Anselm jots down names and context, thinking through a strategy for the ball. Ink stains his fingers and, after much thoughtful tugging at his lip, a corner of his mouth.
"I propose we take pains at the ball to present ourselves to the count and his household as the very essence of feal. Innocuous, perhaps even naive. Plant the seed of friendship with the other nobles, perhaps seeking visitation with them. Lady Martella, am I right to think that Dame Crabbe is an unknown quantity, in terms of her loyalty to your half-brother?"
He taps his quill on his notes, creating a bit of a blot. "We should keep our eyes open for potential... friends within the household staff. They will have more insights than anyone. It might be helpful for one of us to pose as a servant, so they might mingle downstairs..."
"Muri, what routes have you taken between the ranch and Oppara?"
Muri turns from his country-gazing at the window of the carriage to look on Anselm directly. "We passed through Wispil both times. We might have traveled on the Sellen for a look at the coast, but it was cheaper to travel by coach. And shorter. Much harder to exercise a dog on the deck of a boat."
"Certainly, though you will always bear some responsibility to the people of Stachys. I know you have not been nobles long, and this is coming as a rush, but nobility is not just one’s birthright. It’s leadership, and good leadership is hard to come by. It’s why I hired a steward almost the day I earned my estate. I’m good at many things, but administering a township? That is not my skill. So I pay a man a great deal of money to do it for me, and to do it in a way that benefits my people. For I am their voice.”
Muri nods politely, almost casually, as Martella's words are braided by Anselm's obvious passion for the minutiae of the lording tasks to come, and Kamari's no-nonsense canal plans.
"How many estates do you know of that have more than one Lord or Lady? Will we be seen as something strange, five stepping in to do the work done by a single Lady before?"
"We should keep our eyes open for potential... friends within the household staff. They will have more insights than anyone. It might be helpful for one of us to pose as a servant, so they might mingle downstairs..."
"Why would you want to do that? I'd rather be friendly and open with any hired help. If you deceived them, and they found you out, you'd have a hard time restoring your name, in their eyes."
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"Kamari, where do you think we should start? You have a noblish sense of things."
"Only a bit more than you. You've spent a lifetime in the trenches. I've spent my shorter lifetime in the trenches of the city with the common folk."
Kamari nods at Anselm's ideas. "It will be hard to bite my tongue. I'm used to confronting injustice head on--or stabbing it in the back to finish it quickly." Did I say that aloud?
"If Count Bartelby is to be undermined, then it should be possible to do it by undermining his support--both his own staff and the populace. It will be a balance to not contradict him, but demonstrate to everyone that we deserve their support. Projects that will help the people--even the nobles if they're smart enough to see it--such as refurbishing the canal to improve trade will hopefully work."
"Of course, it's always good to have some good blackmail and other inside information to apply pressure when needed."
"Muri, I understand your concerns about the deception. It seems to work in the fairy tales, but I'm not sure about real life. Of course, if Anselm is volunteering to work scrubbing floors and worse, I might be up for it." Kamari nudges Anselm playfully.
Muri smiles while humming his humor through his nose. "There are worse ways to learn the ropes. If we're supposed to fill the role of nobles, are we supposed to hire folks for the canal repair? The way you speak, Kamari, you're going to be up to your waist in water. That would be up to my neck, so..."
"Don't worry. There'll be plenty to do that won't leave you drowning. And while I like to get my hands dirty, a good portion of the work should be hired out. I expect there are even skilled artisans and laborers among the people who just haven't been employed for a while. It will be good to assist them in using their talents again."
He nods at Muri's concerns. "Your caution is wise. Normally I hold the bond of trust with staff and common folk to be sacrosanct. At the same time, they make up the vast majority of our society. As nobles, it will now be harder to obtain their frank assessment — or, indeed, to associate at all with the servants of other households. And we have not brought any loyal staff who could be our agents. Ah, if I had only arranged for Priscus to join us."
He sighs, pressing the nib of his quill into the tip of his left index finger as though it were an inkwell full of ideas. "As the Lotheeds do not know us—especially those of us who are new to courtly life—some of us may be better placed than others to enact the charade. I have ... some skill in subterfuge, as you know. That said, it may be that I can borrow against the Basris' reputation for impartiality in building trust with our fellow nobles."
The quill evinces a very mild yelp of pain as a thought occurs to him. "Ah, perhaps we could announce that Lady Madella and one other among us is due to arrive at Stachys later. Thereby allowing our plant to infiltrate only temporarily."
As conversation turns to the practical affairs of Stachys, he nods at Kamari's observation. "My father has always played some part in tending our country chalet—he delights in tending garden and overseeing the design of the gardens. But he still keeps a groundskeeper and gardening staff about, to carry out the broader upkeep within the estate. He always says, 'No one has time nor skill do accomplish everything. But where you have skill and passion, lead by doing.'"
He blushes. "Or as Kamari said, more concisely."
"You bring up a good point, Anselm."
"Lady Martella, how big is Betony Estate and the manor itself? Has it been maintained these last 10 years while in receivership or will we have much dusting to do upon our arrival?"
"I propose we take pains at the ball to present ourselves to the count and his household as the very essence of feal."
