Seeing an advantage, Birne grips his brother’s hand harder and finds his voice. "No harm this day, as you have said, oh lonely Puck. Our treasure’s worth a dozen toys within your crowded chest."
The Rabbit Prince pauses. Bright is my honor! All say so, as I sit on their right! Prodigal you are, like a son returned. No mordets, weirds, or tricks this day — not for those I love, returned with precious gifts.
His voice changes to that of a master coaxing a treat from a pet. Please give me the pretty bauble.
"Why would one with such sharp eyes need to see it so close? If you do, it is only for a short loan, and you'll return after we desire it back?"
Klaytal glances back at his friends. "We have a request as well. We seek to reunite the lady Lumi with her brother. You may only keep it in exchange for the return of Lumi's brother"
If you do, it is only for a short loan, and you'll return after we desire it back?
The Rabbit prince moves to Klaytal's right and sits down. Yes, to hold it close and admire the dream! A nonpareil! Oh… but a short time is all I ask — I'll surely return it after you desire it back.
In good faith I sit on your right, to follow the letter of your terms, nothing less.
"No," Samen says, shooting a dirty look at Klaytal. "You shall have it only when we have reached an accord. Return Lumi's brother to his natural form, alive and unharmed, and the same for my brother, if he desires it. Swear you will not harm any of us further. Only then do we give you the stone."
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Trifles and trinkets, for such a precious gem? No bibelot, this child's dream. You see, I sit on your right, dealing fair. This day, you cannot not be stinted at Madling Meadow — there is no help for it: I deal true, so the price must be higher!
I have other treasures. Better treasures. The rabbit prince somehow picks up Klaytal's rapier and hands it to him with a gallant flourish. The location of a chymist, sleeping under oldest oak, her pocket full o' magic herbs, pluck'd from Puck's own carrot patch! Stepped into my shee, did she! The voices titter: hehe!
He runs to Gate and bows to the entourage. And the Wolfsbane seed, what blooms but once an aeon in most secret place. I know it, I know it! It bloomed just yestreen, and dies tomorrow morn.
These things are worthy trades, for your most precious gem.
"Tis true our price is but a little thing for such as you. We strive to be most generous in our terms, however fixed our price. As he has said. Return fair Lumi’s brother. Give us back our natural forms. And bring no further harm nor mischief to our lives. From this you’ll call us generous folk, and we shall say to all who ask that Phocce’s word is true."
Klaytal seems like he tries to restrain himself, but is unable. ”Do not distract this noble group with a personal vendetta of mine, Phocce. But if you did have this information.. what would you care for in exchange?
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No gem, not e'en for maidens plucking posies from my shee? The Rabbit Prince thumps in frustration, and all the trees in the forest quiver. Leaves flutter to the ground. He hops behind the mound.
A moment later an old man taps Klaytal on the shoulder. His eyes are marbled and he wears a skullcap with long ear flaps that droop over his ragged shoulders. His voice is silky and beautiful.
She picked Pithpenny's blossom from my very patch! The stem bled red. My flower's heart was broke! Not for a hundr'd years will my Pithpenny bloom: she weeps, e'en now, for her lost beauty.
Thus your maiden sleeps, a hundr'd years, that she may live and one day wake, to beg forgiveness from my floret.
The old man shrugs. To wake the felon would be gross insult. Justice must be done in Madling Meadow.
He moves to Klaytal's right. To conclude this premise, then, we must have something from you, Klaytal. Blossom for blossom. When next love buds, you’ll not feel it bloom — Pithpenny will have the flow'r of your feeling. She will own the brightest thing you mortals hold so dear, that dies in but a season.
Bloom for bloom; love for love. Do you agree to this?
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”To steal such beauty, is only fair. What would love be if in 100 years, she awakens and discovers I did not? If this is the cost of her freedom, then so be it. I accept, Phocce.’
The old man grins; his top two incisors, stained yellow with age, dangle over his lower lip. 'Tis fair — 'tis done! The forest quivers again.
He reaches into a pocket and hands Klaytal a miror. Look behind you in the mirror, to find the path into my garden.
