Lotti stands as still as she can next to Marius and Faenia, glad that she sent her familiar to hide in the trees rather than under her skirts.
Even though his knowledge of the wildest parts of the wilderness is a bit shaky, Barcos has been in enough strange situations to know something feels off. He takes a moment to think, are these actually wolves? If not? what might they be?
They are definitely wolves. Their focus is on the goats, but they also watch the humans cautiously.
Before stepping out, Barcos casts a few spells. First is an incantation to allow him to speak with the tongue of beasts. Second is a simple charm to give his words more persuasive weight.
He then steps into the clearing, head low and hands outstretched, his palms clearly visible with Baron Barksley at his side, ”Well met, bold and noble hunters, sons and daughters of the wild. I am Barcos, and I am a friend. I seek to broker a peace between your kind and mine. I have grest love for the noble wolves and their kin, as you can see with my steadfast companion. Please, stay your mighty fangs a moment, and let us talk.”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Their ears flick forward as Barcos speaks, and they gather their front paws underneath to sit rather than lie down, their attention now entirely on the druid as they stretch their necks forward to take in his scent.
After several tense moments, one of them responds. "you smell like dirt." Barcos gets the feeling that this is rather a good thing. "you want to join pack?" The other two pull their lips back from their fangs and pant with their tongues out in an expression of mirth.
Barcos shakes his head and smiles, "No, though your offer honors me. I have my own pack, of sorts. I have heard that some of the two-leg walkers here kill your kind, and I want to find a way to stop them from doing so. I wish for peace between packs."
The wolves' lips twitch and draw back in a snarl, causing the elders to hurriedly step back.
"What are you saying to them? You're making them angry!" one calls out to Barcos.
The wolf who spoke earlier growls. "yes. two-legs kill us. we kill. no peace." Another nuzzles the first, and the wolf seems to relent. "follow. you talk big wolf."
They rise to all four legs, two of them turning around and heading towards the depths of the forest. The third one remains watching Barcos; if the druid gives a sign that he is following, the remaining wolf joins the others.
"What is going on? Are they rejecting the tribute?" The Sotto elders are watching the scene with concern verging on panic.
Velvet tenses, also unsure of what was happening. Unable to speak wolf, the exchange could have been anything from 'I like your fur' to 'Please hold while we get more people to eat you'. She'd just have to trust Barcos to know what he was doing, and the others to quell the rising panic among the population. Even to a wolf, it'd probably be considered bad manners for her to suddenly come out of hiding now.
Barcos nods to the wolves, "I will come to see your big wolf, but I wish for my pack to come with me. Our packs will make peace together."
He turns to the village elders, "Do not worry. They are as on edge as you are, if not more so. Stay calm, I beg of you. They wish for myself and hopefully my companions to speak to their pack's leader. If all goes well, we will return with good tidings."
Barcos motions for the party to join him, assuming the wolves agree.
The wolf who last spoke tilts its head to one side. "your pack can come. follow."
The three wolves lead Barcos and the others willing to accompany through the forest, taking game trails and at times disappearing into the brush without heed for the two-legged's struggle to follow.
At last, after more than an hour of scratchy branches, brambles and nettles, crossing muddy streams on slippery rocks, they emerge sweaty and dirty at the foot of an escarpment. The ivy covering the steep slope parts around the mouth of a cave. Just inside the opening, lounging in the patches of sunlight filtered by the tops of the trees, lie several wolves.
The three guide wolves trot up to the cave, then stop and start yipping and howling. In response to that, the largest wolf anyone present has ever seen emerges from the cave, flanked by two enormous wolves only slightly smaller than it. Standing almost 5 feet at the shoulder, its size is comparable with a bear. The white fur shimmers in the sunlight, and its eyes, pale blue like the heart of a glacier, regard the new arrivals with uncanny intelligence.
"What is this? I see no goats, and I see strangers. You do not look like villagers. Have those wolf-killers finally snapped, called for help? I will rip your bodies all the same, and crack your bones in my jaws."
Brushing a stubborn bit of bramble from his coat collar, Marius narrows his eyes at the massive wolf and drops a hand casually to the hilt of his falcata.
"You are welcome to try your strength against ours, beast--but you address those who slew the Iron Slash itself. I can't say I like your chances."
Faenia clears her throat, ”what he means to say, Lord Wolf, king of the winter, packleader and free beast of the wilds - is that you are so magnificent and powerful, you surely could devour us all with ease.” Her voice is sonorous and deep, and she gestures broadly, ”we are but humble travelers who happened upon this village and learned of this tribute only yesterday. We heard of the great and noble lupin lord who has claimed these wilds and we were compelled to come gaze upon your imposing and terrible form.”
She bows, courteously, ”though I admit I am distressed for your welfare, oh Sovereign of Cold. It must be terrifically uncomfortable here, in the sweltering heat that these southerners call comfortable.” Her voice is dripping with some manner of contempt as she hisses this last phrase.
