Session One Hundred and Nine - February 2, 2014

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

Session One Hundred and Nine - February 2, 2014

Postby Matt » Wed Mar 26, 2014 9:43 pm

Larane 23, 732

The day dawns hot and foggy. Those who venture outside cannot see more than three feet in front of their face. As the party descends to the common room of the inn they can hear cheers, within the inn and outside, for the sun has once again hidden her face.

The party sits down to their meal of items the innkeeper serves in an attempt to rid himself of the stockpile of food that he had in anticipation of the tournament at Olokand before it spoils. Baris eats with half a ear on the conversation. He is bored, with little to do in this one horse town. He can’t even ride the one horse, standing but feet from him in the common room, yet guarded by the sharp-eyed innkeeper. Baris hears Ewen speak in a low voice that he tried to check in on Meden Curo but was met with a warbling sound and picture. The conversation turns to the tournament and Baris’s interest is briefly regained by the conversation. Lady Afaewynn has been told to prepare, the Blue Boars have been hired to provide a bit of extra security, and all that is left, besides acquiring extra tents, is to provide the prizes. Baris hears something of Ewen’s thoughts of getting a horse for the winner and his eyes travel again to the red horse sitting in the middle of the room.

The townsfolk who come inside smiling, reporting to all within earshot about the horrible visibility, and proclaiming wonderful it is. As they eat, however, the party comes to realize that venturing out in an unfamiliar town is likely to just get them lost. Deciding to stay in, they sit and discuss possible prizes for tournament and problems that could arise.

Halfway into their noon meal a Laranian priest enters the inn, greeting the innkeeper, “Jahmis, my good man!” He grabs an ale, looks around the room and spotting the party he comes over. “I am looking for Ewen Raven-arggh.”

Everyone winces at the horrible mispronunciation of Ewen’s name. Ewen, with no expression on his face, looks at the priest, “I am Ewen Ravinargh.”

“That makes much more sense, my apologies,” and before the priest can explain further he sees Aeomund. “And you, knight of the Lady, does your sword ring with justice?”

Aeomund, with a large piece of pork sausage halfway to his mouth, looks impassively at the priest and continues to eat.

“As my liegeman is enjoying his pork sausage, I will answer …” Ewen starts to say.

“Oh, is that Jahmis’s pork sausage? I must have some,” the priest motions of the serving girl to bring another trencher. “Wait, did you say liegeman? Aren’t you a member of the Order of the Lady of Paladins?”

“It is a complicated feudal arrangement,” Aeomund answers reluctantly.

“Then, feudal arrangements are usually complicated. I am Father Ezuth Oltharin, and I have not forgotten my earlier question,” the priest says still looking at Aeomund.

“It does not ring, no.”

This sets the priest and Aeomund off on what could be a very long dry conversation about the swords and shields of the Lady and how they are to be used for her purpose. Luckily, before the conversation can pick up steam, the serving girl brings out Ezuth’s pork sausage.

“Were you looking for us for a reason?” Ewen asks.

“Oh yes, completely slipped my mind. I have been sent to escort you to meet Sir Bereden, our esteemed constable.”

“I hope we will not be late,” Ewen replies.

“Now that you mention it, he said something about the time, but I wasn’t listening.’

“Well, then let’s not tarry,” Ewen says with an edge of frustration. That the entire purpose of the trip could start off on a bad foot because of an absentminded priest did not put Ewen in a pleasant frame of mind.

“Oh yes, that has happened in the past. You could be on to something. Our Lady does not like it when we tarry overmuch.” The priest leans back with a piece of pork sausage and Ewen can see that he is going to start another bout of conversation.

“Well then, let’s just wrap this sausage up to go and be off, shall we.” Ewen says quickly, “Lead the way, good Father.”

As the entire party makes their way to the castle, Sotor notices that his satire is still tacked to the well. Of course it is very foggy – the reports were not exaggerated – so he is unsure if the poem had reached as large of an audience as he wanted. Surely someone had to have seen it. He nods with satisfaction and listens to lecture that Ezuth is giving Aeomund on proper service. Sotor notes that Aeomund does not look like he is paying much attention.

Soon the gates loom out of the mist. They are massive iron bound gates guarded by two light footmen in ring mail with shortswords, spear, and shield. They challenge as the party approaches, something the knights in the party approve of. Ezuth identifies himself and the group as expected and they are given leave to enter the palisade. Inside they see a stable to the immediate left. They move across the bailey and turn sharply to the left to the entrance. There are two more guards. As they move to the entrance, Sotor speaks with Baris about the observatory but fails to notice that Baris is not being an exceptional listener, but rather Baris is no longer with the party. Somewhere along the route, he is lost.

