Session Thirty-Eight - July 15, 2006

[Matt]

Kelen 26, 731 TR

Sir Ewen of Ravinargh joins the breakfast table at Gray House in Tashal looking grave and weary, eyeing the repast before him

We begin this chapter of the story of our intrepid heroes far away in the land of Melderyn. One Kaelyn of Aletta was sent to Tashal, in Kaldor, in order deliver a letter to the Odivshe Viran, named Astarock.

Kaelyn traveled to Burzyn, and there joined a merchant caravan headed towards Tashal. She passed through various forgettable towns and villages and enjoyed the beautiful Harnic countryside, finally arriving at the Tower inn of Tashal. There she inquired where she could find the viran, and was directed to his home.

After acquiring a sweet to feed Astarock’s sweet tooth (muffins), Kaelyn made her way to the abode of the old man. The young woman knocked, and after a few moments an aging, wizened Seneschal answered the door.

“Yes?” asked the Seneschal.

After Kaelyn introduced herself and explained her mission, the Seneschal invited her into the front hall. “Wait here, and I will go find the viran.”

The young woman waited an interminable time, wondering what exactly could be keeping the seneschal so long. Just before the muffin turned stale, the Seneschal returned. “The viran will see you now.”

Kaelyn traveled through the home, eventually coming to the room of the viran, which looked like nothing other than a laboratory. Books lined the walls, were piled haphazardly on the floor, tables and on some of the chairs. Various vats of unknown liquids were scattered randomly about, some bubbling, others steaming, some filled with inert liquid, or were empty. A tub of water off in the far left corner and a roaring fireplace completed the picture. It was a tidy mess.

Sitting at one of the tables was the oldest man Kaelyn had ever seen and dressed in somewhat stained robes, though he seemed clean. “Bait are you?” asked the viran.

Kaelyn was a bit surprised, but quickly regained her wits. “I don’t understand, sir ...”

“Oh, you wouldn’t ... have a letter for me? Sit, sit.”

Kaelyn handed the viran the letter, and waited while the man read it. The old man laughed at some parts, groaned at others, and eventually threw it away. He looked up expectantly at the young woman.

Kaelyn gave the viran her muffin. At that point, the seneschal returned with some nice tea & honey, and then departed. The two ate in silence.

“Hm. Nice muffin, Sepian’s work? How old are you?” asked the viran.

“Twenty-one, sir.”

“Stop calling me sir! Twenty-one, I have boils older then that ... what are you going to do now that you have delivered your letter?”

“Do you have any insight for me, sir?”

“Insight ... I’m tired of all this, I have no insight, there that is your insight – I’m the dumbest person on this island. That’ll be a tuppence.” The old man laughed the half-cough, half-laugh of the old. “But seriously ... there is a woman who I told I would turn the river red – and she believed me! Ha! You are looking for a Bevan Palliser.” The viran wrote down some odd directions, of the form “go up, turn left, turn right, it’s one of those.”

“Well, I must be getting back to my nap.” Kaelyn said her goodbyes, “Come back, if you have more muffins!” said the viran.

Kaelyn took the strange directions, and left. She searched the rest of the day for the house, but was unsuccessful. Eventually, she retired for the night.

Kelen 27, 731 TR

Again, Kaelyn searched through the city, and this time she was successful. She arrived at Gray House around breakfast time.

The party was seated at the breakfast table, when there was a knock on the door. One of the servants answered it, and found a young woman bearing credentials from Astarock. The credentials suggested that this young woman, one Kaelyn, join the party. Introductions were made.

Kaelyn is a young Shek-Pvar of the Odivshe convocation.

Kaelyn went to the back of the home to attend to some personal duties back there. In the meantime, the party began discussing the plan to let Maldan Harabor know that news will break about Osel.

“As Graver says, ‘When you are the first to know, you are in a better position to plot,’” Imarë said.

“Should we keep the truth of the matter from him?” Ewen asked.

“Yes,” Imarë said.

The party discussed the various strengths and weaknesses of revealing the truth of Osel.

“To start with, we should let Harabor know the information is coming. The Duke of Alagon will send a message ...” Imarë said.

“Should we reveal the source of the information?” Sir Baris asked.

