Session One Hundred and Three - June 8, 2013

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session One Hundred and Three - June 8, 2013

Postby Matt » Wed Aug 14, 2013 5:48 pm

Larane 8, 732

Three large and armed men exited the private room of the inn. Each of them was deep in their own thoughts on both the purpose and result of the meeting they had just attended. The men, used to commanding others, either ignored or were dismissive of the men at arms who guarded the hallway and room they had just left. Making their way down the clean but worn stairs to the first floor they entered, physically at least, the world of the other patrons of the inn who sought drink, or companionship, or both in the many forms that Tashal could offer to the well off.

“Ahhh Sir Ewen!” As if in wait, the continental physician assaulted the trio as they descended from above. The last of the three emitted only a small sigh, while the second unconsciously stroked his long mustache to remove, or rescue, the last bits of ale that had taken up residence in his whiskers. The first man leading the three looked to the man who had spoken to them, his calculating eye assessing his surroundings and then the man who had addressed him.

“Sotor.”

The man, fashionably attired in Ebon Kald, addressed the wiry angular man by name and waited upon the steps to see what would follow. In an instant his mind debated whether the next phrase from his assailant would be spoken plainly or put to verse. The thought occurred to all three of the men and at least one silently hoped that they had not been gone long enough for the physician to compose what he had to say in verse.

“A small boon sir! I desire greatly to begin to work upon your books of lore. I am keenly anticipating what I may find in your amassed books that you perchance may have overlooked, or unknowingly housed and preserved a great work hitherto unknown to me or the larger world.”

“Fine.”

“What I mean to say Sir Ewen is may I begin my task this evening? Do you have any objection to me being in your house and library at night?”

“No. My library is fully at your disposal,” responded Sir Ewen quickly bending his mental faculties back to the problem of the vacated baronial seat of Ternua.

Unmindful of the current preoccupation of the knight the physician continued as the three made their way to the door and out into the rainy night.

“Just so, I shall produce for you a fine catalog of your works. Of course if anything of great import to you is discovered I will annotate the section on a separate draft for your review. Such, that you may do it at your leisure and so as to not be burdened by having to pursue the whole catalog at once.”

“Fine.”

Then coming back to full awareness of the physician, “But first let me alert certain members of my retinue to your approved presence there. You may begin tonight, but my little adder should know that I have allowed you access. It will avoid difficulties for both of us.”

The conversation was cut short by the downpour as the party, now numbering four, was beset upon the instant they stepped into the street.

“Well, I, Sir Baris, shall check on the Elf & Dwarf before retiring. Ewen, Æomund, I shall see you in the morning. I thought the kestrel went off smashingly don’t you?”

Sir Ewen still deeply in a contemplative mood was curt in his response, “An avoidable distraction to more important affairs, but it’s behind us now.”

The third man, to this point still silent, cracked a slight smile hidden by the dark. “Yes Sir Baris, smartly done. The kestrel was a fine gift, matched only by the honeyed words of a practiced, but well spoken apology.”

“HA! Æomund, I’ll drink an ale on that and the good fortune of fine friends!”

The rain, falling heavily, curtailed any further discussion and the men parted company. Sir Baris headed straight to his inn and the others to the sanctuary of Raven Hall as another soaked night passed in the capital. Sir Ewen quietly made his way to Hag Hall in the depths of the night.

Larane 9, 732

Sir Æomund awoke early. The rain of the night before had given way to an overcast, gray morning. The tall knight recited his devotions to the Lady as he prepared for the day. Once the first task of praying was completed he saw to his sword and other equipment in accordance with daily routine. His gear of war was arranged in his chambers as it would have hung in a much larger armory. Each piece of equipment oiled and placed in the precision that is only mastered by one who had spent long hours in his youth repeating the technique. Sir Æomund drew strength in the fact that each of his brother knights, wherever the calling of the Lady had sent them, was performing the same routine and daily preparations as himself. Drawing a deep breath, ritual prayers complete, he began his own daily addendum.

‘Service to one’s lord is the Highest Calling of a knight,’ the large man intoned in his head as he donned his tunic woolward. Sir Ewen is my lord, I will serve him as I would my Lady. Already the shirt was beginning to irritate the man. Each prickling scratch a reminder to the knight that his wishes were of no consequence to his obligation as a servant of Larani and a sworn sword to a lord.

It is not duty that does honor to the knight, for a knight is nothing but duty. “Today, as every day I will ask in my thoughts and in my actions, ‘what does duty demand of a knight?” Fastening the buckles of his light armor, another new daily ritual in the service of Sir Ewen, he arranged his outer garments over the concealed protection. Affixing the emblem of his order Æomund made his way to the study of Sir Ewen and his assembled companions.

