Session One Hundred and Twenty - June 13, 2015

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

Session One Hundred and Twenty - June 13, 2015

Postby Matt » Sat Dec 12, 2015 12:24 pm

Azura 9 ,732

The sun attempted futilely to breach the clouds hanging over Harn, which for their part let fall a steady light rain, keeping the temperature cool. Overall it was a beautiful Harnic day.

Sir Ewen was meeting with his retainers in the study of the late Baron of Ternua’s chambers. The knights Baris and Aeomund, as well as the mage Kaelyn and the adder Cekiya stood around a table on which a map of Kaldor was displayed. “Do we know what Osel’s army is doing?” Ewen asked.

“Whatever they are going to do, they will need to do it soon,” Aeomund said. “The campaigning season is almost over; the harvest is practically here.”

“Why are they waiting? Are they waiting for a signal from Osel?” Ewen wondered. “Or are they waiting to combine with another force?”

“Maybe they are waiting for the King to die,” Aeomund mused.

Ewen looked down at the map. “They are closer to Tashal than Ternua, so that tells us something.” He cupped his chin. “Maybe Osel believes that the fact that the House of Elendsa is weakened will allow him to make a play for the throne.”

“I wonder if Verdreth was working with them?” Kaelyn wondered. “Perhaps Osel intended Verdreth to hold Ternua.”

“Osel could have helped Verdreth escape,” Baris said. “Is there anyone left alive to interrogate?”

“No, the Verdreth line is ended, and his men knew nothing of worth,” Ewen replied.

“If a runner was sent to Osel after the battle, Osel could already know Verdreth failed,” Kaelyn pointed out.

Ewen sighed. “If there was a runner and if Osel and Verdreth were even working together.”

“We need to be prepared for several outcomes,” Baris interjected.

“But first we need to know exactly what we have to work with.” Ewen turned to Aeomund. “Sir Aeomund, you did well creating the map of my holdings, it has been quite helpful in informing my strategic thinking. Prepare for me a document listing my available forces and their current locations.”

“As you will, my lord,” Aeomund said. After a moment he pointed to a location on the map. “If they can take Querina and winter through there – the Sheriff is never there after all – if the King dies in the winter, they will be in a position to take Tashal in the spring.”

“Can you get intelligence on what is going on at Kiban?” Ewen asked.

Aeomund nodded. “I could ride out there, but it would be faster to just ask the Osel army what they are doing.”

“But are troops being marshaled at Kiban as we speak?” Ewen wondered. “We don’t know.”

Aeomund looked at the map. “If I take a boat it will take six watches to get there.”

Baris spoke up. “I could take a scouting force elsewhere, my lord.”

Ewen gazed at the map. “You could scout Querina.”

Baris nodded. “I wonder what is happening in Tashal.”

“We should go to Tashal, buy a boat, and take Thilisa back to Ternua where we can keep her safe,” Aeomund said, and not for the first time.

Ewen sighed. “That is easier said than done,” the knight said, thinking of how his wife would react to a boat ride in her current state.

The conversation turned back to the disposition of Ewen’s forces. “My lord, I just had a thought,” Baris said. “The knight of Abbel manor is not here, but he is subinfeudated to Ternua.”

Aeomund looked up from the map. “I wonder where he is.”

“Let’s make sure we don’t overlook anything else,” Ewen said. With that he turned to the mage. “Kaelyn, search for papers on the full holdings of this manor. Let’s make sure there are no other missing guests.”

***

“My lord, there are more ‘missing guests’ as you called them,” Kaelyn said. The mage had gone through the Baron’s papers, and while she could not make heads or tails of the complexities of subinfeudation, she did know that the numbers just did not add up. There were certainly manors who had not answered the Baron’s call. She brought what she found to Aeomund, hoping he could shed some light on matters unknown to her, and the two were reporting their findings to Ewen. Presently the three were sitting in the form Baron’s study, where most of the paperwork had been housed.

“About half again as many manors are not represented here in Ternua,” Aeomund clarified.

“The Baron would have declared this situation an emergency, you have to wonder why they did not come to his aid,” Ewen wondered.

“We need to send notice to the subinfeudated manors that you are ensconced in Ternua, and send someone to talk to Osel’s forces,” Aeomund suggested.

Kaelyn spoke up. “With your leave my lord, I will scry Osel.”

Ewen nodded.