The party, minus one, enters into the keep. Ewen and Aeomund evaluate everything they see with a martial eye. The entry way is long, about 20 feet, and about 10 feet wide. There are iron bound doors and the walls are pierced with arrow loops. At the end of the entry is a portcullis. Ewen glances up and notices a large number of murder holes. As the party walks under the portcullis and through the iron bound doors, they are now joined by two men at arms. They move to the right and go into the third set of doors. They are in the inner castle ward – mostly a storage area – and they are led to the upper left into a small tower with a staircase and more arrow loops. On the second floor they are taken into the great hall. It is right above the room they walked through on the first floor. There are U-shaped tables set up, but there is no one else in the room. Ewen looks around and notices a tapestry on the far wall with the arms of Osel – the arms of the Lord Sedris Meleken.

Ewen smiles slightly and notes to himself that Harabor has been earl for just over a year. Ewen notices that the two chandeliers hanging in the hall and gallery are functional but over luxurious for the hall itself. He looks back to the tapestry and notices a closed door to the left and two openings in the wall to the right. From the opening closest to the head table a figure, a woman, approaches with a lurch in her gait. As she walks, she emits a small sound with each step. Sotor notices the sounds and with a physician’s eye gauges her walk. He believes her gait is not new and is something she has lived with long enough for him to term it chronic.

“Festa! How are you? Is Sir Bereden available?” Ezuth says.

“He’ll be here shortly. Do you wish for anything to eat or drink?”

“By all means,” the priest says, motioning the party to sit as Festa lurches back out of the hall.

“Father, I am a physician. I wonder if Festa is a patient of Dallisen of Curo?”

“Don’t know why she would be.”

“She has an unusual walk.”

“Oh that. She was dropped on her head as a child. You physicians are always using Emelrenian when simple Harnic will do.”

Aeomund unwraps the pork sausage he carried from the Red Horse. “Oh I forgot all about that!” Ezuth exclaims. Before he can continue the lecture from the road, Ewen asks him how he started in his priestly vocation. Ezuth begins his story in childhood. Before long, a large man leading a few servants carrying platters of food enters the room. They spread the meal along the table as Festa looks on. When they are finished, she claps and the servants all leave.

“You are Sir Ewen?” She asks, and at Ewen’s nod in the affirmative, continues, “Welcome to Heru. Please partake. Sir Bereden has just arrived and as soon as he has his good knights in hand, he will attend to you.”

Ewen thanks her. He looks to Baris, most likely to tell him to watch his quick tongue, and notices that Baris is not present. “Where is Baris?”

None of the party has any idea of where he is or when they last saw him. Sotor comments that he thought Baris was just exceptionally quiet during their conversation.

“How much trouble could he get into in this town?” Aeomund asks, and watches as Ewen goes a bit pale. Aeomund continues, “Perhaps we should ask where they store the cream?” Ewen does not respond.

About 20 minutes later they hear two voices on the staircase. Two jovial men enter the hall. “Now that’s how you run a training exercise …”

“Well hello, you must be the knights Enabrin was talking about.”

Ewen introduces himself and presumes he is speaking with Sir Bereden, thanking him for the hospitality. Bereden smiles and introduces the garrison commander Sir Dunisel Azorn. Ewen presents Sir Aeomund.

“Father Ezuth, I see you are well tucked in,” Bereden says with a smile. He turns to Ewen, “I wouldn’t know what to do with without his spiritual guidance in such a straightforward manner.”

“We’ve enjoyed it as well,” Ewen replies with a twinkle in his eye.

“His Soratir sermon was inspiring.”

“Soratir?” Ezuth asks.

“Yes, three days ago.”

“We are used to the lengthy sermons of the Archbishop.”

“Father Ezuth’s are so quick you don’t notice as they go by.” Bereden pours a tankard from a pitcher and tosses the tankard at Sir Dunisel. Dunisel catches but not without some sloshing onto his tunic. Bereden laughs and gives Dunisel leave to change.

Ewen makes small talk with Bereden as he fills a trencher of food. Ewen mentions that Baris has wandered away. Not that he is a trouble maker, but events that can quickly get out of control follow the knight around like a stray dog. Bereden mentions that they will keep an eye out for the wayward Baris.

“I have met a kinsman of yours I believe, Sir Grille Pawade.”

“Yes, that is my younger brother.”

“Would you let me know how to reach him? I would like to make sure he’s gotten an invitation for the tournament I am hosting.”

