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Faenia contemplates what the cat noted for a few minutes. She drums her hand on her knees. Her eyes flick about as if she is considering a number of different approaches.
She moves her hand to unclamp the sturdy hooks on her shoulder which pin the plates closed, to remove her armor, then seems to think better of it, and keeps the dented breastplate on as she works.
She looks around the simple room, the servant’s room, she had claimed - just a few feet from the stair - and she grunted, and mutters to herself, ”manors…”. Once the examination is done, some time looking at the walls, the sconces, the still-life art hanging above the bed, of the ships moored in the harbor that is recognizably Oppara. She squints at it, commenting, ”eh…” to herself, and then lifting the back up to try and uncover a secret space where a spy might be hiding. This seems to be her goal, as she knocks on walls, turns candleholders, and looks under the fireplace - pressing the bricks gently and only getting sooty fingers as a reward. As she goes, she begins humming a low tune to herself - something jaunty, and half-remembered, with ribald lyrics that are sorely out of fashion in high society.
Finding nothing of interest, ultimately, she begins to pack her few belongings into her travel bag. In very short order, most of her few things have gone into her bag, and she seems to be content, when she hears the sound of the violin out the window. The skill is obvious, the intent - less so. She reaches her hand reflexively to her sword, and takes a few breaths - steeling her mind and body for the expected onslaught of mental manipulation - but it never comes. Slowly she loosens her grip and her teeth unclench. She chuckles to herself, then shivers, and punches herself in the arm, muttering ”get it the f@*% together Fay.” and she continues listening. She lets the delicate notes wash over her, and sits to enjoy the music, relaxing substantially for the first time since the row at the meal.
Faenia seems to know when the end is coming, and she sighs, and moves to continue packing as the coda finishes.
And then it starts again. She tilts her head, as if listening curiously, and leaves her last items on the small end table. Grabbing the key to her room, she slips out and locks the door, testing it and rattling the knob a few times before, apparently satisfied, making a bee-line towards where she hears the music. The manor is cavernous, and the sound echoes in odd ways, so it is a few minutes before she finds the exit out into the garden.
Stepping into the night, she breathes in the fragrant smell of the manicured garden until she spies Velvet performing. Trying to stay out of sight, to avoid interrupting, Faenia just watches as the woman plays her instrument.
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When Velvet nears the end of the second song, she looks up suddenly, the tune halting with the motion. "Lady... Faenia?" She asks, clear surprise in her voice. It passes as she quickly puts her instrument away in the case next to her, leaving it open for now as she rises and dons a smile. "Can I help you with something? I'm afraid I can't offer you anything other than a seat and good manners at present," she gestures to the spot previously taken by her, which alongside the box covered the entire bench. "But I'll strive to be a gracious host. You are an honored guest, after all, as long as you are with us."
Perhaps it was just needless repetition, perhaps there was a double meaning in the last bit, but she seemed friendly as she spoke, and genuinely curious as to why the relative stranger had come to see her alone right then.
Awkwardly, Faenia approaches, but when Velvet calls her a ‘lady’ she can’t help but snort reflexively. Apologizing, she blushes, ”my apologies. It isn’t very ladylike to lurk in gardens and watch people without their permission.”
She takes a moment and extends a hand, as if to explain, her tone is more conversational, and she seems to use inflections that are found in the neighborhood around the Kith, ”your playing - it was wonderful. Few in Taldor could match the skill you just demonstrated. It was a rare treat to see you work for a moment. Don’t stop on my account, but if you’d like me to leave - I will, with apologies.”
She seems hesitant to continue, ”I … was packing my things up. As I told the… um… cat… I don’t think I can help you all.” She seems perplexed as if she’s trying to figure something out, ”but I will say - the cat made some interesting observations.” She shakes her head, ”I don’t need anything, no, if you’ll allow me to stay and listen.”
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"My apologies. It isn’t very ladylike to lurk in gardens and watch people without their permission.”
"I take no offense, truly," She says, smiling kindly. "My music was dedicated to Shelyn and meant to be shared freely, as she teaches. If you enjoyed it, then I am happy. It would mean it achieved its goal with at least one person."
"Your playing - it was wonderful. Few in Taldor could match the skill you just demonstrated. It was a rare treat to see you work for a moment. Don’t stop on my account, but if you’d like me to leave - I will, with apologies.”
The archer's cheeks seem to redden at this and she averts her gaze towards her violin. "Oh, well, thank you! But... I fear you simply caught me on a good day. I don't actually have much in the way of training; my teacher said I have talent for it, but I don't have much time to practise. I try to compensate with playing by feeling , if that makes sense to you, rather than memorization. It... doesn't always turn out so well. Not exactly." She chuckles after a pause. "But variety is the spice of life, as they say, and what better way to play than constantly improvise? If you wish to stay, you're free to listen to me tumble through a few more songs, or join if you prefer. I confess that I am quite curious about Ulfen musical traditions; my knowledge of them is woefully lacking. Do you play an instrument, or...?"
”But I will say - the cat made some interesting observations.”
"I'm sorry; 'the cat'?" Velvet asks slowly, confused. "Who are you referring to you, My La... actually, if I may ask, how should I adress the only daughter of Landgrave Jarlborn?" She asks in between, recalling the earlier snort. After learning the answer, she continues her previous thought. "I know the Domovoi can appear as cats, but I don't believe they can talk in that form. You mean to say there is an actual talking cat in the mansion?"