***

That morning, Kaelyn was busy staring into her scrying pool. Aeomund was busy supervising the construction of the stockade. He gave each section a name, and made the construction a competition. Whichever team finished first would get a reward. Ewen dictated his letters to Goreg.

All of this left Sir Baris unattended. With nothing else to do, Baris wandered into town, hoping that trouble would not find him. He walked down the lane away from the castle, taking the long way and meandering along the river. Near the bridge, he heard a voice. “Hello!”

Baris turned and saw a middle aged man who looked a little worse for wear, with unkempt dark hair and a scraggly beard.

“Aren’t you Baris, the one who pretends to be a knight?”

“It is I.”

“That helmet, I guess it looks knightly,” the man said. “I’m Elmund, we drank together. You bought me ale. I never forget a guy who buys me ale.”

“I can buy you another ale, let’s have a drink.”

“By all means, let’s. I was just thinking I should be on my way.”

“Come my good man,” Baris said, and the pair began walking toward the tavern.

“That’s doctor to you.”

“Doctor of?” Baris wondered.

“Physiker.” Elmund replied. “Treating the human condition, mind, body, and soul.”

“Is it not the job of a priest to look after the soul?” Baris knew of a philosopher who would love to debate such a question.

Elmund grinned, showing yellowy teeth. “But they never prescribe ale.”

“That depends on the priest,” Baris said, thinking of the rituals at the temple to Sarajin. “Or his faith, in any event.”

“So, Elmund …” Baris began.

“Yes, Sir Baris?”

“Were you here during the recent interesting times?” the knight asked.

“Interesting times?” Elmund said. “There were interesting times?”

“There was almost a battle!” Baris exclaimed. What could be more interesting?

Just as the pair were passing a well, Elmund turned toward a nondescript building, causing Baris to stop short. The building appeared to be a residence; there was no sign indicating otherwise.

“The tavern’s that way,” Baris said, pointing.

“This is a different tavern.” The physiker knocked on the door. “Not necessarily better, but different.” A peephole opened, and when it fell upon Elmund the eye showed a look of recognition. Then the eye fell upon the knight. “This here is my friend Baris,” said Elmund. “He’s not a knight, he’s an actor.” The door opened, revealing a large bearded man reeking of sweat, ale, and vomit.

“Pass,” said the bouncer.

Sir Baris and Elmund went down the stairs into the cellar. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Baris beheld a narrow room adorned with benches and chairs. A small fire flickered in the corner. A bar stood on the far wall, with a curtain behind it that no doubt led to a kitchen or storeroom. A short, gray haired, unkempt older man stood behind the bar. His aroma was pungent, and Baris could smell him across the room despite the slight smoky smell coming from the fire.

There were only a handful of other patrons in the tavern, and none of them looked like they had done an honest days work in their life. Following Elmund, Baris moseyed up to the bar just as a large insect skittered across it.

“Torgael,” Elmund said, referring to the bartender. “This here is my friend and benefactor, Baris,” Elmund said. “He’s an actor, not a knight,” he repeated.

The old man fixed his gaze upon the physiker. “You got money today Elmund?” he rasped.

“My friend and benefactor is paying today. We’ll have two Ashes of the Dead.”

The bartender’s eyes widened. “A very strong, dark, brew.” He filled two mugs from a strange looking cask made of a dark wood that sat in the shadows behind the bar. Baris could barely make out the tap in the flickering torchlight. Torgael slammed the two mugs down in front of the patrons. Some sloshed out, and the bug, who had returned to investigate, retreated from it. “Penny and a half for the two of them.”

“Pay the man, professor.” Elmund said.

The knight dug in his pouch and dug out some coins.

“You ever had this before?” Torgael asked, and continued before Baris could answer. “‘Course you haven’t, because you can only get it from here. You’ll want to slam it back the first time, it’ll make it easier.”

Steeling himself, the knight gulped down the strange tasting brew. Instantly his mouth was filled with a gritty liquid with a leaden taste, that to call it bilious would be to compliment it. As Baris swallowed it, the drink began to feel like it was swelling up in his throat, filling his entire insides. Not just his head, but his entire body began to feel thickened, and his knees began to shake just a little bit. He felt extremely light-headed, right up until the drink hit his head like a mattock. His eyes began to water profusely, and his nose stuffed up as his body tried futilely to reject the liquid that was more poison that drink. His hand shook as he put the flagon down. “Has a kick,” Baris croaked as he wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

Elmund chuckled. “It takes some getting used to.” He gestured at Torgael. “Fill’er up again.”