“I thought Curo was hosting the tournament.”

“He is sending the invites, as he knows all that should be invited. My wife, Thilisa, and I are hosting the tournament in honor of her late mother.”

Bereden sets down his tankard, “Oh you are that one. Ravinargh not Ravenarggh. Your fame precedes you: winner; savior; acquirer of women,” Bereden now looks at Kaelyn, “and manors.”

“It has been an unusually busy year.”

“Now, you didn’t come all this way just to drop a few names.” Bereden spears a pork sausage.

“No, I thought I would talk about more recent kingdom events. We all came through Heru for the war against the Vikings.”

“Ezuth, cook has put in treacle tarts,” Bereden says, not taking his eyes off Ewen.

“I love those. I’ll be right back. Don’t say anything without me.” The priest gets up to leave and Ewen motions for Kaelyn, Cekiya, and Sotor to go with him. As they leave, Sir Dunisel returns. Now it is just the knights at the table.

Ewen begins, “Some in the kingdom are not content that the horde has retreated, while others wonder how long that will last.”

“I was not allowed to march, but ordered to stay here by the King. Heru keep is too important to leave unguarded, but he didn’t need to leave everyone behind.”

“You have heard of his recent illness?”

“With my own eyes I saw the wound.”

“It has not improved,” Aeomund says.

“The physicians are concerned,” Ewen adds.

“Wounds fester,” Bereden says with a glance at the opening in the wall.

Ewen lowers his voice, “I understand it does. I last saw him on a hunt a little over a week ago. Now, it is the wish of every good knight that the King recovers.”

“It should be, but you sound as if some think otherwise.”

“I am not aware of any who feel differently, but thought has to be given if the worst should happen, and we should be prepared for what follows. Sir Bereden, it is my understanding that the present time is more perilous for Kaldor than even recent history has proven.”

“Yes.”

“The barbarian incursion means, I think, that Kaldor needs to change the way it thinks of defense. Even here in Heru.”

“There has been peril for some time, in ways not always understood. Now it is easy for all to understand and have no one make a joke of it: things have gone astray.”

“I can appreciate that in a more direct sense,” Ewen says with a hint of a smile.

“No offense.”

Ewen waves his hand to say none taken, “My lady is touched that the square is still Meleken square. I believe, but she’ll never say, that she has a soft spot for Heru.” Bereden looks slightly surprised at this. Ewen continues, “Whatever should happen in Caer Elend there is perhaps a more particular need for succession council, Larani forbid, a need for a king to place Kaldor on its wartime footing and to keep her strong.”

Bereden looks skeptical, “There hasn’t been a succession council in decades; not since Torastra decided hunt instead of rule.”

“True, there is reason to think otherwise. Prince Brandis is brave but young.”

“My I say something?” Aeomund interrupts, “I believe the Vikings underplayed to Kaldor. The King is not doing well. The council is a great influence in the outcome of kingdom. There must be patience.”

Bereden glances at Dunisel, “I hear nothing I have an objection to in principle. Why are we talking and not eating? By the way, I doubt that cook was making treacle tarts earlier, but since no one has made a reappearance I believe some are being made now.”

Ewen tries on more time to gauge Sir Bereden’s thoughts on the possible overriding of Brandis’s succession, “My point, I suppose, is not to ask anything of you but share in the event that things come to council, Lady Thilisa and I look to Lord Orsen Firith for guidance. He was entrusted with the head of His Grace’s army and when the King fell, with the army itself.”

“He is a good knight and a good general.”

“I hope he remains in the forefront in Tashal in the dark days ahead.”

“Well, the lady countess knows his lordship well. Qualdris and Kobing are not far from each other. Surely though the Baron is somewhat old; you speak of youth – is not age an issue?”

“Every man ages differently. Certain age past their prime young and some peak late. Firith is at his peak,” Ewen says.

“The danger is that passion will rule not patience. The judgment of Heru is important for other lords may act rashly,” Aeomund adds.

“Well that may be all so, you gentlemen may have come on a fruitless errand. I have every expectation I will be replaced – I am not Osel’s man. He has put his house in Oselshire in order and may turn his attention to towards his remaining fief.”

“That concerns me,” Ewen says.

“Do you need a bailiff?” Bereden asks with a mocking laugh.

“I would not see you lowered. It may not be: a restructuring could be coming.”

“You mean, harm to Osel?”

“No, no that would be … no, I was speaking of Ternua.”

“Ah, speaking of disposition.”

“Yes, we were just there by the King’s grace.”

