Session Forty-One - October 7, 2006

[Matt]

Larane 17-18, 731, Night of Revels

[GM: What follows is the GM version of extra-session events.]

Sir Ewen, the first knight in Kaldor, wearily made his way out of Chelebin Hall (in reality, a large tent) and turned into the maze of tents pitched on the West Common. He smiled ruefully at the placement of his own tent, far on the outer fringes and reflecting, he imagined the status the Marshal of the Tournament must have accorded him. That was all changed now. Though it was late, some knights and squires were still about, celebrating and in many cases, commiserating. A few recognized Sir Ewen, clad as he was in his surcoat, and most – though not all – offered congratulations. Some sounded sincere.

At last he found his own tent, and was not surprised to see Arnys patiently sitting on a camp stool, legs akimbo, his bad hand resting on his knee and a pipe in his good hand. He removed it from his mouth and exhaled an aromatic cloud of pipeweed smoke and then greeted his master. “It’s a long way from Selvos Sir Ewen.”

Ewen smiled and nodded.

“Sir Baris has not yet returned from the revels, but you have a visitor. A lady of your acquaintance,” he added quickly to Ewen’s raised eyebrows.

Arnys followed Ewen into the tent, and on a cot in one corner, Quinn slept soundly as only a teenager can. He looked as if he’d been draped over the cot, so relaxed was he. Arnys helped Sir Ewen divest himself of his surcoat, hauberk, and other armor, and used a nearby basin and ewer to sponge off most of the day’s grime. Ewen already sensed the nearby presence. They finished with a simple robe, and then Arnys pointed to the sleeping chamber to the right: Ewen’s. He nodded and suggested that Arnys get some sleep himself.

Ewen watched in amusement as Arnys bypassed his own cot to go back outside. He waited until he saw the soft glow indicating Arnys was relighting his pipe before he pushed the tent flap aside. In his chair, by the camp desk, Rahel of Aerth sat reading a book. She closed it, and then looked up. Without a word she stood and moved towards him, her movement as graceful as if she had but floated to him. She wore a thin tracery of a garment, a sheer fabric which could only have been Sindarin, and which for all it concealed might not have been there at all. He took her in his arms, marveling that the only thing softer would have been her bare skin. He kissed her, hungrily and passionately, and it was some time before either of them broke the contact.

As he held her, Ewen felt the first nudgings of her mind against his, and allowing her in, was filled with her essence. Part of him worried what might have happened had he accepted one of the many propositions he had received that evening – and then he knew Rahel was laughing at the very notion – that this of all nights was a night for Ewen to take care of his manhood. He had proved it in one way on the field that afternoon, and the lady who could snare him into proving it another might be trouble indeed. Their garments shed, the two of them found the bed, and Ewen proved his manhood again.

Afterwards, Ewen thought to set the wards, but Rahel said that she had taken the liberty – only they, the squires, Sir Baris, and the latter’s guest or guests might pass. “I shall return to Tashal on the morrow,” she began, “but we needed to speak less publicly before I did. You have done very well, though I never doubted for a moment that you would win.” She flashed him a smile that would have melted his knees had he been standing. “Now that you have, you have earned both status and visibility which cannot be ignored. We both know that I cannot be a public part of that yet. And there is information I have that you need.”

“I believe Releyne of Lerik has already contacted you?” He nodded. “She’s our agent here in Olokand, and her contacts in the castle have informed her that the ‘message’ from the Duke of Alagon was delivered on the morning of the 14th – in private. We’re not exactly clear what happened next, but it appears that Haldan, faced with the prospect that the Earl of Osel was dead could stall no longer. He had already hoped that he could entice Thilisa Meleken into his bed and now he dangled the earldom before her. She spurned him.”

Rahel rolled onto her stomach, and Ewen looked appreciatively at the perfect curves of her buttocks as the candlelight danced over them. Absently, he reached out to stroke her. She smiled, and continued. “It turns out nearly all the gossips were wrong – Thilisa has not been holding out all this time so that she might become Queen of Kaldor. She genuinely loathes King Haldan, and had hoped that he would become distracted by another pretty face and leave her be. Yet, when it came down to it, she would not sleep with him even to retain the Earldom of Osel. After she made that clear, the King met with her father Vemion, and then separately with Balim and Neph. And then he met with Maldan Harabor.” She smiled again, this time not at Ewen’s hand caressing her. She purred a little as his fingers strayed, and then she gently pushed his hand away.

“I need to concentrate. You can go back to what you were doing in a minute.” She nipped his chest with her teeth as she said it. “Now, where was I? Right, Maldan. I know how your encounter with him went, and I know how he reacted. Para was just rough enough with him to make him understand what he was dealing with, but nothing beyond a bruise or two. Still, he’s a proud man. Yet he’ll swallow it now that his prize is within reach – the King has been silent, but Maldan has already told some of his retainers to put together a retinue to head south just after the tournament. I believe this means he plans on going to Qualdris quickly.”