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Faenia looks confused, the worried, ”the large one. That Lotti was taking care of. I assumed he was her familiar, but he seems independent - or else she was trying to send a message. I don’t think it was one of the hidden people.”
She laughs, as if realizing something, ”hah! That’s funny. He’s never talked to you before? He is very…. cattish.” she seems to want to expound, but changes her mind and then follows up on Velvet’s original question.
She gestures at the violin, ”they have that, it was imported a few hundred years ago, but they call it a hardingfele, a type of fiddle. Played at a faster tempo. For dancing.” She looks down at her heavy, metal-soled boots. Then looks up, ”that was more melodic - but very lovely. It was heartening to hear.”
She sits down and leans over, hands in front of her and looking down ”I learned about much of this at the Kith - which expect you knew already -“ She looks back up, ”at least the history. But I didn’t care for it. Traveling is already so difficult - I think it is better to just rely on your own instruments.”
She sits back up, ”and sometimes I do aspire to be more than a curiosity for the … people I encounter. Me. Faenia Ogvaidottir. Or Ogvaidattir. Both are correct. I think… My understanding is that I am not a ‘Lady’, not in Taldor.” She says this last phrase with pride, and not a little bitterness. ”I cannot even take his name, which means ‘born of the jarl’ yes? Simplistic - that Stavian was.” She seems to hold her tongue.
She blinks a few times, ”Faenia is fine, and will work as long as is needed.”
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"He... hasn't talked to me before, no, nor any of us, as far as I am aware. I wonder if that means..." Velvet responds on the topic of Lotti's familiar. She frowns then and grows silent, pondering something that obviously troubled her.
The talk of music draws her back in however and she puts it aside - for now. "'Your own instruments'? You mean... you can sing? Ah, how delightful! I could never quite get the vocals down, myself. Would you join me then? Please, I insist! Surely there is something we could compose together?"
"My understanding is that I am not a ‘Lady’, not in Taldor. ”I cannot even take his name."
The Shelynite nods with grave sincerity. "I see... I understand that sentiment too well, though it pains me to have to say such. For all our talk of Taldan glory, one wonders why history saw it fit to never acknowledge women as equals, as if our contributions mattered too little to be of note." She grimaces then, shaking her head. "It seems that in that regard, you are just like us: Lisa, Lotti, Rose and myself, all drawn here in a bid for better rights. Are those your reasons, the ones you specified earlier? Or am I mistaken?" She wonders, tilting her head slighty sideways as she studies Faenia, inviting her to answer.
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She nods vaguely and affirmatively at Velvet’s assertion about why she would want to help.
She leans back and nods, ”as for singing -just so. Acceptable enough for an academy, or so I was told.” She waves a little dismissively, ”though much is - well- the people of the north are very diverse. Much of our music has elements we copied from the rhythms of the Varki. Or the Melodies of the blessed Ilverani.” She seems to reflexively make some sort of gesture.
She continues, softly ”anyway, I have an old poem - put to music - which teaches of the … hero Ostog.”
She explains, ”the saga is quite long - but it was shortened when put to music may be enough for you to learn the melody.” She clears her throat. ”Erm, when translated, the lyrics do not rhyme well - sorry.”
Slowly, Faenia begins, showing significant heft to her voice which is restrained as she sings,
”Ostog was born in the wilds to a wolf
He grew tired of hunting and scraping
He watched the men hew with their axe
And knew for the axe he was fated
He watched and he mimicked and then soon enough
He became the man that he craved
A man with an axe as a means to an end
The end as as a means to be brave
She holds her hand on her chest closes her eyes, and the melody is reverberates in the small garden - though she is obviously trying to have it avoid carrying to elsewhere in the manor.
Ostog - Ostog, he was the first chief
in the lands where the linnorms hold sway
Ostog - Ostog, he gathered a… she searches for the right word, crew
And soon the hunters were prey
He hewed from the neck with his sharpened axe
The linnorm’s thick and sinewy head
Dread drawn from the beast, no longer a threat
He hung it over his bed
Keeping her eyes closed, she whispers conspiratorially ”he hung it over his throne but this sounded better,” while keeping time with her hand on her thigh.
Ostog growing rich and strong
conquered those who lay in his path
The hidden people first, their tricks and their japes
They were first to suffer his wrath
Next were the Valki, tending the reinsdyr
They melted like fat under knife
The Valki submitted and soon it was clear
The Ulfen were kings of the north
Ostog was proud, the Ilverani resisted
He thought he would conquer their land
He issued a challenge to their mightest chief
“Come - face me - fight - if you can”
The chief was the elf who had first aided the Ulfen
Saving them from despair and death
Ages ago when the ulfen first came
But a blink in the eye to the blessed
Ostog met with the chief to parlay
And saw that the man was smooth and weak
He drew a knife at the sacred table
And discovered his foe was not meek
He had betrayed the trust of their oldest friends
For the purpose of conquest and wealth
The chief raised a hand and held back the knife
Such was the will of the snow elf
Chief Drelanyn looked at the Ulfen who came with the king
with axes raised to strike
And shaking his head, took Ostog away
Both ever departed that night
Her voice drops significantly and fills with emotion as she finishes.
The ulfen cried out, dropping their axes -
“We were deceived! We will yield”
the only sound left on that plain of snow
Was the wind passing over the field
Thus the saga of Ostog, first king of the Ulfen
Ended not with blood but silence
Never again would the Ulfen receive
The blessed Ilverani guidance
She manages to hold the notes clearly, but without much flair. She is serviceable at performing, but it only becomes moving towards the end when she finishes, and her voice quavers, as if she is remembering something painful.