Sir Ewen, surrounded by his retinue of advisors, proceeded with their customary morning deliberations. The chief topic of consideration this morning was the vacated seat of the Barony of Ternua. The facts concerning the dismissal and imprisonment of the Baron, his eldest son, and exile of other members of the Verdreth family were reviewed again. As the First Knight of Kaldor looked upon those whom he clothed, housed, and fed, he realized that very little in the way of illuminated thought or discussion was going to occur. Sir Baris, still smarting from the predicament he had placed Sir Ewen in by speaking his mind to Sir Meden Curo two days previously, was keeping his own counsel and trying not to be in the way. Even Kaelyn seemed not to be engaged this morning. The keen eye of Sir Ewen detected that while outwardly calm some festering wrath swirled below the surface – seemingly directed towards the somber Sir Baris. Sir Æomund was as taciturn as ever when the subjects of the peers of the realm were discussed. Though but recently joined to his house Sir Ewen believed though the knight’s heart was not quite dedicated to the open or secret ambitions of the First Knight of Kaldor, he housed little doubt as to his loyalty. As Ewen’s eye rested on the wandering knight, he saw him stir, fidget, and finally speak.

“M’Lord, I believe that Sir Prehil is being honest and open in asking for your advice. He has been a good and noble friend.”

“And a great supplier of ale!” chimed in Sir Baris.

The bearded knight continued, “And he and his father are the noble scions of a great house. But, if you permit me to speak my mind: I don’t know why Sir Meden would seek your counsel or what he would do with it once provided. His intentions are not clear to me and I would be cautious in any further response you give him. Two suggestions were offered and two declined. Perhaps Sir Meden is going to ask for new ideas until you strike upon the one he wishes you to say or stumble into a trap. With so much in doubt I say let it lie. The King’s choice makes sense from the King’s perspective and other than their uncomfortable feeling with the decision, neither man really seems inclined to do anything about it.”

The First Knight of Kaldor stroked his chin and thought through the problem again. Sir Æomund was right in that both ideas they had put forward were rejected as impossible. The true question was how to give an answer the was useful to the two knights, plausible, and also in some way would help in his own plans.

“As you say Sir Æomund, kings are indeed prickly persons to deal with, especially when wroth and with decisions and verdicts already escaped from their mouths. In times like those it is best to use their own words as sword and armor against them. As I recall, in a previous judgment by the King that went against Sir Baran Meleken he stated that Sir Baran was evenly derived in peerage for the Earldom of Osel, but was judged against in that matter. The King, in open court, said that he would in some future matter remember that circumstance made the finding against him, but would elevate him in some suitable manner.”

“Oh Sir Ewen! Why don’t you recommend Sir Baran to the seat of Ternua?”

Sir Ewen paused and inclined his head in the direction of the outburst, “An excellent idea Sir Baris.”

“Through marriage he is a kinsman of sorts to me. If we can arrange a meeting and propose that a unique opportunity may come up to put his name forward for an office and that if the opportunity bore fruit we would expect, in a private sense at least, that Sir Baran would support me until made Earl of Vemion.”

As the plan sunk in to the surrounding members in council each nodded their agreement towards the feasibility of the plan was expressed in murmurs and nods.

“Excellent plan! Time for breakfast!” with an abrupt start Sir Baris stood up signaling his belief that the meeting had run its course and ready to move on to other business. As Sir Baris bounded for the door the attentive eye of Sir Ewen saw briefly the wicked grin that played upon Kaelyn’s face.

Still seated with hands steepled Sir Ewen continued, “Let’s hope that my luck in the collection of barons to my banner continues. Kaelyn, pray pen a letter to my Lady wife to ascertain the location of her cousin Sir Baran so that we may meet with him.”

Kaelyn brought back to the present nods to Sir Ewen that this shall be done.

The angular physician Sotor of Pelanby sees an opening here where in he may contribute to the council, “Kaelyn, maybe you can make contact with Lady Verdreth?”

Without looking at the physician her response is short and emphatic.

“No.”

After which her gaze moves back to the doorway recently exited by Sir Baris and with a set look of determination, also leaves the room. With the meeting apparently adjourned, the other members of the deliberations make their way to the hall for breakfast.


Many meals have been had at Raven Hall by the company. Most had slipped unnoted into the background, but breakfast on this day was a notable exception. Kaelyn’s outward appearance was calm, but her heart burned to have some small revenge against the perpetual plagues brought about by Sir Baris. On this morning she had decided to reap her vengeance against the until recently hedge knight.

The company assembled around the table, pork sausage and other fare being laid out and once more the larder of Sir Ewen was drained by the host of eclectic companions that he kept within his hall. Such were the obligations of lordship.

What had begun as a normal occasion in Raven Hall gradually and by degrees took a different turn. The bold Sir Baris set upon the food with his normal gusto when he noted the trencher he held began to feel slick in his hand. Thinking nothing of it the knight set about to eat his fill of pork sausage and small ale. The ill at ease feeling would not however pass from the knight.