Baris’s eyes widened, and he whimpered just a little bit. He dimly noted that Elmund was taking measured sips of his own drink.

Torgael was already refilling Baris’s mug. “Not everybody keeps to their feet their first drink.” He set the mug down and slapped Baris on the back. “There might be something to you!” The bartender gestured to the cask behind him. “They tell me this drink is made of the ashes from a secret Agrikan ritual.”

At the mention of Agrik’s servants, Baris flashed back to the night that he met Sir Ewen. His booze-addled brain briefly remembered quite clearly the sight of a large hogshead rolling down the street to crash through the door of the Agrikan hall.

As Baris listened, a bug skittered up on top of the handle of his flagon. Its’ antennae twitched, and it ran back down as fast as he could.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” Torgael said, and he took Baris over to a table. A small part of the knight was yelling at him to be alert, and the knight perked his ears and slyly looked around, making sure he knew where the other men in the bar were. Just as he sat down, he caught sight of an inebriated man being relieved of his purse by his companion.

Baris decided to have some fun. The scents of the grimy tavern took him back to Golotha, and he thought back to his time as the ratcatcher, Karl, and donned that persona like an old cloak, as if he really were just an actor pretending to be a knight. “Elmund, this is some strong stuff, thank you for bringing me here,” he said gruffly.

“Nothing else like it,” the physiker agreed. “A little pricey for my purse – people in this town don’t get sick the way they should. It does give me more time to explore the various libations Ternua has to offer, however.”

Baris noted Elmund seemed a little bleary. “There must have been some call for your skills in the last few days?” the knight inquired.

Elmund shook his head. “Nope. I kept my regular office hours, which are from when I get up to when I get thirsty.”

“Wasn’t there some fighting?” Baris asked.

“Fighting?” Elmund seemed genuinely surprised.

Baris took note of that. “How did the people react to the Baron’s troubles?”

“Oh, you mean Lord Verdreth being in trouble with the King?”

Baris nodded. “Yes.”

“These are funny questions, are you preparing for a part?”

The knight nodded. “Yes.”

“Must be one of those high-brow plays.”

“It appears so. The director’s been riding me hard, you know it is. Nothing seems good enough. But he’s paying me, so I’ll do as he says.”

Elmund shrugged. “Whatever pays for the ale. To answer your question about Lord Verdreth, well, it doesn’t really affect us, you know. I suppose his troubles are sad if you’re him. For the rest of us, one fat nobleman is much like another fat nobleman.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Baris agreed. “Did his troops cause any trouble? Those lords are always bringing their armies and not caring what happens to the rest of us.”

“They’ve behaved themselves alright, hard to get a seat at the inn,” Elmund said. “And forget about the other thing. ‘course I forgot about the other thing anyway. But you haven’t, now that it brings me to mind.”

Baris beamed. “Well you know, actors, it comes with the territory. One of the few benefits of my calling.”

“Old Dottin and Nel, she said you were something special. You don’t mind that I pressed her on that?”

Baris shook his head no, but looked down at his drink pretending embarrassment.

“She said she never spent such an interesting night, except once or twice before.”

“How is she?” Baris wondered.

Elmund grinned. “Busy, I expect.” He belched. It was all Baris could do to keep down the Ashes of the Dead.

Later, after a few more drinks (although they switched to a more sensible ale), Baris and Elmund staggered out of the underground tavern, bellowing out a sloshed rendition of “The Midget and the Elf.”

***

Kaelyn sat in a quiet room in the keep, staring at a bowl of water. She was deep in trance, her mind focused on the Earl of Osel. She felt a tug at her mind, and the water seemed to momentarily clear and revealed a faint glimpse of city walls, but then the image clouded up, becoming murky as if she had thrown dirt into the water.

Sighing, she stood up and stretched her aching limbs, twisted from being forced into such an awkward position for so long. She climbed down a flight of stairs, wincing ever so slightly, and up another staircase up to what were currently Ewen’s chambers.

“My lord, my efforts to scry Osel appear to have been blocked by arcane forces.”
“Very well, Kaelyn. Thank you for your efforts. You may leave me,” the knight replied.

After the mage departed, Ewen sat in his chair and decided to attempt some remote viewing of his own. He relaxed his shoulders and cleared his mind. He seemed to find a particularly strong current in the ether, and felt his consciousness sped toward the mind of Sir Kornuska. Although Ewen was pleased that his skills were improving, and he could both see through Kornuska’s eyes and hear through his ears, all he heard was the sound of a man relieving himself, and all he saw he did his best to not dwell upon.