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It's clear that the Taldane woman is new to the this music style, and for the first two verses she settles for tapping along the rhythm, getting a feel for song and performance both. "A harsh melody, emphasizing strength and violence at first and caution later on. Meant for percussion, not violins - Fitting for an ancient origin story of an entire culture. How do I even add to this? Failing would likely be seen as a great offense! But surely there is something I can do?"
Inspiration strikes, and she shifts from broad strokes with the bow to a melody of short taps of the strings by hand. Pizzicato - an advanced technique, playing a violin not unlike a very small guitar, and not one she'd used often. But the effect was there; short burst of snare tones adequately falling in for drums with an occasional stroke to carry through for the calmer parts.
She was happy with that; it sounded good to her. But it felt as though she should do more, especially with how important these songs were to the Ulfen, as Faenia had stated earlier. To start, the other woman was right - the text did sound 'off' in Taldane.
"Do it in Skald - I'll adapt. You're kind to translate, but it should be true to you and yours." She mutters back in the pause, and from there she added her voice to Faenia's, letting her take the lead and falling above or below her in octaves using wordless mimicry of her language's tonality. Her vocal range seemed a little too good even, especially for someone who'd just claimed to be a poor singer.
In the end, it was a seemless blend of Ulfen saga and elegant music.
"My, that was amazing! Thank you for this challenge, this gift," She says at the end, only then noticing the ulfen woman had gone a little too still. "Faenia...? Are you all right? I... hope my play was acceptable for such a fabled saga, but I'd understand if you thought otherwise."
Faenia acquiesced to the request to sing it in Skald, and though the vocals were not louder, they were certainly clearer, though incomprehensible to those who did not speak the language.
When she finishes, she explains, "you see - the poem ends with Ostog trying to conquer the Snow Elves, but that they were so offended by his betrayal that they simply vanished him from existence. The only memory remaining was the saga - which was passed down orally as a cautionary tale."
She shakes her head at Velvet's question, "no..." then looks apologetic, "I mean, no, it isn't that. Your accompaniment was excellent. I just do not sing often." She stares into the middle distance, "all have a story, yes?"
She looks up at Velvet, and then stands, looming a little, "anyways, this was pleasant. But I have taken up much of your time, and I should retire before it gets late. I had planned on leaving at dawn." She brushes off her pants.
"Ah, that is reassuring. Thank you, it was pleasant to me as well. I wished we could have done such more often."
As Faenia is about to leave, she decides to chance it. "Just one further question, if I may? You said you 'had' planned to leave. Does that mean you reconsidered, or are open to such? I grant that Marius can be a thoughtless, incredibly boorish lout at times," She gives a slight grin. "And as his security advisor, I cannot say I like his tendency to put both himself and others near him in arguably needless danger. But he *has* been succesful, and his gambit to cling to honor above everything else has not backfired on him - not yet. As it stands, under his leadership, we managed to clear most of major dangers in this prefecture and restored a long-lost semblance of prosperity and order. And we are primed to succeed in Martella's orders on short notice. You know what a powerful example we could be to the other prefectures, with how splintered the nation is. We need you als Taldor needs you. Would you not stay here and help us?"
She stands and extends a gloved hand to her. "Please?"
As the two artists talk in the garden, Barcos sits with Marius. As Marius will come to find out, his table manners are rather crude and simple, though this seems to be out of deliberate choice rather than any lack of knowledge as to how.
"So, I am quite curious, what brings a fellow like you into a cause like this?"
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Faenia looks hesitant, ”well, even if you have been successful, I may not be able to help. Especially if I am not wanted….” she waits a moment and then adds, dramatically ”but I can at least make an effort. The cat made me feel guilty too.” She folds her arms, ”I’m not going to apologize. I have apologized to enough Lords in my life to ever expect they will reciprocate, but at least I can try to help you with your next endeavor.” Her voice is soft, but then in a moment, as if stricken with urgency, her demeanor changes.
She looks around a moment, and examines the bushes and fountains and other fixtures of the garden.
Satisfied but wary, she immediately grows serious, and continues in a low voice, ”this is not the enterprise of Marius, or Lotheed, or mine, or yours. This is in the service of a greater cause. The best chance to kick the bastards in the teeth that Taldor has had for millennia. My father and I work To. That. End.” She punctuates this as if to emphasize their loyalty.
Doubtfulness and hesitatation have vanished, and she speaks now - like a battlefield commander, ”I can tell you about what we bring to your enterprise - but I will not speak further in the open - the garden - for rightly or wrongly, I believe peril follows you like a shadow.”
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The servants had long since been dismissed, and Marius had loosened his collar. Since the revelation of the clockwork grasshopper Marius' class formality with Barcos had eased, though he frowns disapprovingly once or twice at the other man's crude manners. Even so, he leans over to refill the other man's wine glass as he considers the question.
"A fellow like me...what sort of fellow do you imagine me to be? All my life I have been guided, taught, inspired, and indeed even protected by brilliant, talented, and ambitious women whose worth the law has long gone out of its way to avoid recognizing. House Erallan has been a voice against primogeniture since before I was born--my mother was an eldest child and makes no secret of her opinions on the matter. My father supports her fully, no matter what the wags in Riddonport have to say about it. My sister Valeria clawed her way to Vice-Admiral and commands a naval battlegroup, but may not inherit the family holdings? Absurd. And when I came to the Phalanx it was Field Marshal Vaerli who--" He cuts off abruptly, waving a hand in a vague gesture.
