The sudden downpour of water stops the noble toughs in their tracks, and it also causes them to break whatever silence they were trying to maintain whilst following you.
Since the skies have been clear, they do not mistake this for rain, but rather they assume that someone from an upper story window, jutting out over the street, just tossed out a chamber pot without giving proper warning. Thus believing themselves befouled, they erupt into curses and vulgarities. This buys you a few more paces and gives Christian the space to enact his ploy.
After his pronouncement and shower of coins, the street becomes a wrestling pit. Dozens upon dozens of passersby dive upon the scattered money, and the magical grease conjured upon the coins soon spreads to their would-be claimants. Caked in dirt, grime, grease, and mud created by Bydar's spell, the crush of bodies acts as a writhing barrier between you and the Medvyed men.
Whether because of the presumed filth hurled upon them or the filthy common rabble wrestling around for coppers before them, a few of the drunken noble boys even start to look a little green. Even if any fight remains in them, they will not be able to follow you before you manage to slip away, out of their sight.
"Silly boys," Syretia says, giggling at the ridiculous sight, which soon threaten to become an outright cackle as the situation only escalates. Fortunately, the party is well away before she is overcome. A bit later, once she regains control of herself, she wipes at one eye and lets out an amused sigh of relief. "The funniest part is, they'll never realize this was the best way things could have ever gone for them!"
Christian watches the confusion with a little worry.
It would appear that it all worked out and no one got hurt.
He smiles brightly at the would be assassin as the fumble around.
Let us get moving. The young drunks are easily startled, but they'll soon be back, and in greater numbers. This is not over yet. They will search for us until they find us. It is best we be on our way before they get into their drink tomorrow.
"Yes, it was an act of Mercy." Bydar tries not to look too amused at the chaos it caused and how foolish it made the bravos come across.
Tries and fails. He's only human.
"Well, I can't say I'm not a bit disappointed that we didn't get to knock some sense into them, but I have to agree that it is better this way." Looking around at the roof of the surrounding building. "Any sign of the third party that was also following us on the rooftop?"
Orlog first tears his eyes away from the Medvyed boys as they skulk away southwards, although hardly traveling single file to hide their numbers.
Orlog then looks back to the rooftop where the scout for the unknown third party still lurks, the quickly fading sun at his back. He slips away, but not quite out of sight. Orlog observes that he continues to shadow the Medvyed gang from above.
We should get moving.
We should get moving.
A nod "Coaching House or try to redouble to my brother?"
Let us try the coaching house first, maybe they will know where your brother is? Brandt offers, Plus it'll let the streets quiet some from Lord Christian's generosity he adds with a smile.
A chuckle at the all so recent memory of that, and he nods heading towards the Coaching House.
Christian laughs at those words.
Coin well spent.
You make your way to the coaching house, which stands apart from the neighboring blocks of buildings huddling together. A brick wall topped with artistically wrought iron spikes surrounds the building and its attending stables. A freshly cleaned wooden sign, emblazoned with a painted emblem of a swan upon a lake in front of the sunrise, hangs above the gate.
The doorman at the gate offers a welcome, but quickly follows this by asking if you have an invitation or other official business that brings you to their establishment.
"I am Lord Bydar Lebeda, I am sorry to pull upon family name, but I seek my brother, and perhaps a bit of cover for my friends and I for but a moment? Some ... difficulties occur on the streets."He shows his signet should they doubt. true, others could wear it, but it wouldn't be wise
The doorman is about to send for someone to confirm Lord Bydar's place in House Lebeda's rolls, but the display of the signet settles the matter. As companions of Lord Bydar, the party is admitted to the coaching house, known as Grace Hall.
A footman named Phargus is assigned to the party - or rather, assigned to Bydar - to assist with anything you may need whilst staying there. From him, you learn that Lords Brayton and Lander have been staying here, as well, whilst in the city to practice dueling at the nearby Bartolo's School of Swordplay, located a few blocks over.
"Hello Phargus," Syretia says, smiling at the footman from behind Bydar. "I'm Syretia. Do you know when Lords Brayton and Lander are expected back?"