Ewen distracted himself by throwing a feast in the great hall that evening, getting to know some of the knights bound to Ternua. The captains of the infantry companies were also invited, but they were of course seated at lesser table.

Azura 10, 732

Once again the sun attempted to peek through the clouds. Although not much light peaked through, the sun did appear to have dried up some of the rain that pattered all night, and in the morning it had dissipated to a light misting.

The light revealed a small gathering in the courtyard of Ternua Keep. A half circle of eight knights, all pledged to Ternua, were arranged in a semi-circle at the back of one Dickon of Parketh. Flanking Dickon were Sirs Baris and Aeomund, Baris grinning behind his boar helm. Atop a dais in front of Dickon, and facing the assemblage stood Sir Ewen Ravinargh. The gathered knights were dressed in full regalia, their swords gripped before them, point down on the ground. While their armor did not shine, the dewy mist gathered upon it did cause some sparkling when seen in the right light.

Dickon, dressed in a white robe, had stood vigil in the small chapel the evening before, watched over by Sir Aeomund.

Sir Ewen gazed upon the assemblage. Some of these knights had just a few days before taken up arms against the man who knelt before them. Dickon, a mere man-at-arms, had soundly defeated these knights. Now, having stood vigil in the small chapel the evening before, he was about to join their number.

“Dickon of Parketh,” Ewen began in a sonorous voice, “through skill at arms, honorable conduct, and valor on the battlefield, you have proven yourself a worthy man.”

“Do you swear to never traffic with traitors, never to give evil counsel to a lady, to respect and defend a lady against all, and to honor the holy days of Larani, the Lady of Paladins?”

“I so swear,” Dickon breathed.

Ewen drew his sword. “For your valorous service in defense of this keep against the lord who had unlawfully taken up arms against it, in violation of the writ of King Haldan, long may he reign, for your honorable efforts upholding the king’s law, and as witnessed by this worthy assemblage, I dub thee Sir Dickon of Parketh.” With that Ewen tapped the flat of his blade on Dickon’s right shoulder. “You may rise.”

Dickon rose and faced the assembled knights, flanked by Baris and Aeomund, with Ewen at his back.

“I ask for an acclamation of all brother-knights present, to be the first to welcome Sir Dickon into our fraternity.” The Ternuan knights gave a cry of “Huzzah!” Aeomund clapped and shouted, “Huzzah!” Baris gave Dickon a smack on the back. “Huzzah!”
As for Dickon, normally a man of very few words, and those forceful and curt, he did not even have those, and was speechless. His eyes shone with pride, but there was also the hint of fear of the task before him. Ewen had let him know that he was to continue to hold Ternua, and to give orders to these gathered knights and their peers.

***

Later that afternoon the roads around Ternua keep resounded to the sounds of hoofbeats. Four riders were dispatched to send letters to the various manors subinfeudated to Ternua that were absent, summoning to the keep on the eighteenth of Azura, eight days hence. Hoping that their not so subtle show of force had worked, Ewen and company left Dickon in charge of Ternua keep galloped up the road toward Tashal. By then the weather had turned, and it was a hot, muggy, foggy day.

They passed other travelers on foot, and on the Genin trail, not far for Varayne, the party turned a bend in the trail to find a small wagon train headed north. No soldiers guarded the three wagons, but the peasants looked tough – for peasants. The wagons carried casks.

Aeomund rode up to the lead wagon. The old teamster atop it looked over at him. “What are you guys carrying?” the knight asked.

“I am a Villein of Bilo,” the older man replied. “Do you have an official reason for asking Sir Knight?”

“No,” Aeomund admitted.

“Well, it depends on whether you want to purchase some,” the Villein said.

Aeomund smiled. “That depends on what it is.”

“Pear brandy.”

“What manor is the vintage from?” Ewen interjected.

The Villein turned to Ewen. “From the manor of Bilo.”

“Can I try some?” Aeomund asked.

The Villein took out a cask and retrieved a leather flagon, into which he poured a small amount of amber liquid from a tap on the side of the barrel. This he handed to Sir Aeomund.

The knight took a careful sip, and then a longer draught. The brandy was in fact quite good. He felt it was a little young, and could have done with a bit more time in cask, but not enough to greatly detract from the flavor. “How much for a barrel?”