Wiping his hand upon his brow it came away even damper as the face of the knight first broke out into a sweat and then rivulets began to pour down the face of the man, dripping from the ends of his great moustache. Looking down at the table Sir Baris felt decidedly ill at ease.

Beside him, the bearded Sir Æomund notices the condition of his erstwhile friend. “BY THE LADY! Get this man an ALE!”

A sickly looking Sir Baris snapped his head towards his friend with a pleading look extended his hand which was immediately filled with another ale. At the profane statement from the bearded knight the whole of the table’s attention was now upon Baris.

“Sir Baris, do you need to excuse yourself from my table?” queried the First Knight of Kaldor.

“I, ah … no. I mean I am feeling a little ill.”

“What? Just so, I am a physician.” The continental rose from his place at the table and began his examination of Sir Baris. Looking into the man’s eyes, tasting his pouring sweat, looking into the knight’s mouth, as was his routine, Sotor attempted to determine the cause of the illness. “Well my good knight you will either be dead or in perfect health by the end of the day,” he pronounced sagely.

“I’m gonna be WHAT?” sputtered the knight with just the twinge of fear.

“Nonsense. This man clearly needs more pork sausage and ale.” Sir Æomund quickly stood by his friend and began pressing cups of ale into his hands as fast as he could accumulate and fill them.

“Yes! Sir Æomund you are a good companion. Is this man even a physician? A physician where? I’ve never heard of where he comes from: where do you come from?”

“Well my home and breeding are of no particular in this case, but my education as a physician is and I say you will be dead or fine by evening.” With that the physician returned to his place at the table, but not before reclaiming his cup that the bearded knight of the Lady had snatched from his place at the table.

With all the attention so focused upon the concerned and slowly recovering knight none noticed the quiet curl of the lip and contented sigh escape from Kaeyln.

The board had barely settled back into the rhythm of breakfast when a knock came to the door. The delivery of a message at this hour was not that uncommon, but a figure in the livery and uniform of a royal page was a surprise, if not un-hoped for. Sir Æomund beheld the promise that his plan to get in contact with the Prince to address the prospect of having a tournament was about to unfold.

The royal page was admitted to the hall of the First Knight of Kaldor and brought before Sir Ewen. With a bow befitting the nature of the visit and the rank of the receiver the page proceeded to address Sir Ewen and invite him to accompany his Grace on a hawking outing to occur tomorrow. The three knights at the table knew that even if the Prince had not been yet approached about the subject a hunt with the King would be an excellent opportunity for them to put the idea before the King and attain the royal blessing for a tournament. Sir Ewen nods to the page and directs Kaelyn to pen a response to the castle accepting the invitation.

No sooner is the matter settled and the companions set out again to decrease the volume of the First Knight of Kaldor’s larder when another knock is heard at the door. While one message was not unusual multiple messages in such a quick succession were. Another knight was soon ushered into the hall, and one known to the company. Sir Rollard, the personal guardian of Sir Ewen’s wife the Lady Thilisa, presented himself before the calculating knight. While Sir Rollard was always respectful and courteous to Sir Ewen those who observed their interactions noticed that Sir Rollard was polite, but never seemed to offer any deference to the knight. This occasion was no different.

“Suh, Ah must report that mah Lady has decided to return to this heah abode on this verruh day. She wishes to inform her husband of the return and requests that ennuh unpleasantness from afore is remedied.”

“Yes Sir Rollard, the repairs to the house have been made, and my hearth is again whole and ready for the return of my wife. Inform her so.”

“Thank you Suh Ewen. Ah shall now return to the Lady Thilisa.”

And with the cessation of visitors the companions pass the remaining breakfast undisturbed. The rest of the morning is spent by the companions attending to their own affairs.


The now landed Sir Baris had expected to spend the rest of his morning enjoying the benefits of being the owner of an ale house and recovering from what could have possibly been the day of his death by random malady. The morning however was turned out of joint again for the knight on hearing the news that his property in Eastside had been sold. Without even taking the time for ale, the dishumored knight set off to the lawyer’s office immediately instead of delaying the administrative needs of his holdings as was his usual bent.

Attending to the litigant Marhet, Sir Baris was quickly ushered in and offered more ale. Not being one to pass up a drink at any hour and indeed, having recently escaped death, the mustachioed knight readily agreed and quaffing one pint asked for another to keep it company.

Just as Sir Baris was beginning to wonder if it would be polite to inquire for yet another ale, the litigant Marhet made his appearance, carrying under his arm a sheaf of papers. “Good day to you Sir Baris.”

Sir Baris mumbles an apology about missing yesterday’s appointment.

“It was of no matter. We were able to conclude the business with efficiency and dispatch.”

“Excellent,” said Baris in some confusion. “Um, what ended up happening?”

“Didn’t you get my note?”

“It was short on detail.”

“Oh, well, the detail is this: we have entered into an agreement in principle to sell the Eastside domicile to Sir Andorkil for £40.”

Sir Baris does not respond.