"My apologies, I don't know if those names mean anything to you. Suffice to say my eyes were opened to this particular injustice long ago. And what of yourself? What brings you into 'the cause'?"
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"What sort of fellow do I think you are? Rich, pedigreed, full of the concerns only made possible when you can fall asleep with a full stomach in a feather bed. I do not fault you for them, just as I hope you do not fault my simple manner. I know a great many more things than my appearance might suggest. The streets of Oppara are an open book to those who know how to read them, and it's pages speak of the goings-on of all of Taldor."
He scratches Baron Barksley (who's since fallen asleep from the big, rich meal) between the ears before he continues, "This same appearance, though, is insight enough into why I joined the cause. I have seen the basest injustices of Taldor..."
Barcos takes a deep, shaky breath, his voice trembling with anger and sorrow, "I have seen children sick from diseases the rich and powerful have never even heard of, felt the gnawing bite of hunger each night for years on end while my mother sat even more starved than I, seen the innocent stabbed like animals in the street by criminals for no greater offense than being in the wrong place at the wrong time!"
His teeth are clenched as he takes another deep breath. His anger is gone, replaced by a steely composure, "I was lucky. I learned from the streets of the city, how to watch and wait and listen far more than I spoke. In return, it taught me magic. I have seen and wallowed in the wretched poverty that the mighty of Taldor are complicit in, and I will not rest or relent my efforts until I can right the wrongs dealt to the poor by those that waltz the halls of power. That is my cause."
"It's not a perfect alignment." Lotti's tone would suggest she is speaking of trade agreements rather than overthrowing a government as she brings a plate of nutty shortbread cookies dusted with sugar from the kitchen. "Inequality won't simply evaporate if a woman sits on the throne - and there will be plenty of voices willing to throw the poor under the carriage if they think it'll help women of the nobility achieve their goal. But the optimist in me hopes that this is the opening of a floodgate rather than a bit of bread and circus. I intend to make it so." She glances meaningfully at Marius before setting the plate down next to Barcos and climbing back up into her own seat.
"You'll get no argument from me," Marius gives Lotti a wounded look as he accepts a cookie and gestures to an empty wine glass, inviting her to join them. "But I'm not the one you need to convince--nor even the Princess, necessarily, I think she'll be amenable to a significant degree. But we can't spook every moderate in the empire or we'll all end up in prison or on the run from the justice of Emperor Pytharius, First of His Name."
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"I have apologized to enough Lords in my life to ever expect they will reciprocate, but at least I can try to help you with your next endeavor. (...) I can tell you about what we bring to your enterprise - but I will not speak further in the open - the garden - for rightly or wrongly, I believe peril follows you like a shadow.”
"Excellent!" Velvet says, smiling with what seems like genuine warmth. She listents to the Ulfen's reasoning and chuckles over her last statement. "That is fair on both accounts. For the record, I too would appreciate it if I ran into assassins and dangerous monsters a note less often," She smiles faintles as she rises and stretches on tip-toes, proceeding to lock her instrument back in the worn case. "But still I am here; the advantage of a trouble magnet among other trouble magnets, no doubt - choice paralysis for the next hooded figure." She winks. "Now, if you would excuse me, I need to write a letter of recommendation and prepare for the journey tomorrow."
She glances back when she is halfway through the courtyard. "Oh, and Faenia? Please do not think you are unwanted by any of us. Like I said earlier, Marius has his moments of thoughtlessness, but his heart is probably in the right place. Just don't mention that to him, please? I imagine any further boosts of ego would make protecting him from himself even more difficult."
With that, she returns to the mansion, sitting down to make the first draft of a letter to Martella. Both to thank her for the reinforcements, as well as give a report on the Night Swan. Lotti's... idea was interesting, and with how hazy her understanding of Galtan anarchy was, perhaps there was an opening. And if evading her sentence was not enought... well, there was ample blackmailing material from her criminal record and the parents she was allegedly hiding. Plus, should the princess not want to associate with Lucretzia directly, there was another organization that was sure to have interest in her covert talents.
Hers.
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On the other side of the door stands a young woman. By her simple clothes, a villager. By the traditional kerchief wrapped around her head, married. By the huge bump on her midsection - very, very pregnant. She swallows hard when she sees Riftun, blushing and glancing to the side, then stammers out a greeting.
"G-g-good m-morning." She hesitates for a moment, making a movement somewhere between a bow and a clumsy curtsy. "I w-w-as hoping t-to s-speak to M-M-Mistress Lo-Lotti."
She waits patiently in the kitchen, sipping from the glass of water that Riftun had offered her, while Lotti is notified of the visitor's presence. One of the domovoi, curled up in cat form on op of the oven, watches her with one open eye before lazily yawning and drawing his bushy tail over his nose. As Lotti walks into the kitchen, the girl jumps to her feet, hurriedly bowing a few times.
"Mmm-M-Mistress Lotti! Mm-my name is P-P-Polina. I'm from the v-v-village." She closes her eyes, takes a huge breath, holds it for a couple of beats, then lets out a torrent of words, her stammer momentarily gone. "It's my cousin, she married a hunter from Sotto. We're like sisters, we write each other every month, only this month and the last she hasn't written anything. I'm scared something happened to her. I can't make the journey there to check on her, and I heard that you are good folks who help with this kind of thing." She opens her eyes, panting slightly as from physical exertion, gazing at Lotti with a pleading expression. "I d-didn't know w-w-what else to d-d-do."