Klaytal holds the mirror up and sees a garden path behind him — and there is Mesta, just past the rows of strange herbs, sleeping comfortably under under a weeping willow tree!
Go now — the mirror cracks in but a minute, and never will you find the path again!
The rest of you watch Klaytal, gazing into the mirror, walk backwards into the forest, disappearing into a thick tangle of undergrowth along a path none can see.
The old man turns to Birne and speaks in the silkiest of voices. 'Tis sad, my "Hucklepuck," to turn away my princely gift — which you have used to greatest profit.
He toys with a pebble his hand. A pittance, to remove your power. Worth not a gem, or e'en a bit of stone. He looks down at the rock in his hand. And still, it grates that little boys should spurn the Phocce's charm. Though his voice remains the silkiest of silks, his fist clenches around the pebble, and sand begins dripping out between his fingers.
With your secret name I could command you seek another boon. Who would guess that to become a mortal man, of all the things, you wanted true? He opens his palm and the dust is carried away on a sudden zephyr; it dust cuts at Birne's eyes, blinding him for a moment.
I promised no mordet on this day in Madling Meadow. My word is bright! You can have this thing, in part for my most precious dreamer's dream. And ne'er welcome in Madling shall you be again!
As to the other boy, I cannot trade for what I do not own. The other doll I traded, some time ago. Should our deal be struck, I will say who has ta'en my other precious toy.
The boy looks to Samen for a silent word of advice, his tongue catching in wonderment at a nightmare almost past.
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Mesta rests against below a weeping willow tree. There is a pale bloom in her hand — it must be the Pithpenny, your father's cure.
She is just waking up, and she smiles at you. There is a tender joy in her eyes and she reaches out to you, like someone waking from a lonely dream.
You grasp her hand — there isn't much time left before the mirror shatters!
You feel nothing but emptiness when you look at her. She sees the look on your face and grows confused; she tries to pull her hand away from yours. It might break your heart, were you able to feel anything.
You hold on tight, and she stumbles behind, along the path, still clutching the flower that will save your father…
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”Wait, what’s this? You don’t even have the doll we came here for? Am I understanding you correctly? We came all this way, did all this funny business, Klaytal lost his heart or some such, and you traded away the doll? We’re wasting our time then. If you had what we came for then maybe this conversation would be worth sticking around for, but since you don’t, let’s take this gem, which is really quite nice, to someone who has what we want.”
The old man smiles at Gate, showing off his bizarre buck teeth. You become tiresome. The sun now stands both hot and high; the dew is gone; the bees are at my flowercups. I have lost my zest for dealmaking.
I cannot harm you, but I can move you.
The glade suddenly fills with howling winds. A gusty voice, choking with merriment, seems to come from all around.
Yesssss, ssssiiiiirrrrreee?
Your clothing and hair whip violently about, but the old man's rags remain perfectly still.
On which side was the irredemptible Gate standing when he so insulted me?
The wwwwwesssssst, ssssiiiiirrrrreee.
Then when Elf and maid return, take them all West — since that seems to be malodorous Gate's preference. To the most Westr'n end of earth, and then p'raps a mile more.
The prince turns to his fairy mound, walking away on the red carpet.
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"We accept your offer, fair Phocce," Samen says with a bow and a squeeze of Birne's hand, "with one addendum if you will: instead of scattering us on the Western wind, as is no doubt within your mighty power, instead throw us at the feet of the traded doll, that our business with you be sooner concluded, and we shall bother you no more."
The old man turns and grins. No one said Phocce was but fair. Done — to the letter! The screaming wind falls silent.
First, dear Hucklepuck, become th'man you've always dreamed to be. He walks up to Birne and plucks the dream-gem fom his hand.
He puts it in his pouch, and produces a lump of porcelain in his left hand. It begins to glow with heat, and this heat is sympathesized in Birne's blood, which seems to heat up, and then to boil…
The lump in the Rabbit Prince's hand slowly ripples, begining to take shape. Birne's body begins to ripple too. With a claw, the old man forms the porcelain into arms, legs, toes, a head. Birne's skin moves in sympathy, as if being torn apart by invisible talons.