Marhet waits.

Sir Baris’s eyes narrow and his brow furrows.

Marhet sensing something is about to happen, waits.

“That’s a good price right? I intended to ask for more. Wait, £40 in coin!?”

The lawyer seeing the winds of emotion suddenly change upon the large, armed man in his office relaxes a bit.

“Indeed Sir Baris. It is a fair price, and the man has placed a note of surety against the property.”

“He did what to my house?!”

Thinking quickly Marhet responded in what he hoped would placate the armed knight, “You are £40 richer Sir Baris, the legal terms are not important, that’s what my fee is for isn’t it?”

“Oh … excellent! HA! 40 pounds! What do I need to do?”

“Well Sir Baris the quitclaim deed is prepared here for your seal …” Seeing the crestfallen look upon the knights face the litigant changes the direction of his comments, “or your signature.”

Boldly taking the quill within his hand Sir Baris proceeds to create a stunning ink smudge on adjoining paperwork. Sheepishly the knight surrenders the quill back to the lawyer who shakes his head and motions Sir Baris to continue on the appropriate sheet, dipping the quill only enough and guiding Baris’s hand. “Yes, well that does it excellent, you do fine work Marhet. Fine work. 40 POUNDS! How much do you get?”

“Oh, think not on that, Sir Baris. I’ll send the bill around.”

Retiring back to the Elf & Dwarf, Sir Baris begins to pace the floor of his inn. He holds in his hand a tankard of ale, but it never quite finds its way to wet his drooping mustache. The great knight is deep in thought upon what he should acquire with his new found wealth. After several hours of making his patrons nervous with his pacing a portion of the payment arrives for the knight. Almost the moment the pouch hits his hand the sharp vision on gleaming armor and a new helmet confronts him. “Of COURSE! I need new armor! I must get Æomund!”

Meanwhile Raven Hall passed a quiet morning. Lady Thilisa returned with her entourage and again took up residence. The First Knight of Kaldor and his wife exchanged their usual emotionless greetings in the main hall, made small talk while the calculating Sir Ewen attempted to discern from her any information on the possible location of Sir Baran but to no avail.


The physician Sotor seeing that the excitement at Raven Hall had abated for the nonce decided to check in at his own lodgings in the hope that he might practice his primary trade of physician. He is delighted to receive a summons from another physician, Cail of Tokal, to consult on a most unusual case of fever.


Meanwhile, the little adder of Raven Hall passed the morning in quiet. Unphased by both the visitors and the apparent illness of Sir Baris, she consumed her meal in an aware but removed silence. Around midday, she noticed a sign across the street, one that she had been instructed to wait for. Its appearance suddenly meant that the day would have purpose for her after all. Quickly leaving Raven Hall the slight woman made her way to the Peonian catacombs of the city and attempted to enter the hidden quarters of her temple.

She had been to the catacombs before, though not for some time. The cold moist air was in many ways more refreshing and sustaining for her than was the bright sunshine that occasionally made its presence known on the surface. As was her wont, she made her way in silence and darkness, feeling along the set stones of the chamber and making her way as if her way were illuminated by bright torches.

Making quick progress through the crypt, her movements were suddenly arrested by the appearance of a figure ahead. As she approached closer, the figure took on the likeness of a mendicant deep in contemplation. Her head cocked to one side as she considered this occurrence. The thought of shedding the man’s blood for the greater glory of her god crossed across her mind. As the deed of her last sacrifice crossed her mind she remembered that she had met this odd monk before wandering the crypt. With a shrug and not desiring to give it any more thought her weapon wielding hand came down with a crack upon the head of the monk sending him unconscious to the ground.

The omnipresent sound of the drip of water throughout the various locations of the catacombs was broken suddenly by the sound of slow clapping. With a whirl Cekiya located the source of the noise that broke the quiet reverie of the crypt.

“Thank you for not killing him. He is a very odd fellow you know. I attribute the death of at least three prostitutes to his hand, as he has come to believe that Peoni demands it. His actions have been of support to the Unseen Lifter so he has been left alone.”

Cekiya stood in silence before Escalus, but sheathed her dagger.

A single word escaped her lips, “sign.”

“Yes I know, for it was I who left it. I have been forbidden from seeking the Hatter and the Apprentice directly for your master. However, tell him this. The Hatter and Apprentice took to ship upon the Kald two days ago heading south. They travelled surrounded by customers, who accompanied them upon the ship.”

With the message delivered the silence returned, broken only by the fall of water. The little adder nodded her head and leaving the robed figured upon the ground, made her way out of the crypt.


Upon the return of the Lady Thilisa, Sir Ewen greeted her and asked perfunctorily after her well-being. Then, he queried her about Sir Baran Meleken, and learned he was once Bailiff of Rythal Manor. Thilisa mentioned that he used to hunt with the Baron of Ternua.


