." While she asks, she picks out a selection of bread, cheese and a nice whiskey for the fey.
Upstairs, Olivia doffs the canvas coverings from desks and bookshelves in the library to begin her research. The effort sends up little dust, now unsurprising given the newfound knowledge of the manor's longtime fey caretakers. Slanted shafts of light filter in through the north-facing windows along the wall.
She begins with a simple writing desk where the domovoi seem to have filed away the late Allis Betony's personal writings. These include letters unsent and dense, introspective diaries. Browsing through the diaries allows Olivia to follow the evolution of the last true Betony's handwriting from the crooked letters of a child all the way to the sharp, refined quill strokes of a grown noblewoman.
Notably, the diaries give name and number to the domovoi: Blunk, Nodd, and Wink.
As the entries carry the long-gone Allis into adolescence and adulthood, she wistfully rues the pressures and perils put upon her by Taldan high society and her own family. Memories of bullying at the hands of other young noblewomen and debutantes are invariably followed by fond discussions of how her fey friends strove to cheer her up and insulate her from the worst influences of her peers.
Regarding the strange old salvage sword, Allis only writes in passing about the domovoi's possession of it. She occasionally witnessed them polishing and sharpening it. They would never wield it themselves, but when she was grown, they agreed to let her pick it up and test its feel. Allis did not care for it and returned it.
When she first asked where it came from, the domovoi stated that they "found it" a long, long time ago. As an older woman, they were more honest with their friend and admitted to stealing it from a courier nearly a thousand years prior. If true, this provides a better time frame for future research into the weapon.
.....
"Domovoi?" Onora asks quizzically while retrieving the supplies. A look of sudden remembrance crosses her face, though. "Oh, you're talking about house sprites. Yeah, there used to be lots of stories about them around Stachys, not that anyone I know ever actually encountered one."
Having been formally introduced, Bartolo takes stock of the plain but muscular half-elf. She seems like a no-nonsense country girl. He also suspects she is older than she looks, hinted at by the lone strands of gray among her hair.
"Up until a couple years ago, a lot of people around here would offer up whatever they could to try and attract such wee folks, hoping that would solve their problems. There might still be some desperate souls holding out hope. It's quite the surprise to hear that there've been wee folk hiding out up at the old manor. It would explain some of the ghost stories.
"I wouldn't recommend spreading that news, though. I reckon most folks would just grumble about nobles hoarding fey, too, and it'd deepen their distrust."
She shakes her head and the ghost of a laugh passes her lips.
"Nobles making offerings to house sprites," she muses idly, amused by (and perhaps empathizing with) the rustic behavior.
Amandine piles on extra food and liquor to add to Chana's purchase. She mentions "provisioning to keep a group of perhaps ten or twelve fed for several days, plus some extra in the case of visitors."
In comment on the large purchase she tells Onora "I have to say we didn't really come prepared to take over running such a large place. We didn't accurately imagine all he things that would be involved. Now we will have to make up for our poor planning. Can you tell us what other merchants and craftspeople can be found in town and what they have to offer? It would be fastest and easiest to buy whatever we can here in Stachys."
By Abadar, this is a sorry lot. Why would someone suck their peasants that dry, I'm still yet to understand. Bartolo's reaction to the village remains partically hidden behind a polite mask, and only as he's walked into the tavern, he shakes his head. "Ah. One often ponders, if there's merit in treating lords the same way sea folk treat their captains.", he shares, before extending his massive palm towards Onora. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Onora Piscum, Big Boss of Stachys.", he says with a smile. Carting it to be milled and returned here. Hrm. That's at least two lost days...
At Amandine's latest question, Bartolo grins. "Now that's a question, madam! I was about to ask the same one.", he nods. "I'll cover whatever we're getting today, as a thank you for your hospitality.", he waves wildly. "Though if you'd pardon my bluntness, Stachys seems to have fallen on hard times, and not only does this look irresponsible on us as its neighbours - it's trebly moreso horrid on its inhabitants, and there's no heavens-darned excuse for that." Reaching into his bag to draw out a well-worn ledger, an inkpen and a quill, he bites the quill's tip. Clearing his throat, the jovial noble's tone changes to a much more assertive note. "Let's how we can help Stachys help itself."
Onora affixes Bartolo with a hard stare when he describes Stachys' plight as "hard times." She rolls her eyes then moves on from the understatement.