Her body language is cowed, and respectful, and she seems to avoid looking the wolf in the eye, as if she is treating the winter wolf as the leader of the pack.
This is a winter wolf, a beast of great power, intelligence and cunning. It is immune to the effects of cold, and does not much like fire.
The leader makes a show of stretching its forepaws, the claws leaving deep furrows in the dirt, then turns its massive head slowly this way and that, allowing Faenia to admire his form from all angles.
"I am called Hamash. You speak with the proper respect, young one. I will allow you a few moments to bask in my fearsome and glorious presence." Hamash lowers his head and creases his muzzle at the bard's last words. "Heat? It is a little warm, do you mean to say it will get much warmer?"
The two enormous wolves flanking Hamash between to growl softly, and the leader's ears flick towards the spot where Velvet is trying to remain undetected.
Faenia looks warily, and responds ”… yes… Lord Hamash, quite a bit warmer, unfortunately. And soon. This is just the start.” She looks a little exasperated and/or tired, ”I mean, I have adapted - but it is very unpleasant and I do not have luxurious fur, like you have.”
She thinks for a moment, ”well, you could have one of the local humans cut your coat every year…. but just… why come down here? In Irrisen, for example, you would be revered. They even have cloaks which would allow you to change forms. Taldor has nothing so elegant, for all of their pomposity.” She opens her hands up, ”even the Fog Peaks have better weather. Let me tell you, I have quite a story - if you would not mind spending some time - it may help put things in perspective...” She looks hopefully at the wolf, still not meeting his blue eyes.
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
"No one touches my coat!" roars Hamash - who does have rather beautiful, thick fur. He growls, then settles on his haunches. "I come from the Fog Peaks, many winters ago. There was a tribe of giants living there, we were hunting and fighting together. Their chief was my friend." He fixes Faenia with his pale blue eyes. "Then humans with pale hair like you, they came and killed the giants, so I had to leave." He settles on his front paws with a huff.
"Very well, you may entertain me. If I am pleased, I will not eat you."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
She holds out a hand, as if to ask are you ready? and begins, ”our story begins with Halgin, a winter wolf of uncommon cunning and skill. Born outside the village of Greymead, in the land which became Irrisen - Helgin was the child of two of the hunters of the pack, but his cruel sibling had taken what was rightfully his…” she then goes into detail of the circumstances of this, and the consequences. Halgin was forced to serve as second in command to his brother, until an unlikely event changed the history of the winter wolves forever.
Halgin served his brother, Durgil, faithfully, biding his time for when would be appropriate to challenge. Collecting trinkets from foolish adventurers. Learning tactics and plans. Reading and even learning some shamanic spells - those which could be used without gestures, he was able to divine certain truths about the future. He did not know what, but he knew his time would come soon. He gathered allies, he hunted, and he stalked the shadow of his brother’s power - waiting for a weakness, constantly soothing Durgil’s ego, constantly ensuring his own position was secure.
For Halgin’s pack, often nameless and apocryphal, was the very one that Baba Yaga encountered so many years ago. Her eyes were as red as burning coals and a coat of purest white when she arrived while riding a snow tornado. Halgin whispered to Durgil that he should challenge her, and feast upon her sinew and skinny bones, and Durgil took the bait. He challenged her and inevitably, she tore the leader to shreds before turning her attention to Halgin himself. She raised her hand to strike him down, but the cunning Halgin gave her another offer. Instead of killing him and taking control of the pack, he offered offered instead a pact: the winter wolves would help in the upcoming Winter War, and in exchange, the winter wolves would be honoured in the nation she would found beyond all others.
She agreed, apart from her own flesh and blood. When Irrisen was won, carved from the eastern remnants of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, Baba Yaga was as good as her word.
As a reward, she gave them the town of Redtooth, and an honored place in the capital of Whitethrone - one that she would make especially for them. Halgin was as cunning as he was wise, and he first found himself the means to change his own form, and soon enough, the means to to enchant these spaces to allow others of the pack to assume humanoid form as well, satisfying a great longing of their kind her eyes twinkle which allowed the wolves to learn great spellcasting, craft their own armor, to mingle and enter the upper echelons of Irrisen society - only subservient to the Jadwiga - even frost giants were cowed by the wolves of Irrisen.
When Halgin was on his deathbed, he asked that he would have his own pelt cut and cured to make the first rimepelt, which was to be a gift for his son - to allow his chance an opportunity to travel all over Irrisen without the need to rely on the enchantment. Since Halgin, Irrisen has become the true home for the most favored of all - the winter wolf.
During the story she changed her voice to match dialogue spoken by the different characters, she intoned to emphasize Halgin’s positive aspects, and her voice was mischievous, fierce, merry, and mesmerizing at different moments.
She exhales, ”I expect you know much of that tale already - but perhaps you did know the particulars. I learned the true story some years ago, and I hope you have enjoyed it.” She bows, and takes a sip of water.