“Wouldn’t you want to have it be known that Osel was dead, if you killed him, especially if you wanted to take over?” Bevan replied.

“Right now, Harabor thinks the Earl is dead, but can’t tell anyone, because he’d be implicated.” Imarë said.

“If Harabor thinks the guy is in Tashal, but not exactly where, presumably Osel could have gotten out of the city and ended up where we say he died,” Baris said.

Ewen remembered magically experiencing the beating of Osel. “There are three men beating Osel, one clearly wearing the arms of Harabor, mostly bald, unshaven, a man lacking a knightly bearing, with a flat nose, out of joint in two directions.”

At this point, young Kaelyn entered the room. It became apparent that she had overheard the party discussing their confidential plans. Rather than kill her, the party decided to bring her into the conspiracy.

Kaelyn suggested that the party go and suggest that something be done about the vacancy left by Osel, but the party explained that they did not have that kind of standing.

“If we give information that Osel was killed a long way from here, that will put Harabor at his ease,” Imarë said.

“Don’t we want to tell Harabor that we know he was the one who did it, so we can control him?” Bevan asked.

“We do that later,” Imarë said.

Ewen spoke up. “Let’s take a step back and examine our options. First, we can lay all our cards on the table at once. The concern here is that Harabor may become spooked, and decide to snatch Osel himself.”

“He’s going to want to know what we want,” Bevan pointed out.

Ewen had an answer ready for her. “We want the ear of an Earl. We’ll be safe, because we don’t know where Osel is, and so Harabor can’t kill us and snatch Osel. Also, we can say that we control when and whether the information comes out. Harabor wants this info to come out, so he can become Earl.”

Imarë spoke up, with the elf’s typically paranoid point of view. “Look, to my mind Harabor wants to protect himself, so I don’t want to take that risk.”

Ewen had a different view. “He wants to protect himself, but he also wants to be an earl.”

But Imarë would not be silenced so easily. “What if he doesn’t want to play?” the elf asked.

“Then we produce the Earl to the King, and let the dice fall where they may,” Ewen replied.

For a time, the party continued discussing the risks and benefits about this option. Eventually, the party decided that “Either way, we will be okay.” Turning the Earl over to the King would be good for the party; they would get a reward. On the other hand, controlling Harabor was also good for the party.

At this point, the conversation turned to the strengths and weaknesses of revealing all to Harabor. Eventually the consensus seemed to be laying all the cards on the table at once, because that seemed to be the less risky path. Putting Harabor off balance had its benefits, but he might turn against the party, or move back from the field. Either eventuality would be bad for the party. Obviously his turning against them could have physically violent consequences, but should the sheriff simply drop out of the game, the party would lose the ability to control him, and all of their preparations would have been for naught.

Someone raised the worry that Harabor might note the rather addled state of the earl, and wonder about it. “We can say that we have Osel drugged up,” Ewen replied.

The question was raised: “What do we do if we lay out the cards, and Harabor walks away?”

Sir Baris suggested finding the identity of the guards which did the beating, and then drop those names in the event Harabor walked away. However, the rest of the party thought that discovering this information would be too difficult, especially given the short amount of time the party had.

It was decided that after Harabor was spoken to, a showing of the true earl would be arranged.

The conversation turned to what to do after the party spoke to Harabor. “After we do this, we should travel at least in pairs for awhile,” the paranoid elf wisely said.

For a time, the party discussed what happened to Osel for the eight years previous to the beating. He certainly was not in Harabor’s dungeon, otherwise he would be in an unmarked grave. Perhaps he really was on a quest to avenge his squire-lover, or maybe Osel’s wife kept him hidden to avoid losing control of his earldom. The party pondered why the Peoni priestess was killed. Did it have anything to do with knowledge of Digger’s true identity?

The conversation drifted to where the party should tell Harabor the news. A private room in an inn was the first suggestion. However, the party did have an invitation for a party at the home of Worton Harabor, a relation of Maldan Harabor. It was suggested that the party attend, with the popular elf conditioning her attendance on the presence of Maldan. The party settled on this option, of telling Maldan about Osel at the party at Worton’s abode.