“Thilisa has another problem. She will be dowager Countess of Osel, but it’s inconceivable that she will want to live at Qualdris with a toad like Harabor. Further – and this is not widely known – she loathes her father only slightly less than she loathes the King. Evidently, her mother’s illness was caused by a blow from her father during some disagreement. The Earl is not known to be a violent man, and he’s been wracked with guilt over it for years – yet Thilisa cannot bring herself to forgive him. It is doubtful she will wish to return to Minarsas after so many years. And yet, you have made her heiress to the Earldom. Do you understand what I’m saying? The man who marries her will be the next Earl of Vemion when her father dies. If he fathers a son by her, that child will inherit after Thilisa dies.” Rahel’s flashing gray eyes bore into Ewen. “You will never have a better chance of seizing such a prize.”

Ewen holds her gaze, thoughtful and confident. “And seize it I shall… we each of us have our duties, it seems,” the last with a wry twist of his mouth.

“You will indirectly control two earldoms, and eventually hold one of them. You realize that Haldan has made an enemy of Vemion? Not openly, I suspect, but his actions towards Thilisa have convinced Caldeth that he should retire to his estates and wait. I don’t think he holds any animus towards you – these things happen in tournaments – though I doubt he will be thrilled to have you for a son-in-law. Yet, I think you may be able to sway him, especially now that he begrudges the King for his behavior towards Thilisa.”

“I suspect that the soon-to-be Dowager Countess of Osel will return to Qualdris, strip the place bare, and head to Minarsas. But I don’t see her staying there – she has no love left for her father so I suspect she’ll either go to one of the more remote Vemion holdings or more likely to Tashal. There is talk of allowing her to remain in possession of Osel House for her lifetime.”

Ewen nods, thinking aloud in a quiet murmer. “It’s the timing that worries me, if Para’s prognostications regarding events in the spring come to pass. One question is, will others now dare to pursue Thilisa’s hand, and risk the residual affront of the the King in so doing? I must presume, if we know of Thilisa’s rejection of the earldom, then others at court must as well by now, which changes the status quo, perhaps, which has kept other suitors at bay for so long … It seems to me I shall have to take Vemion’s invitation to Minarsas up sooner rather than later, and press the issue there. What Declaen Caldeth needs most, of a sudden now, is a grandson …”

“The fools who have fluttered about her for so long will no doubt quickly perceive that the stakes have raised. She would never have inherited Osel, but there was the faint hope she might be granted it in her own right. Now, she will inherit Vemion, and that’s an even bigger prize. I suspect that the Earl will try to foist an appropriate suitor on her as soon as he can, but that the choice, in the end, will be the lady’s. The Earl has law and custom on his side; she has her willpower.”

“As to Para, I think she’s being optimistic. I don’t know who the spy is within the Harbaalese camp, but I doubt he’s as effective as some of the nearer ones. Too, King Lerden is not the fool that Alegar II manifestly was. I expect that there will be an attack, perhaps near Tonot – a vassal of Balim – or a bit further south to Gardiren. The latter is a very strong castle, but raiding the surrounding manors can be profitable. The key question is what will Noron do? He may not attempt to hinder a large party, or he may even be the target of the raid. I doubt the Harbaalese know about him, and even if they do, will they believe the tales? Either way, I think you should plan to be in Gardiren by next spring, so whatever you do with Thilisa must be done now – at least a foundation must be laid.”

With that, Rahel rises from the bed, her supple form illuminated in the flickering light of the braziers. She reaches for her gown, glances back at Ewen with a mischievous leer, and raises her arms to slip the gown over her head. Ewen watches appreciatively as she arches, her small but perfect breasts stretching, nipples erect. The curve of her belly and the tuft of her mons affect him otherwise, and then the garment falls over her – clinging against her curves.

Now dressed, she moves gracefully to the sideboard and lifts a goblet, still filled with wine. As she drinks, her eyes peer over the rim to Ewen, and then, as she puts the goblet down, the flap to the chamber parts. A slight, almost spare woman – or is it a girl – enters. She is lovely to behold, with hair as dark as that of Rahel. Though her face betrays no emotion, her eyes seem far away. Rahel seems to have expected her.

“This is Sir Ewen of Ravinargh,” she says to the girl. “He is your lord now …”

“Right so came an adder out of a little heath bush,” Sir Ewen murmers, considering the newcomer from beneath hooded eyes. “What is your name, girl?…”

The girl looks about, languidly taking in the scene. “Cekiya,” she murmurs. “A lovely tent. It smells of daffodils. And eviscera.”

Rahel smiles in a small, mean way. Glancing at Sir Ewen, she says, “I shall be returning to Tashal. You know what to do.” With that, she leaves the tent, and disappears into the morning mist.

Cekiya, appearing not to notice Sir Ewen’s present state, mutters something incomprehensible and returns to the main chamber of the tent.

[GM: We now proceed with the official session activities.]

Larane 18, 731, Morning

This tale begins with Sir Baris awakening in a drunken stupor to find an unexpected woman in the bed next to him. The night before, Sir Baris had wandered away from the feast with a comely brunette from a nice family, and he remembered making the acquaintance of a second comely young lady at some point, though she may not have been from as good a family. He couldn’t remember – drunk, you know. As he looked over at the woman lying next to him, here was a third, and Sir Baris thought to himself, ‘However did the Lady Peresta get into my bed?’