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She pulls a cookie from the previous night from an unassuming basket and puts it in Polina's hand. "Eat that. You've been up a while now, yes? So stay a little longer and eat something more before you head home. I'll let the noblefolk know there's trouble in Sotto and we'll see what's happening." She doesn't know for certain that the others will agree to that course of action, of course, but she's seen which way the wind blows a few times now and can make some predictions. "And I'm going to need you to rest and eat something more before you head home. You can do that for me, can't you?" She makes a mental note to ask Dzhorty to slip a few of the breakfast rolls and some sausages into the young woman's pockets before she departs.
In the main hall, Lotti finishes unloading her trolley by putting the basket of sweet bread rolls with raisins and cinnamon on the table and dusting her hands. "There's a situation in Sotto," she announces plainly as everyone passes around clotted cream and raspberry jam to decorate their lacy pancakes. "Letters and news haven't travelled for at least a month, maybe two. I'm surprised the baroness didn't say anything when she was here for the festival, but perhaps the troubles arrived all at once."
Velvet straightens at this news, pausing her precise incisions into the sweet pastry. "That... is troubling. Especially since we already know the village was evading taxes, and has allegedly been doing so for the entirety of the past year." She sighs and slowly shakes her head. "While I hope I am mistaken, chances are Count Lotheed decided to set an example. Given his earlier conduct at the poaching trial, it wouldn't surprise me in the least."
She frowns then, realizing something and she turns back to Lotti. "Actually Miss Qeb, if I may ask, how do you know this? You mean to say you have access to a source with regular communications with the town? Any information at all of what has been happening there might help us to prepare. There are ten months in between the start of their refusal to pay and communications with them suddenly stopping, after all. Plenty of time for something else to have taken root in the area."
"That is, of course, assuming we're still going to investigate this matter ourselves. Which we will do, I assume?" She adds to the others. For some reason, her gaze seems to linger on Wobblekins as she does.
As intimidated as she was to talk to Lotti, the young woman is even more timid in the company of Marius, Valery and Faenia - and she clearly doesn't know what to make of Barcos and his hound. After some coaxing, she stammers through all she knows about Sotto, gleaned through the letters from her cousin. The village is tiny, about a dozen families making a living as herders, woodcutters and hunters. Sotto's inhabitants are notoriously stubborn and proud, wanting little to do with the rest of the county.
A year ago, their goats started dying, and the woodcutters had a hard time plying their craft. Polina speaks highly of Baroness Voinum and how she covered, out of her own pocket, for the taxes that Sotto could not pay - but she also speaks of it in a hushed voice, as if it is supposed to be a great secret. Polina's cousin, a Stachys girl married to a Sotto hunter, has been writing to her regularly, but over the last few months the letters got shorter and terser, until they stopped entirely.
Faenia nods in agreement to Velvet’s request and soon makes her way to her small servant’s quarters, where she removes her boots - and checks the room again. Finding nothing else, she places the greatsword at the side of the bed, and a dagger under her pillow, and slips under the linen covers - still armored.
Faenia has her bag on her shoulder as she approaches the kitchen, and then drops it unceremoniously. She looks well-put together and coiffed, presenting herself as an ulfen shield maiden, and she seems to have slept as well as anyone. When she sees the woman, she’s obviously hesitant to intervene, but she listens carefully to the pieces of her story that she hears. The large woman doesn’t comment, like the others, but she does watch their reactions carefully, and gives Polina an encouraging grin.
"Actually Miss Qeb, if I may ask, how do you know this? You mean to say you have access to a source with regular communications with the town? Any information at all of what has been happening there might help us to prepare. There are ten months in between the start of their refusal to pay and communications with them suddenly stopping, after all. Plenty of time for something else to have taken root in the area."
Lotti tuts gently and, given the relative largeness of the table compared to her short arms, pats the tablecloth in Velvet's general direction. "Now now dear, there's a time and a place to be chasing after shadows. Tell you what - go get another set of cutlery from the drawer. Marius, we'll need another set of dishes. Barcos, could you fetch another chair from the drawing room? Make sure to bring one of the cushions as well. And Faenia, if you could move the things on the table around so there's room for another person to dine with us? I'll see if my 'source of regular communications' is willing to speak with everyone." Carefully she gets back down from the chair and walks to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she returns holding the hand of a heavily-pregnant young woman in villager's clothing. "My lords and ladies, this is Polina, and she was the one who sought us out for assistance." She guides her guest to the newly-set place at the table and pats her hand reassuringly. "Have a seat, eat something, and then tell them what you told me," she directs in a kindly tone.
Barcos nods, promptly grabbing the chair and cushions as requested.
Mindful of company, Faenia dutifully nods at Lotti does her best to set the table, though she is a little stiff in her movements. She noticeably does not seems detached from the matter, and only really is regarding Polina with much interest.
Polina does not eat, not with so many illustrious personages watching her with interest. Her speech impediment is only aggravated by her nervousness, but then Dzhorty jumps into her lap and starts to purr, and the young woman begins to pet the orange-furred domovoi, which seems to relax her a little. She repeats everything she has told Lotti, adding a few tidbits gleaned from her cousin and her own speculation. Zenobia had said that the goats were dying, but she did not mention disease or poison. Sotto was on the edge of the Verduran Forest, and who knows what lurked in its depths. Could be predators, could be monsters, could be the fey.