“If only Ewen had written a song about Osel,” the elf opined.

As it happened, Ewen had written a song about Osel. The harper plied his skills, and the party listened attentively. It was suggested that the song have two sets of lyrics: one for before it is revealed Osel is dead, and one for after it is revealed. Later in the day, Sir Ewen, with some suggestions from the party, modified the lyrics appropriately. Of course, the party decided to arrange for someone other than Sir Ewen to perform the song at the party, it not being appropriate for a knight to perform in public.

After some more discussion, the party settled on the following plan: We will reply to Worton’s wife, and in the reply Imarë would insist upon that Worton’s cousin the sheriff (and other persons of note) come to the party, the a harper hired by Sir Ewen sing a song composed by the knight, and that some obscure, expensive food be served.

And then the conversation digressed to fashion. Imarë, Bevan and the newcomer, Kaelyn, discussed color combinations extensively.

With all this preliminary discussion complete, and as the servants began to clear the breakfast, plates, the party began to plan their day, to figure out what they needed to do.

“Speaking of things to, ah, do ... Hey Baris, hasn’t it been a few days since you gave the baroness a ‘stiff rogering?’” Sir Ewen said with a straight face.

Sir Baris choked on his eggs. After recovering with a quick drink of milk, he said “Now that you mention it ... the, ah, gout did keep me abed a few days.” He grimaced. “And not in a pleasant way, mind you.” A few days later, Baris paid the baroness a visit. And there he spent some time in bed in a pleasant way.

After breakfast, the ladies went shopping. They certainly couldn’t wear the same dress twice – the scandal! Imarë, Bevan, and Kaelyn headed to Habor of Sarlis’s place of business. There they found his apprentices at work, preparing for the tournament. Habor approached his new customers. “Ah, ladies,” he said. “How may I help you? We have many options for your fashion requirements. We have wool. Silk. Wool lined with silk. Wool trimmed with silk. What would be your pleasure?”

Bevan and Kaelyn looked at each other. Shopping- there is no better way for two ladies to bond. Imarë began looking at the dresses, wondering which would go best with her various trinkets.

“And you, my lady?” Habor asked Kaelyn. The young woman, inexperienced in these matters, said to Bevan “I will leave this in your worldly hands.” Bevan nodded. After some thought, Bevan decided that Kaelyn’s clothing would not be as elaborate as her own. She did not want the young woman to stand out, and moreover Kaelyn was not very comfortable in such clothing.

Eventually, Bevan decided that Kaelyn would wear a dress trimmed with silk. This cost an even 240d, which the young woman provided herself. More than can be said for the knights when they first met Miss Palliser.

For herself, Bevan purchased yet another dress, all silk this time. It put her back 790d, but was worth every penny to avoid wearing the dress she had worn at the previous party. Imarë, not wanting to be shown up, purchased an all silk dress as well, which cost the same.

Meanwhile, Sir Ewen headed off to meet the local harper guildmaster, Lanas of Sosora, who lived near the castle. The knight entered the shop, and found Lanas and a young apprentice in attendance. Various instruments were on sale, horns, cymbals, and other musical instruments. Ewen’s experienced eye noted that the horns and cymbals looked to be of Thardan make. Lanas, his hands gnarled, perhaps from arthritis was directing his apprentice, and not doing much work himself. What are apprentices for, after all?

Introductions were made, and apparently Lanas was the guildmaster of the entire kingdom.

After some pleasantries, Ewen swiftly turned to business. “I need to hire a harper to play at a party some days hence. I would like someone particularly dependable,” the harper-turned-knight said.

The guildmaster thought for awhile, while Ewen browsed the instruments for sale. After some time, the guildmaster spoke up. “Look up one Ornald of Khorild, he lives in a tenement off Torastra way.” The guildmaster gave more detailed directions, and Ewen headed off to meet Ornald.

As the knight journeyed into the smellier side of town, he made sure his sword clearly visible. A young urchin offered to “Tote for the guvna.”

“Be gone, louse!” Sir Ewen yelled, and the boy scurried off. Eventually the knight found the tenement of Ornald. Looking upon the dilapidated structure, Ewen thought, This is where I’m going to find someone I can trust?