Seeing the state of panic the townsfolk seemed to be in, Velvet lingers behind to quickly give assurances that yes, Barcos and Marius surely knew what they were doing and no, they weren't going to offer up themselves as tribute instead - probably. Where to take the goats since the wolves just left without taking them? She blinked at this, seeing said animals lingering behind alive and well, apparently forgotten in the exchange. She smiled at their good fortune and recommended just taking them back - It wasn't like the wolves needed any more food, clearly...
Lingering behind just out of sight, Velvet follows the rest of the group at they went further in, relying on just about every trick she'd ever been taught to remain covert in case the wolves were indeed leading them into an ambush. Yet, even at a distance, Faenia's strong voice carries over and she soon finds herself entranced in the story despite herself and the sitation...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
By the end of Faenia's tale, Halmash is lying on his stomach with his head cushioned on his front paws, ears forward in rapt attention. The two huge wolves flanking him, which Barcos can recognize as dire wolves, have taken their cue from him and are lying down as well, dozing off, while the regular wolves have wandered off to do wolf things.
"This Halgin sounds very interesting. Perhaps even an ancestor of mine, you know? Halgin, Halmash - yes, it all makes sense. I am a descendant of this prince of wolves! And Irrisen... where did you say it was?"
Abruptly, Halmash springs to his feet. "No more feeding on scraps from frightened peasants! We go to Irrisen! We will be treated like kings!" He begins howling, the sound almost deafening to those close to him, and the other wolves emerge to gather around him - over two dozen, not counting those who might be away hunting.
Barcos bows deeply to the wolves and to Hamash, ”Your wisdom and magnanimity will be sung of in the same breath as Halgin, I am sure.”
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Faenia nods gravely, "often - that is how stories are. What once was, will be again." She bows, and looks as if she is to leave, but then turns back, "but to be most favored you must act like a king. And kings do not devour their subjects. Not even in Irrisen." She takes a breath, and then adds, gravely, "you would not wish to anger the Jadwiga, who are the children of Baba Yaga - they need the humans there to work in the fisheries, mine, and other things. So I would caution you - do not grow fat on the flesh of humans, do not grow accustomed to it. If the tales are true, you will need to --- dramatically reduce consumption of such." She seems particularly sagacious and wise, or seems to be trying to do so. "But - here. You can read, and read a map, yes Hamash? One of your minions should carry it, I will draw you the path you must take to find this promised land."
She grabs a notebook full of broad, thick paper and quickly works out the general overland route to the icy country, avoiding settlements when possible, as well as avoiding places which might actually kill the wolves.
Once complete, the decent map, which shows a route north - through Western Galt and the less-populated river kingdoms, along the border of Ustalav and the Worldwound, then west along the mammoth lords, she also draws some alternate routes. One which cuts across southern Ustalav. She gives landmarks to guide the wolf, and even one more route to the west, roughly sketched, but she cautions, "the northern route - it is easiest, and fastest. It is a wild space, there is game to hunt, and the mountains are not impassible. I recommend north - then west. Otherwise, if you move west from here, you may be hunted. Be cautious especially here -" She points at Ustalav, "if you can... find passage through the center of the country - do so. Avoid the worldwound if you can. The people of Ustalav understand talking beasts and other things, you may be able to buy passage. But do not raise their ire! Their hunters are without parallel. Here:" She removes some of the gold she was going to give to the villagers and puts it in a pouch, then hestitantly approaches Hamash, "may I tie it around your neck? There are 30 gold pieces, more than enough to pay for tolls and passage, if you are clever. But I think you are clever. If you need more, offer a service, help someone - this is your first step on your adventure, so you can learn how us mercenaries do it. You have many resources - a pack, cunning, and wisdom. Take advantage of them."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Halmash cocks his head, and one of the direwolves steps forward to very gingerly take the map from Faenia with its teeth, somehow managing not to drool over it.
"Thank you for your gift of knowledge, tale-teller. If more two-legs were like you, instead of carrying on with the screaming and the pointing and the pitchforks... then I may have eaten less of them in my lifetime. I shall think of them as future subjects, and be thrifty. Farewell, now."
The great winter wolf turns his back on Faenia and the others, gazing northwards. Over his shoulder, he adds, just for her ears. "I was growing tired of goat meat, anyway."
He then breaks into a loping run, the entire pack following, all of them melting away into the forest but for a few distant yips.
Back in Sotto, the villagers are overjoyed to hear that the wolves will bother them no more - or at least, this pack won't - although many of them are still confused about how this was accomplished and there is much whispering and putting together of heads as they try to puzzle out exactly what happened. The elders have sent word to Adella Voinum, and a few hours after everyone has returned from the meeting with Halmash the baroness's two-wheeled carriage rolls into the village, Her Grace herself at the reins.
She bows flamboyantly, "you are more than welcome, Lord Hamash." She watches the wolves disappear and puts her hands on her hips, though she wipes her brow after a moment, disappearing the sheen of sweat on her forhead, and when the last tail disappears through the underbrush.