“I hear that Osel is to take control of it.”

“I mentioned Ternua, that is a barony. Isn’t Heru just as important, shouldn’t Heru be a barony?”

“The earls have always kept it close.”

“That works in peacetime, but as the invasion showed us, the rules are outdated. The structures need to change in the not so distant future.”

“There were two civil wars during this peacetime period.” Dunisel adds.

“Civil wars cannot be compared to the invasion of Vikings.”

“Heru would be no less defended with me as constable versus baron.”

“That is true of you, but if you are replaced, what of your successor?”

“I suppose.” Bereden shrugs and changes the subject, “How much longer do you plan to stay? Will you be here this evening?”

“We don’t intend to stay too much longer than that. I do have a tournament to plan.”

“Would you do us the honor of being guests at dinner this evening? Cook is preparing a roast suckling pig.”

Ewen indicates that he and a few others in the party would be glad to join him. He and Aeomund take their leave and go to collect the rest of the group from the kitchen. The kitchen they see is enormous, perfectly capable for cooking for an army or any other large party. They notice that the kitchen appears to be part of the original structure. Aeomund finds the members of their party in the far corner of the room. He notices that Cekiya is not present and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Ewen looks at the perfectly innocent looks Sotor and Kaelyn give him and though clenched teeth says, ‘Let’s go before the fog claims anyone else.’

Cekiya had left the blabbering priest, Kaelyn and Sotor as soon as they left the great hall. She wandered through the keep on silent feet. Finding a garde robe behind a curtain and then a locked door, she grew more curious of what the rest of the keep looks like. She wandered into the northwest tower, which had weapons and a door to the side. The heavy iron bar lay next to the door. She opened it and found herself outside atop small stairs leading down. Cekiya was almost positive that the battlement was to the left. She scampered across the wall sloping downward, made a turn and saw another short staircase. Trusting her training, she opened the door slightly and listened to make sure the room on the other side was empty. After a moment of listening to silence, she entered the room and found a small room with bunk beds, a trapdoor and a door on the far wall. Lifting the trap door for a quick peak, she climbed down the ladder. A guy sat at the table with a barrel that had been tapped. He was asleep. Cekiya debated about having him sleep permanently, but decided that Ewen would not like that. She skipped silently past him, scooping up his shield that he had foolishly left laying by the door as she slipped outside. She can see the gate to the left and hear the river somewhere in the murk. Turning to the right along the wall, Cekiya realized she was walking uphill and after about 20 feet found herself in front of a wall. She followed the wall, turning right and then left and then after 30 feet made another left and then a right and then 15 feet later she found that the wooden palisade began. She walked along and saw the other gate. She was not sure which gate they had come in earlier, but this one had only a single guard. Cekiya didn’t feel like talking so she glided into the fog and circumvented the guard. Past the guard, she turned right and went for about 10 more feet. She had to turn right again and was back to the wall. She turned right again and went for about 30 feet more. There was a the gate with two guards. She sighed and walked up to the nearest. Cekiya looked at the startled guard, who had not heard her approach. She handed him her treasure, the shield.

“Ah thanks young … uhhh … girl.”

“Have the people with the fat talky man come back out?”

The guard was on his way to total confusion, “Thanks for the shield. The other kids are playing by the river.”

“I can’t swim.”

“Then don’t go in. You should go play.”

Cekiya smiled and for a brief moment was excited about the idea of play, but very quickly realized that she and the guard probably had different ideas of what that word means. “No.”

“Go play!”

Cekiya gave the guard a look of boredom and walked back into the fog. Once the guards were mere shapes, she sat down and prepared to wait for Ewen. She heard the guard she was talking at say, ‘Damn kids.’ The other guard chuckles and replies, “I understand your confusion. That was a girl and you’re unfamiliar with them.”

Cekiya’s wait would be long, as the party leaves by the gate they came in at, which is not the one Cekiya was sitting near. The now foursome attempts to make their way back to the Red Horse Inn, but unlike their journey to the keep are without a guide. They walk out the gate and after a few minutes nearly walk into the ostler’s fence. Ewen, in the lead, turns right to head towards the center of town, Sotor and Kaelyn follow. Aeomund, who was bringing up the rear, turns left. After a few moments, Sotor notices that Aeomund is no longer following them and tells Ewen. After a brief, muffled curse of frustration, Ewen extends his senses. He tersely tells Sotor and Kaelyn to stick close and leads them with eerie accuracy towards the Red Horse Inn.