As the cobwebs slowly cleared, the knight vaguely recalled the woman chattering on about something about the tragedy of her son losing the tournament his father was killed in. There have been thinner pretexts for romantic liaisons. The knight yawned, and decided to start his day with a drink. The knight normally didn’t imbibe as much alcohol as he had in the past few days, but it was the tournament, after all, and why shouldn’t he have fun? Rising from his bed with a start, heedless of waking the woman there, Sir Baris stumbled into the room in the center of the large tent. There he found a slip of a girl he had never seen before, sitting on a campstool staring at the ceiling. She turned to the knight, looked him up and down and said, “You look awful.”

Baris stammered an apology, said something about drinking to excess and not having had a chance to clean. Had he slept with this girl too? Arnys, hearing voices, rushed into the room, sword drawn. Seeing the woman he blurted, “How did you get in here?” A moment later, a hastily dressed Sir Ewen entered.

After a moment passed and the woman did not answer, Sir Baris said, “As the good Arnys asked, ‘How did you get here?’ And, moreover, who are you?”

A five-foot tall, scant framed, black haired woman with medium complexion looked up at Sir Baris with hazel eyes. “You can call me Cekiya.”

“This woman comes to us from our friend Rahel of Aerth,” Ewen said. Turning to the young woman, he asked, “Have you known Rahel for some time?”

“No, not very long,” Cekiya answered in a Kaldoric accent.

The young woman seemed somewhat unfocused, as if she was not paying full attention to the conversation. Sir Ewen took the opportunity to truth-read her, but unfortunately he did not succeed. Instead he asked, “So, where do you hail from Cekiya?”

“Tashal … I … Tashal,” the young woman answered.

“A busy city …” the harper replied.

“Yes, a very busy city. Busy, busy, busy, bzzz …You’re not from Tashal.” Arnys and Sirs Ewen and Baris shared a look at the woman’s strange behavior.

“You were introduced to me by Rahel as your lord. How do you take that to mean?” Ewen asked.

“I am your servant, to serve you in any capacity I can.”

“I will have to acquaint myself with your capacities, then,” Ewen said with a wry smile. Turning to his squire, the harper said, “Arnys, is there any food to be eaten?”

The beggar-turned-squire nodded and went off, but first kicked young Quinn’s cot to wake up the lad, and both went to prepare some food.

“So tell me Cekiya, where did you stay in Tashal?” Ewen asked.

“I am from many places in Tashal; moving about. Busy bees in the hive …” the young lass said cryptically.

“And how came you to Olokand, Cekiya,” Ewen said, and paused. “You are a long way from the hive.”

“You know how I got here, you met her, that sweet smelling woman. Daffodils,” Cekiya continued in her strange manner.

“The Lady Rahel,” Ewen stated.

“Yes, she smelled of daffodils. But not eviscera.” Cekiya made a face. “Questions, questions. People always ask questions. Naughty, nasty questions. Questions, very bad questions. I don’t like questions. Do you like questions?”

“I like answers even better,” Ewen replied.

“Hee hee, answers. When they suit. This is a nice tent – red and black, nice.” Cekiya looked around. “Hmm, bees.”

Sir Ewen was silent, resisting the temptation to lay hands upon this woman.

“I’m bored, do you have something for me to do?” Cekiya asked, and Ewen sighed. “Daffodil didn’t say I had to have so many questions …” Cekiya said, apparently referring to Rahel.

“Well, my friends,” Ewen said, looking around at Sir Baris, Arnys, and Kaelyn, who had popped in quietly unnoticed at some point. “I think it would be prudent for us to trust the wisdom of Lady Rahel. In the meantime, we should find a way for her to fit into our group.”

“Do you have something for me to do?” Cekiya asked again.

“We will wait until we know your capabilities. In the meantime, assist around the tent, and do not remain conspicuous.”

“Do you like her?” the strange woman said suddenly, pointing to Kaelyn, who edged towards the door.

“To be honest with you, Cekiya, I hadn’t really decided.” Sir Ewen said.

Cekiya hummed to herself. “Hmm, I like kitties, where did the kitty come from?”

The party looked around, seeing no feline.

“So, Sir Baris, I take it you are recovered from your evening?” Ewen said, changing the subject.

Sir Baris blinked. “Why yes, yes I am.”

“Not alone, not alone, are you Baris?” Cekiya interjected.

“No, no I am not,” Sir Baris said, trying to suppress a grin and failing.

“Bad boy, bad boy.” Cekiya pointed at Sir Baris. “Do you like him,” she said, looking at Ewen.

“I like everyone in this tent, and everyone in Olokand, I’ll let you know if I don’t like someone,” Sir Ewen told her, slowly realizing what she might mean with her inquiries about whom he liked and did not like.

Soon after this point, the Lady Peresta came out of Sir Baris’ room, clearing her throat quite loudly. She looked around at those gathered and then stumbled out of the tent, half dressed. As soon as she exited the tent, the party heard a yelp and the sound of the woman falling to the ground. She had apparently tripped over Arnys’ stool. The Lady Peresta used some most unladylike language, and left the area. The party was silent for a moment.

“You need to pick your bedmates a bit more carefully, Sir Baris,” Ewen said.

Baris cracked a small smile, thinking how funny it was Ewen used the plural.