Faenia can clearly see that the young woman is very intimidated by everyone present, and very self-conscious. There is worry and concern for her cousin, but also a rising panic that it might be nothing at all and she could be sending so many important people on a wild goose chase. And layered on that, there is gratitude and hope and relief, and not a little wonder that everyone is so nice and takes her seriously. She doesn't seem to be telling untruths, and has even brought a few letters from Zenobia that she shows to anyone interested in reading them.
Unsure how to best offer further help or comfort to the extremely nervous woman, Velvet instead studies the letters she brought with her, thanking her for the passing of them. "...Well, I wasn't expecting it to be so, but there do not seem to be any hidden messages in the text itself." She says after a minute or so. "Polina, if you would allow me to check further? And please take a bite, dear. We were going to visit the area anyway, so we might as well drop by. You're not imposing on us," She smiles at her encouragingly, then proceeds to hold one letter above a lit candle. When nothing appears, she holds it closer to her nose and take a deep breath. "...No hidden text nor traces of such either, at least with common invisible inks and analogues. It'd have been unusual for a hunter from a small village to have access to those, but with the Baroness herself involved and the secrecy surrounding that fact..." She gives a shrug and returns to drinking her tea. "I only wish there was more on what caused the mysterious deaths of these animals. As it stands, it seems we'll be forced to go in blind."
Faenia nods at Polina, "well - I'll help, if I can, miss." She then bends over and fishes out something from her bag - a small moneypouch, and counts out a good number of coins, forty and then ten more. "Here - it isn't much but ... children can be expensive." She puts them in a small pouch and kneels nearby, handing the coins to the woman, and lightly placing her callused fingers around the woman's as she passes over the bag, adding "there should be more people like you in this country, Polina."
Nodding at Velvet, she responds, "it is as good a plan as any other." She pats Polina on the hand then stands up, grabbing her pack.
Polina adamantly refuses the money, and only after much coaxing she keeps a single coin, pushing the rest back towards Faenia. "For Zenobia. For the people in Sotto."
With the matter as settled as it is likely to get, Martella's trusted agents depart the manor towards Sotto. It takes a day of travel on horseback to get there, passing through Lotheedar and then Voinaris. By barge the journey would be a little shorter, but the horses don't fit on the shallow bottomed canal craft. Either way, they reach the village, which is no more than a dozen houses gathered around a common well. A stretch of pastures and small fields separates it from the forest.
As they come up the dirt road, the villagers watch them; there is suspicion in some gazes and outright hostility in others. Only after clarifying that they are not tax collectors and mentioning Polina's name do they relent somewhat, although they are far from friendly. A teenage boy directs them to Feodor and Polina's house, then hovers around watching with avid curiosity.
It is Feodor who opens the door, a wiry young man with a sand-coloured braid and matching beard, looking tired and worn. He holds a hatchet in one hand, but he almost drops it in surprise as he takes in the ensemble on his doorstep.
Surveying the town, the fact that the people were there, alive, and healthy was an enormous relief to Marius--already all the worst case scenarios were averted. As they obtain directions to Feodor and Zenobia's house he continues a calm but steady scan for anything amiss, more out of habit than anything else.
"We really ought to speak with Baroness Voinum immediately after checking in. We don't want to give the impression we're undercutting her or going behind her back."
As the young man opens the door, Marius offers a nod of greeting. "Goodman Feodor, I presume? I am Lord Marius Erallan, from over in Stachys. We are in the area on business but wished to check in on you on behalf of Polina--she hasn't heard from you in a while and was getting worried. May we come in?"
""We really ought to speak with Baroness Voinum immediately after checking in. We don't want to give the impression we're undercutting her or going behind her back."
"I'm inclined to agree, though there are a lot of unknowns surrounding this town. Finding out what we can now that we are here might help us later on."
Velvet smiles and nods at Feodor when he opens, saving her questions for when they were not in the open. Why would Baroness Voinum take such an interest in this town, and what was causing the deaths of the animals? Hopefully they'd know soon enough.
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She was obviously confused when Polina rejected her gift, but Faenia nodded, and replied, ”for Zenobia, sure, ” she smiles warmly, sad about something.
She manages her own horse that morning, and during the daylong travel, she keeps to herself, either talking in a low voice to herself, humming, petting her horse, or asking some of those in the party genial questions about the surroundings, and about the village they are approaching, Sotto.
If Faenia is phased by the fact that Marius has ignored her since he told her to be more forthcoming or “begone” - she doesn’t show it, except to respond in kind by ignoring him and generally be more muted in her approach to the others. She briefly spoke to Velvet and Lotti and Barcos about Ogvai, but only in generalities - though to Velvet it’s is obvious that on an open road, she is much more comfortable divulging a few more details about herself.
Before they arrive and knock on the door of the small house, she slips out a wand, flicks it, and returns it to the sheath at her wrist. She breathes in the smell, suddenly, as if her senses are sharpened slightly, and looks around.
She hesitantly adds, ”you have a nice home, sir.” while craning her neck as she looks for signs of Zenobia.
Feodor's eyes bulge as Marius introduces himself, and he awkwardly tries to hide the hatchet behind his back. The mention of Polina's name seems to relax him a fraction, and he opens the door wide, stepping aside to let everyone through.
"Lord Erallan, uh, and everyone else, please come in. You shouldn't 'ave troubled yesself!" He turns his head away, shouting "Zenobia! C'mere sweetheart!"