A woman selling soup sat outside the tenement. “Soup?” she asked.

“No thank you, good woman. Would this be the abode of Ornald of Khorild?”

“Could be ...” Ewen fetched a penny, which quickly disappeared. “Ah, a man of quality – you will find Ornald on the second floor, third door in.”

Ewen thanked the woman and went in, finding Ornald practicing his craft in his one room slum. The young harper was slight of frame and very small, barely reaching above five feet, but extremely well dressed. He had long blond hair.

“Hello good man, sorry to interrupt the practicing, but Lanas suggested I might hire you.”

Ornald quickly agreed.

Ewen explained that he wanted Ornald to sing a song the knight had composed. The knight sang the version of the song he wanted the harper to play at the party. Ewen’s playing was rather good, but his voice was a bit off key. Ornald on the other hand, nailed it on the first try, singing better than the knight.

Ewen explained the situation to the young harper. “I am the composer, but a friend of mine will be presented as your patron.”

“Not you,” Ornald said simply, apparently understanding the situation completely.

“Yes. You will be playing at the party of Worton Harabor.”

“I’ve been wanting to play there. Four shillings is my rate for this performance. Of course, I won’t sing this song until the party, but I might like to sing it afterwards. If you want exclusivity on the song, that will cost an extra shilling.”

“Can I get back to you about the exclusivity after the party?” the knight asked.

“Of course,” said the harper.

The two agreed that Ewen would pay two shillings up front, and two or three afterwards, depending on whether Ewen wanted exclusivity.

The rest of the month passed uneventfully. Except for Baris’s visit to the Baroness, of course.

Nolus 3, 731 TR

The party heard back from Jayal Harabor. Her cousin-in-law, the sheriff, would be coming in two days hence, for the Larani mass. Jayal will be hosting a welcoming party for the sheriff and the elf (and friends).

The party sent Kaelyn, who had been staying at “The Tower,” an invitation to join them at the party. The party did not know her well enough to allow her to sleep in Gray House.

Sir Ewen went to speak to Ornald to give him the details of the party. He asked the harper to acknowledge him as the composer of the song after it was played. “How do you wish to be referred to?” the harper asked.

“Sir Ewen of Ravinargh.”

The harper grimaced at the revelation that Ewen was a knight, perhaps wishing he had charged more.

Nolus 4, 731 TR

The day passed uneventfully, except for the knights spending some time practicing for the tournament out in the fields surrounding the city. That evening at the Iron Bell, Ewen filled in Para Harkthorn on the plan.

Para explained that she would provide an expendable guide to where Osel would be revealed. She did not tell Ewen where this would be, but did provide a warning: “Don’t wear low shoes.” [GM: If ever an occasion called for stiletto heels …]

Nolus 5, 731 TR

It was a holy day for worshipers of Larani. Bevan and Sir Ewen attended the services.

Back at ‘The Tower,’ Kaelyn had a bath. The servants cryptically complaining that they “haven’t had to haul this out since the Vikings were here ...” After her bath, she and Sir Baris shared a drink. Sir Baris did not attend the services, for obvious, and private, reasons.

After the services, Bevan, Sir Ewen and the Harabors, whom they met at the service, went to the Harabor household, where they were met by Imarë, Sir Baris and Kaelyn.

Unfortunately, Jayal Harabor lacked the flamboyance of Lady Cheselyne. The party was actually rather dull. There were not many people of note present – mostly burghers. In fact, Imarë and her friends were perhaps the most interesting people at the party.

The mercantyler Pesera of Hendel was in attendance, and he chatted with the party for awhile, but was a rather dull man. Business is not very interesting when you are used to the adventures the group had had!

Besides Sirs Ewen and Baris, there were two knights present: Sir Maldan and his brother, Sir Koris Harabor, the marshal of the royal guard.

The party’s first impression of Sir Maldan was not great. He’ll be an ugly earl, Sir Baris thought.

The party slowly went on, until the harper, Ornald, arrived. Imarë said that she had hired a harper to liven things up, and was there somewhere he could he set up? Jayal arranged this.

During the party, the group learned some bits of knowledge, which they pieced together afterwards:

Worton Harabor is the innkeepers guildmaster for the entire kingdom. He doesn’t run his own inn, but has ownership stakes in at least six inns.