That morning was the Squire’s joust, and in the afternoon, the grand melee took place. The red, royal, team was commanded by Prince Brandis. Lord Prehil Firith commanded the white team. Both Sir Ewen and Sir Baris were on the royal team. The battle raged through the peasants’ area, and they screamed in joy but also scrambled out of the way. Eventually, the red team won. Prince Brandis and the various lords named Sir Cardiel Nacarn as the ‘Champion of the Melee.’ There were fortunately no fatalities during the melee, though there were some injuries among the lesser quality knights. Sirs Ewen and Baris were merely winded, but were not injured or unhorsed. No lesser quality knights, they.

After repairing to the tent and being helped out of their armor by Arnys and Quinn, Sirs Baris and Ewen took a rather long nap, and did not stir for several hours. While the rest of the party relaxed in the tent, Cekiya wandered about the tent camp. Fortunately, she did not get into any mischief.

That evening the King held a small feast. The winner of the grand melee, Sir Cardiel, received a fully accoutered warhorse, with silks hastily done in his colors, as his award. Sir Cardiel’s arms were a black field with a silver cross, with a bar sinister in red, indicating bastardy. Most of the knights were rather exhausted after the exhausting tournament, and the festivities were not as raucous as previous nights. Sir Baris slept alone.

Larane 19, 731

This was a day of settling accounts. Sirs Ewen and Baris ransomed the armor they won during the tournament. Sir Ewen also sold the warhorse and most of the weapons, armor and helms that he won, making an overall profit of 1,535.75 pence. The harper did, however, keep the bastard sword, as it was of a rather high quality.

While the knights were attending to these pecuniary matters, Imarë went to watch the longbow contest, but did not participate. There was some other entertainment for the peasants and other low people, but the party did not deign to take part in those events.

In the evening, there was a dance, in which the party did take part. While the dance was enjoyable, especially for the knights after the strain of the past few days, it was not particularly memorable.

Larane 20, 731

In the morning, the final fifteen knights took part in a parade, led by the champion of the tournament, Sir Ewen. As trumpets sounded, the knights presented themselves, dressed in full armor, their shields and banners emblazoned with their coats of arms. It was a bright day, and the sun shone brightly on the knights’ polished armor, and their shields, swords and lances sparkled. The peasants cheered, the nobles merely politely clapped, above such raucous displays.

King Haldan rose, thanked the participants and the attendees, and anyone who had anything to do with making the tournament the great success it was. He congratulated Sir Ewen by name, and declared the tournament closed.

Afterwards, it became apparent that some of the tents had been closed during the parade. Minor knights, who had fallen early in the tournament, slunk away early. As the party made their way to Sir Ewen’s tent, a Laranian priest made his way over and handed the harper an officially sealed document. “His lordship, Ilor Hadan, Bishop of Nurez, invites you and your menie to attend upon him at Abriel Abbey, which is but a short distance of Olokand, where he wishes to honor you as champion of the joust, in this, his diocese,” the priest said.

“You should advise his lordship that I will be honored to be his guest,” Ewen replied.

“He will be most pleased. Tomorrow or the 22nd?”

“The 22nd if it would be alright with his lordship,” Sir Ewen said.

“I will inform his lordship,” the priest said, and departed.

“Why are we staying until the 22nd?” Sir Baris asked Ewen.

“Well, I thought we could take the time to tie up any loose ends.”

“I suppose, and it will give time for the roads to clear, and we could use some more rest after our exertions,” Sir Baris replied.

“Tying up loose ends?” Cekiya jumped in. She smiled, playing ‘itsy-bitsy spider’ with her hands, a gleam in her eye. “Will it hurt?”

The rest of the party was silent, and looked at each other uncomfortably.

Later, in the tent, Sir Ewen spoke to the party without Cekiya present. “I think we need to subject this woman to the same test we subjected to a certain laborer in the temple.”

“She’s nuts,” Kaelyn said.

“So was Digger,” Ewen stated. Does Rahel know that Cekiya is a bit ‘touched?’ he thought to himself. The knight found it hard to believe that it would have eluded her attention, although the woman’s lack of marbles was rather obvious.

“What is this woman supposed to do for us,” Sir Baris asked – “mortality work?”

“She’s not Deryni, correct?” Imarë asked.

“I’m not sure, I tried to read her before – she didn’t seem to be Deryni,” Ewen replied. “Shall I try and read her again?” Ewen asked, and they agreed.

Sir Ewen called the woman into the tent. “Cekiya?”

The young woman entered the tent. “Yes, lord?”

“I am your lord, am I not, Cekiya?”

“Daffodil said so,” Cekiya said, nodding.

“Your lord wishes you to sit before him,” Ewen said, and Cekiya sat before him. “Cekiya, I will need to touch you for this.”

“No, not like touch,” Cekiya stated.

“But your lord requests it,” Ewen said evenly, trying to keep his composure.

“No, not like touch. Touch is bad.”

“Will you touch my hand, then?” Ewen asked, holding his hand out.

“Those hands have done some naughty things.”

“Yes they have, Cekiya,” Ewen said.

“They caused pain, didn’t they.”

“Yes, they have Cekiya,” Ewen said. “But they will not hurt you, Cekiya.”

“I don’t like being touched,” Cekiya repeated.

“That is why I’m letting you touch me – you may break the contact whenever you like. There must be a bond between you and your lord, Cekiya,” Ewen stated, his anger rising.