So it was that the early afternoon found Sir Æomund ensconced in Raven Hall contemplating the ills and political situation of his feudal lord. Uncertain of how to proceed the arrival of the mustached Sir Baris was a welcome relief.

“Sir Æomund, I made £40 today. I must go to the weaponcrafter, and the armorer, and a guy to make me a boar helmet! Join me and let us make an adventure of it!”

The keen eyed Sir Æomund thought for a moment and then readily accepted. Sir Æomund had since the departure of Tora attempted to be an advisor and companion of the knight. The two knights made their way through Tashal without incident, though perhaps the thought of planning their excursion at Galopea’s Feast was not so wise inasmuch as it led to an interlude with Sir Rohn for which Sir Baris was woefully unprepared.

Sir Rohn, having never met Sir Æomund, felt obligated to query him. “You have a father and a mother?”

“I do.”

“You are fairly derived?”

“I am.”

“You could name them if need be?”

“I could show you their house.”

“They live here in Tashal …”

“… Eastside.”

“And you are now associated with Sir Baris?”

“Yes, I am his … companion.”

“You gratify me Sir Æomund more than I can tell you.”

“By a peculiar set of circumstances I find myself in the service of Sir Ewen.”

“Condolences.”

Sir Baris avers that he believes that a boar’s head helmet would bring a man distinction, and asks Sir Rohn what he thinks. “Sir Baris,” begins the herald, “if ever there was a man whose head was worthy of a bore’s, it is yours.”

They discuss squires, and it becomes clear that the Heralds are not generally in the business of finding squires for knights. They also discuss Sir Baran Meleken, and they learn he is presently Bailiff of Mossen manor.

The two knights thank Sir Rohn and tell him he has been very helpful. “How very disappointing,” he replies. But then, upon asking if Sir Ewen will be joining them, the interlude becomes fraught with conversational peril. Sir Æomund opines he is certain that Sir Ewen has parents, but Sir Rohn, growing excited now, holds that this is the very crux of the matter. For this is the one thing of which he cannot be sure. It may be that Sir Ewen has a mother, might have one of innumerable fathers, or he might have been hatched from the very stones of the street. Sir Æomund promises to determine if Sir Ewen is possessed of a belly button so as to narrow his search. Sir Rohn resignedly admits this would prove a mother, but not the true mystery, which is the father. For he says, it is intolerable not to know the pedigree of one who may become an earl of the kingdom. For who is to know if a bitch got over the wall? Æomund wonders if it matters, given that Sir Ewen has been knighted, and by a monarch. But Sir Rohn will not be misunderstood, as he considers it an axiom that such shall gentle even the basest condition. But he would have the records accurate.

Sir Rohn further suggests that while he would ordinarily consider a baron in the service of a king to be an unimpeachable source, he finds the notion that Sir Ewen being the natural son of the late Earl of Tormau – as attested by the Baron of Quste – to be so preposterous that he cannot believe it despite the source. Sir Æomund, not knowing how to respond to this, deflects the conversation.

They departed as soon as they could. Sir Æomund had in fact grown up in the city and Sir Baris was not unaccustomed to the twisting and turning routes, and so they ran into no further difficulty on their way to the weaponcrafter. While it was Sir Baris’s intention to procure an elaborate and fierce helmet for use in the tournament it was in fact Sir Æomund who made the most of the visit. Setting aside the issue of the Barony of Ternua Sir Æomund again directed his efforts towards the tournament his lord was attempting to host. With some small success he was able to procure a concession from the armorer for the sale of lances. Not a great deal of money would change hands, but Sir Æomund was determined to defray the cost of the tournament.


Later that day, after consulting his sources and considering an apothecary, Sotor returns to Cail, and informs him he believes the fever resembles a condition known as ‘malaria,’ which is treated by a tea brewed from a bark. He suggests Cail try that, and if it doesn’t work, she’ll probably be dead within 48 hours. Cail, somewhat aghast at this grim prognosis, thanks Sotor and avows he will do as he says. He will send for Sotor if her condition worsens.


The evening of the day found the three great knights of Raven Hall setting out again to where the evening of the night before had found them previously assembled. They stepped out into the street and surveyed the area surrounding them. The bearded Sir Æomund casually glanced at the roof tops and alleys around the trio as was becoming his habit when stepping out with the First Knight of Kaldor.

The stoic Lord of Raven Hall passed his assessing eyes over the mustachioed Sir Baris, “You will, I assume, behave yourself tonight.”

The chastised Sir Baris nods his head emphatically towards his liege lord and solicits a curt nod in response.

The bottom floor of Galopea’s Feast is in the state in which it is most frequently found. Knights of the realm are scattered about the establishment in various stages of ale-induced lubrication. The three enter and head directly to the upstairs rooms as the keen-eyed Sir Æomund assesses the room.

The loud hail of Sir Prehil assaults them as they crest the top of the stairs.