There is another branch of the Harabor clan, which does not get along well with this one, which lives in Minarsas. That branch of the family may be in the wool trade, although that part is not so clear. The Harabors have their paws in many business enterprises around the kingdom.

Minarsas is the seat of Declaen Caldeth, Earl of Vemion, and father of Thilisa, Countess of Osel. Declaen and Thilisa are both coming to Tashal.

Word that the fur road caravan, which never made it home to Orbaal last year, has spread among the merchants. Now that the salt route caravan has arrived from Tashal, and the silver way caravan from Azadmere is due any day, there is concern about the fur road caravan. The concern is that the fur road caravan, which is not due for another month or two, may not arrive at all this year because of the conflict in Orbaal. There will be no furs, no amber, no whale products. There is deep concern that this will have a large impact on the delicate economy of Tashal. This is the main topic of conversation among the burghers.

There is a rumor, of which Sir Koris may be the source and which may be new to this gathering, that there is worry that the conflict in Orbaal may spread to Kaldor. However, those present at the party were confident that King Haldan III does not want war. The burghers do not want war, of course. The economy is precarious enough as it is.

Eventually Ornald got set up. “Everyone! The elf has graciously provided us with entertainment! Not from Shava Forest, but from Tashal... Shava Forest was busy.” Jayal said, smiling gleefully at the last.

The crowd gathered around the harper, who performed very nicely. Although not as well as he had at Ewen’s private show.

The crowd was initially delighted- the song was about Osel! As the song went on, their demeanor worsened, especially at the sour note it ended on. You might even say they were a bit scandalized. Maldan Harabor was, of course, the least delighted. He even seemed to be a bit angry.

Ornald announced to the room his thanks to Sir Ewen of Ravinargh, the composer of the song.

As the crowd dispersed, Ornald came up to Ewen. “You owe me three shillings ... I never want to sing that again.” The song did not have the effect he was anticipating.

Sir Maldan came over and interrupted the conversation between the knight and the harper. The harper wisely ducked out. “Knight ... composer ... slanderer?” Sir Maldan stated.

Ewen took a breath, and prepared himself for a duel of wits. “Of course not, my lord sheriff.”

“Oh, it’s that way is it.” Maldan seemed to pause in thought. “From whence do you hail?”

“I hail from Tharda.” the knight replied.

“Tharda? What a coincidence. Tharda to the left of me, Tharda to the right of me” the sheriff said angrily.

“Is that right?” Ewen said carefully.

“You sing a song, which accuses a countess of adultery ...” the sheriff said, his voice rising to a yell. At this point, everyone in the room started to pay attention to the conversation.

“I found the story touching,” Ewen explained. “But we shall see if the song is ever sung again, my lord sheriff,” the knight continued.

Maldan’s face twisted slightly in anger. “If this were my jurisdiction, knight or not, I would have you hounded away.” The sheriff paused, took a breath. “Am I your lord?”

“You could be,” Ewen replied.

“Interesting ...” the sheriff said, his voice trailing off.

Ewen spoke up. “Would we have an opportunity to speak more privately my lord?”

“I will listen to you, though you should be dancing from a rope,” the sheriff said, leading Sir Ewen away from the main room.

The two retired to a room off the hall, furnished with a table, chairs and a small desk. On the desk there were a number of sheets of fresh paper, as well as ink & quill. Bolted to the floor was a strongbox.

Sir Maldan strode in and took a seat on one of the chairs. “Well, composer, we speak privately.”

“Thank you.” The harper sat down as well, but was still on his guard. “I have some information that may be of interest to you ... information which touches upon the topic of my song tonight.”

“You wish to speak to me of a ring?” the sheriff asked.

“No my lord sheriff, I wish to speak to you of the earldom of Osel.”

A look of recognition crossed Sir Maldan’s face. “I note that you say earldom and not earl.”

At this point, Ewen attempted a truth-read the sheriff, but he failed. But the knight did not give up. “We are fully private my lord?” he asked.

“My cousin uses this room to conduct business.” The implication was clear.