“You do not trust that I will serve you?” Cekiya asked in a hurt voice.

“Is this not the first thing that I have asked you to do?” Ewen asked.

“I want to know why I have to touch you?” Cekiya said. She paused in thought, and then sighed. “Very well,” she said, and poked Sir Ewen’s hand. Then she got up and pirouetted away, humming. “I’m bored.”

Ewen looked at her expectantly.

“I touched you!” Cekiya protested.

“Perhaps I should send you back to the Lady Rahel, with my displeasure.”

“But I haven’t helped you yet! I just don’t like touching – touching can be bad. I’ll serve you – just give me something to do!” Suddenly remembering something, she said, “Where are these ends we’re tying? That sounds like fun!”

“Cekiya, step outside the tent if you will,” Ewen said.

“Lalalala, OK!” Cekiya said and wandered out of the tent. “He likes me,” she giggled once she was out of earshot.

“Well, we can damage this little tool that has been placed in my hand, or we can forego that for now and see what uses she can be put to.” Ewen looked around. “Of course, we can’t let her loose here.”

“Yes, ‘let loose’” is the proper term,” Baris remarked dryly.

Imarë spoke up, saying, “We might want to go to somewhere more secluded to see what abilities she has.”

“We can’t use the abbey,” Sir Ewen said. “She’ll be in our retinue, and anything she does will reflect upon us. Is there anything useful we can get Cekiya to do here in Olokand that will benefit our cause?”

Imarë suggested that, “Perhaps we could have her try and get into Olokand castle. She is obviously crazy, if she’s caught the guards may simply let her go.”

“I don’t have a problem with ordering her to infiltrate the castle,” Ewen said, “But is there anything better we can have her do? Maybe we can cause a scandal of some sort, something to shake up the court of Kaldor,” Ewen wondered aloud.

“Perhaps we can embarrass our good friend the Sheriff?” Baris suggested.

“Maybe,” Sir Ewen said. “But I have another idea. I intend to pursue the hand of the Countess Thilisa, and I’ll need to court her. Fortunately, she has already shown a receptivity to this. So I wonder whether a letter might be written that Cekiya could inveigle to the countess without her knowing how on earth it got there.”

“How is that scandalous?” Baris asked.

“It would be more of a test,” Sir Ewen said.

“Oh, well, that makes sense, then,” Sir Baris said, a little chagrined.

“You know, a scented letter upon her pillow,” Ewen said, returning to his plan. “Although, perhaps we could have her do a test that furthers our interests.” The harper paused, gathering his thoughts. “After the King learned of the Earl of Osel’s death, he dangled the earldom in her own right in front of Thilisa. He hoped to entice her into his bed. After all these years, she had no interest in the King,” She had been hoping that he would be distracted. When it came down to it, she refused to be bedded by him, even in return for the earldom. Sir Maldan was offered the earldom in exchange for giving up his northern lands.” Ewen paused as a sudden thought struck him. “Now that I think of it, the first time Thilisa flirted with me was after she spurned the King, which would explain why Haldan was glaring at us the entire time.”

“But back to the matter at hand. Now, Rahel’s supposition was that Maldan would put together a retinue at the end of the tournament and head to Qualdris,” Ewen continued. Thilisa on the other hand, is going to be the dowager Countess of Osel. She won’t want to live at Qualdris with Harabor. Rahel also told me that Thilisa loathes her father only a little bit more than she loathes the King, since he once beat her mother, which led to her mother’s illness. Although, in his defense, the man didn’t do this regularly, and he’s been wracked with guilt since. Whoever marries Thilisa will have de facto control of the earldom of Vemion when her father dies, and if he fathers a son by her, that son will inherit Vemion when she dies. My goal here is to win Thilisa’s hand, and become de facto Earl of Vemion. Then we would control two earldoms, if you include Osel. However, Thilisa’s a strong-willed woman. I’ll need to woo her, but the signs are good. At the same time, I’ll need to learn Vemion’s position.”

For a time, the party further discussed the pros and cons of giving Cekiya a mission, but eventually decided to have her do nothing. After all, things were going well, and they didn’t want to mess things up.

Meanwhile, Cekiya, who had heard some bits of the conversation from outside the tent, decided to break into the castle anyway. She flitted off, muttering something about “Baron, Stimos, Castle, bees.”

The party heard this from inside the tent. After a moment, Sir Ewen said “Don’t just stand there, go after her!”

Sir Baris leaped up, grabbed his axe, pushed the tent flap aside, and strode after Cekiya. He caught up with her at the gibbets, where the woman was apparently admiring the twisting body. It also happened to be a good vantage point on the castle. The knight tried to convince the young, crazy, woman to come back with him to the tent, but she would have nothing of it and, ignoring the knight, started towards the castle. The knight interposed himself between Cekiya and the castle, but quick as a flash, she grabbed a dagger and pressed the point into his stomach.

Baris thought to himself she’s just a slip of a girl, I’ll just manhandle her back to the tent. As he moved towards her, Cekiya deftly twisted out of the way. The young woman attempted to trip the knight, but he dodged out of the way. Sighing, he drew his axe. Reacting swiftly, Cekiya kicked the axe, but Sir Baris did not drop his weapon, although he was knocked off balance. The woman again attempted to knock the knight down, kicking towards his right shoulder, but at the last moment switching her aim and her foot smashed into the knight’s mouth, drawing blood.