A moment later, she turns to the others, "sorry for overstepping - I was just distracting him long enough for... and... well, it turned into something else. I suppose sometimes people...and beasts just need ... something to believe in."
She stretches, "anyway, I'm hungry and want to drink."
Shaking his head in bemusement at this turn of events, Marius can only chuckle in suprise when Faenia immediately turns and apologizes of all things.
"You're...sorry? For what? True or not, your tale persuaded a wolf the size of a warhorse to just...leave. That's nothing short of extraordinary."
Barcos nods to Marius, and then gives a broad grin to Faenia, "Damn straight! I do believe you've forged a song for yourself in doing that."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Faenia blushes, ”thank you. Its… everyone has a story they can relate to, is all. Stories help people put things in perspective. Even if some of the details are embellished. The one I told is largely true, thankfully, but” and she continues in a low voice ” - that is not the limit to a story I can tell. There can be magic, if you need me to use it. Just keep that in mind, I suppose. Anyway, after I eat something you should talk to the Baroness. I’m just about tapped out.”
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Baroness Adella Voinum descends from her carriage, striding towards the village well where everyone has gathered, and unsuccessfully trying to hide the stiffness of her joints. "I received word that something was the matter here, I did not expect to see you and your friends, Lord Erallan." As the story is relayed to her, she raises an eyebrow in surprise, then turns to the village elders.
"And this is how I find out that you were being extorted by wolves? There is pride, and there is stupidity. You went to strangers to ask for help, but you could not come to me? For shame." She turns to Marius, Lotti, Faenia, Barcos and Valery. "I am in your debt. Please, join me for a glass of wine. There is another matter I wish to discuss with you."
It's only about an hour by horse or carriage to Voinaris, a sleepy town where the pungent scents of wine and vinegar can be felt a mile off. After that, about half an hour to the Voinum Estate, which lies nestled among sprawling vineyards. The baroness offers everyone lunch, accompanied by a number of excellent vintages both white and red, then gives a tour of her wine cellars - something that she is obviously very proud of.
"I do not wish to brag, but I believe mine are some of the most extensive in Taldor. Some of the bottles here are centuries old. Some of the recipes are much older. And I have strands of yeast from across Avistan and Casmaron." Later, over another glass of wine or two, her shrewd gaze fixes on Marius. "Lord Erallan, I'm an old hand at politics. I do not believe that you are here simply to claim an inheritance and live happily ever after in the countryside. I think I know what you're really after, and I won't stand in your way. If nothing else, seeing what you do next might be the most entertainment I've had in years, so I thank you for that, as well as for helping my people." She nods to one of her servants, who exits the room discreetly. "I'll have a few bottles packed for you to take home. And who knows, I might still have the ear of a few people in this county."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Nodding slowly to acknowledge the Baroness' assertion without confirming or denying anything, Marius takes another sip of the wine. "You are most welcome for our assistance. We were only too glad to be of service, and please know it is yours for the asking at any time. I've grown quite fond of my little corner of Merratt County, and I hope to continue bringing out changes for the benefit of us all--and the sooner the better, I think. Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Baroness, we won't impose upon you further."
As the group departs the Voinum estates, Marius' grin turns a bit wolfish. "She all but blessed us in our endeavour, ha! Dame Crabbe and Baron Telus are firm friends and allies, and I believe Baron Okerra to be on our side as well. Bartleby's list of allies grows thin indeed...I do believe it's time we did our duty to the Princess and delivered the Birdsong Palace to her. We must move quickly..."
"Yes. Though part of me wonders if we shouldn't have done more for them before leaving..." Velvet says as she glances in the direction of the village, barely a speck on the horizon and devoid of real meaning or purpose compared to the grandness of Estate they'd just left behind and the power of its main resident. "Will they recover from their year of siege? Perhaps... if Stachys were to take a more active economic role, we, or you, rather, could puchase more of their wool, turn it into luxury products and share some of the profits with them under the guise of an investment to get around their subbornness." She shakes her head. "But that's for another time. For when Rose returns, perhaps. Let's hope the Baroness devises a similar approach for them in the meantime."
She briefly glances in the direction of Wobblekins and Lotti. "Apparently, I can hide well enough to not be noticed by an entire pack of wolves. So scent isn't infalliable - but Rose never tried to mask her own one from Wobblekins. And if he can talk, according to Faenia, at least..."
"That aside, we still haven't determined the details of our approach, as we were discussing the last time before we were very rudely interrupted," She follows matter-of-factly. "As it stands, to our knowledge, we still have an invitation into the palace. As far as we know, our cover has not been blown. Thus we could still try to covertly steal the required information, as well as destroy the teleportation circle and kidnap the Count one way or another. That will be more dangerous to us and definitely more difficult to do, but it might limit the loss of life on both sides if large-scale armed conflict is avoided. How do you all feel about this?" She wonders, as she looks around the group.