“By Peoni’s untouched quim! EWEN, have you heard the latest? The Lady Derwen Verdreth will no longer be quitting the kingdom.”

Sir Ewen replies he did not believe that to be a reversible state.

“She found the one way to reverse it. She was found in the gibbets this morning. She’s dead. And there’s one more thing Ewen – it’s deeply disturbing.”

“More disturbing than a noblewoman in the gibbets?” asked Baris incredulously. Sir Ewen shoots Baris a look.

The three knights made their way quickly across the room. Sir Ewen was immediately grasped by the noble Sir Prehil when he came within arms reach, ale sloshing about.

“I don’t know how to say this Ewen,” Prehil sputters. “Her brain is missing! The top of her head was sliced off like a roast, her brain was removed, and clapped back on. Tied with a kerchief.”

Sir Ewen looks repulsed.

The normally steady Sir Baris balks at the thought of torture and to steady himself reaches for the nearest ale. His eyes fall upon Sir Meden, who appears dour and aloof as always causes Baris to grab an ale, drink deeply, and mind his tongue.

Sir Ewen opines this is a monstrous turn of events.

“EWEN! It is monstrous, and by no means what the King’s Grace intended. We don’t know what it means or its impact on the Ternua situation. But, it is a damned strange turn of events.”

Sir Ewen wonders if she had already quitted the city and when told she had, asked how many knew of her banishment.

“Only a few knew: the council and those of us here assembled. Damn, I told my wife!”

Sir Æomund blithely remarked, “Sir Prehil, you spoke to your wife?”

“I know! She wanders in sometimes when I am busy and asks me questions about my day and how I am doing. It’s damned annoying but she doesn’t go away.”

A slight smile was concealed under the beard of Sir Æomund, “Having to speak to one’s wife. How did such a great calamity befall such a noble knight?”

The noble scion of the house of Firith paused and regarded the knight of the Lady of Paladins again, “You are a pearl beyond price!”

Sir Meden had been quiet to this point, but with the fear that the conversation was going to lose its mark completely spoke up. “I believe many more knew than that. If not common knowledge in the castle last night the news of her ejection from the kingdom would have spread quickly.”

The calculating First Knight of Kaldor reflected on what he had learned and addressed his comments to Sir Meden, “Lady Verdreth would have been too powerful an opponent to be overcome easily or without a great deal of commotion.”

“Yes, I agree Sir Ewen. A woman of her capacity should not have been so easily dispatched.”

The bearded knight turned his attentions again to the conversation. One hand patted Sir Prehil on the shoulder for the painful experience of spending time with his wife while the other dragged Sir Baris back into the collection of knights for he had begun to drift towards a maiden and the twin delights of her body and ale passing within the range of the knight. “The attacker may have been known to her or she was ambushed believing to be in a place of safety. The theft of the brain bespeaks of something at work other than the banishment. Could it be dark magic?”

Sir Meden shrugs, “we do not have the competence or knowledge to judge accurately the esoteric meaning in this. It does not seem a noble act.”

Asked if they knew of any enemies, both knights shrug. Meden as if to say I’ve been in Gardiren, and Prehil to note she was a cold fish, but that couldn’t be it. He continued that she was a studious sort. “Who knows with those people, I don’t. EWEN, you have one in your company do you not?”

“Yes, she has exquisite hand writing.”

A nod from the noble Prehil acknowledged the fact. “Yes, Indeed, they’re good at that sort of thing, only reason to keep them around. No idea what the King does or thinks about this. He closeted himself with Balim and the Archbishop and who knows who else.”

The First Knight of Kaldor reflected upon this new information and addressed the men who would one day be his peers, “Well gentlemen, the esoteric nature of this event is beyond us. Setting the matter of the brain aside for the nonce, are either of you two gentlemen aware of any claimants to the vacated position, or previous contenders?”

Sir Prehil is the first to respond, “That job? Eh no. Wasn’t foul play for the position – I doubt an educated ass will sit in that seat for some time. The other Verdreth’s and the captain of his guard are still all imprisoned and aren’t going anywhere. I have heard the King plans on sending someone to Ternua. Look around, assess the place, that kind of job.”

Sir Meden says he believes it will be Prehil, who balks, and calls for more ale.

“BY LARANI’S SWEATING BULLETS, Baris have you drunk all the ale!”

The First Knight of Kaldor seemed to encompass everyone with his gaze as his head moved about in thought, “Has the King considered anyone other than Harabor for the seat?”

“No, no,” replied Prehil. “Though Harabor is in town as you know.”

Ewen nodded, averring he had seen him at Soratir.

When no further answer greeted him the First Knight steepled his hands, settled his gaze upon Sir Meden, and proceeded.