That hurt! Sir Baris thought. This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. Frustrated, Sir Baris attempted to hit the woman with the flat of his axe. Unfortunately, she flipped over him, landing behind the knight. No small feat, as he was a foot taller than she.

The knight holstered his axe, turned around, and swallowed his pride. “That was an excellent sparring match!” he said loudly, for the benefit of the growing crowd. Clapping, Sir Baris said, “Well done! Let us return to the tent, and we will feast.”

Cekiya, looked around at the growing crowd and realized that further attempts to infiltrate the castle would be pointless. She agreed, and followed the knight back to the tent.

Returning to the tent, an embarrassed Sir Baris went in, Cekiya in tow. “Here she is.”

“Sir Baris, what happened to your lip?” Ewen asked.

“I tripped. Into her foot. She’s quite the fighter. She would have no trouble embarrassing some other knights – she embarrassed me.”

Imarë treated Sir Baris’s lip with nonmagical and magical healing arts. Afterwards, the knight sought out some alcohol. The woman was quite strong. She hit him far harder than her size would lead him to expect.

Meanwhile, Sir Ewen decided to speak to Cekiya. “You obviously overheard our discussion.”

“You were talking aloud,” Cekiya replied.

“Then you would have heard that I decided to not have you go into the castle.”

“I could have done it,” Cekiya said petulantly.

Ewen grew frustrated. “I don’t need an instrument that takes chances, the stakes are too high. I expect you to behave in a manner that conforms with the goals and purposes of this group.”

“You wanted to know what I could do. I can do things!” Cekiya replied.

“And you heard that I didn’t need to take that test right now. I trust the woman who entrusted you to me.”

“You can trust her,” Cekiya said.

“Right now I don’t trust you,” Ewen said. “You are a hazard to my goals here.”

“Is that different from before?”

“I need you to understand this – acting on your own recognizance, acting on your own, without the consensus of this group, endangers us all.”

“I serve you – I won’t put you in danger. Can we have something to eat?”

Ewen sighed. “I’m beginning to think that perhaps my lady Rahel was in error.”

“She’s very pretty, Rahel.”

“Well, perhaps you would be better disposed to enjoy her company in Tashal.”

“Are we going to Tashal? Can I serve you there?”

“You may serve me best, and I am considering this, as many leagues away from me as I can put you,” Ewen said.

“Hmmm. Daffodil knows I can help you,” Cekiya said.

“Was the blade you drew on Sir Baris tainted?” Ewen asked, attempting to truth-read the woman.

“Why would I do that? That would hurt Sir Baris.”

“I think you succeeded in doing so,” Ewen said, thinking that the woman was telling the truth. “If you seek to prove yourself to me by engaging in behavior I do not sanction.”

“I don’t need to prove myself. Baris knows. He tried to touch me.”

“I sent him to get you, because you had gone a foolish route. You heard through the tent flap that I had decided you should do nothing.”

The conversation went on in the same way for a time.

Later that night, Sir Baris went to a bar, started a fight, beat some guys up, and felt better for it. That night, Sir Ewen set wards around the tent. In the wee hours of the morning, Sir Baris staggered back to the tent and collapsed onto his bunk.

Larane 21, 731

The next morning, the tents of the more important knights were being brought down by local workers. Ewen paid to have his tent and other camp supplies shipped back to Tashal, for a cost of 24d. For a time, Cekiya wandered around, marveling at the missing tents. Sir Ewen kept a watchful eye on her. He realized that the woman was not stupid, she merely had a loose grasp on her immediate reality. Other than that, she actually seemed quite sharp.

One of Lady Peresta’s pages came by, and found Baris in the tent. The knight had declined to show his face that day. “My lady enjoyed the poetry you recited. She would like to hear more upon your return.”

“Tell your lady I will come up with some more poetry for her upon my return,” Sir Baris said, thinking on the need to ask Sir Ewen to write something.

The page nodded and ran off. Sir Baris recalled his time as a page.

Later the issue arose of providing a mount for Cekiya. Someone suggested that she ride double with Kaelyn, but Cekiya refused this. “No touching,” she reminded.

Sir Baris went out to find a horse for the woman – paid for by Sir Ewen, of course. The knight was going to try and find a recalcitrant horse for the woman, but decided to be the better man, and chose a decent palfrey for her. After he returned with the horse, Cekiya rode for a time, familiarizing herself with the horse, and the horse with her.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. That night, as Kaelyn awoke to answer a call of nature, she made a small sound as she exited the tent. She noticed that Cekiya was instantly awake and alert.

Larane 22, 731

That morning the party departed for the bishop’s abbey, Arnys having gotten directions to Abriel the day before. Along the way, they passed two manors: Loxton and Iversen. The peasants they came across were a bit surprised to see the party, dressed as they were in surcoats. The lower folk bowed and were respectful to the knights, as was proper.

During the ride, Cekiya conveyed to Sir Ewen that she understood he was in command. She also conveyed that he need not worry for his life while she was around. Ewen indicated that he understood these statements.