He smiles just as hesitantly at Faenia's compliment. The house is rather small, the room they are all in serving as kitchen, dining room and sitting room all at once, judging by the furniture. In the middle of the wall opposite the entrance there is a large stepped clay stove painted with cheerful colours. Four iron legs elevate it about a foot off the floor, creating space underneath for the firewood - although there are only a few pieces of wood there now. The rest of the room is furnished simply with a table in a corner, two benches set in the wall for seating, several chairs clustered around the stove, and a few large chests. Everything is made of wood, and either carved or painted with simple motifs of leaves or geometric shapes. The walls are decorated with trophies - a snarling wolf head, three pairs of beautiful antlers, as well as several wolf pelts stretched over the rough logs with iron nails.
A young woman who must be Zenobia appears from one of the two doors leading farther into the house, and she is a study in layering. Her white linen petticoat peeks from underneath her blue wool skirt, over which she wears a thick felted apron made from several bands all in different colours. She wears a brown wool jacket over a white blouse, partially covered by a knitted shawl and a fur stole.
She takes in the group currently crowding into the house, a hand flying to her mouth in shock and surprise. "Look, dear, the lord o' Stachys. Polina sent 'em to check on us." Turning to Marius, he belatedly bows. "Polina has nuthin' to worry 'bout, sir. We're doin' fine 'ere, jus' fine. Ain't it so, dear?"
Zenobia blinks rapidly, then nods. "Y-yes, we're fine, no-nothing to worry about."
There is also an air of tension. Those watching them seem to want them gone as soon as possible, and make no effort to greet them. The pastures and fields lying between the village and the forest are deserted. There are no children playing outside, all the barn doors are closed and barred, there's no livestock in sight except for a few scraggly chickens. Even the dogs aren't barking, although they pace listlessly behind fences, watching the strangers.
This is a village under siege.
”I don’t mean to offend, ma’am, but I don’t believe you are. We are here to help. If you wish for us to shoulder whatever burdens you, please, tell us what is wrong.”
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A crease forms between Feodor's brows as Barcos calls out his wife's untruths. His tone and manner are markedly more curt as he addresses the druid.
"We c'n take care of ourselves. Don't need strangers pokin' their noses in our goings-on."
Zenobia shakes her head reproachfully at her husband's rudeness. "Please forgive him, my lords and ladies. People here... they're a proud sort." Turning to Feodor, she brings her hands together pleadingly. "Let us offer them a cup of tea, my heart. The laws of hospitality bid us do at least this much." She glances at the pitiful pile of firewood under the stove, then back up at him. "Be a dear and get some more wood, would you?"
Jaw clenching and unclenching, and with a last dark look at Barcos, Feodor jams a flappy fur hat on his head and shoulders his way through the door that his wife had come through. The sound of another door opening and closing is heard, then the unmistakable thunking of logs being split.
Zenobia's demeanour immediately changes, and she rushes to take Marius's hand in both of hers, speaking low and urgently. "Good sir, my husband and the others in the village won't admit it, but things are bad here, very bad." She glances at the back door, then back at Marius, lowering her voice further. "It's the wolves, they..." She visibly struggles with putting together a coherent explanation, then takes a deep breath before forging on. "Sotto has always been plagued by wolves, but last spring one came that... was no natural beast. He can speak, for one. Killed Sotto's best hunter, and for three days ate her corpse slowly, by the well." A jerk of her chin indicates the communal well around which the village is built. "Rallied all the wolves in the area and now they demand three goats every full moon, or- or... they start taking children." Her voice shakes on the last part, and one hand involuntarily moves to cup her stomach; her small bump is mostly concealed by all the layers of clothing. She glances at the door again. "My husbands and the others, they don't want to ask for help. They're afraid that if anyone tries to fight the wolves, it will only make things worse. The elders are hoping that once all the goats are gone the pack will move on, but I don't know how we'll survive the winter without the herds." She stops, breathless, looking at Marius with a mix of hope and despair.
Faenia catches herself as she breathes a sigh of relief, ”wolves. That’s something that can be dealt with, even if they talk. People are much harder.” She takes a second and responds, ”yeah, I suspect if someone fought them and failed it would get worse. He’s right. But it just means anyone who helps has to win, doesn’t it?”
"A wolf that speaks," Marius speaks the words slowly, rolling the possibilities over in his mind. A worg? A lycanthrope? Something altogether stranger? He gives Zenobia a solemn nod to both indicate that he believes her and that he takes the implications seriously.
"A pack of wolves led by something worse is no small thing, and warrants serious consideration. I presume the Baroness has been apprised of the situation? We will speak with her shortly, but I see no reason this can't be resolved well with a bit of caution and a bit more courage. My companions and I personally resolved curses and slain monsters so while I cannot promise the beast will be immediately hunted, you have my word that we will support the Baroness in supporting your township. Pride is all very well but no one in Meratt County will starve on our watch."
Zenobia shakes her head at Marius's question. "Feodor said that if we told her, she'd want to fight the wolves herself, and... well." Somehow, the tilt of her head and the slight twist of her mouth communicate rather clearly that, as formidable as she was in her youth, Baroness Voinum is not exactly in her prime anymore.
She squeezes his hand in gratitude, then releases it before moving into the kitchen area and busying herself with preparing tea. She makes small talk as she takes dried leaves from small jars, at a noticeably higher volume than her whispers earlier, the clatter of cups and mugs accompanying her voice.
Feodor stomps back into the house bearing an armload of freshly split firewood, which he places under the stove one by one, keeping only a few to start a small fire. By his reluctant moves, wood is a precious resource that he is loath to waste - with a pack of wolves roaming the forest with impunity, the villagers likely have trouble replenishing their reserves.