Aeomund, meanwhile is walking uphill. As soon as the slope is noticed by the knight, he realizes that he is traveling the wrong direction and without friends. He turns around and goes back downhill. He hears someone calling his name and walks in that direction. He nearly walks into a building. After following the wall of that building he sees another and repeats the process until he comes to a building with laughter and song coming out of it. He sees a light in a window and faintly hears a familiar voice. He walks around the building until he finds the door. Inside, Aeomund, finds himself in the common room of a tavern. There is a brutish guy drawing ale behind the bar and in the center of the room sitting on the torso of a legless horse is Baris. Aeomund recognizes the horse as once having legs and once sitting in the common room of the other inn, the Red Horse. Baris is singing a rather raunchy song and is in the chorus of ‘Ricky Doo Done Day.’

“Baris! What the hell! The other inn needs that horse.”

“Aeomund! Come meet all the people. They just give me ale! They said ‘anyone who could bring them a red horse drinks for free.’ Isn’t that wonderful? And you are my friend, so you will drink for free too.”

“Thanks.” Aeomund says drily, accepting an ale. He thinks to himself ‘Well, there goes my head.’

Meanwhile a few feet from the Red Horse Inn, Kaelyn trips and falls over a slender object. She picks it up and in her hand is a red horse leg. The trio stares at the leg for a few seconds in silence until Ewen breathes one word, “Baris.”

“Oh dear, this is ... this is his thing isn’t it?” Sotor asks.

“Put that down! Casually.” Ewen tells the stunned mage.

The trio quickly walks away and enters the common room. Inside the tableau carries a funeral-like scene. Jahmis is weeping in the center of the cordoned-off area where the horse used to stand. He is holding one leg of the horse. A serving wench sees the party, and drying her eyes comes over.

“Good sirs and miss, there has been a tragedy. We have been burgled. If you please, I will bring you your food in your rooms. Our dear horse is missing and the room is not fit for guests.”

“A tragedy. What will you do?” Ewen asks.

“We would start a search, but this fog hinders us.”

Ewen turns to Sotor, “I wonder where a replacement stuffed horse could be found.” He sighs and retires to his room.

Meanwhile, at the Three Sisters, Aeomund was assessing his options. “Baris, this is not the Red Horse Tavern. Who is going to pay for that?”

“Ewen needed a prize for the tournament. He said he needed a horse.”

“A live horse.”

“Well, I didn’t kill it!”

“I can’t even begin to fathom what Ewen is going to say.”

“I really do need to find the legs,” Baris says taking a long drink of the ale.

“Well, let’s go.”

“Have you looked outside. I could barely make my way here.”

Aeomund takes a drink of the ale in his hand and starts. It is really bad ale. He looks into tankard and realizes the ale is not even the right color. “Baris, let’s go.”

“I need one to go!” Baris grabs the ale from the person nearest him.

“Leave the horse.”

“But Ewen needs the horse!”

“Ok … fine … whatever.” Aeomund is getting increasingly twitchy.

Baris shoves his stolen ale back into the hands of the man he took it from, “Hold my ale.”

A woman comes up to Aeomund and speaks. At least Aeomund thinks she is speaking, he cannot understand a word that is coming out of her mouth. Aeomund watches as Baris stands and picks up the legless horse. The patrons, who were until a moment ago quiet jovial, begin to protest.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I am a knight …” Whatever else Aeomund was going to say is lost as the protestations grow louder and a chair is swung. Baris, arms holding the horse tight, kicks at the patrons who attempt to hold him back away from the door. Aeomund begins to clear a path to the door with his fist. The two knights stumble into the fog and away from the tavern. As they make their way back to the Red Horse, Aeomund stumbles over an object. He realizes it is one of the legs and takes it with him. A few feet from their goal he spies another leg and carries that into the inn as well.

Ewen, unaware that his wayward knights are on their way back, attempts to clairvoy Baris’s location. He completely misreads and passes out.

As Baris opens the door into the Red Horse with the red horse in his arms, he hears shouts of joy, some wailing and one ‘Oh my gods.’ As Baris struggles to get the horse through the door, Aeomund decides he can shout over the horse’s ass – both of them. “Jahmis! Good news.”

“Where are the legs?” Jahmis keens.

“I have found only two legs.” In an attempt to avoid blame, Aeomund continues, “It was in another inn. They have really bad ale.”

“The Three Sisters! I’ll have their guts for garters or vice versa.” Jahmis says, taking the two legs from Aeomund. Jahmis now cradles three of the four legs.

During the commotion, Sotor ventured back downstairs and offers his services to repair the horse as best as his physician skill will allow. Jahmis gladly takes him up on his offer.