"Of course. This is excellent thinking," Kort agrees stiffly. "I know nothing of the noble life, and you and Kamari should be my guides in this." Kort doesn't like to admit this, but outside of war, logistics, and battlefield slaughter, he's very sheltered.
"If Count Bartelby is to be undermined, then it should be possible to do it by undermining his support--both his own staff and the populace. It will be a balance to not contradict him, but demonstrate to everyone that we deserve their support."
Kort listens again, hearing the wisdom of his companions. He, himself, has little to offer...yet. But believes he will contribute once he understands the plan and what might work. Right now, he's a dutiful private doing as is expected. He will learn and do better.
Kort has nothing to add or ask, he wishes he did, but he does not.
"I propose we take pains at the ball to present ourselves to the count and his household as the very essence of feal. Innocuous, perhaps even naive. Plant the seed of friendship with the other nobles, perhaps seeking visitation with them. Lady Martella, am I right to think that Dame Crabbe is an unknown quantity, in terms of her loyalty to your half-brother?"
”Dame Crabbe, recently lost her husband of many years, and so it’s hard to say what she’ll be like. She’s very proper though, so being formal with her is your best bet. I don’t know her personal feelings for the Count, we didn’t know each other well.”
"How many estates do you know of that have more than one Lord or Lady? Will we be seen as something strange, five stepping in to do the work done by a single Lady before?"
”It’s not common, but it does happen. Often in the case of merchants, or even adventuring parties, who manage to obtain nobility and who then jointly purchase an estate. So you may be unusual, but not strange.”
"Lady Martella, how big is Betony Estate and the manor itself? Has it been maintained these last 10 years while in receivership or will we have much dusting to do upon our arrival?"
She laughs, ”Oh, I’d be surprised if anything has been done. You should hope it’s still standing in fact. Assuming it is, it’s a fairly large place, two stories and was rather grand in its day.”
You feel you are getting close to your destination and anticipation begins to rise in each of you as you slowly wake under the open sky the day of your planned arrival, Pharast 18, a Sunday. What you face and how you will overcome it is still largely unknown, but you’re as prepared as you can be for the challenges ahead.
The region has been more hilly for a while, and as you rise a slight crest just a little after breakfast, Myrna reigns in the horses, calling down, ”There’s some sort of road block and market ahead.”
Lady Martella uses the opportunity to get out and stretch her legs as she looks down on the valley below, still clinging to a morning mist. ”We’re in Meratt County sure enough, but I don’t know what this is. I think though this is where I should depart.” she starts gathering her things and packing them on her horse, after deftly saddling it. ”You don’t want to be seen with me, that could ruin everything. From here I’d say you’re a few hours from Pensaris. You could lunch there after sending a runner to Stachys and try to setup a meeting with Honorary Tribune Onora Piscum for later in the afternoon. Perhaps dinner - I believe she owns a public house in Stachys, or at least she used to. Remember, you’re taking her job away, so be gentle.”
She swiftly mounts her mare, ”My lords and lady, I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors. Remember, the Princess is watching you, and while you may not represent her officially you are acting in her name so act appropriately. Er, at least in public,” she adds with a smile.
She hesitates for any last minute questions before riding off to the west across the rye fields, bulging and ready for harvest. You climb back in the carriage and proceed to the roadblock, taking what precautions you may as you travel the 5 minutes or so there.
When you arrive, you see the makeshift roadblock and market are simply desperate beggars and traders offering a variety of wares and asking for spare change. Their desperation is real, and you imagine it won’t take much to nudge this lot from begging to highway robbery. Clearly this stretch of road could be dangerous in the times ahead.
The hodgepodge traders offer most common goods at a 10% increase over market value but will lower their prices to 10% below market value if you can pay in common clothing, food, tools, and other daily necessities - such is their desperation. A heavyset woman, apparently a friar of Erastil, begs, ”Please kind lords, anything to help the common people.”
- - -
- - -
Anselm looks at his companions, a brief look of permission on his face. He makes a gesture that they easily read as, Be cautious — she doesn't like nobles. Let's set a good tone.
He takes the basket of provisions in hand and approaches the woman, kindness painted on his face.
"Sister, I am Anselm. I suppose one might say Sir Anselm Basri. My companions here are to be the new lords and ladies of Stachys. I would be honored to look at your wares and learn from you about our new home. May I offer these provisions as an offering to Old Deadeye?"
At some point, when he isn't being observed directly, he asks for Shelyn's insight as to the locals' general disposition.
Kamari stops at the corner of the carriage and stands confidently, but not obnoxiously lordly.
"Good afternoon."
If the opportunity presents itself she will whisper to a nearby or passing companion.
"Archers in trees."
Kort takes his leave of the Lady, making a moment to offer a goodbye and then prepare himself to put on the airs of nobility. Well, he would if he could, but he cannot change who he is, which is an old soldier who finds change hard. He'll walk stiffly, and with a limp and with his cane, and his head will be held high and his back straight.
As he walks towards the blockage, he tends to fall into step with Kamari, much like had fallen into step with Mama D when she was around. It was a tendency and preference to walk with someone on either side of him. Much like his soldier's training from so long ago.