In a moment a doll rests in the Prince's hand, its eyes closed. It wears a cape of precious velvet rimmed by mink. Upon its brow a circlet spun of golden blooms. They’re hyacinth. It looks exactly like Hucklepuck.
Its eyes snap open, as if pulled by an internal string. They stare blindly down at the man, lying at Samen's feet.
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The slender man on the ground stirs. Slowly, he crawls to his feet. "Your word is true, I'll give you that." He looks up into his brother's eyes, much nearer now. "Let's see this rescue through."
Klaytal leads Mesta back into the meadow, then drops her hand. Stonefaced, he intones to her [b]"All should be settled between us. Birne, it's good to meet the real you. Let's get this adventure settled then."[b]
Klaytal and Mesta enter the glade, and the old man , continues.
Long ago, a handsome queen came to madling Meadow and made to trade for wise old Valta's newborn son.
She gave to me her golden magic mirror. And in th' trade she took the little changeling home as a whipping boy, a gift to her spoiled godson. It gives her pleasure to see him slashed: her hatred for the Valtas is truly unabashed!
To Lumi's grandmother, I did keep my promise true. For where safe'r could the child be, than serving in the hive of queenly bee?
But then this Hyajin committed crime most black: she stole my magic mirror back! The spirits in the glade hiss. The trees quiver in fear.
The years have passed, but there is no 'scape from Phocce's punishment: for now my prank is set: the queen will must watch Prince Rhutin, her favorite child, married into a family most reviled. Or, queenie bee must sting the bride, before she reaches wedding bed — else into the family be forever wed.
The spirits in the glade laugh merrily, all around.
Do you like my little trick? Go save your fellow toy, my Hucklepuck, and while you're at it, teach the naughty queen a lesson: when you expose her sins to open air, tell her ne'er to steal from hares!
throw us at the feet of the traded doll
Done — to the letter!
With that, a gale flings you high above the forest. You spin over the tree-tops at hurricane speeds towards the castle — Mesta screams. The lake glints, a blue crystal in the distance.
The air whistles in your ears as you move across the sky. You fly through a flock of birds — eating some feathers on the way — then begin to plummet toward the castle.
As it nears you see tiny figures in the courtyard — it looks like some nobles are having a small luncheon. Seated upon a platform is Prince Rhutin, in full military regalia. His armor gleams in the sunshine. To his right is Attendant Queen Haijyin in an elegant dress. A thin serving boy stands alongside the prince's chair, with a goblet of wine.
The wind carries you just past the castle's flapping pennants, then throws you down! You all take falling damage and land prone at the serving boy's feet, as if groveling.
Rhutin leaps up and draws his sword, shoving the boy aside and spilling the wine. The queen looks aghast and discreetly pulls a scroll out of her dress.
The Prince howls:
He leaps atop the table and points his sword down at Birne's head. Some ragamuffin mage, here to kill the Queen? He looks over the rest of you, prostrate upon the ground, and sneers. And where is my Lumi, my hunting dogs? You dare come to my table, begging for scraps, without my bride-to-be?
Guards start moving in; here were already two near the queen and they more to protect her. You hear more in the hallways and in the balcony above.
Lady Hesperance and her courtiers faint, overwhelmed by sheer embarrassment. The guests in the courtyard, nobles one and all, stand and gape at the spectacle before them. The serving boy — who must be Lumi's brother — backs against the wall next to the queen and cowers.
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”To your feet, now, come on. Ghosts can’t faint.” Gate says to his entourage as he stands, picking feathers from his chest hair.
Looking from the prince to the serving boy, ”Which one of you is Lumi’s brother then? Or am I confused?”
He points to the prince. ”Was it you? Were you about to marry your own sister? Without even knowing? What do you make of that, Hesperance? Shocking, I say.”
He then takes the goblet from the serving boy and gulps down the dregs. ”Have we missed supper?”
The newly mortal Birne rises to his feet, realizing his wish came with the promise of more future bruises.