“Let’s see if the patient can be laid across the table. At least we don’t have to worry about screaming,” said Sotor, attempting to make the lighten the mood.

After a careful inspection of the horse and legs, Sotor begins to sew with the materials provided by Jahmis. Sotor manages to sew the first front leg on with no trouble. The first rear leg is highly unstable and the second rear leg is better but the horse wobbles a bit.

As Sotor is practicing surgery on a dead horse, Cekiya decides that she is bored and tired of waiting. With her uncanny sense of direction, she has no trouble returning to the inn. She sees a horse’s leg a foot from the front door and brings it inside. She arrives as Sotor is putting the final stitches in the second rear leg. She walks over and wordlessly hands him the leg. He attaches the second front leg successfully but the horse still wobbles due to the unstable rear leg.

Ewen, having woken up to cheers, comes staggering downstairs. He sees Baris holding a mug of ale and wearing a Cheshire cat grin. As Ewen approaches the table, Baris lifts his tankard and shouts “I got the horse!”

Ewen pinches the bridge of his nose and sits down. As Ewen watches Sotor attempt to fix his first attempt on the wobbly back leg, he hears the physician ask about the surgeon Curo.

Jahmis starts to laugh, “He says – get this – he’s related to the Earl of Neph. Just because they share a last name doesn’t make him related. I mean if you were related to an Earl, wouldn’t you work in a larger town than this? Of course, he has is reputation to protect. He doesn’t take a patient if he thinks they will not survive the treatment.”

Sotor nods in agreement, suspicions confirmed. “Jahmis, I have done the best I can with this horse. I highly suggest you call a hideworker to fix it.” Sotor gives the horse one last wobble.

“Such a shame, I was going to wave the whole bill for your group.” Jahmis says looking at his once prized mascot.

That is the last straw for Ewen, “We are going to the castle for dinner, now.”

“Oh, we are going someplace?” Baris asks, straightening his tunic, “Hey! My pouch is gone. It had the key in it!”

Ewen says half mockingly that Baris better find his important quest item. Baris, not hearing the mocking tone, immediately runs out. Aeomund immediately covers his face with his palm in disbelief.

Ewen, Aeomund, Kaelyn and Cekiya all walk up to the castle. Cekiya leads the way, telling the others to ‘skip this way.’ Once at the gate she tells the guard that these were the friends she was waiting for. She also points out to the group the shield she found on her exploration. The guards were told to expect Ewen and company, so they are lead straight into the great hall.

The hall is full of a large number people, mostly male. Sitting at the lower tables are men wearing leather jerkins and short swords. The tables closer to the head table are not as populated. They see Sir Dunisel sitting with a few other knights at one of the tables close to the head table. Speaking to Dunisel they see their host, Sir Bereden.

“Ah, Sir Aeomund, here take this seat,” Bereden points to the chair he just vacated, “You, young lady,” pointing at Cekiya, “take the seat next to him.” He motions for Ewen and Kaelyn to follow him up to the head table, where only three chairs are placed.

“Ewen” Bereden gestures to the hair to the right and he now looks at Kaelyn, “and you, who wasn’t introduced to me, can have this seat.” Bereden indicated the chair to the left of the center.

“The fault is mine, Sir Bereden,” Ewen says, “Allow me to introduce Kaelyn of Aletta.” Kaelyn smiles and does a quick curtsy.

“Kaelyn, my apologies Sir Ewen, Kaelyn, you take the chair to my right and Sir Ewen, I hope you don’t mind taking the chair to my left.”

“Anything for the host,” is Ewen’s reply.

“We’ll see,” Bereden says with a smile towards Kaelyn, “Excuse me a moment my dear, I need a couple of minutes to discuss business.” He turns toward Ewen, “The men before you are a crack company of longbowmen. That man seated next to Sir Dunisel is Rafe of Apexarp. He is currently the company’s top marksman.” Bereden continues about the prowess of the company for a few more minutes. When he finally sees an opening in Bereden’s description of the men, Ewen speaks, “You mean we were denied the presence of these good men on the march and at Ovendel field?”

“Yes, all of them were here; including the light foot. I should clarify that the light foot have been trained as medium foot, all they lack is the heavier armor.”

Ewen shakes his head ruefully, “I may never get an opportunity to lead an army, but if I did, I would rather have these men with me. They are obviously of more use than the men of Ternua were.”

“I have heard tales of the “men” of Ternua.”