"This looks unwelcoming," he softly chats with Kamari. "Let us hope our region is less like this, otherwise I will feel like we have been left to tend a pit of unhappy vipers. I hope we can do something to make things better."
Sense Motive
Perception
"And we should be ever careful, Kamari," Kort offers in stiff low tone. "There are archers in the trees there. Could be guards or an ambush."
Kort pauses for a moment, putting himself in the way of Anselm while he adjusts his boot and gives Kamari a chance to react to the information.
"Let us hope our region is less like this, otherwise I will feel like we have been left to tend a pit of unhappy vipers. I hope we can do something to make things better."
Elen creeps up behind Kort and Kamari and joins them. "One wonders what hardships they must have endured to congregate so...?"
She addresses the market and archers.
"Who are you all? Why are you here? Surely, there must be more lucrative places to sell your wares?"
Muri takes the opportunity of the parting goodbyes to Lady Martella to harness Underfoot, and give the sheepdog a good run. He is nowhere near as competent as Martella in her deft saddling of her horse, but he takes it as tacit promise to one day be as able.
Watching the Lady ride off, Muri and Underfoot take looping runs around the carriage, only once abruptly changing course against the rider's will, as a small rodent is detected, and the sheepdog is thwarted in her desire for the hunt after several sharp jerks her scruff.
When they approach the roadblock, Muri watches intently as the others spill from the carriage to parlay with the 'friar of Erastil'.
The halfling trots over, and listens to the first engagement.
When Anselm suggests that the woman is being insincere, Muri holds his tongue, for now. When Kamari whispers of archers in trees, the halfling perks up, and decides to investigate the shady branches hiding shady eyes.
Kamari and Major Kort move among the commoners, a little more than a dozen all told, as they encircle them and push offers of various mundane goods in their faces, from simple weapons, to other gear, and even a suit of armor or two, though they look to be in need of some repair and maintenance.
"Sister, I am Anselm. I suppose one might say Sir Anselm Basri. My companions here are to be the new lords and ladies of Stachys. I would be honored to look at your wares and learn from you about our new home. May I offer these provisions as an offering to Old Deadeye?"
At some point, when he isn't being observed directly, he asks for Shelyn's insight as to the locals' general disposition.
Anselm offers her some food and the like, leftover from the journey, though the friar looks nonplussed at the offering and Anselm. ”Thank you, my lord, I’ll see to it this is properly distributed,” she says shortly. It seems clear she wants to take the food and leave, but she lingers a moment to answer Anselm’s question, if evasively, ”What is it you want to know my lord?”
At the moment you’re under the scrutiny of the friar and don’t feel it would be appropriate to cast, but I’ll keep it in mind if you find an opportunity.
She addresses the market and archers.
"Who are you all? Why are you here? Surely, there must be more lucrative places to sell your wares?"
A dirty halfling offers Elen a bolt of silk, ostensibly for a shawl or dress. It doesn’t look too bad, though it is a little dirty. ”We’re refugees aren’t we lady. Surviving by our wits and the largess of the forest. The villages ain’t no better and here we’re free.” He then pushes the silk, commenting on its smoothness and luxury.
Muri moves off from the group and toward the tree-line. As he reaches the branches, the archer on the left holds up his hand, ”You’re trespassing. You got some business here?”
Kort uses his cane to prop himself up after adjusting his boot, now that others are aware of the archers. He listens are Anselm and others dig information out of the people, still worried that everything here could be so bad.
”Does Count Bartleby know or care that you’re here? That you’re surviving by your wits in the forest?” Kort eventually asks after other questions have been posed.
"I'm sorry we don't have more at the moment. Shelyn willing, we will find other ways to help," Anselm says hopefully. He considers for a moment. "I have a great many questions, on top of those my friend Lord Kort here asked. First, could you tell me more about the people here? I had heard of difficulties here. I would like to know your concerns. Your stories. May we talk while I browse?"
He examines the goods, on the look out for items of beauty, however rough. Shelyn finds beauty everywhere. He asks, "I wonder, have your people here any wares made or repaired by your own good hands... I'm sorry, Sister, what may I call you?"
Kamari follows Muri towards the trees and tries to remember exactly when she became the cautious one in the group.
"Trespassers?" She shouts back, but holds off any more since Muri started down this path.
Muri cocks his head in the direction of the archer addressing him, so he brings a hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun, while looking up.
"Oh, sorry. You made me curious. We're traveling on to Stachys, so we don't really have any business in this area. Are we new neighbors? Are you posted here for the day, or do you have shifts for this watchpost? I'll return to the carriage now, thank you for cautioning me from venturing further."
”Does Count Bartleby know or care that you’re here? That you’re surviving by your wits in the forest?” Kort eventually asks after other questions have been posed.
One of the beggars replies, as he thrusts a fine looking wineskin at the Major, ”Of course he knows. He sends his thug sir Guile’s Gusairne at us regular doesn’t he!” If the Major isn’t interested in the wine, he offers a rather plain, though sharp, dagger - pommel first at least.
"I'm sorry we don't have more at the moment. Shelyn willing, we will find other ways to help," Anselm says hopefully. He considers for a moment. "I have a great many questions, on top of those my friend Lord Kort here asked. First, could you tell me more about the people here? I had heard of difficulties here. I would like to know your concerns. Your stories. May we talk while I browse?"