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Velvet nods thoughtfully and for a moment it appears as though she would have asked something, but she waits for Marius and Faenia to preceed her. "Does that mean her husband and the others don't know that the Baroness already knows? If Polina knows Voinum is paying this town's taxes, her sister would know as well. Which, in turn, means Voinum either *somehow* learned of this of her own accord, or someone in this town went to ask her aid behind everyone else's back. Is it her, I wonder?" She thinks, watching Zenobia work up the tea. "But if all that is the case, then why does Voinum settle for paying the tax while not intervening in the problem? Is it their pride again? Or something else...?"
"Well, if you wish for Baroness Voinum to remain oblivious, there are few better suited to solve this problem than Lord Erallan," She cuts in smoothly, smiling pleasantly. "Why, I heard he personally slew the dreaded manticore, The Iron Lash, only to then drag its gigantic carcass all the way from the direwood to the Palace of Birdsong. And that he has alliances with multiple local druid circles as well. Whether or not a diplomatic solution with this talking wolf is possible, few would have a better shot." She throws Marius a look which would be interpreted as dreamy to the average outsider but to an expert agent like him seemed... fake? Probably?
"So perhaps we could work together? At some point, outside interference becomes inevitable - if only because the Baroness will eventually notice her taxes are not being paid. And there is no shame admitting that some things are beyond one's own capacity to fix themselves. This is an unnatural beast of great strength, after all. The only folly would be to realize this and not act on it, despite this siege enduring for so long."
Zenobia's eyes widen as Velvet lists the group's previous accomplishments. "I will speak to the elders. The next offering is tomorrow night. Usually it's only regular wolves who show up to receive that, so you must deal with their leader, otherwise it will get much worse for us." She averts her gaze at the mention of the baroness. "Her Grace, bless her soul, has been very kind. The elders told her that the goats were dying to a sickness, she sent healers but of course they didn't find anything. She is covering our taxes for now, but she doesn't know the truth of the matter."
After making preparations, the elders of Sotto agree to have the group shadow them stealthily as they lead the latest offering to the usual spot, a clearing in the forest about a mile from the village. They drag the terrified goats with them, the creatures bleating all the way.
As the group follows the elders and sacrificial goats at a distance, Velvet leaves Rose's crossbow unloaded for the moment. "All right. Let's finalize the plan while there's still a bit of time. Are we going with the ambush approach or the diplomatic one?" Her attention shifts from Marius to Barcos on the last bit, as any attempt to parley with a pack of wolves would probably hinge a great deal on his druidic abilities, especially if the naturally speaking leader was not present.
"Also..." She continues, watching the animals with a look of pity. "Are we going to try to save them in either case? Even if we put moral considerations aside, this village is so small that they probably can't afford to lose much more of their cattle, with how long this has been happening."
Faenia unclasps her greatsword, and steadies her breathing. ”Eh? Yeah. Knock ‘em out, then we can tie them up and Barcos can talk to one. If we can’t, we just track them back to their lair.”
She rested the sword on her knee delicately, her mailed hand on the pommel to balance it. It was obviously very old, and the hilt guard had a coiled serpent motif.
Velvet looks at her main weapon - her crossbow - and raises an eyebrow. "'Knock them out'? All of them ?" A drop of sweat forms on her temple and she chuckles nervously. "I, ah, regret to inform you I forgot to pack bolts with localized concussive explosions - if those exist. Truthfully, I would rather stay at a distance and fight to my strength over trying to sap a pack of wolves in melee. Though, that is an option, if we insist on going that route."
She grins, but doesn’t respond except to make vague pummeling motions.
Finally she adds, ”I’m new so I’ll defer to whatever you want, though. I was just throwing out an idea. If the big talking one is around - we should kill it, but … wolves are important to the forest I think.” She inclines her head towards Barcos, ”and I know our friend is from the city, but he likely knows more about ecology than anyone here, even ecology in the woods.”
She takes an experimental swing with the flat of her blade, ”Like I said, I’ll follow everyone else’s lead, but I’m not afraid to get into a scrap if we need to.”
"I would wish to see if I can convince these wolves to stand down. City rat that I am, I've learned quite a bit about the wilds. My conscience would not sit right if I did not at least try to resolve things peacefully."
"Depends on who comes to get the offering. If it's ordinary wolves, we track them back to their lair and kill their leader. If their leader comes in person we ambush them then. I would prefer not to kill ordinary animals if it can be helped...but I won't put their lives over Sotto's people."
He gives Barcos a nod. "You're probably our best to avoid a fight with the wolves. How do you like your chances?"
Lotti follows quietly, trying to remember if she's heard stories of intelligent wolves demanding sacrifices in the past.
The three elders approach the clearing. The goats, now terrified, bleat and buck against their ropes, frantic to get away. Three large wolves are lying next to each other, watching their approach, their lolling tongues giving them a laughing, almost fey expression. Even lying down, their size is impressive - these are clearly well-fed wolves.
Holding to the plan, Valery vanishes into the nearby foilage. She took note of the wind's direction with a wetted finger and tried to approach into it. That way, hopefully the wind would carry away her scent, rather than towards the wolves. Should anyone be near her, she would share her intent.
"Let's hope Barcos is as good at this at his kin are rumored to be." She mutters, making herself as small as possible while maintinging sight to the clearing. Then she sighs. "Painstakingly taught to stalk around the most advanced security and what do I use it for? Playing hide and seek with a pack of wolves in the middle of nowhere. Life sure does work in mysterious ways."