Barcos drains his wine in a single impressively long gulp. He shrugs and nods, "Yeah, pretty good wine. So, pardon the question, but I am woefully uninformed as to what is going on here. The wolves I had a firm handle on, but this mention of the Birdsong Palace is new to me."
Stopping stock still, Marius turns and stares and Barcos. "She--you weren't--they didn't--?" He stops, closing his eyes and slowly takes and lets out a breath. "Barcos, our purpose here is to regain control of the Birdsong Palace on behalf of the Princess. The improvements we've made to Merratt County have been in her name, and I fully intend to repeat the trick all across the empire...but it begins here."
"Unfortunately, the Lotheeds--nominally holding the property in trust for the House of Stavian--have refused to turn the holdings over to its proper owners. Thus, we intend to coup Bartleby as bloodlessly as possible and the time has finally come to act."
""She--you weren't--they didn't--?"
"Martella probably didn't want to risk a leak in case they were captured. Still... it would have been nice to give some sort of advance notice." The red-haired woman says with a brief look of sympathy to Marius.
"Pardon the question, but I am woefully uninformed as to what is going on here. The wolves I had a firm handle on, but this mention of the Birdsong Palace is new to me."
"Unfortunately, the Lotheeds--nominally holding the property in trust for the House of Stavian--have refused to turn the holdings over to its proper owners. "
"Yes. Though it's not just the orders of the Princess giving weight to our cause, Barcos. Bartelby has been an extremely poor steward of the land in his Uncle's absense. His list of negligence towards the people is long; he refused to hunt the Iron Lash - a vicious manticore that has been plaguing the land - despite being begged multiple times. And rather than help the displaced people of a town when its baron fell to a spider curse, he had them hunted down by his steward, forcing them into being vagabonds and brigands."
Velvet sighs. "Honestly there is so much I'm having trouble deciding what's the worst of it. His people live in severe powerty while he throws lavish parties in his castle, where he gives away prizes worth more than most settlements in the region. His local infrastructure outside of Lothedar was in complete disrepair. He failed to put a stop to the Night Swan's bandit raids on the region. Yet he employed a crooked tax collector who was enriching himself with extra taxes in his name. He had his Seneshal unleash a horrible slime beast on a local lake which killed almost all local wildlife there."
"...I'm sure I am forgetting a few even now. But the image is clear, yes? He is unfit to be a steward. Actually, it's hard to imagine being any worse at what he was supposed to do." She slows down her pace then, growing pensive. "Wait. Do you think Bartelby is perhaps trying to smear both his own and his uncle's names on purpose ? That there is some internal family grudge at work that led to all this? If so, that might make Bartelby more amenable to negotiations in the absense of his extremely dangerous wizard uncle. Perhaps we could quickly look into this as we prepare our approach."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Wait. Do you think Bartelby is perhaps trying to..."
Wincing internally as Velvet suddenly veers into a familiar tangent of speculative intrigue, Marius bottles the sudden pang of I wish Rose were here to answer the question. "I...do not think that, no. I think Bartleby is a man who is simply accustomed to having wealth and power at the expense of those below him on the social ladder--it's a common affliction here and abroad, to consider such arrangements the 'natural order of things'. I genuinely don't think it goes any deeper than that."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lotti gently swirls her wineglass rather than sipping from it - or commenting on afflictions specific to the ruling class. “The teleportation circle has me the most worried,” she says at last with a gentle sigh. “The threat of a powerful spellcaster on call at a moment’s notice is likely part of the reason why the people living here have put their heads down and endured as best they can. Bartleby knows this, and knows how it adds to his own illusion of power. Take it away, and he may become much more open to the idea of negotiations.”
“How to neutralize the circle though? Easier said than done, I’m afraid. I’ll continue reviewing the available literature so we can be as prepared as possible, and thankfully we have folks who are resourceful and full of surprises.” She nods to Velvet and Faenia. “But I would still suggest prioritizing that circle before pressing Bartleby to acquiesce to good sense.”
"Hmmm, I could try to slip in as a servant. My skill with infiltration is rather considerable, and I could try to neutralize the circle covertly."
The woman gives Barcos and then Faenia an appraising look. "Why would a druid have such advances infiltration skills? Or an Ulfen who seems so bound to honor and stories? More masks, then?" she wonders, then gives a wry grin. "Interesting... well, Miss Qeb is correct in that I, too, have some talent there. Given enough time to prepare, few would recognize me. I might be able to impersonate Bartelby himself, even. We have the names of most servants, and the building plans can probably be acquired in Lotheedar, the same way the Night Swan got hold of Stachys'. So if we want to try getting to the circle first, we might just be able to. Of course, that is only if everyone *is* truly confident in their own ability to make this work. More is at stake than just our own lives."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Faenia barks a laugh when Lotti mentions she's resourceful, and then nods.