He examines the goods, on the look out for items of beauty, however rough. Shelyn finds beauty everywhere. He asks, "I wonder, have your people here any wares made or repaired by your own good hands... I'm sorry, Sister, what may I call you?"
The friar gets somewhat red in the face at Anselm’s queries, ”What am I, your servant? I’m to follow you around and cater to your whims? Maybe act as your guide through the forest? I thank you for the food, it will be put to good use. But as for the rest, buy or don’t buy. We’re not bards for you to be demanding our stories. We’re simple folk, with goods to sell and mouths to feed.”
She simmers as you pick up a leather satchel that has a nice worn look (likely because it is), but it’s made of good durable leather and has some life in it yet. Most of what you see here are second hand goods, or simple craft. Nothing masterwork, nothing of true substance.
Muri cocks his head in the direction of the archer addressing him, so he brings a hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun, while looking up.
"Oh, sorry. You made me curious. We're traveling on to Stachys, so we don't really have any business in this area. Are we new neighbors? Are you posted here for the day, or do you have shifts for this watchpost? I'll return to the carriage now, thank you for cautioning me from venturing further."
The archer on the right laughs and the archer on the left says, ”Oh, sir, that would get me hanged that would. Giving away information about the watch like that. You’d best ask Gurta” he chuckles and points to the heavy friar talking with Anselm.
Muri can't help but join the chuckle, patting Underfoot along the side of her neck. "Yeah, let's hold off on hangings. Looks like my friend's already enjoying her company. Good health, and not a little luck." The halfling tugs on the saddle, and Underfoot understands that they're meant to turn around and likely return to the others, the ones with growing familiar scents.
Passing Kamari, Muri nods with a smile. "The big one is certainly in charge, and I'll try to avoid unwanted injuries at the archers' hands. They call her 'Gurta'. I'm still trying to figure out what that's short for."
If Kamari begins to return, too, Muri encourages Underfoot to pace her on their way back. "We're still at least a half day away, I think. I wonder if there are other groups like this, closer to our new position."
”Of course he knows. He sends his thug sir Guile’s Gusairne at us regular doesn’t he!”
Know (nobility) - Gusairne?
Kort declines to look at the wineskin and instead reaches for the dagger, taking a look at it. ”Should this dagger find the back of Ser Gusairne? Tell me of him. What does he think you do wrong? And what options do you have and want instead?” Kort inquires, showing more of his formal military armor.
Diplomacy
Kort digs out 3gp for dagger (50% more than it’s worth).
"Sister, forgive me. I asked not as a lord to a vassal, but as one citizen of Taldor to another. I believe I speak true for my companions: If it is within our power, we wish to help everyone in Stachys better their lot — but especially those most in need. If we can help improve the lot of all our neighbors, we shall."
Anselm points to the satchel and a half dozen of the craft goods that show real heart. "How much for these? I especially like the glaze on this earthen ware. Is the clay from hereabouts?" He doesn't drive a hard bargain — just enough for the sellers not to see his purchase as condescension or charity.
"We're still at least a half day away, I think. I wonder if there are other groups like this, closer to our new position."
"I'm afraid there will be. It's worse than I expected."
No longer expecting an outright ambush, Kamari joins Muri in heading back to the group. She'll look through the wares for another frog or cricket or similar to add to her collection for which she can overpay.
A dirty halfling offers Elen a bolt of silk, ostensibly for a shawl or dress. It doesn’t look too bad, though it is a little dirty."”We’re refugees aren’t we lady. Surviving by our wits and the largess of the forest. The villages ain’t no better and here we’re free.”
No one should have to live like this. "The Villages?" Elen asks, looking over the bolt. "Why are you not free in the Villages? Would you happen to have this in a pale gold -- you know -- like the color of the palest part of the yellow sky just before dawn? Oh, do never mind. This is great, I'll take this." She hands him 20 gp. "What did you say your name was?"
She looks over the other items available for nigh highway robbery sale.
Muri can't help but join the chuckle, patting Underfoot along the side of her neck. "Yeah, let's hold off on hangings. Looks like my friend's already enjoying her company. Good health, and not a little luck." The halfling tugs on the saddle, and Underfoot understands that they're meant to turn around and likely return to the others, the ones with growing familiar scents.
The one on the left nods politely as the other continues to laugh. Clearly he’s the fun one.
Kort declines to look at the wineskin and instead reaches for the dagger, taking a look at it. ”Should this dagger find the back of Ser Gusairne? Tell me of him. What does he think you do wrong? And what options do you have and want instead?” Kort inquires, showing more of his formal military armor.
Kort digs out 3gp for dagger (50% more than it’s worth).
Sir Gul Gusairne was mentioned by Lady Martella Lotheed as having worked for her father, and someone who is likely now working for the current Count. Lady Martella wouldn’t have liked him much, but he was efficient if a little bloodthirsty. He’s a half elf Knight of Taldor, having earned the title for his work with Lady Martella’s father, the prior Count. Sounds like he’s some sort of enforcer (at least) currently.