Leaving the guard time to answer Syretia, Orlog looks around the place. Once the guard is done talking, he turns to him. "Could you bring us something to drink my good man. We had to walk a bit faster than I would like to get here."
"Thank you" He says to all. Phargus is not treated as a mere servant , but rather is treated warmly. Bydar has a million questions about the family, but those will wait for his brother.
Christian remains quiet as they move about the complex. His eyes roam over the area taking in all that he sees.
Phargus looks out the nearest window to gauge the sun's elevation and estimate the time.
"Lords Lander and Brayton should return within the hour," he answers. "They are quite punctual."
He then asks what Orlog and the party members of the party would like to drink, recommending the Reykal Stout as a house specialty.
"One Rekyal Stout then." Always best to respect the pride and joy of a house specialty, "Question, have some Medvyed bravos been hassling any of you?"
"Medvyed? We haven't been having any issues with their people. I know that some of their younger members and their coteries have causing trouble for people and shops affiliated with the Surtovas, the Orlovskys, and the Khavortorovs.
"Although now that I think of it, I believe there's been a handful of cases of mistaken identity where they have jumped random people who they thought were affiliated with this or that house. I'd wager those mistakes were helped along by a few too many rounds."
Christian nods approvingly at the suggestion of a stout.
Yes, please. Thank you.
He listens to what is being said and tries to pick up what is not being said.
Odd...Khavortorov, Medvyed and Orlovsky...all allies of Rogarvia as was Surtova until...now Surtova rules. So why is Medvyed stirring up trouble with these houses. On the Surface it all appears as drunken idiots. So who is pulling the strings to create this chaos.
while his eyes roam around to see who is paying attention to their discussion.
Then again, they may not need much encouragement to strike against House Khavortorov. They were formerly a minor noble house in service to House Rogarvia, but since the Vanishing the Khavortorovs have been trying to establish themselves as the eighth great noble house of Brevoy. Much of the rest of the nobility sees them as upstarts, however, and would not mind putting them in their place. This house is not terribly dissimilar to the Redshields regarding their post-Vanishing fortunes, but while the Redshields turned to mercantilism, House Khavortorov have focused on their skill at arms. While they have produced knights for many generations, they have doubled down on this specialty in recent years.
House Orlovsky stands out among the mentioned names because as staunch allies of the now disappeared House Rogarvia, they have landed in a prickly situation. If Lord Poul Orlovsky chooses to rebel against Noleski Surtova, they could potentially align with House Garess or House Medvyed.
Apart from the party itself, the coaching house lounge where you have been ensconced is otherwise empty. Lord Christian thus spots no one nearby to take an interest in the conversation.
Phargus does take a moment to express his relief that none of the other houses have been particularly aiming for House Lebeda.
"It would be a right shame if anything were to interrupt the betrothal announcement."
"Oh?" Syretia says, miming surprise. "Who's getting married? Anyone we know?"
"There is a wedding going on?" Orlog, who haven't obliviously followed all the conversations, perks up and the idea that there might be a party somewhere.
"Oh, well, it's all supposed to be a secret," Phargus says, miming a shushing finger to his lips. "Us common folk aren't supposed to know about it."
In a jovially conspiratorial whisper, Phargus gossips about how House Lebeda has cashed in much of its political capital to arrange a betrothal between King Noleski Surtova and Elanna, the older sister of Lord Lander and eldest child of Dame Sarrona Lebeda.
Christian coughs slightly as the news is announced.
hmm. The stout has a very good balance of malt sweetness and hop bitterness. Excellent suggestion.
His eyes slowly move towards Bydar.
Well this is an interesting development.
Bydar does not look as thrilled as he could be but he says "Well, let's hope it's a union of love as well as a chance for peace"
"That's always the dream," Syretia says with a wistful sigh, "but it never seems to be much of a factor in these high stakes weddings."
"Yes," He nods "Sadly that is often the case. But like you said, there's alwways the dream."
You pass somewhere between a quarter hour to a half in the lounge with Phargas, enjoying the house stout and picking up bits of information about the news around town - especially in the neighborhood around the coaching house.