Privacy assured, Sir Ewen continued. “I have it on very reliable information that at some point during the tournament in Olokand next month, information from an unimpeachable source will come to the crown of Kaldor, information which will indicate definitively that the lamented Sedris Meleken is deceased, and thus that the earldom is vacant.” The die was cast.

“I have long suspected this. What is this to me?”

“I am sure this will become a common belief,” Ewen said.

“There are those who like to believe Sedris is still alive for various reasons ... for power, for chivalry, to get under a ladies skirts ...” said Sir Maldan.

“I hold the opinion that you, my lord sheriff, would make a fine successor to that earldom, but I know you do not seek it.”

“You flatter me,” Maldan said. “Did you compose your ditty for my own benefit?”

“I did.”

“Are you an outcast knight seeking position?”

Sir Ewen smiled. “I am ambitious.”

“Interesting.”

“I wanted to mention two things of interest,” Ewen said.

“You haven’t mentioned anything interesting to me,” the sheriff said.

Ewen took a breath, steadying himself. “The first was that the king will soon be convinced that the earldom is vacant.”

“How are you privy to such knowledge?” Maldan asked.

“That brings me to my second piece of knowledge, my lord. You see, I can tell you without doubt that Sedris is very much alive, and is in fact in the possession of some associates of mine.” Ewen paused and watched with some enjoyment as the smugness and arrogance drained from Maldan in an obvious way. The sheriff opened his mouth to speak, but Ewen quickly interrupted him. “Before you ask, I have taken pains to insure I have no specific knowledge of where the earl is at the moment. But, my lord sheriff, I will be able to produce him for your satisfaction, should we come to an agreement.”

“An agreement? What sort of an agreement? What do you bargain for?” the sheriff said quickly, clearly flustered.

“I bargain for the ear of an earl of Kaldor,” Sir Ewen said confidently.

“I am not an earl.”

“But someone will be.”

“Why will the king do this, when he hasn’t done so already?” Maldan asked.

“Because the king will receive information from an unimpeachable source that Sedris is dead,” Ewen repeated.

“Why will you not tell me the source?”

“I like to keep some cards in my hand.” the knight smiled. “I’m sure you understand.”

“I do, but it makes me angry. But the Earl of Osel will be declared dead, publicly.” It was not a question, and Harabor spoke it as if it were a term of the deal.

Ewen said “You have my guarantee.”

“You guarantee it?”

“I guarantee it.”

“You are obviously not working alone.”

“Yes. And that is my insurance.” Ewen paused. “I am no fool.”

“You are many things, harper, but you are no fool,” the sheriff said slowly.

Sir Ewen continued. “Should anything happen to me, Sedris will be produced to the king. But causing you difficulty in this way is of small gain to me.”

“An ear, an ear, can that be enough? I can understand why the likes of you does not aim for the top prize. You will never be earl of Osel, I can understand that. But I am the son of a king, and you correctly understand that I have the bloodline to be an earl. But what is it that you really want? Surely you want more than an ear. You want lands, or a barony, or something, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Ewen replied.

“You say of course too quickly ... I am not used to being patronized. What is it you want Sir Ewen of Tharda?”

Ewen thought a moment, and then said “As you get to know me …”

“I don’t think I want to get to know you,” Maldan interrupted.

“I set no personal limits for myself. There are many prizes I can reach for that are not a threat to you.”

“You are a younger man, perhaps I can’t kill you here and now,” the sheriff said.

“What would be the point of that, my lord?” Ewen said confidently.

Maldan seemed to ignore the question. “So the earl of Osel will be declared dead in a month’s time?”

“Correct. Prior to that, I plan to afford you, under planned circumstances, the opportunity to convince yourself that my associates have Sedris Meleken,” Ewen said.

“I believe you,” Maldan said. “You would have to be completely insane to come to me otherwise. I believe Sedris to be dead, at least I did yesterday. But I welcome the confirmation. What is the rest of the plan?”

Ewen smiled inside - the plan was working! “The rest of the plan should be of little difficulty. My understanding suggests that His Grace may find it useful if the proper words are whispered in his ear from the proper sources to have your affinity relocated to the south, to be frank. Am I wrong?”