"Sorry to say that any merchants or craftspeople we once had have long since moved on to Lotheedar or even Pensaris in hopes of making a better living. Frankly, you're standing in the closest thing to a shop we have," she says, gesturing to the bare walls of the dirt floored public house.
Based upon what he saw outside, Bartolo recognizes that rebuilding Stachys will be quite the challenge. He identifies three preliminary groups of improvements that should take priority.
The first are basic improvements to the local farms, such as repairing irrigation, pulling stumps, and marking outlying roads.
The second are basic civic improvements, such as repairing potholes, leveling the streets, repainting buildings, and patching roofs to improve the overall quality of life and attract new visitors.
The last is repairing the old mill, which has been abandoned for nearly two decades after it broke down in a storm.
The design helped maintain local fortunes for over a millennium.
The original magically driven engine broke down over a century ago, but it was replaced with a simpler mechanism pulled by oxen. Eventually, though, the pump itself broke, and with no one in the region with the know-how to repair it, the pump house was abandoned.
Over the past 20 years, the marsh has returned, driving locals off their land, cutting Stachys off from the canals, and even submerging a nearby cemetery.
If the pump mechanism were repaired, it would be a significant boon to Stachys. In addition to reclaiming the land from the marsh and reconnecting the town to the canals, it would eliminate the insects, mildew, and miasma that plague Stachys.
Appealing to your more established noble neighbors may be the best way to secure the sheer capital needed to enact more extensive improvements in Stachys. Reaching out to the folks in the Beggarwood could be a source of labor, although Stachys is currently in little shape to house or feed anyone else.
Ah. Not afraid to speak her mind. Brilliant., he grins as Onora rolls her eyes. "Bah! Any shop's better than no shop.", Bartolo replies strongly, crossing his arms. "There's no plagues, no pestilence and no barbarian hordes pillaging the fields, Onora, and if that's the bloody case, there's no reason why we can't get this village into order."
Clearing his throat, he draws a line on a piece of parchment. "First things first. Food. We need to clear the rubbish that's in the irrigation canals, pull the old stumps, and put some markerstones." The quill moves on the paper with lightning speed.
"Second - no merchant would come to a place where the roofs are leaking and their cart will break on the road. If we get this village looking like people are alive, half the problems will disappear on their own. If we pave the main square, there's no reason why we couldn't hold a weekly market." He pauses, scratching his beard, then scribbles more notes onto his ledger. "Third - carting the rye to Pensaris is an utter waste of everyone's time, especially when there's a windmill here that can be fixed, and we don't have to build a shining new one."
Pulling out an old piece of paper from the ledger's earlier pages, seemingly ripped out carelessly out of a century old book, he slams it on the desk. "And finally, Ladies Betony, one of the reasons why I decided to detour to Stachys. My great-great-grandmother Lavery wrote about the old pumphouse in here, and how they replaced the old magical engine with oxen." He waves away an insect. "I'd planned to ask for Lotheed's famed magical prowess to aid me in its repair, but now I feel like I don't want to work with the man." Standing up from his chair, Bartolo stretches. "Now, then, funding. I can field half the upfront cost of the farm clearing, but I hate doing half a job. Although...", he rubs his chin. "I'd dare suggest that a manticore pelt can easily fetch a good enough price to match the second half, so we should have the money in two days."
Chana, her arms full of gifts for the little house sprites, guffaws at Bartolo's long itemization of things to fix around Stachys. "You really thought about all that on the way into town? You've got a sharp eye there Bartolo. But all those uh, civic improvements, don't sound like they're going to be easy." She hefts the sack of food over her shoulder. "We're going ta need some 'elp."
She coughs, adjusting her speech. "Iron Lash'll be a good start. But, uh, where are we going to get all the gold for this?"
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Olivia gets out a little bit of parchment and a quill and writes a small message.
Dear Blunk, Nodd, and Wink.
We're sorry for intruding upon your home. My friends and I would like to live here, and we didn't know about you three. Some of them have gone to get you presents, and I will return this sword to you. May we be friends and live peacefully together?
Sincerely,
*Here she hesitates a moment*
Lidia Espinosa
Then she quietly returns to the fey bunk and leaves both the sword and the letter behind. After that, she'll start sorting the clumped up pile of belongings as best she can, and return her affects to her room.
Bartolo sends a grin at Chana. "Please! When you're trading, you see places that work, and places that don't, and you learn to tell where the difference lies." Tapping his chin, he nods. "For the latter, we'd need labourers, which we can easily find in the Beggarwood, but they'd need food, and Stachys can barely afford its own mouths, let alone any new ones."