The man looks at you sputtering ”Oh aye,” before clamping his mouth shut on his sedition. It’s clear he’d be happy to see Gul face down in a swamp somewhere, but now he’s nervous and says little else. He takes your coins, bites ‘em to see if the gold is good, and quickly scatters back toward the treeline, having made a good sale and not wanting further trouble.
"Sister, forgive me. I asked not as a lord to a vassal, but as one citizen of Taldor to another. I believe I speak true for my companions: If it is within our power, we wish to help everyone in Stachys better their lot — but especially those most in need. If we can help improve the lot of all our neighbors, we shall."
Anselm points to the satchel and a half dozen of the craft goods that show real heart. "How much for these? I especially like the glaze on this earthen ware. Is the clay from hereabouts?" He doesn't drive a hard bargain — just enough for the sellers not to see his purchase as condescension or charity.
She looks at your pretty clothes, and fancy carriage, ”You’re lords all right, and you aint’ in Stachys now are ye?” she begins somewhat petulantly, before adding, ”Those are 3 gold a piece, you want the history of the thing, it’ll be 5.”
Kamari doesn’t find anything that fits the bill for his burgeoning collection unfortunately, and so he gets to keep his coin for now.
No one should have to live like this. "The Villages?" Elen asks, looking over the bolt. "Why are you not free in the Villages? Would you happen to have this in a pale gold -- you know -- like the color of the palest part of the yellow sky just before dawn? Oh, do never mind. This is great, I'll take this." She hands him 20 gp. "What did you say your name was?"
”Oh, it’s fine if you’re a noble I’m sure.” the halfling pocket the coins quickly and hands over the bolt of silk (pale blue). He gathers one or two other items around him and scampers back toward the forest - failing to provide a name.
In fact, all the various merchants begin to fade back into the trees. The friar they called Gurta is the last to leave, negotiating a little with Anselm, and giving you all dirty looks, before withdrawing with her flock.
Pretty soon, you're alone with your purchases and the road beckons.
Anselm nods at the steep price, paying more for story than the actual things. He handles the items with reverence while listening intently.
Kort stows Sedition’s Dagger into his haversack, perhaps a gift or a favor for someone in the future, when all this is over.
He steps away and gathers to watch what the others are doing. He isn’t yet sure what to make all of this, except that it might indicate a harder, bigger problem than he imagined.
He stands stiffly, waiting for others to finish their business.
"Hrm... well. I wonder what that was all about. Shall we resume our travels and find out?"
She looks ahead, and back at the carriage. "I wonder if we would be less of a target if we didn't look so ... well to do. Too bad we can't make the carriage look a bit more shabby."
She heads back in order to move on, stowing her bolt of pale blue soiled silk.
Muri pulls up alongside Elen. "There are good folk here, but I think we lose either way. If we're shabby lords and ladies, they'll mock us, and if we're well-to-do, they'll mock us." The halfling considers the friar, and wonders what the likelihood is that they'll cross paths again, given the flea market's ability to assemble and disperse at whim.
"I'm ready to get going, yeah. Let's see what Stachys holds for us." Muri nudges Underfoot with his heels, gently but insistently, and he ends up sitting back in his saddle, as she spends a leisurely amount of time smelling the scents left behind by the friar's club.
"I'm ready to get going, yeah. Let's see what Stachys holds for us."
”I consider myself neither shabby nor well-to-do, but one that tries to live within his means,” Kort says dryly, ”And I wonder how much I should care how they mock me. I guess this being nobility thing will take some time to get used to if I need to care what they think rather than trying to do the right thing. You’ll have to guide me in this Muri.”
Kort is ready to move on.
The friar frowns angrily at Anselm, but produces the story of each piece, more or less. The bowls are apparently from an old abandoned manor to the west in the fields, ”Finder’s keepers.” and the satchel she swapped from a traveller who had recently picked up something finer. Having said her piece, she storms off into the trees, muttering about ”Self important nobles.”, though her purse jangles more than it did…
As you walk back to your carriage, you note it is rather nice. Solid and well made with a few frills - though nothing that would get in the way of proper running and maintenance. You’ve seen some carriages with brushes, even lacey frou-frou. Yours looks almost regal.
You climb in and your carriage rides by a small cluster of buildings around a bustling mineral spring a couple hours later. From the looks of it, they’re manufacturing salt - a high priced good for sure, and likely at least a part of the reason Baron Okerra has done so well here, as you are now in his lands. As you have not formally been introduced to the Count, it’s probably a good idea to avoid the Baron for now. Visiting him before the Count could be seen as a breach of etiquette.
You ride into the little village a few miles up the road, and are generally impressed with how clean it is and how friendly folks are. It’s a well manicured town, with a nice inn for travelers and two pubs (one across from the inn, one on the main square). The shops seem well laden, and you can see shipwrights and woodcarvers supporting the fishing business on Lake Pensaris. From the looks of the docks, the lake is heavily fished for the region. Perhaps another reason for Okerra’s wealth.
You can also see Baron Nicolaus Okerra’s estate - a small but cozy citadel overlooking the village.
It’s about lunch time, and one plan had you lunching here while sending a runner west to Stachys to find Honorary Tribune Onora Piscum and arrange supper in Stachys. Then you’d visit your manor sometime late in the evening/night. If you ride straight through and visit Onora another time, eating rations in the carriage, you’ll make the manor by mid afternoon. So what’s the plan?