"I’m told you mean to wed your squire’s true sis, my prince. Oh treachery, that led the queen to take dear Lumi’s long lost kin as hostage in her court. What made you hate the Volta so, your majesty? To poison Prince Rhutin’s betrothed. To make a deal with Phocce, king of hares?
He declares his case and looks hopefully at those gathered.
Klaytal barely glances over at Mesta, who spits out blood and struggles to lift herself off the ground. He turns his attention to the prince, keeping the queen within view.
"It seems your mother has much to answer for, princeling. But no, we are not here to mete out judgement, just to act as protectors. And your princess is safe, we figured we needed to inform you of the truth as soon as we understood the situation."
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Samen is frozen, unable to speak as he looks for the first time upon the adult face of his brother.
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"Before you speak, my queen, and order our arrest or worse, you should know that we have protection in place. Should our fate be sealed here and now, yours shall be so in public knowledge."
The queen puts her arm protectively around Lumikko's thin shoulders (just happening to place him before her). She stands tall and proud, like a marble statue draped in sable.
She gazes at Samen. Her voice sounds bemused, but her eyes are piercing. Order your arrest… or worse? My erstwhile huntsman… such a task — all of this — is beneath the dignity of grieving queens.
We know the gentry — she gestures to the gathered nobles, who are now on their feet — and citizens alike — she gestures at the serving-folk — will do what is right.
It seems you hate your Queen enough to dash her hopes, falling like an omen from the sky to fling wild accusations and baseless threats, humiliating our court.
No. If you would torment grieving queens, please: leave my subjects alone. My godson simply seeks his lost love, and Lumi, beloved by all, is no pawn for your hateful games.
Many of the nobles seem moved by this speech, though some of the younger ones are still confused. Grumblings are heard and knives are drawn by the traditionalists.
While the queen orates, the prince makes a hand signal to the balcony above. Four guards appear, with heavy crossbows aimed at you.
He turns his back on you and bows politely to the Queen.
Godmother, it was a lovely luncheon. Please give lord Valta my regards; I look forward to tea this afternoon.
The queen opens the door behind her, and turns to to leave. She still holds the obedient boy gently, her hand on his shoulder.
Birne begins to sing his words. The tenor that emerges lights the heart afire.
"Twas good of you to keep the boy. My lad, your true name’s Lumikko. You’re brother to the future queen. She’ll see it in a little while when we retrieve the Prince’s bride, your sister lost. No magic sleep can last when siblings parted do unite. Do you agree, my Queen? You’ll have her beauty smiling true. The fairest in the land, as any mirror will confirm."
He lets the song linger a moment, addressing the assembled court.
"Milord’s of this beloved land, I ask you: Summon Lady Lumi’s sire. Lord Valta will confirm our claim that this is his long list male heir."
The queen gazes intently at Birne.
Prince Rhutin scowls. You spew "true names" like some fey creature, yet refuse to introduce yourself! I'll not bother Valta for some unknown.
We know the other three malcontents… all too well. But who are you that speaks for these ill-favored Huntsmen? Where's the little boy? I think he was that man's page. The prince points at Gate.
"Forgive me sirs and ladies both. You know me as the boy who served milady Lumi as her childhood friend. Just like her brother, whom you see before your eyes, I was enslaved by arts most fey. An imp named Puck, or Rabbit Prince, or Phocce. He it was the queen did seek, to put this poor sweet child within her sway. And now she’d do the same with our beloved miss. I beg you, free them both, as these good lads have done for me."
The prince scoffs at Birne's tale.
He points at a liveried servant. You. Ask Viscount Sihteeri Fetch Valta. The man bows low, and runs off.
He turns to a guard. Tell the council to clear the square and erect the gibbet. She salutes and exits.
The queen turns to leave — Godmother, I will need my the whipping-boy for the nonce. She exits, but without the boy, and a look of cold fury on her face.
You are at the mercy of our court. Disarm yourselves. Guards walk up to you, ready to take your weapons and spell components.