The question regarding money seems to brighten Bartolo's mood. "There's always ways to make money! Almost as many as how to spend it.", he laughs. "I'd have actually hoped you would be able to provide a loan for the needs, but seeing as how this isn't the case - there's bound to be some nobles with more money than sense than can be persuaded to loan us the initial investment, which then we can return once Stachys is back to its proverbials. Failing that, I have enough for a cart and a driver, but that's would take an unreasonable amount of time." His eyebrows lower for a moment. "You mentioned you have contacts in Meratt, did you not?"
"I wouldn't say they're uh, contacts, but we know some people around. Some of them are even not so awful." Chana thinks back to the party and the repelling behavior of some of the guests. "Some of them were more down to earth. Baron Okerra even promised us some help for Stachys."
"And as far as I've pegged 'im, 'e seems to sort to not joke around about those things."
"Bartolo, are you sure you're not some kinda merchant or something? Because you talk about money like its your life."
"Try reaching out to the Iron Lady," Onora suggests, referring to Baroness Voinum. "At the Jubilee, I tried to remind her of the grapes our local vineyards used to produce before they flooded. I couldn't get her to give me even a moment, though. Perhaps you'd have better luck."
"Voinum? You really think she'd help? Huh." Chana's recollection of the woman is that she was more level headed than most of the others, but hardly the charitable seeming sort. "Maybe if we were able to trade favors with her."
Amandine is crestfallen when she learns how much worse than she had imagined the conditions in Stachys actually are.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Returning to the manor, you find that Olivia, Greenly, and Photinè have finished bringing your luggage and personal effects back inside. Thus, the arcanist retires to the library to aid Olivia and conduct her own research. Meanwhile, the half-Ulfen warrior returns outside to putter around the grounds.
Olivia leaves her letter to the domovoi in their once-hidden room beneath the old tower. This gesture seems to placate them, for no new mischief hatches out over the course of the day and night. Nevertheless, out of the corner of your eye, you frequently catch glimpses of the three mangy cats spying on you as the disguised domovoi continue to size you up.
Left unmolested for now, you are able to finally settle into your new home, rest, and in the morning prepare to sally forth and hunt down the Iron Lash for good and all.
After finding a suitable place to bunk down, a decent meal, and a good night's sleep; Dro'gan gets up early to begin his 'Befriend the Domovoi' campaign!
He will wander the grounds looking askance for the wandering cats, and when he espies one, will pull out his juggling balls and 'practice' in front of them. All the while talking to the 'animals' (still without looking at them directly) as if he was their best friend already...
"...of course you know I wouldn't just practice new routines in front of anyone. I only appreciate the most attentive audiences: Especially those with obviously knowledgeable and discerning tastes. You also never know when communication with someone may need to be non-verbal and must need to be practiced as well..."
At Stachys, Bartolo spreads his arms theatrically. "It's not the first time I've been called a something, true. Though I've been involved in trade and business all my life. "Gold flows faster than water.", he tilts his head. At Onora's suggestion, he snaps his fingers. "Terrific! One more person to be willing to aid us. Perhaps the Iron Lady would be interested in getting the Iron Lash's hide?", he smiles.
In the morning, Bartolo's awoken by Dro'gan's juggling practice. Rising to meet up to the occasion, he gives the man a long glance. "Breakfast with entertainment! Hah! My friend, you spoil us.", he laughs. Moving to retrieve the whiskey and the sundries for the domovoi, he puts three large glasses alongside the liquor on a plate on the floor. Taking a few feet backwards to sit on the ground next to the juggler, he conjures a lute in his hands and begins playing an upbeat melody.
Dawn's first rays strike the old tower and the marble facade of the rest of the manor. The gifts left for the domovoi have vanished, eagerly accepted by the fey. Thus, you find the cats less apt to conceal themselves, instead watching you openly from doorways or atop the stairs.
First the gray and then the brown sit and placidly watch the show put on by Dro'gan and Bartolo. The performers suspect they can smell hints of whisky upon the whiskers of at least one of their audience members.
"I'm surprised you put that old sword back."
The voice comes from behind you as you prepare your own sword and armor for the manticore hunt. Turning around, you find a hairy old man standing in the doorway. Barely knee high, his wild orange beard and eyebrows seem to make up the lion's share of his form.