Kamari eyes the approaching village and her stomach rumbles.
"Lunch?" she voices to the others in the carriage.
"Also, a chance to meet more of the locals and get a feel for how things are. These folks seem quite a bit better off then those we met on the road."
Anselm nods to himself as the not so merry men and women depart. He returns to the carriage, offering the Major a hand up. "Well, time will tell whether they're friends or foes. But as they say, a fiend is an angel in the Worldwound. It sounds as though we should ask about this Sir Gul Gusairne."
Later, Kamari's suggestion causes him to look to where the basket full of provisions sits. "I suppose we could use some fresh provisions, couldn't we? Allow me to say a prayer before we leave the carriage."
He prays to Shelyn for insight, casting his thoughts out among the folk of the village.
Specific questions, though of course I trust you to decide just how specific or vague the local gossip may be.
Is it likely the Baron will be at the inn during lunch today?
Who, if anyone, serves as eyes or ears for the Count in Pensaris Village?
What do people think of Sir Gul here?
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The horse's hooves thunder across the land, making up for lost time. Summoned, like the two before her, Intrepid pays heed only to the demands laid upon her by the mystical mistress that summoned her to Destiny this day.
Now, She urges additional speed; Intrepid obeys, with haste! She has her dams sense for danger and her father's speed; and she sees the herd of humans along the edge of the woods before even the woman upon her back has time to notice them. This deep into their travels, she knows not where the energy comes from; but as Destiny calls and Fate Demands, Intrepid delivers.
Ever has it been between the Mages of Man and the Manes of Equinessence; so it shall be today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later, much later, though time is of no consequence when Fate calls, Intrepid slows to a canter, then a prim walk as they approach the scents of men and their stables. The edges of the spell upon her catch at her tail and she knows her time of oats and hay will soon arrive. The Mistress coos in her nonsensical human tongue, but it is soothing, none the less.
"That's it, Lollipop, we are sure to catch up soon. And you have been the sweetest thing. Such a sweet pony, yes you are!"
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Every bone in her body aches as she slips to the ground. Were it not for Lollipop's strength and stature, Mama D would likely land face down in the dirt. As it is, it is several steps and more before she can stand on her own and look about.
"Oh goodness, Lollipop, you are a wonder! Thank you, my friend." She could release her now, but she has more than earned a good spa treatment by a knowledgeable stable hand. It is the very least she can do for such a valiant pony.
"Of *course* we are running behind, Cuddles, what were we thinking? As if there was any answer other than *this*! Hours, days even, wasted. Well not wasted, there are *scrolls* of course, but our friends, our country, our Queen has need of us, and what did I do, but focus selfishly on my own wishes, and my magic ambitions!
How terribly Lotheed of me indeed!
Perhaps... perhaps they will forgive me my lapse. "
Her voice is mostly a mutter, so dry is her throat. Her stops have been few and very far between so that she might catch up with her companions.
"and mayhap we have, Cuddles, they should be here soon, shouldn't..." even her mutter goes gravel dry and dies to nothing as she turns towards the sounds of people in the square, standing in front of a grand coach in earnest discussion.
Oh goodness sakes! and here I am covered in dust and dirt! the spell is muttered and her clothing on its way to clean before the thought is complete.
She smiles as she takes in her companions at long last; Dear Kamari and erstwhile Muri and Underfoot. Elegant Elan and Ansalm, and the ever stately Good Major. Oh! How I have missed them, Cuddles!
"Good travels and fair my friends. Do you have room for one more, by any chance?"
"...You’ll have to guide me in this, Muri.”
"You're better off taking advice from Anselm. Better yet, Madame Lotheed, should our paths cross again. I'm no guide."
"Good travels and fair my friends. Do you have room for one more, by any chance?"
Muri can feel Underfoot's tail wagging under both their hindquarters. He immediately connects Madame Lotheed's familiar lilt and the sheepdog's happiness.
"Lady Martella was very enthusiastic about you participating. You bring your family name to our purpose, and we can certainly use your experience with nobility in this region. You traveled all by yourself?"
This deep into their travels, she knows not where the energy comes from; but as Destiny calls and Fate Demands, Intrepid delivers.
* * *
"Lunch?"
"Yes!" K'Aldrian exclaims more loudly than he usually does. "Yes, of course, that would give me a chance to stretch my legs." he quickly corrects his tone. He is quick to exit the carriage, his knees and legs seeking ground upon to walk. He exits stiffly, surprised by what he sees.
"Good travels and fair my friends. Do you have room for one more, by any chance?"
Kort first offers a quicktake, his neck flexing to and from Mama D quickly before settling on an unexpected smile.
"M'Della! How? HOW!? How did you find us?" Kort offers more than an enthusiastic desire to hug Mama D, but, of course, that would be completely uncalled for. "It's good that you found us. Tell us where you have been. We are about to stop for lunch. Join us, please." K'Aldrian offers his elbow to Mama D to escort her to lunch.
You’re unsure. The Baron is well known to be a man of the people and does not separate himself from his constituents.
Who, if anyone, serves as eyes or ears for the Count in Pensaris Village?