You soon become aware of excitement and activity through the halls of the establishment as doors open and close and servants hustle around.
"It would seem that Lords Lander and Brayton have returned for the evening," Phargus announces.
"Thank you," He says and looks for his brother One can't hide from their sins or their past, can't they, my goddess? A sigh And one shouldn't hide from loved ones regardless.
Christian stands and waits for the lords to enter. He presents a proper appearance for those of such societal rank but tries hard to not become the focus of attention.
This is Bydar's story to tell. It is his time.
A small procession comes down the hallway into the lounge, a handful of servants and attendants following on the heels of a pair of noblemen. The first bears a noticeable resemblance to Bydar, albeit possessed of a couple more years. His companion is taller but younger, looking to be only a few winters into manhood. His hair and carefully manicured goatee are so fair as to appear snow white.
Lord Lander scrutinizes you carefully but otherwise looks unperturbed by your presence. Lord Brayton, however, is quite surprised to find his younger brother seemingly waiting for him here in the coaching house lounge.
Bydar bows before Lord Lander, then without much pause, moves to his brother and gives him a hug, "Forgive me, Brayton. It's been a long time and a long travel. If you have a moment, my friends and I would talk to you." He says then nods to Lord Lander again, "And double apologies to you, Lord Lander. I am Bydar, Lord Brayton's younger brother, I'm called to the Gods, in service to Shelyn."
Syretia bows with a smile, having been taught just enough court manners to know not to speak first.
Christian bows to the lords and remains quiet.
Lord Lander is about to respond to the greeting, but he is cut off by his companion's loud, boisterous voice.
"Brother!" Brayton shouts before barreling forth and snatching up Bydar in a mighty hug. "Of all the surprises to find out on the town, this is surely the best!"
It takes a few moments for Bydar to free himself from his older brother's well meaning but somewhat embarrassing embrace. This gives the rest of you a chance to better contrast the brothers. Brayton has about an inch and a half in height above the Shelynite, and his hair is about two shades lighter. What's more, the girth of just one of Brayton's arms is that of both of Bydar's combined, hence why the younger sibling had difficulty extricating himself.
"Brother, please tell me you will be staying in the city for a few days!" Brayton howls, abruptly and excitedly holding Bydar at arm's length. "You must come with us to Bartolo's school! With a little work, the three of us could be the finest swordsman in the entire house!"
Lord Lander is about to respond to the greeting, but he is cut off by his companion's loud, boisterous voice.
"Brother!" Brayton shouts before barreling forth and snatching up Bydar in a mighty hug. "Of all the surprises to find out on the town, this is surely the best!"
It takes a few moments for Bydar to free himself from his older brother's well meaning but somewhat embarrassing embrace. This gives the rest of you a chance to better contrast the brothers. Brayton has about an inch and a half in height above the Shelynite, and his hair is about two shades lighter. What's more, the girth of just one of Brayton's arms is that of both of Bydar's combined, hence why the younger sibling had difficulty extricating himself.
"Brother, please tell me you will be staying in the city for a few days!" Brayton howls, abruptly and excitedly holding Bydar at arm's length. "You must come with us to Bartolo's school! With a little work, the three of us could be the finest swordsman in the entire house!"
Ah, now I remember my youth more clearly Bydar thinks as he seeks to pry free enough to reclaim that gift to mankind the gods call 'air'
"I shall never be a great swordsman like yourself, brother, but I thank you. Please, let me make amends for poor manners by telling you of my friends and allies."
"This is Lord Christian D'Elagante, who has lead us through many trials and tribulations to surprising success. A great warrior and leader: A most worthy man."
"This is Brandt Oluffson, I call him friend. A man of good humor and the finest tracker in the Stolen Lands. That's his wolf, Fenrir, though Fenrir might protest that Brandt is his person."
"This is Syretia, incredibly brilliant, incredibly learned, incredibly powerful.. she and I have talked about Shelyn and other subjects pleasantly on long rides."
"This is Orlog BrightShield, Forgepriest of Torag. A brilliant engineer, fierce warrior and devout son of the stone. The things he'd helped create, a forge shrine for example. Amazing."