“I have given this matter some thought since our last assembly. The problem of an alternative candidate is indeed a thorny one, but something more within our capacity to contemplate than the missing brain of an esoteric. There is a solution to the problem, a solution which the King’s own words endorse. I speak of Sir Baran Meleken.” They erupt at the notion. “You may recall he was disappointed in his effort to claim the Earldom of Osel. At the time, for I was there, although granting the earldom to Maldan Harabor, the King himself said that in justice Sir Baran was evenly derived from his ancestors and we would see him elevated to some suitable place in the future.”

“EWEN. He said that! I was there. You cut to the quick!”

“If the King were to grant the barony to Sir Baran he would in effect be fulfilling his promise to an old Kaldoric family. By the chance of marriage Sir Baran is my kin and as such I believe I could propose in good faith the idea to Sir Baran.” He also touches on the defense of the southern portion of the kingdom.

“EWEN! From the King’s own mouth! Inspired, splendid. Old Baran deserves his due. Cheated out of an earldom by a damned lawyer’s trick! Centuries old words on a piece of paper. Though I would guard against being so overt as to quote His Grace’s words back to him.”

Sir Meden remains silent to the idea at first and inquires as to the finer points of the claim. As the issue of the succession to the Earldom of Osel is related to him the idea seems to gain no additional traction.

Sir Ewen continues in his attempt to press home the idea of Sir Baran ascending to the seat of Ternua. “If Sir Baran is ready and willing to wield a strong active hand, but open to the counsels of those who arranged his elevation he would be a better candidate than Harabor.”

As Sir Meden spoke in this exchange, the three knights considered his demeanor. Later, they all noted that he did not act as the son of an earl, or even the heir of an earl, but as an earl. Sir Ewen then asked him if not Sir Baran, then who would you choose?

Sir Meden mused upon the idea, imbibing from his goblet whilst he pondered, but still seemed to be evasive towards committing to any delineated course of action. He said he would choose Harabor, but then discoursed on all the other options. Sir Ewen again presses Baran’s claim, with the notion that he could be ‘controlled.’ Meden then concluded, “Well if that were the case and with strong and proper guidance I could be warmed to this idea. Well, it would seem the next step then is to engage Sir Baran. Sir Ewen, will you take this on?”

Ewen says that he might, but that he is engaged to hunt with the Prince in the morning. Meden scoffs a bit, as if he were not invited, but Prehil interjects that it isn’t to be wondered at – Ewen fought with the Prince at Olokand and practically saved the castle.

Ewen allows that he was there. The remainder of the evening devolved into relaxed conviviality. Sir Baris suggested that they go see Roland the Farter by the Ternua Gate, but the others demurred.

Sotor dined at the Red Fox, and then repaired to Raven Hall to continue cataloging the collection. He marveled at the sounds of silence.

Larane 10, 732

The day dawned overcast over Tashal as the second part of the Silver Caravan finally wound its way into Tashal. While the streets of the capital were bustling and busy, the inside of Raven Hall was no different. The retainers of the house were busy laying out the hunting and riding gear of the knights. Each checked on their own equipment in accordance with their habits and preferences. Sirs Baris and Æomund, not content to allow a morning to pass in Raven Hall without in some way decreasing the larder of the house, broke their fast upon pork sausage. Walin approved, bringing forth a steaming plateful.

“Ah pork sausage! A most excellent way to start the day” ruminated the burly knights.

Finbar of Erons joined the group, saying to Sir Ewen that his Lady has commanded him to attend him this day. This causes Æomund to wonder that he had not seen Kittiara for at least a day or so.

There is some speculation that the faux Peonian in the crypt might somehow be involved in the death of Lady Verdreth, but this idea is quickly dismissed.

While the knights hunt, Sotor attempts to craft a letter to Aethel Atan, the language is marvelous, though the appropriate phrasing continues to elude him.

Making their way to the hunt the three knights of Raven Hall joined with the retinue of the King. As each of the noblemen of Kaldor sought to distinguish themselves, the social art of hunting and the events of the hunt were a mere backdrop for the workings of the court of Kaldor.

As the hunt progressed, Sir Baris ordered a falcon loosed because he thought a boar was in the underbrush, resulting in an injury to the falcon as it thrust into the brambles. There was much dismay amongst the hunters at the precipitous action of Sir Baris and considerable concern for the pierced raptor.

Later, with Finbar at his side, Sir Ewen looses his hawk to bring down a badger. This animal was not considered part of the hunt, but its proximity to other game made it an obstacle. Sir Ewen gained honor by removing it.

By chance, orchestrated or not by the King’s guard, the calculating First Knight of Kaldor found himself alone with the King. As the guards discreetly dropped back and maneuvered the other hunters from the two men, Sir Ewen rightly surmised that the King was desirous to speak of other than of the success of the chase.

It pleased the King to vouchsafe a secret to Sir Ewen – he did not wish to give the barony to Maldan Harabor. He says, “I want you to go to Ternua and find a reason why I should not.”

Sir Ewen understood the First Knight of Kaldor was being tasked with the survey of Ternua that Prehil had mentioned.

“I understand My Liege.”