It is well known that the Count cares little for the goings on within the county so long as the taxes are paid. Sir Gul Gusairne is the most frequent of the Count’s people however.
What do people think of Sir Gul here?
He’s the Count’s man through and through. Aside from his fierce loyalty to the Lotheed clan (they having made him nobility after all) he’s known to do anything the Count asks of him. Few, if any, scruples. So Sir Gusairne is someone to be avoided according to the populous.
- - -
Your carriage winds it’s way to the main square where you see Lady Mama D walking up to you across from a large pub, which spills out into the streets with a variety of large and small tables with decent benches scattered about. You head over to catch up, get lunch, and enjoy the view of the town square, which sits above and 50yards or so from the docks, much smaller than in Oppara of course as these are just for lake-sized fishing boats. It’s rather a nice view.
The pub is called The Crimson Ship, and is painted a peeling red. Though the paint is clearly old it gives the feeling of being weathered, rather than simply run-down. Authentic. You, presumably, take your seats outside in the lovely air. Myrna heads inside as her silent accomplice stays with the carriage giving the horses some feed, water, and a little rubdown. A waitress appears hastily and heads in your direction. Myrna appears sometime later with some sandwiches for herself and her associate. They eat standing around the carriage, stretching their legs.
The waitress curtsies, ”My lords and ladies, we’re honored you chose the ‘Ship. We’ve a special trout dish for lunch, though we also have catfish of course, and small mouth bass. If you’re not into fish, we have other options too.” She rattles down a short, but tasty menu as you place your orders, enjoy the spring weather, and catch up.
"You traveled all by yourself?"
"Oh thank goodness! Life without purpose is not worth the time, I have found." She turns, looking for her cousin but of course, she has missed her. She continues her answer with no less zeal for the company she is currently in.
"By myself? No, never think it, my friend. I have Cuddles here, and of course Lollipop and her kin have seen me through the last couple of days. But beyond that, all of you were never far from me, at least in my thoughts." Her smile and words are for all of them as she greets each in turn.
***
* * *
Kort first offers a quicktake, his neck flexing to and from Mama D quickly before settling on an unexpected smile.
"M'Della! How? HOW!? How did you find us?" Kort offers more than an enthusiastic desire to hug Mama D, but, of course, that would be completely uncalled for. "It's good that you found us. Tell us where you have been. We are about to stop for lunch. Join us, please." K'Aldrian offers his elbow to Mama D to escort her to lunch.
She takes one of The Good Major's hands in both of her own and squeezes them with as much affection is suitable for the time and place; more seemly than a hug, but none the less enthusiastic.
Such are the way of things among the nobility.
and with that mental reminder, she steps back and slips a hand around his fore arm as she answers.
" Where have I been? A library or two, though they were not nearly what I was hoping for. Still, there were spells to be found and thoughts to be processed. And then I realized, of course, this is where I must be. For Taldor, of course. The catching up was not as difficult as one might think, but oh yes! Lunch would be wonderful! Though I may drink my tea standing for now, I think. And I must see Lolly's comfort before that." To that end, she will look to see to her horses comfort before continuing towards her own.
"It is so good to see you again, Lady Lotheed!" Anselm beams at Mama D's return and the warmth expressed between her and the Major. "I trust you've been made aware of our new station in neighboring Stachys? There is much to do."
He turns to the waitress. "The trout, please! And if you wouldn't mind assembling a basket of sundries we can bring with us when we depart. Perhaps a claret to celebrate our reunion."
"My lords and ladies, we’re honored you chose the ‘Ship. We’ve a special trout dish for lunch, though we also have catfish of course, and small mouth bass. If you’re not into fish, we have other options too.”
Muri debates removing the saddle from Underfoot's back, while the waitress takes their orders. He decides not to, less out of convenience, and more to get the sheepdog used to it. She seems to sense the halfling's intention, so sits down, a little ways from the table, and makes an audible groan of discontent.
Muri makes a point of not looking at the dog, while addressing the waitress. "The trout sounds good. Four helpings, please. Can you remove the bones, and make sure they're cooked really well?" The halfling smiles broadly, hoping she can accommodate.
"Are we pushing through? Or arriving late? I say we make a push."
"Yes, trout," Kort says as he holds Mama D's chair for her and waits for her to sit. "M'Della, have you been filled in on our situation here?" If not, Kort will explain what he's told and what he's seen.
"Are we pushing through? Or arriving late? I say we make a push."
Kort spreads his hands at the leisurely lunching that is about to start. "I do not know that we can rush now, now that we've stopped and ordered. But might be we can make up some time on the road as long as we don't dally too long."
Kamari starts with a "good to see you," but ends up hugging Mama D.
Who cares if it's not noble.
"It is really good to see you. We're almost family at this point and I fretted about our separation. But, all is well now."
--
"Trout, please, however the chef see's fit."
Kamari pulls out her cricket, but doesn't activate it. There's no rush to talk and the carriage will be even more secure. However, holding it reminds her to watch her tongue--and have something with which to fidget.
Anselm gently interrupts the Major's review of events. "Perhaps we should fill Lady Lotheed in while we travel, Lord Kort. Or employ the cricket?" He waves down the waitress. "Have you a messenger who could travel ahead to Stachys with haste?"