She leans back, and her stretches languidly, She looks down at her beer, having turned down the wine, "I would agree with Lotti, teleportation magic is dangerous to keep operational. If we do not have the means to destroy it with magic, we can collapse the room it's in, or just bust up the runes." She points at her sword, "big sword will do that. Or I can keep the man distracted - " she leans forward again and takes a swig, "whatever you want that to end up being. Some of these little southerners like big girls." She has a twinkle in her eye. "Anything for Eutropia. I mean, like subterfuge fine, yeah. But if it doesn't work, I can just beat the s~** out of him." She puts down her mug and cracks her knuckles, "anything bossman says." She sticks out her chin towards Marius.
"Or I can keep the man distracted - whatever you want that to end up being. Some of these little southerners like big girls. And if it doesn't work, I can just beat the s$*$ out of him."
Velvet laughs; it seemed Faenia and herself were very much on one line despite the cultural differences - even if she'd prefer a single, swift blow to the head over a noisy beating. "I like it; A noble offer. But while I am convinced most men would find you very desirable, Faenia, Bartelby is... well, we believe he is more into his Senechal. As in, it seems he is attracted to men. Though should it come to it, please feel free to knock him out regardless."
"For now, the road back is long; we should get going and let everyone know of our success. Perhaps we can each see to some last-minute preparations and planning before we make our move..."
Taking time to properly enjoy the rich cinnamon fragrance of her Osirian Qurfa tea, Velvet ponders the letter in front of her. "Hm. No reported infighting or any internal struggle between the Lotheeds... which I know is likely false, given what we've seen between Bartelby and his Nephew. Probably a cover-up. But even then, that doesn't necessarily extend to his uncle, and doesn't give him a reason to swant to smear his own family's name... so does that mean Marius is right and that Bartelby is really just *that* incompetent, lazy and selfish?" Then again, why would she be surprised? That *was* the par for most nobles they'd come across, both back in Oppara and on this recent journey.
Knowing the time to set out drew near, she finished her drink and took to the direction of Stachys, or more specifically, the church. "Almost time for my daily prayers. I should probably get this one out of the way, what with anniversary coming up... "
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Though being called 'bossman' does earn a raised brow from Marius, he keeps his focus on the goal. "A fight should be avoided if at all possible--until we've presented our formal denunciation, at least. Besides Count Lotheed has a reputation as a capable spell-blade, none of us should underestimate his fighting ability. Subterfuge is less risky, but not without risk at all--the aforementioned Seneshcal, Gul Guisarme, is a capable and suspicious head of security. I don't think he's a bad sort really, but I don't think we've done a damn thing to rattle his loyalty to his lord either. Be careful, all of you. We're so close now."
As plans are made to elicit information from the servants of Birdsong Palace, Marius devotes himself to crafting the letter that will form their legal shield for this little coup--and collecting the signatures that will complete it. He strives for a forceful but legalistic tone, invoking the obligations of nobility and Bartleby's many failures in maintenance. He also repeatedly refers to the property not even properly belonging to the Lotheeds which only compounds their neglect. After several reworks and consultations with his agents & allies he finally feels he has something suitable, he locks it in his writing desk and rises.
It's full dark by now--an appropriate time for the intrigue and spycraft he was up to now. Shrugging on his coat, Marius quietly slips out of the manor and down into Stachys, to the recently-completed shrine. At this hour it was dark and empty, so he lets himself in and slowly walks a circuit of the shrine until he reaches a very particular tile in the floor. Alone in the darkness, Marius sinks to his knees begins to pray, sharing his gratitude for the good work he and his companions have been allowed to do here, his fears for what good wrong in the final steps against Bartleby, and that Kalinahat watch over his Rose in her own heist.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Barcos nods to Marius, "Understood. I'm much better talker than I am a fighter, so let's hope it goes as planned."
Before they reach the palace, Barcos murmurs a few words in Druidic as his appearance shifts and changes. Where once stood the small, grubby druid, now stands a halfling woman, brown-haired and canny-eyed. Another magical phrase changes her clothes from Barcos' beggar's rags to the clothes of a laundress, their appearance as straightforward and nondescript as her new appearance.
She nods and says, "This'll do well. I'll be...Yanda."
Turning to Lotti, she smiles and says in Halfling, "Well, how convincing do I look?"
With that, assuming nobody tries to stop her, she heads towards the manor, intent on getting the lay of the land from the other servants.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
It is rather easy for Yanda to pass as a new servant in need of orientation. An older halfling woman gives her a brief tour and pointers on the work that needs doing.
The tour starts on the veranda, at the back of the palace overlooking the extensive gardens. Dozens of gold bird cages hold many exotic birds, and their twittering and hooting is nearly deafening. "Alright, see here those two bushes shaped like lions? They're alive, after a fashion, and guard this area. Come on, I'll introduce you to them so they know you're not an intruder. The guards chain them to their pots when the count hosts a party."