Ewen describes the fight from his point of view and then speaks of what he has learned from others who were in various positions around the battle. Bereden asks a few pointed questions about the timing and order of the lines. Ewen is satisfied that if battle ever came to Heru, Bereden could hold the keep and win on the field. Ewen raises his tankard, “I propose we drink; that should I find myself on the march, I find you by my side.” All drink.

Cekiya, who had been listening to the conversation at the head table, which really wasn’t that far away from her seat, asks Ewen if they could stay and watch the arrows fly.

“Your servant is a bit forward, isn’t she?” Bereden asks Ewen with a smile.

Ewen returns the smile to Bereden and gives Cekiya a look, “Yes.”

“I would be happy to arrange a demonstration in the morning if you have the same interest as the young girl.”

“If we are not imposing, I would be honored to watch your men shoot.”

“Not an issue in the slightest.” Bereden says. He raises his voice so that the men at all tables can hear him, “Lads! Tomorrow the First Knight of Kaldor will watch you shoot!”

Almost as a man, they raise their tankards and shout “Huzzah!”

As the conversation drifts back to normal, Cekiya hears one of the men seated near her mutter to his companion “Who the fuck is the First Knight of Kaldor?”

With the business talk concluded, Sir Bereden directs his attention toward Kaelyn. She finds him charming and pleasant. She enjoys his company and realizes that this meal is the complete opposite of when she is forced to dine out with Baris at the table. She spares a moment’s thought of what trouble the oafish knight is finding. Or was that making?

During the time the others were feasting within Caer Heru, Sir Baris determined to find his missing key. It was, after all, his only clue to the mystery of the missing brother, and he had sworn on his knightly honor to see out this quest. Perhaps that was putting it too strongly, but a promise was a promise. And so, staggering, Baris ventured forth from the Red Horse, where his work was clearly done.

He had not gone far when it occurred to him that he couldn’t actually recall the last time he had seen the key. With a jolt of fear, Sir Baris understood he might even have lost it on the road to Heru. He looked in the direction which he believed the road to be, but the fog, still thick, limited his vision. “A knight dares anything,” he slurred, and proceeded along, deciding he ought to start looking from the beginning.

While seeking the path, Baris mentally ticked off all the places he needed to look: the road, Enabrin Vastair’s, Meleken Square, the locksmith, the Red Horse, the Three Sisters … Wait! The locksmith! He had the key there! No sooner had this revelation struck Baris than he struck the corner of a building.

When he came to, he was lying in a bed in a strange room. His head ached, and he touched a hand to his temple where a very large bump had formed. His stomach was sour. Then, a vision of loveliness loomed over him.

“Are you awake at last sir? I feared you might slumber forever.”

Baris smiled at her. “Lady, who could slumber with you to wake up to?” Which proved just the right thing to say.

Not long afterwards – but long enough – the lady heard a sound without and leapt to the window. As Baris admired the view thinking, ‘she’s lovely from both sides,’ the girl gasped. “My husband has come home! Quick – get into this barrel here,” she cried, grabbing at her clothing.

Baris, pulling on his own garments, did as she bade and climbed into the barrel, hunkering down. “Who keeps a barrel in the bedroom?’ he wondered. He could just make out voices down below. The lady’s husband – her name turned out to be Perella – had returned early with a man who had offered 5d to buy something Baris couldn’t quite make out. Then Perella began berating her husband – something about underpricing his pottery, really these peasants were a marvel how they understood the finer points of commerce – and how she was faithful despite many, many offers. (This part confused Baris.) Then he heard her tell her husband – Claudon, that was his name – that while he had been out peddling the barrel for 5d she had a buyer this very moment offering 7d. ‘I wonder who that could be?’ thought Baris. Just then, he heard Claudon dismiss his buyer and start up the stairs.

‘By Sarajin’s Icy Axe – she means me!’ screamed a voice inside Baris’s head. When the husband called out, he said in a voice pitched a little high, “Where is the woman I’m buying a barrel from?”

“I am her husband,” said Claudon coming into the room.

Baris peeped over the rim of the barrel. “Oh. Well, then it is I … Karl.” And he began to climb out of the barrel.

“You’ve come to pay 7d for the barrel?”

“Well, yes, but …” His mind racing, Baris looked back into the barrel. “But see here my good man, this barrel is filthy. I can’t even scrape this clean with my nail. It looks like the dregs of some very bad wine.”