We'll have your trial. Let it never be said Good Prince Prince Rhutin hung a man without due course. He grins at Mesta, who's been silent thus far. Or a woman.
Birne happily complies. "If you’ve a courtly mage or two, methinks they’ll be of help. I know our tale is strange. The bailiwick of those who know such things."
Yes, Godmother can help with magics. But one thing at a time.
"As you say, lord." Samen unbuckles his sword belt and unslings his bow, laying them at his feet.
Klaytal hands over his rapier as well.
The prince looks at Gate.
And you?
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”I’m thinking about it.”
”Yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of justice now, would I?”
Gate slides out his punching daggers and hands them over.
Lord Valta walks into the courtyard; he is wearing mourning-black. When he glances your way, his face crinkles, as if he's seen something vile in his soup.
After conferring with Prince Rhutin, Valta raises his hands and declaims: A tribunal will be formed. First, the character of these adventurers shall be examined. If they be deemed honorable souls, then their most wicked accusations we shall next scrutinate.
Those two noble souls, whose love for Lumi Valeka Valtatytar burns most bright in the depths of this night of the soul, shall form two-thirds of our tribunal. Ourself, Town Leader Lord Herttua Valta and father to Lumi Valeka Valtatytar, shall lead. Prince Rhutin, son of glorious King Tolkovar Klavek XIII and bethrothéd to Lumi Valeka Valtatytar, will sit upon my right-hand side. A representative of the third soul who most loves Lumi — this being the collective soul of the town of Morsain itself — shall form the final third of this trinity. For this task, in our wisdom, we have chosen choose Inguna Ulli, member of the merchants council, proprietress of the The Wolf and Belly Rocks Inn, and nanny to the foster children of our town. For who better to serve our Purpose than one whose very heart beats in rhythm with the People of Morsain, and is filled with such goodly and maternal instincts for lost children?
The man who hired you, Viscount Sihteeri, shall be your legal counsel. He must take responsibility for you… be the end for him good or ill.
We now recess to gather the witnesses and review the task before us, in our chambers.
Guards take your weapons to storage — but Hesperance demands to watch the trial, so she is allowed to sit in on a velvet pedestal, next to Gate.
While you wait, a clerk stands on the balcony and releases six paper birds that speed unerringly through the sky — they are surely laden with messages.
This tribunal operates as a hearing in which the judges call witnesses who will speak to the subject’s character, deeds, and motivations. One of the judges will then declare their observations based on the testimony. The defendants can then respond by speaking directly to a judge of their choice (this is where you make a skill check to see the efficacy of your words).
Only one of you can respond to a judge's questions at a time.
Each of you must speak, alone, before a the same person is allowed to respond to a judge again.
Spells and spell effects are strictly forbidden and it is expected that defendants dismiss all spells beforehand. A clerk will be casting detect magic in order to confirm this is done.
You can use any skill/knowledge you want; each judge has their own likes and dislikes, and each topic has skills that are more or less applicable to varying degrees.
If you do very well on the check, you can convince more than one judge.
Your goal is to get 2-3 judges to declare your characters worthy enough that they will even listen to your accusations against the queen.
Bringing up Valta's deceased wife causes him great distress, to the point he becomes apoplectic.
Rhutin is naturally suspicious. Bluffing or diplomacizing him with flattery incurs a penalty. Flattery especially so.
Samen's mask is that of a dead Klavakian king. It is gauche (to say the least) to wear in this setting, and will impose severe penalties when presenting your case to nobles (or those who admire them).
Prince Rhutin is a brash military leader and respects bold language. Intimidate (while avoiding the sacrosanct topics of his person and his country), entertains him.
Inguna Ulli is an old barbarian. She loves a good tall tale.
Inguna Ulli's foster children are one and all adopted from parents who were killed by lycanthropes. She offers free food and lodging to hunters of such creatures and is said to recognize one of their kind on sight.
Inguna Ulli secretly hates the nobility. Samen's mask would weigh greatly in his favor, as it would be disruptive to the tribunal.
She strongly dislikes the flowery language of court, diplomacy, and especially flattery of any kind.