“I normally sell hogsheads, but I do have some firkins, which will be about,” the Villein looked up as he calculated, “sixty-three pints. In Tashal this will sell for 4d to the pint. I’ll sell it to you for 120d.”

Aeomund dug into his pouch and counted out the required amount. “Deliver it to Raven Hall,” he said as he handed the Villein the money, which disappeared into a pouch on the man’s belt.

“So you fine knights are going to Tashal? Can you give me some news? Have you been there recently?”

“I have been there recently,” Aeomund said. “When is the last time you were in Tashal?”

The Villein shook his head. “Not for some time.”

“There was a very successful tournament held in Varayne,” Aeomund volunteered, although it was not quite news about Tashal.

The Villein nodded. “Oh, yes, this is the pear brandy I did not sell for that tournament.”

“Yes, it was the Lady Ialny tournament of Chivalry. You know, she may be sainted soon.”

“Did she like pear brandy?” the Villein asked.

“I think we can work that into the story.”

The Villein smiled. “You know, if you can get the word out, there’s a hogshead in it for you.”

The knight grinned. “I hear that pear brandy is good for achy joints in rainy weather, is that true?”

The Villein chuckled. “I have heard that.”

***

The party arrived in Tashal around eight o’clock in the evening. The gates were closed for the knight, but Ewen performed the special knock he had learned. The gate opened just a little bit, and the guard behind it said, “Oh, it’s you! You may enter.”

“Good evening Sir Ewen, will you be requiring repast?” Walin asked once the party arrived at Raven Hall.

Ewen nodded. “I believe a light meal would be called for. We have been on the road for most of the afternoon.”

The servant bowed slightly. “Yes my lord. We have already prepared a roast that the Lady Thilisa rejected.”

As the servants began setting the table and bringing out the food, Goreg came up to Ewen. “Sir, do I have your leave to go see my lady mother?”

“Yes, just be back for the morning meeting,” Ewen said. “It is held here at Raven Hall. Breakfast is provided. Isn’t that right Sir Baris?”

Baris looked up from eyeing one of the serving girls. One of the laces on her blouse was loose, and it was quite distracting. “Of course.”

***

“Where have you been young man?”

Goreg had gone to visit his mother, and found her in an unpleasant mood.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you cannot come see your mother?”

Goreg puffed up. “Sir Ewen has given me a lot of responsibility.”

“Oh the big man,” the woman clucked.

“Well we were in Ternua,” the knight replied, the slightest hint of a whine in his voice.

“Oh, the traveler now? Soon you’ll have no time for your own mother! It’s not like I didn’t suckle you at the breast for two years. Now come in, get something to eat; I’m sure this Sir Ewen hasn’t been feeding you properly.”

“Actually mother, I brought you some food.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous let me get you something to eat.”

The conversation continued in that matter, until the woman retired for the evening and Goreg returned to Raven Hall. As he turned the corner, he noticed some stray dogs fighting over some of the food he had brought his mother.

Azura 11, 732

“Harbormaster?” said the sailor, a lustful gleam in his eye as he gazed at Kaelyn and licked his lips. He had seemed to have a come-on line ready for Kaelyn, when he noticed Cekiya behind her, playing with a dagger. “I don’t rightly know where he is a the moment, but his home and office is down the road just a stretch to the left. It’s on the left across from the alley.”

“Thank you,” Kaelyn replied. Under her breath she told Cekiya to put the weapon away.

The day had dawned as the previous ended – with thunder. As the mage and adder walked down the street, they heard a sailor telling some of his fellows of a bolt of lightning he had seen strike the river Kald early in the morning. The fury of the storm was short lived, and gave way to a hot, humid day. There were no clouds to hide under, instead it was oddly foggy, with the sweltering sun creating a glow over the top of the fog.

After composing messages for Ewen to Stimos, Osel, and Meden Curo requesting meetings, Kaelyn and Cekiya had gone over to the harbormaster to inquire about a boat to ferry Thilisa to the keep at Ternua. Presently they found themselves before the door of a small home. The mage knocked and a few moments later the door opened, revealing a fresh-faced young man with straw colored hair.

“Yes?” the man asked.

“We wish to see the harbormaster about chartering a boat,” Kaelyn replied.

“Do you now?”

“Am I in the right place?” the mage asked with a slight huff. This was not an unreasonable or strange request.