Coming into the room, Perella said to her husband that he must clean out the barrel before the deal could be consumated. Claudon agreeably took his tools and climbed into the barrel, where he began scraping away. His wife leaned over the top saying get that spot, and don’t miss that little bit over there. Meanwhile, Sir Baris, remembering the vision at the window, decided to consumate business of a different sort. Just as the noise of the scraping ended, Sir Baris concluded his negotiations. And with 7d paid, Claudon carried the barrel to the Red Horse for him.

Larane 29, 732

All the party is present at breakfast. The fog has lifted but the sun has not returned. The day starts with rain instead. As they discuss the day’s agenda of traveling back to Tashal, a longbowman arrives.

“Sir Ewen, we await your pleasure. We are prepared to show you how we get things done on the east common.”

“We are ready. Lead the way.”

The east common is in a small valley, with the exception of the western part of the common. Recalling their time camped on this very common, as they walk, Ewen, Aeomund, and Baris talk about who was where when the army mustered at Heru. They wait a few moments while the targets are erected.

“Good morning. What a fine day this is!” Sir Bereden says coming up to the trio of knights. “Rafe! Show these gentlemen what you can do.”

The archers get ready at the commands of their supervisors and the arrows fly across the field in a fantastic display. As Ewen watches, he realizes that if this company had been at Olokand, there would have been a lot more dead Vikings.

The party soon departs and arrives in Tashal near the end of the day. Before he retires, Sotor pens a letter to Cail of Tokal about his experience with the surgeon Curo. He asks if the rumor is true that the insufferable twit is related to the Earl.

Larane 30 – Agrazhar 1, 732

The next two days are spent in almost idle pursuits. A note is sent to Prehil, informing him that Ewen is back from Heru on the 30th.

Sotor spends the days organizing Ewen’s library. A large portion of the organization involves reading the texts and scrolls so that they are properly catalogued. Ewen and Aeomund call upon several merchants looking for prizes for the tournament.

Agrazhar 2, 732

The imminent tournament overshadowed all. With only two weeks left, Sir Ewen’s household would have to strain to put on a show properly showcasing his ambitions.

After much debate, appropriate prizes were determined. The first prize would be the finest suit of dwarven armor. In addition, with the second part of the Silver Caravan still in town, rich silverwork was available. Twenty pounds of that silver would go to the victor, and five pounds to the second place winner. Further down the social scale, a pound of new pennies would go to the winner of the archery contest. All this would require a great deal of liquid funds, but fortunately Sir Ewen had his wife’s stocks of coin close at hand.

At the same time, there was the question of the best disposition of Sir Ewen’s military strength. The Blue Boars were retained for Agrazhar and Azura, with an option for longer commitment – provided they would not be permanently stationed in Varayne, a small community lacking in entertainment. Sir Ewen assured the mercenaries they would either return to the fleshpots of Tashal, or be posted to Ternua. This was found acceptable.

Some tasks needed to be done in person. Sir Ewen visited Aldin of Charion, his tentmaker, to see that he had the necessary pavilions for the occasion.

“Aye, yer tent be shut up in storage, Sir Ewen,” said the beefy artisan. “I’ll have the lads air it out and we’ll ship it off to Varayne forthwith, we shall.”

Sir Ewen watched the fine material being taken from the crates. It seemed none the worse for its confinement. As the journeymen unfolded the tent, the wind caught it, unfolding, displaying his arms to the sunsh – damn!

“Aldin, these are not my current arms. Since you made this for me, I have added additional quarterings to my blazon. Rather important ones. Can you change this?”

“It’s part o’ the fabric, Sir Ewen. I can’t just rip it off and sew on new ones.”

Ewen considered. What would the kingdom think if he used the old colors? Would it look like he was backing down on his claim to Vemion, right in front of the assembled nobility? That could be disastrous.

“Then I shall need to commission a new tent.”

Aldin stuck his finger in his ear and swiveled it around in thought “It’s a right trick. When would you need this by?”

“As soon as possible. Within a week at most.”

“All hands are workin’ on an order that just came in.”

“I need that tent,” Ewen said.

Aldin thought, then drew himself up to his full height. “Sir Ewen, It’ll be a challenge, but out of the respect I have for you, we’ll do it.”

“Thank you, master tentmaker.”

They settled on a figure of 2000d – a sum Ewen again planned to draw from his wife’s coin. On his way out the door, he stopped and asked “Just out of curiosity, who is the tent that you’re working on now for?”

“Lady Afaewynn Barthy. She said she wanted a large tent suitable for feastin’.”

Ewen grinned. The tentacles of his interests had extended so far they were colliding. “Well, see that it gets done. We wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady.”

The preparations continued apace as the days counted down to the tournament.
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Matt
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