The three judges arrange themselves at the table, noble Lord Valta in the tallest chair in the middle, proud Prince Rhutin on his right, and the muscular but gray-haired Inguna Ulli on his left. Each wears a black coif and long black gowns that are slit open at the sleeves. Large ceremonial medallions, bearing the Klavakian symbol, hang in silver chains around their necks. The guards unfurl Klavakian military banners behind the judges.
Outside, you can hear the workmen hammering together the gallows. Lord Valta taps a gavel on the table to begin the proceedings. Everyone rises.
This Most Just Tribunal is hereby formed upon the third day of Eleasis in the year 2609 AR, it being the twenty-second Bounteous Year of Good King King Tolkovar Klavek XIII's most Beneficent Rule.
Ourselves, Town Leader Lord Herttua Valta of Morsain, sit at the head of This Most Just Tribunal. Upon our right is His Majesty's Own Beloved Son, Prince Rhutin. Upon our left is Councilwoman in Good Standing and Representative of the Little Folk of Morsain, Inguna Ulli.
The Most Just and Righteous purpose of this Legal Tribunal is to discover whether the so-called "Queen's Huntsmen," hired to protect mine very own daughter Lumi Valeka Valtatytar — whose promise of Eternal Love is also given unto the Noble Soul who sits upon my Right Hand Side (that being Prince Rhutin) — are of enough Quality Personage to levy a dire charge against their most beautiful and noble Queen Hyajin (the goddess-mother of the one who sits on my right-hand side, that being Noble Rhutin Himself)… or whether these defendants are in sooth most pernicious scoundrels, sent here to sew Treachery Amongst Our Own, as well as general Moral Turpitude amongst the Peoples of Morsain.
Legal council Viscount Sihteeri. You stand for these men, as you hired them.
Do you have an opening statement, as to the general pedigree of these adventurers, and why they were hired?
The viscount rubs his neck frantically, and his fingers twitch. Ahhh. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Haha. Ahhh, Lord valta. Ha ha ha.
Well… you see, they came, ha ha ha, highly recommended, at least the three of them, ha, but not the boy. No no no, not the boy. Ha. The man? He's a man now, somehow. Ha, ha, ha. Ahh…
Rhutin slams his fist on the table. ENOUGH BLATHERING! The viscount slumps and looks at the floor. Yes, ha, ha, ha, ha… of course, your majesty…
Rhutin continus, his presence commanding all attention. We know where these come from. Hired on out of hand, no doubt found in some place of ill-repute. You should only hire from the military, Sihteeri.
The prince takes a breath. I call a witness. Osric Ponce, Attendant of the Queen and member of Her Majesty's retinue.
A fashionably-dressed and handsome young noble comes into the courtyard. He twirls a rose in his hand.
Ponce. You saw something on that first day these were hired. The day they were to inspect for traps. What was it?
In a simpering voice that rises in pitch as he exaggerates his fears, he points at Birne: My Prince! That one was a boy before. I worry fey magicks are at work here, by liege! Be wary! Oh, ware indeed! In the midst of these histrionics, he pricks his thumb on a thorn and yelps.
He sucks on his thumb. We came into the Queen's own chambers, and this one — he points at Birne with his good hand — was frozen solid. He was caught red-handed riffling through the Queen's own private things! Imagine, going through the private papers of a lady's study!
Lady Hesperance, on the velvet pedestal, begins berating Gate for the company he keeps. The punching dagger fairly dances with rage.
The elf even tried to blame the Queen Herself, with a lie! But my Queen, my most beautiful, beautiful, and gracious and magnanimous queen, showed why she is just as wonderful inside as out — she released this thief from the trap he so justly fell into, and told him to better perform his duty for Lumi. She let him go about his work, after this terrible transgression.
His voice rises again. And now they come here, returning my Queen's pure generosity with slander! Oh, please, don't let them ruin her!
The prince narrows his eyes at your group and places both hands on the table when he stands. Is this true? You were sent to seek traps, not spy on the nobility. This alone is worth the gallows. What have you to say for yourselves?