You have a really delightful lunch at the pub, and everyone mounts back into the carriage again to head to Stachys. You ride another four hours on a fairly rough road toward the little farming community and are feeling it a bit when the carriage finally rattles to a stop. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up and chat as you ride. You arrive around supper.
Stachys is a quiet little village on the edge of vanishing altogether. Locals haven’t had any official leadership or infrastructure since the Lady Betony passed 10 years ago. Their official tribune, Roren Piscum, passed away 5 years later, and ever since Onora Piscum, his widow, has shouldered most of the burden of protecting her neighbors and keeping people organized while still running her small tavern on the town square.
You ride in to hostile stares, when they bother to look at you at all in your fine coach. The town square is large, though half of it is overshadowed by a partially collapsed building, and the rest is just dirt. Or rather mud, as it rained yesterday. There’s not even a general store - people have to go to Pensaris to shop. You saw a mill just out of town, but it’s not spinning, and it should be. You pick out what must be Onora’s public house, but there’s no sign, and it looks like it too has a dirt floor.
The Betony Estate stands atop a low hill overlooking Stachys. A few hundred yards of cobblestone road that switchbacks up the hill connects the estate to the settlement.
You instead exit the coach and stretch your sore legs and buttocks. A few listless commoners drift into the public house as the unlit streets begin to darken. It’s about 6pm. You yourselves head inside while Myrna stays with the carriage, munching on rations and keeping watch as her associate gets out the food and water for the horses.
You hear a few conversations as you enter the public house, which smells of pubs everywhere - stale beer and greasy food. The smokey room is in fact floored in dirt, with a handful of scattered rough tables and chairs. Two of the tables have been pushed together and contain what passes for finery around here. Let’s just say, at least you have plates and flagons of a sort.
As you enter, the room quiets instantly and all eyes are upon you. From behind the bar, a plain, muscular, and heavily freckled young half elf (image) steps forward. ”You must be the new lords of Betony Estate. I am Honorary Tribune Onora Piscum, Mayor of Stachys, and Sheriff of same, at your service.” She curtsies appropriately, and only what’s needful, before guiding you to the adjoining tables.
It’s a little cramped, but you all manage to fit in well enough, even the rather large Underfoot finds room at Muri’s feet. ”Welcome to Stachys,” begins Onora Piscum, ”We weren’t sure when you’d arrive exactly, so we should have a round of drinks before dinner will be finished.” she gestures to a nearby boy who comes over and takes your drink orders. Though young, he manages well enough, as it’s determined you really have but two choices. Well, three if you count water. A thin pale ale or a locally brewed rose wine.
Kamari beams at Onora and the thoughtfulness that has gone into the preparations.
"Thank you for your hospitality. Which of your many titles do you prefer, Onora? After we are settled, perhaps you could also share with us a little more abut each of the positions you hold."
Kamari orders the rose wine and settles in to learn more of the area.
Anselm gives a respectful nod to the young widow and smiles politely at Kamari's introduction. "Well met, Mrs. Piscum. I am Sir Anselm Basri. I'm very grateful for your hospitality and your service these last many years. I hope our late arrival is not an inconvenience. Would you do us the honor of joining us?" He happily accepts a flagon of rosé.
"That was a delightful meal," K'Aldrian feigns his noblest manners for the entire meal, instead of eating like a grunt in a ditch. "Back in the carriage and let's get moving." Kort rises stiffly and ensures a generous tip for the meal.
* * *
" I am Honorary Tribune Onora Piscum, Mayor of Stachys, and Sheriff of same, at your service.”
"Well met, Tribune Piscum," Kort nods stiffly, but not in an unfriendly manner. He introduces the party, using all the formal sers and whatnot.
"The rose wine for me. I will admit that I have not had many brewed wines in my time, so this might be a first," he asks stiffly standing and offering a toast when others have their drinks. "Let us drink to the health of the realm."
He stiffly sits back down and listens to what she might say next.
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"If we're shabby lords and ladies, they'll mock us, and if we're well-to-do, they'll mock us."”I consider myself neither shabby nor well-to-do, but one that tries to live within his means,” Kort says dryly, ”And I wonder how much I should care how they mock me."
"Mocked"? Who said anything about being mocked? I care not if they wish to make us objects of derision, I just don't want to be held up and harassed." She pauses in front of the carriage, looking at it. "I am just saying -- this is at bit over the top, don't you think?" she asks, gesturing at the carriage.
Nonetheless, she boards.
~~~
Elen gasps as Mama D arrives, adorning the back of a jogging pony. She curtseys as Mama D dismounts. "Welcome back! And what a magnificent steed! What's his name? Intrepid? Perfect! Come, our lunch awaits us!"
"Not to pile on, but I'll also have trout."
~~~
"Why Kort, thank you for lunch! I'll buy next time!"
"Mallë-o i Otos Elen, Mrs. Piscum. Rose, please."
"Let us drink to the health of the realm."
"Oh," says Elen holding up a finger. "Let us drink to the soon to be improving health of the realm. I mean -- we thought it might be bad -- but what happened?! The mill up the road is broken, and the Town Square appears to be crumbling. The streets are washed away in all of the mud. It is as if Stachys is decaying."