During the journey, Sir Baris found himself continually glancing at the black knight. The woman had red hair, green eyes, was about 5’8’’, and was muscular, but not too much so. He spoke to her, and learned that she had hoped to be named bailiff of her father’s manor. When she was not, she determined to participate in the tournament to win a manor of her own. Beforehand, she had privately decided to offer her services to whoever won, if it was not her. She wanted to advance herself in the service of a puissant knight.

As the party drew closer to the abbey, Sir Ewen sent Arnys off to inform them of his arrival. By the time the party arrived, a small contingent had gathered to greet the first knight in Kaldor. There was a collection of several small buildings, and a larger house of worship, surrounded by a small wall. However, the place was not exactly well fortified, the warriors in the party noted.

The party rode up to the delegation. There were several priests, one wearing quite a bit of red – apparently the serolan. Also, a knight of the Order of the Lady of Paladins (the eastern fighting order of the Laranian church) of was present. He wore a bastard sword at his waist, and a look on his face that said he would rather be elsewhere. Sir Ewen greeted the Serolan as an equal. Arnys quietly took the reins of Sir Ewen’s horse. After a moment, Quinn did the same for Sir Baris’s horse.

“I have the honor of Sir Ewen of Ravinargh?” the Serolan asked.

“You do,” Sir Ewen replied.

“I am the Serolan Lorald Banidar.” The man turned to a priest to his left. “This is the Obasaran, Holdis of Karondel.” The Serolan then turned to his right, indicating the knight, saying “And this is Sir Golian of Bireth. He is a Reblena.”

“I thank you for the hospitality,” Sir Ewen replied. “This is Sir Baris Tyrestal,” he said, indicating Baris, who nodded slightly. “And this is Lady Afaewyn,” he said, indicating the lady knight in the party.

“I am sure your mounts will find accommodations in the Rekela’s stables. His lordship the Rekela is in prayer, but he would be happy if you joined him for the midday service. In the meantime,” the Serolan pointed to a small building, “that is the Bishop’s hall, and he has asked that you be quartered there. The Matakea here will see to your needs at the moment.” The Matakea was one Melkea of Drellen, an attractive young girl in her early twenties – a serious looking woman.

“Thank you, you are gracious,” Sir Ewen said.

“Congratulations on winning the tournament, Sir Ewen. And you, Sir Baris and Lady Afaewyn, I understand you made it to the final sixteen – a great honor. A great credit to Larani and chivalry.”

“To chivalry,” Sir Baris said.

The Matakea led the party to their quarters. The abbey had no other guests at the moment, and so the party received three rooms for the knights. There were outbuildings where their servants could be housed, she explained.

“We appreciate the accommodations,” Sir Ewen stated.

As the party entered the hall, Sir Ewen was shown a room all the way at the end on the right, Sir Baris the room preceding that, and Lady Afaewyn was shown a room on the left hand side. The rest of the party was sent to the servants’ quarters: one of the smaller outbuildings, opposite the abbey.

“If you are in need, there is normally refreshment placed out in the hall.”

After the servant left, Ewen and the others decided what to do with Cekiya. It was decided that Kaelyn would keep an eye on the unpredictable woman.

“Although,” Ewen said, “Cekiya was also intended to be a bodyguard for myself, so having her separated from me could be a problem. My thinking is that the trade off will be to keep her around more than my initial inclination – though that might make me look a bit eccentric.”

After stowing their gear and settling into their rooms, the party decided to take a stroll around the abbey. Passing the cemetery, they noticed crypts in addition to headstones. There was an orchard to the west, and granaries to the east. To the north were stables, although the party’s horses were stabled elsewhere. The abbey itself was on high ground. Most of the people working around the abbey were peasants. Others were clearly acolytes, and there was occasional priest. At one point on their grand tour of the abbey, Cekiya moved closer to Sir Ewen and said, “There is a soldier behind us, following, someone saying nasty things about you. I don’t like this place.” Alerted, the party noticed a knight of the Order of the Lady of Paladins following them.

“Leave him be,” Ewen ordered.

Sir Baris pretended to be interested in some boring piece of Laranian art, and when the Paladin knight came near him, Sir Baris put his arm around the man and said, “So tell me about the Order!”

The young knight was taken aback, but after a moment said. “Perhaps you could come back to my room to discuss this?”

Sir Baris looked confused for a moment, and then said, “Perhaps another time.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties.”

“Of course, excuse me,” Sir Baris said.

Eventually, the party made their way to the church. The Serolan was waiting for them. Sir Ewen requested that Kaelyn be shown the library. The young lady was taken off by an acolyte. The three knights and the two squires entered the temple, leaving Imarë and Cekiya outside. Inside there was a picture depicting Larani on a battlefield, accompanied by a man shedding tears over knights fallen in battle. It was a rather grisly scene.

The three knights and two squires stayed for a half-hour service. During the service, the Bishop on many occasions had referred to the ‘reluctant way,’ apparently referring to the theme of the reluctant warrior in the Laranian faith. Sir Baris, uncomfortable taking part in a Laranian service, and, frankly, bored, found his gaze wandering. He noticed that Sir Golian, and the other Order knights, seemed displeased with the service, although probably not for the same reasons he was.