Ponce, his back to the judges, grins evilly at all of you. The Prince and Valta both look quite angry, but Inguna is barely containing a smile.
"It's true, fey magicks had me cursed. A doll or, if I chose, my younger self. The faerie lord who made me so entered a pact, that I should guard milady Lumi's life, while Lumikko was taken from his kin. I was a lad, trapped in a plot. And yet I found some gratitude in knowing she who was my ward."
Birne looks to Valta. "I grew to love milady Lumi, who's the very best of good Morsain. For these eleven years or more I've been her friend and confidante. Along with these good sirs I sought to shield her from all threats. We searched with thoroughness for traps — alas, who knew the Queen had set one of her own."
He turns his attention to the Prince. "And you, who claim to love my friend? You kept us from our task. Let 'noble' protocols impede our work. And when she fell upon a curse of sleep? Was taken from these halls? You sought to blame us, even while you sat behind yon battlements. Does true love favor blame and safety over fighting for one's heart? Do you, whose blade stayed sheathed, deserve her love, should she awake from sleep's soft grip?"
Valta looks angry. That mine very own daughter, the beautiful Lumi, who does looks so much like her Mother in both Face and Soul, should, in the safe haven of Morsain's stronghold itself, be exposed to the vile magics of the fey for so many long years, and possibly corrupted… it is a desecration!
The prince looks at Birne and sulks. It is a general's job to delegate. You had one job to do, and deflect your failure onto your betters.
He muses. Still… in the War Of Lost Friends, General Varcet broke the Siege Of Ans by riding out himself, to rally his men… perhaps I could have rallied you better, by accompanying you and leading by example… You can almost see Rhutin's imagination working, as he, in golden armor, leads a motley crew of dolts (you) to heroic heights…
Inguna gives a small smile at Birne's reprimand.
Valta: 0
Prince: 1
Inguna: 1
Inguna stands. These men have interfered with town business. They tossed brigands into Moldwattle's grumpy chicken cart, and previously leapt over the man while he was stuck in the road — not even pausing to offer help.
However, a more sinister plot has been exposed. She waves in Henrietta the Kind, the cruel taskmaster from the Inn where you dealt with Kanik and the assassins. She looks worse for the wear.
Henrietta speaks: Them military folk came looking for these ones, after they left — well, they's were gone, but I showed 'em the body in the basement, all slit up! Murdered by that one! She points at Samen. Gentleman Kanik, a noble and right true gentleman, gone forever and left to rot like yesterdays' mutton next to an ol' wine cask. And now Henrietta's all locked up, slavin' at the worst o' the worst chores for a cruel little boy an his evil family. I think them's a RAGAMUFFIN too.
Henrietta looks Rhutin. Save me, my charmin' prince!
Inguna cuts in. You broke into this inn's second floor, murdered the proprietor, enslaved this kind old woman, and left his body in the basement to rot. What do you have to say about this?
"If it pleases you, ma'am, I shall answer these accusations in the order presented. First, to the charges of leaping over, ignoring the plight of, and dropping a brigand onto the chicken cart, we must plead guilty and throw ourselves on the mercy of this tribunal. I only hope the fact that we did so while in immediate pursuit of my lord's daughter and her kidnappers is in some measure extenuating.
"As to the other charge, I'm afraid that this poor woman has misremembered. We found ourselves, during the course of our pursuit my lord's poor kidnapped daughter, arrived at the inn. There we found it held by a cruel man, a known Ragamuffin, who had locked the true owners in the basement while he operated his foul plots against your own highnesses from their place of business. Why, it was this very man that recruited and sent the young would-be assassin to the banquet in the first place, and from this very inn! He had cruelly treated this poor woman here before us, forcing her to take part in his machinations--against her will I have no doubt. Why is it any wonder that after such trauma she might recall things not as they were but as he told her?" Turning to Henrietta, Samen bows before continuing. "I thank you for your bravery in speaking today, ma'am, even if your testimony does no favors to myself or to the truth. My only regret is that we had not time, in the course of our pursuit, to properly deal with the body of the traitor, nor to report to the guards."