“You understand, Sir Ewen, that I never asked you anything.”

“Precisely, Your Grace.”

Haldan nodded with approval, and the hunt continued.


The little adder of Raven Hall was not idle either. Waking even earlier than the hunting companions, Cekiya made her way outside of the city. With speed and secrecy she soon found herself at her destination: the gibbets north of the city. The adder surveyed the area examining the site by which the Master of Esoterica for Kaldor’s body was found. Despite finding a lingering prisoner within a gibbet she was unable to acquire information about the incident of Lady Verdreth’s death.

Larane 11, 732

The confines of Raven Hall were again just as busy as they had been the day before. Having been tasked by the King to undertake a survey of the lands of Ternua – the cover story they decided upon to mask their real mission – the companions prepared for their departure from Tashal. A short conference the night before had determined that the principle members of the party would undertake this task as well as taking ten men at arms as a retinue.

Sir Æomund completed his morning rituals and then set about the task of inspecting the men at arms that his lord had placed under his command for this excursion. Sergeant Trellan had the men in good order, their mail, spears, and swords were always kept in good service. Sit Æomund immediately identified them as veteran troops. For the knight of the Order of the Lady of Paladins it felt good to be around soldiers again, something that he was familiar with, and to have a clear task at hand. There was still no sign of his huntswoman Kittiara, but there was no time at the present to investigate the matter.

The company was soon ready to depart for the six hour trip to Ternua and made for the city gate. The journey was an uneventful one but it allowed the First Knight of Kaldor to formulate his plan. What could the King have in mind?

The procession made their way to the gates of Ternua with little incident, though the composure of the company changed and became more serious the closer they got. As soon as they arrived party headed straight for the gates of Ternua keep. The mixed company of armed mounted and walking people stopped before the gate.

“I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh; I bear a warrant from his Grace King Haldan III.”

With the pronouncement one of the men at arms appeared before the party along the wall, and soon other faces could be seen peering out at the company below.

“Sir Ewen, I greet you. What is the manner of your business?”

“I have been tasked by the King to come here. The Baron of Ternua is no longer in possession of the fief and I possess a writ to make a survey of the barony. Summon the constable.”

There was silence from the wall as this news washes over the men at arms currently guarding the gate house.

A now hesitant voice continued, “There is no constable, but we have a chamberlain Master Parren Pulgarty.”

“Well then get him.”

The Captain of the Guard, hesitant to open the gate before the armed party, but uncertain as to what to do attempted to stall for time.

“Sir Ewen, he is aged and infirm. May I summon another who can read to examine your documents?”

“I do not have time for this and I bear the King’s warrant. Open the gates in the name of the King!”

With this command the Captain of the Guard felt he could no longer offer any resistance and allowed the company access to the keep.

As the group assembled in the courtyard, an aged man stood prepared to meet the company.

“I am the chamberlain of the keep, Parren Pulgarty.”

Sir Ewen immediately headed towards this man, “I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh. I bear the King’s writ.”

“Sir Ewen your fame precedes you. May I see the warrant?”

Mounted the knight rides towards the man and bends to deliver the warrant into the hand of the Chamberlain. After studying the document for a moment he returns it to Sir Ewen.

“How stands my Lord, Sir Ewen?”

“He lives, but confined at the pleasure of the King.”

“Hmmm, and you have been given free rein over his house, his keep, and his lands?”

Sir Æomund standing dismounted near Sir Ewen spoke then to the Chamberlain, “We have, but for the purposes of a survey and accounting of these lands, we come as inconvenient guests not conquerors.”

Slightly mollified by this correction and seeing the speaker as a Knight of the Lady of Paladins he conceded. “I give you my leave to undertake your mission.”

Having secured access to the keep and the permission of the Chamberlain the party and their retinue began to dismount and prepare. Unnoticed until this point was a tonsured Peonian priest hurrying up the Keep. The robed man made straight for the body of troops and specifically Sir Ewen and the Parren Pulgarty.

“What is this disturbance!?”

Sir Ewen was the first to respond. “My good priest, it is not your concern.”

“But it does concern me, if it concerns the people of this town.”

Sir Æomund’s agitation with the people he had so far encountered in attempting to do the King’s lawful business was beginning to wax wroth, “The concern of the people is to follow the orders of their King, which we bear. Sergeant Trellan, take this man away before I spend any more time wasted on his foolishness.”

The shock was almost palpable on the face of the priest.

“YES SIR.”

Without hesitation, three of the men at arms stepped forward, grabbed the man and removed him from the courtyard of the keep. Sir Æomund then realized that the men he had just commanded were Thardans and thought it best to add a corollary.

“Don’t hurt him, but remove him. Chamberlain Pulgarty, make your books available to Mistress Kaelyn. We wouldn’t want any accidents to occur to the records of the barony.”

The ensuing silence was broken by the up to now silent Sir Baris. “Riding is such thirsty work.”
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Matt
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