"For what it's worth, I'm certain you're no looters." He pauses to pull a familiar hunk of bread from the depths of his beard and bites into it with a crunch.
"That don't mean you're welcome here, though. State your business!" he demands gruffly.
The rest of the party can hear an unfamiliar, cantankerous man's voice coming from Olivia's room.
Casually, Dro'gan moves unhurriedly and quietly towards the strangely loud conversation in Olivia's room. He hesitates just out view, a cold iron dagger concealed in his sleeve and ready to pull as needed.
Upon returning from Stachys Chana heads over to the secret room in the basement and sets out a small bundle of food and drink for each of the domovoi, arranging the present on their table. She expects the others will handle the diplomatic messages or approach better than she can, but she figures personally giving an offering is important.
When she sees the cats that night and the following morning, she gives them a wave.
Upon hearing an unfamiliar and unfriendly sounding man's voice coming from Olivia's quarters, Chana doesn't hesitate in running to her packmate's aid. "'Ey Oliv, wot's goin' on?"
|
|
Olivia calmly sits down next to the cantankerous man. She sees Chana and Dro'gan coming in, and says to them "Let me take care of this, if it's alright by you."
"It's a beautiful sword, with no doubt an interesting story." Olivia begins. "But it's not mine. If we're to get along, I want to respect you. Maybe we can even help each other."
"I'm not sure what you'd call us, but we're trying to make this land a better place. We're trying to make sure everyone has food on their table and a warm bed to sleep in, but the leaders of this land want to take everything from them, and no doubt they'll try to stop us if they find out what we're doing."
"You'd best put that away, boy."
The stern suggestion is delivered to Dro'gan along with a sharp rap upon the back of his knee.
Another knee-high old man, this one with a better manicured though no less voluminous gray beard, shuffles past the busker, carrying a wooden spoon that looks like a scepter in his small hand.
The third domovoi, with his brown beard kept in a pair of rough braids, also joins the conversation. All three walk with a confidence as though they were the owners of the house, and you were the visitors.
"Allis was a good girl," the orange-haired domovoi muses wistfully. "And we can tell you ain't her kin. You'd best be planning on treating her house better than them other nobles treated her."
Amandine decides it couldn't hurt to cover all the bases and leaves out a pair of shoes that night after returning from Stachys. She doesn't have a lot of pairs to choose from, and her boots are essential, so leaves out the pair of dress shoes she'd worn during the Tanager Jubilee. She can get by without them using her magical sleeves, and they aren't very comfortable anyway. She puts them in the basement.
I don't know what you like in a shoe little folk. Hopefully you're broad-minded in your tastes.
The next morning Amandine puts together a simple little breakfast for Calix and herself in a basket. She takes him out for a sadly too hasty picnic and to explore the grounds around the manor a little more. As much as it is a fun and different thing to do, it's also an apology for having to leave within only a couple of hours again, and staying gone for at least the remainder of the day.
When Chana notices that the source of the voices is just a group of cantankerous little bearded fellows, she grins. "Oi, 'ello there." She waves to the domovoi(s), but at Olivia's request she doesn't bother them further until the knight is done.
She remains just outside the room and listens in to get a gauge of the domovoi's responses, in case they try to obfuscate anything about the house or Lady Allis as a trick.
"This is amazing," he muses idly while staring up at a cardinal alighting upon the branches above.
"Say, I heard Miss Chana and Miss Olivia talking about those cats hanging around the house. Is it true? Are they really some kind of tiny men?" he asks with genuine curiousity.
They are very protective of the house, a legacy of their late friend Allis Betony. While domovoi are naturally cantankerous, these three are acting especially ornery to hide how much Lady Allis meant to them and how much they miss her. They probably find such sentimentality bizarre, especially since they feel it for a mortal, and don't want to reveal it lest they appear weak.
The domovoi exchange glances when Olivia asks about how the nobles treated Allis Betony.
"Them noblewomen were like harpies," the gray-bearded domovoi sneers. "They picked apart Lady Allis' confidence like she was some carcass - insulting her even when they was guests in her own house. Our house! I wanted to piss in their tea," he declares, shaking his head.
The orange-bearded one harrumphs, both to offer agreement while also signalling his own turn to speak.
"Lady Allis' mum pushed her daughter too hard into that 'polite society' of hers. It just weren't meant for Allis, though. She was too sensitive a soul. Her mum pestered us a bit too much to tell her fortune, too."