The halfling takes Yanda through one of the double doors into the palace proper. Four carved columns support the ceiling of a grand hall that crosses the entire width of the building, portraits decorating the white walls. She points at the marble columns, each carved in the likenesses of Abadar, Aroden, Cayden Cailean, and Shelyn. "These are guardians. When there's a party they get shut down, but only the seneschal and the count know the command phrase for that. But you work here, so it's fine, they won't attack you."
On either side of hall with the sculpted columns are game rooms and entertainment spaces. To the east, past the library, is the grand ballroom where Marius, Rose, Konstiantina, Lisa and Lotti were guests of Count Lotheed with the occasion of the Tanager Jubilee. The kitchen and pantry are in the south eastern corner of the first floor, separated from the entertaining spaces by a service hallway. The halfling points out a trap in this hallway that is usually active, but can be deactivated by pressing an acorn in the carved decorations in the southern windowsill. She also points out the door to the vault, indicating that servants should stay away from it.
In the western wing there are a number of guest rooms, as well as a bath and a sauna for the use of the visitors. An open space serves as waiting room for those seeking audience with the count. Past that, there is a guardroom - which can also be accessed from the veranda - that safeguards the only entrance to the royal apartments beyond, located in the large round tower. The count carries the only key to those apartments and servants are not allowed inside.
On the upper floor, accessible through two staircases to the left and right of the main entrance, are the suites and apartments of the palace residents - Count Lotheed and his family - and any particularly prominent visitors. The offices of the seneschal and the accountant are also on this floor, as well as the office of Count Lotheed himself. The other spaces here are waiting rooms, parlours, the county's archives, a private chapel, an observatory, the quarters of the commander of the palace guard and an armory. The guide points out a loft that overlooks the kitchen, where many chores happen, particularly in the chilly winter months. There are a couple of rooms on this floor where servants are not allowed, and the doors are always locked.
At some point during Marius' prayers, there is a very faint clicking sound heard from the entrance to the church, followed by soft footsteps upon marble tiles in the night. A silhouette stops under the archway and peers into the room with the shrine. "...Marius?" Velvet asks warily, one hand resting on the hilt of her rapier, the other holding something behind her back. Only when she fully recognize him does she relax and take another step forward, upon which the hidden item appeared a simple bouqeut of flowers, the makeup and colours imperceptible in the dark.
"I... thought the church was closed at this hour?" There is a hint of amusement. "But I suppose that as the local lord, you would have the privilege of a key." Another two steps, into the room. "Regardless, if you wouldn't mind, I came here to pay my respects and offer prayers of my own. Shall I leave you to yours, and you to mine?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
When he hear his name Marius' back stiffens in surprise and he spins around in a half-turn. "Rose! You're ba--oh...oh." He blinks rapidly, feeling an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "I-I apologize, Miss Arlandt, for a moment you sounded...I was mistaken."
"Regardless, if you wouldn't mind, I came here to pay my respects and offer prayers of my own. Shall I leave you to yours, and you to mine?"
"The shrine is open to all. I was nearly done in any case, She of Ebon Wings knows that I am Hers."
"Rose! You're ba--oh...oh. I-I apologize, Miss Arlandt, for a moment you sounded...I was mistaken."
Valery halts and a momentary silence falls. "That is... all right. I suppose we are similar enough."
Upon being admitted, she brushes past Marius and stops at the shrine to Shelyn, depositing the flowers. Whatever prayer she makes is apparently brief as she makes it back before he fully finishes his own.
She is still there when he rises. "Marius, perhaps this is an odd question. But how does one go about praying to Kelinahat? I feel like I should pay my respects to her now that I am here, considering what we are about to do - and with our goddesses seeming rather similar to me."
"Her prayers are little different from any other deity's, I imagine--reach out with your heart and your words, and let Her listen and comfort you. The hard part is the acts of devotion--Heaven has, hmm, high standards and its spymistress demands honorable conduct even as we engage in espionage and arrange contingencies. There is also the matter of...well, suffice to say not all servants of the Empyrean Host understand why the Ebon Wing's servants do what we do. I'm grateful for Lady Mokei's easy understanding and I hope she returns soon." He looks like he might say something more but just shakes his head.
"It seems I'm rambling a bit--a spot of nerves, perhaps. What are these similarities do you speak of?"
"It seems I'm rambling a bit--a spot of nerves, perhaps. What are these similarities do you speak of?"
"Physical ones, of course. That is why you mistook us, correct?" She too falls silent then, pondering his previous words. "What is most troubling you, Marius, for you be nervous now? I can hazard many guesses, ranging from the subsequent withdrawals of your allies to the coming task to being here alone with me. But I'd rather hear which is true before I go and needlessly embarass myself." She says, kindly and with a touch of humor at the end. She seemed rather different from her daily exterior just then, much more informal and accessible.
Marius blinks, confusion clear on his face. "Physical...?" After a moment realization dawns and he barks a surprised laugh. "Ah, Miss Arlandt I had been referring to our respective goddesses, not...anything else. Beyond a general commitment to mortal thriving and well-being I had never thought of Kelinahat and Shelyn having a great deal in common."