Maldan sat back in his chair and regarded Sir Ewen. “Let me see if I understand you, composer. You are proposing to seat me in the earldom of Osel, in exchange for this you will want my cooperation in what? For I have long advocated that the earldom cannot remain vacant as it has, though I would fill the seat well, though I am not guaranteed. Yet you now imply that the earl is within your power, and you have the power to bestow the earldom on me? Yet you are an unknown knight from Tharda …”

“I won’t be unknown long, my lord,” Ewen interrupted.

Maldan recoiled a bit in his seat.

Ewen continued. “I hope we can look forward to a mutually satisfying relationship. I can further your aims, and all that need be said for now is that I believe you will be able to reciprocate.”

Maldan nodded stoically. “I understand. One step at a time ... one step at a time. Very well, I will see if you speak the truth. You will produce the Earl of Osel for me, and you will convince me that he will remain your prisoner.”

Sir Ewen nodded.

“You will somehow speak to the King, and convince him of things I have been unable to convince him of. I shall be named Earl of Osel.”

“You shall my lord,” Ewen confirmed.

“And then the time will come that you will ask me of something, and when that day comes, I may say no. But that day is not yet here. Perhaps we should put that day off until it comes. If that is acceptable to you, then we are partners.”

Ewen allowed the man to save some face. “It is acceptable to me.”

“Partners ... who keep their knives close,” Maldan said.

“I think any man worthy of being either of our partners would be wise to do so, my lord.”

“Then we understand each other, Sir Ewen.”

“My lord sheriff, together we will make a fine composition indeed.”

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The rest of the night Sir Maldan regarded the party under heavy lidded, dark browed eyes.

Kaelyn came up to Baris with an excellent suggestion. As the knight was a bit in the cups at that point, she had to repeat herself. Eventually, he understood what the woman was suggesting. After a ‘stiff rogering’ of the baroness, Sir Baris might mention the song. “Oh, those bourgeoisie didn’t get the song ...” That way, the knight could explain the song to her, in order to get her reaction, and thus gain an insight into possible reaction of the nobility.

The party wound down in a boring fashion. Mostly, people waited for Imarë and her friends to leave, so they could leave as well. Around ten o’clock, they did.

The night was still young, however! The group decided to show Kaelyn the town. Or at least a bar. They headed over to “The Spurs.” Dressed in their party best, the group went into the biggest dive in town. When the party enters, conversation came to a screeching halt. A lone wolf whistle echoed throughout the room. The bar was full of the scum and the riffraff, the urban poor and those who prey.

Halime, at the bar, saw the party and screamed “FRIENDS! FRIENDS! MAKE WAY HERE!!” Some of the roughnecks cleared out of the way, to allow the party to sit down in their finery.

“A round for the room, on me!” Ewen yelled and a lusty cheer went up.

Halime brought over drinks. “Let me introduce Bevan Palliser,” Ewen said.

“Any relation to Theron Palliser?” Halime asked.

“Never heard of him,” Bevan replied.

“You’re a bad liar,” the barkeep said.

Ewen continued the introduction. “And this is Kaelyn of Aletta.”

“How did you end up with this motley crew?” Halime asked the young woman, giving her an eye.

“Bad judgment!” Ewen said, and everyone laughed at that.

“You have a southern accent, Kaelyn,” Halime stated. After a brief discussion with the young woman, the man returned to his duties.

The conversation drifted a bit, until Sir Baris abruptly looked up. “Sir Ewen, you never introduced me! I am offended!”

Sir Ewen looked quizzically at his friend. “But Sir Baris, you have been here before, there was no need to introduce you – the barkeep knows you, and everyone here knows you!”

The drunk Sir Baris blinked, and then returned to his drink as the party shared a laugh.

After the drinks were consumed, Sir Baris and Sir Ewen escorted the slightly tipsy women home. Although if anyone came upon them, it would likely be Sir Ewen who defended the entire group, as Sir Baris was in no condition to fight.

The entire party, including Kaelyn, returned to Gray House.

Nolus 6, 731 TR

In the morning, the party staggered into the great hall of Gray House.

Imarë looked around at the party as they settled down for breakfast. “We have targets painted on our backs,” the elf said ominously.