After the service, the Rekela met the knights and the squires. They knelt to be blessed, even Sir Baris, who reluctantly mastered his will. This is not the time, he thought to himself. It seemed he would never get over being imprisoned and tortured by the Laranians. The knight suddenly had an image of himself on the rack, but banished it, barely suppressing a shudder.

After the blessing, the knights were taken to a refectory, where there was a large table and some other, smaller tables. The Serolan and Rekela, and Sir Baris and Sir Ewen, were seated at the head table. The knights of the fighting order had chosen the table farthest away.

Meanwhile, Kaelyn was taken to the library. The library was in the cellar of the southern wing of the abbey. It was a very large room filled with shelves and some small desks. They abbey librarian, the suloran (master of archives), was named Querene of Debtun. She was relatively young for such a position, and did not seem to be much older than thirty. She wore the robes of a temple priest.

“I was told that you are interested in the archives. That is a bit unexpected, but I will show you can I can. It would help if I knew your interest?” Querene asked.

“I am looking for a history of the Laranian church in Kaldor,” Kaelyn said.

“We have information about the Order of the Spear of Shattered Sorrow and the Order of the Lady of Paladins.”

“I would like to learn about the Order of the Spear of Shattered Sorrow.”

The archivist gave Kaelyn a book about the current Order. “Perhaps this will help.”

Kaelyn learned that the Church of Larani in Kaldor is organized as follows: There is an archbishop – the Serekela. His name was Edine Kynn. His seat, an abbey or archabbey, was called Caleme, near Tashal. The archbishop also jointly holds the temple in Tashal. Each place has its own serolan, but the archbishop holds both places. The book noted in passing that associated with Caleme was a chapterhouse of the Order of the Lady of Paladins at a place called Whyce. The book went on to note that there were four bishoprics under the archbishop. One was the Bishop of Nurez, where the party was currently, with Ilor Haden. This place, too, had a chapterhouse of the Order of the Lady of Paladins, at a place called Yaltako. The next bishopric was Serelind, his seat was the abbey called Brynd. The associated chapterhouse of the Order of the Lady of Paladins was a place called Jenkald. In the margins, in a different hand, was a note that the Bishop, Verda Emerel, was old and ill, and would be called to Dolithor soon. The next bishopric, was the Bishop of Kephrus. It was noted that the current bishop was Tyrnal Dariune. Another note stated “named Lord Chancellor 728.” The seat was the abbey of Cholas, and the associated chapterhouse of the Order of the Lady of Paladins was Vadan. The last bishopric, the book noted, was the Bishop of Pagostra. No name was given. The seat was noted as the abbey of Ledyne. There was another marginal note, in the same handwriting as before, saying that “Reblena close to the Baron of Kobe. Pagaelin.”

Back in the refectory, the Rekela expanded upon his sermon topic over lunch. After he was finished, he turned to Sir Ewen. “You, Sir Ewen, embody the entire message of the reluctant way. You are a secular knight. I sense that your adherence to Larani, while no doubt true, is not of a fanatical nature. Am I wrong?”

“I have learned, my lord Bishop, moderation in all things,” Sir Ewen replied.

“Just so, just so! It seems to me that that is the natural order of things – that there is an order who prays. And then there is an order who fights. That, is Larani’s way. It is true, that when those who are weak and helpless, in need, the reluctant warrior must spring into action in defense of the helpless! But at all other times, we must eschew the path of the secular warrior.”

“I see the wisdom in your words,” Ewen said.

“And yet, you will not find this opinion throughout Kaldor in the high halls of the clergy.”

“I have seen that there are many chivalrous men, in a kingdom that is remarkably peaceable, well ordered, and well run, I might say.”

“My point! This kingdom is exactly well ordered. Here is the Laranian ideal on Kethira. What more could we want! BUT! At yonder table,” the Rekela pointed to table where the Order of Paladins was seated, “are the Order of the Lady of Paladins, who are so consumed with affairs of a secular nature, that they are at this very moment contemplating a break with their brother knights in Melderyn. Why, you ask me? Is it because of what Larani wants, the reluctant warrior? NO! It is because they do not like what their Meldernyi brothers are doing against the Solori tribesmen, and so they feel they should have their own order.” He paused, drinking some water. “Nationalism has no place in the faith of Larani.”

Sir Baris was familiar with the Solori tribesmen, as he lived in Melderyn in his youth.

“I suppose, my lord bishop, it is in the nature of men to chafe in times of peace, without appreciating the ordered way of things in which they live,” Sir Ewen said.

“But the Order of the Lady of Paladins in Melderyn want to kill the Solori tribesmen. And they have called upon the knights here to prosecute this war!”

Sir Ewen asked, “Perhaps it pains them that the tribesmen have not seen the justice of the lady’s cause?”

“That is what they say! They say that the Solori are in league with Agrik. But Agrik in Melderyn? It beggers the imagination!”

“It is the way of people to go against those who are unfamiliar.” Sir Ewen replied.

“You yourself should be familiar with this! Why, Tharda until recently was ruled by a adherent of one of the dark gods!”

Ewen wisely did not disagree with the Bishop, who went on about theology for quite awhile. The bishop, Ewen and Baris discussed the new philosophy for a time, before ending lunch.

At the table of the Order of the Lady of Paladins, one of the knights there said “A good but misguided man.” The knight looked at his fellows. “One that we must keep safe.”