To his friends "This is my brother, Lord Brayton." An almost boyish smile on the priest's face, "He's all right."
Christian keeps his posture civil and nods his head when introduced. His tone is respectful and greeting short.
My lords.
His eyes rest on both lords for just a moment.
I wonder if they know anything of my family. It was so long ago and they are so young. Most likely born after that night.
Good lords, It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.
"Thank you, Bydar," Syretia says, beaming, "I think that's the nicest introduction I've ever received."
"A pleasure to meet you all," Lord Lander replies simply, carefully eyeing up each member of the party, "especially if Brayton and his brother vouch for you. And worry not - the path of the sword is not for everyone. There's no shame in recognizing that your path leads elsewhere."
It seems quite likely that this incident would have left Lord Lander slow to trust and very wary about new faces. True to his word, having you and your brother as kin to vouch for the party has done much to assuage his worries.
The newly arrived lords take seats in the lounge, and their hangers-on dote upon their needs. A few of the servants promise to ready the baths for them, and indeed, you can still see a sheen of sweat and dirt upon their brows and arms from their sword practice.
"In all seriousness, brother, what brings you and your friends to Restov? You'd set out westward to establish a temple to Shelyn, yes?" Brayton asks.
"Yes, indeed. I, too, am curious to hear about what business brings you all," Lander asks, leaning back in his chair. He quickly adds, "After all, if it involves Brayton's brother, then it potentially becomes family business."
"Thank you, Bydar," Syretia says, beaming, "I think that's the nicest introduction I've ever received."
"Merely the truth, but I'm glad it pleases you."
The Green Faith
"A pleasure to meet you all," Lord Lander replies simply, carefully eyeing up each member of the party, "especially if Brayton and his brother vouch for you. And worry not - the path of the sword is not for everyone. There's no shame in recognizing that your path leads elsewhere."
"Thank you, Lord Lander," He says respectfully, "I know you to be a rightfully cautious man so your trust means much to us."
So delighted is he to see his brother again after some initial dread, Bydar is clearly distracted.
Then Brandt speaks up for him,
Brandt has been mostly quiet while Bydar greets his brother finally with his introduction he smiles, greeting the lords, Greetings m'Lords. Bydar is a credit to your family name, and the pride you show in his actions is well-justified.
A light blush, "Too kind." his brother was proud of him? Delight, and a niggling of old shame touches the cleric, but he moves on.
"A proper temple to Shelyn yet must wait, though at least we have a shrine to Torag and other spiritual havens in the works. As for what brings us, at this point, I feel I should defer to Lord Christian and my other compatriots. Some of the things I've seen by their side are ... rather amazing."
Brandt has been mostly quiet while Bydar greets his brother finally with his introduction he smiles, greeting the lords, Greetings m'Lords. Bydar is a credit to your family name, and the pride you show in his actions is well-justified.
Christian nods approvingly at Bydar.
Thank you kindly for your words. I may have you train the heralds.
He smiles and laughs with genuine appreciation for the priest.
Bringing his attention towards the two lords, the mercenary leader watches their posture and their expressions as he speaks.
My lords...We have journeyed here for a few reasons. We wanted to give an update of our success to Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius and to acquire supplies to aid in our endeavors.
Christian pay special attention as his next words come out.
We also were hoping to find information about the riders out of Port Ice that we encountered on the road here. Disturbing events if those words are to be believed.
"That's putting it mildly," Syretia adds.
I'd have hung them as brigands, but seemed insulting to brigands to do so... the ranger quips.
Orlog let the lords talk as he sips his drink. Once he emptied, he stands there looking around for a way to refill.
Lord Lander, on the other hand, tenses up when Lord Christian raises this subject. You don't think he knows anything about the matter. Instead, he is nervous about the ramifications of this news. Perhaps more importantly, he worries about the trouble it may bring to House Lebeda if they become involved.
"Hell's bells, I don't know if I've ever even been to Port Ice, much less follow the news out of the town," Brayton says with a laugh. "Probably couriers or errand boys working for the Surtovas."
Lord Lander asks for elaboration, unclear yet intrigued by what business about riders you speak of.