The letter is signed, their man Barcos embedded with the staff of Birdsong Palace. The plan is set and the palace layout committed to memory. The story is rehearsed, and their equipment is in place. Marius straightens his back and steps out into the manor courtyard where the carriage awaits to carry them all onwards to their little coup.
"All aboard then, it's time to strike a blow for our patron."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
”Ah, I see. Then tell me, Marius, are you familiar with the term sub rosa? Or in modern Taldane, under the Rose? It is an old expression for clandestine affairs, secrecy and confidentiality. Though, in your particular case it seems to have some, shall we say, humorous additional connotations?”
Her grin can be felt through the dark. ”If you look for it, you will find that a surprising number of art pieces through time referring to intelligence work contain such iconography,” She brushes past and lights a candle towards the flowery painting depicting Shelyn. ”You can probably see where this is going. Shelyn’s title is The Eternal Rose. Our folk are artists and entertainers, usually welcomed, often overlooked even by the more powerful malign forces. What better cover is there than a lofty artist, to be inherently dismissed as harmless? To be instantly assumed to have no deeper meaning or calling in life than romance or art? That is also why I chose to sneak into the Mansion that first day. If I hadn’t, would you have taken me seriously?”
With a soft breath, she blows out the candle. ”Of course, the Rose imagery might just be a visual coincidence - a tenuous connection by itself. However, there are other things. If we stop to think of it, how did Shelyn herself stop her corrupted brother when he wielded a glaive said to have enough power to destroy all creation? How did she steal it from him when by all means he should have been infinitely stronger? If not by subterfuge, then how?” It is a rhetorical question. ”And in the very old texts of her, from the period of the Azlanti, what was her original favored weapon? A dagger,” A flick of the wrist and said blade appears in her hand, then vanishes the next moment. The movement is dispassionate, pensive.
”I wouldn’t presume to question Divine Wisdom. But we are both trained fighters, are we not? Assuming equal skill, we can admit to eachother that a dagger would lose most open confrontations with other weapons through reach disadvantage. But monetary concerns are not of the gods. So why pick a dagger if you were not planning to use its major advantage; to easily hide it and strike the unaware? Or alternatively, to give the impression that you have no idea of what constitutes an effective martial weapon and thus appear harmless?”
She makes an apologetic gesture. ”Of course, it is very possible that I am wrong. I suspect the vast majority of her worshippers are unaware of these connections. And if true, the ones that are would never willingly confirm them. Though if so, were one to find herself in, say, an empty church at night with a colleague, then perhaps she would engage in a bit of speculative intrigue on the matter. All under the Rose of course, per tradition,” The red-haired woman seems to smile.
”The plan is solid enough, yes. Assuming our reputation held, we’ll take Bartelby up on his offer to visit. Then, at night, we will first disable the teleportation circle. Assuming we are successful, we will then confront Bartelby directly and demand his surrender using the signed letter as a means of pressure. If someone were to get in our way… we would have to subdue them one way or the other.” Velvet summarizes. ”Of course, much will have to be improvised on the spot. But I am confident in everyone’s abilities to see this through. We some luck, we can take the mansion for the princess overnight without open conflict and needless loss of life.”
"I'm not familiar with the specific term, but the concept is straightforward," Marius allows, trying to will himself to relax. He doesn't rise to the bait of Valery's double entendre, though he recognizes an olive branch when he sees one. "The point of Shelyn's dagger is well taken, though I've seen it likened to quill just as readily as her glaive is to a brush. And as for your stunt in the manor...as I told you then, Rose's recommendation is more than sufficient--and since then you have proven her equal in both scheming and fighting. We have not always seen eye to eye, but I trust you to have my back and I am glad to have your aid in this."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Appropriately announced beforehand by a rider, the party arrives at the Birdsong Palace around noon and are received by Bartelby in the grand entrance hallway. The gardens of the palace are breathtaking at this time of year, with many trees and flowers in bloom and the birds filling the air with melodious calls.
The count's eyes flick across the group, undoubtedly noticing both absences and new additions. "Welcome to Birdsong Palace, I am Count Bartelby Lotheed. Lord Erallan, I envy the incomparable speed at which you seem to make new friends." The thin smile that accompanies those words is devoid of humour or warmth, and he looks expectantly at Marius, undoubtedly waiting for introductions.
"I was expecting a visit earlier, but I imagine you have been rather busy with your- estate. We have prepared rooms for you and your- companions. And now I would be very pleased if you would all join me for lunch in the garden, the weather is rather splendid."
A table for six has been set under a an arched rose bower, the first buds tentatively opening. The immaculate tablecloth is threaded with silver and bordered with tiny pearls, and the place settings are silver, crystal and fine, painted porcelain. Pale amber wine rests in cut crystal decanters, and a profusion of pastries, fruit, cold meats and cheeses is set in the center of the table. The seneschal, Gul Guisarne, is already there, standing stiffly behind the count's high-backed seat.