“That depends, but please come in.” The man stepped back and gestured for the two women to enter, which they did. They found themselves in a small room with benches built along the sides of the walls, with two doors heading deeper into the house.

“You say you want to charter a boat?”

Kaelyn nodded. “There will be ten plus horses.”

“Ten plus horses?” the man said. Kaelyn wondered if he was hard of hearing. “Wait right here.”

Kaelyn and Cekiya took a seat at one of the benches. A few minutes later the young man returned with an older man and pointed at the two women. “That’s them.”

“Thank you Blotchen, I’ll take care of this,” the older man said and shooed the younger man, Blotchen, out. “Ladies? I am Tarkor of Clerdy. I am the Harbormaster for the port of Tashal and alderman of the city.”

The mage stood. “I am Kaelyn of Aletta,” she paused, her voice trailing off for just a moment, “servant of Sir Ewen Ravinargh,” she continued. “His wife is pregnant, and we are hoping to move her out of the city for the peace and quiet of the countryside during the last months of her pregnancy.”

Tarkor nodded knowingly. He raised his hand and pointed at the ceiling as he began to speak. “We would want to keep the good Lady on a boat separate from the horses. It sounds like two boats will definitely do. The horses on one, the people on the other, and if need be we will put extra crew on the second boat to balance the ninth horse. Of course we can always hire some extra men. When were you thinking of leaving?”

Kaelyn saw the man already adding figures up in his head, and from his expression the price was rising rapidly. “The sixteenth.”

“Hmmm,” Tarkor said. “Of course, the Kald Countess would be most appropriate, but she is not here at the moment. The Kald Duchess is due in tomorrow, and the Kald Lady is due in after. I could hold them, for a price of course. They will have to sit idle for two or three days. I suppose the idle portion would not be that expensive.” The man paused, calculating sums again. “Let us say 600d for the idle days. I could charge less for the days we are actually moving, but one must take into account the fact that a countess will be traveling aboard, so we would not want to cut any corners. Two hundred pence per day.”

“What corners are you not cutting?” Cekiya asked, her voice flinty. “What are we getting for our extra money?”

“I’m simply providing the transportation aren’t I?” Tarkor asked.

“But what corners are you not cutting then?” Cekiya pressed. “We need a fair price.”

Kaelyn smiled. “She has a point.”

“I am providing a fair price. I am providing ballast for the extra horse, after all.”

“We have that covered,” Cekiya said.

“I am also providing exclusive access for the whole boat,” Tarkor said. “With a slight discount, the total will be 800d. I will require half as a down-payment, half upon embarkation.”

“We are also relying on your discretion,” Kaelyn said.

Smelling more silver, Tarkor smiled. “Discretion is certainly a service we can provide. In fact, for a mere flat rate of 160d more, not even the sailors will know who they are transporting.”

***

“May I ask your business today, sir?” the journeyman herald asked Sir Ewen.

Sir Ewen and Goreg had made their way to the College of Heralds, the Enclave of the Holy Oak. Presently they stood in a well-appointed sitting room. Goreg carried a satchel in two hands, and he held it slightly away from his body, as if he did not want to touch it, but feared dropping it.

“I was hoping to see Sir Rohn, I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh,” said he.

The young man smiled. “Oh, yes, Sir Rohn is a very busy man, but he always has time for you. He has left standing orders. Please wait here but a moment, and I will inform Sir Rohn that you are present. Perhaps you could give me the topic so I could provide him with the resources he will need today?”

Ewen nodded. “I need to update him on the Verdreth clan, and I recently dubbed a knight, so I would like to take care of the paperwork and fees and so forth.”

The journeyman hustled off to find Sir Rohn.

A few minutes later, Sir Rohn joined the two knights. “Sir Ewen, how good to see you. Please have a seat.”

Sir Ewen sat at the table indicated, and Sir Rohn sat opposite him. Just then the journeyman returned with some bound papers. “You might need these, Sir,” he said to Rohn.

“Thank you.” Rohn nodded at the journeyman and turned to Ewen. “Sir Ewen, Verdreths and knights? Let’s start with the one you’re not related to.”

“Well then, let’s start with the knight. I have some notes.” He handed a small sheaf of papers to Rohn.

“Oh, I see, he was born in Minarsas,” Rohn said after a moment, and continued to scan Ewen’s notes. “Oh. Sir Ewen, you do realize you have dubbed the child of a reeve?”

Ewen nodded. “Even from such humble beginnings, martial prowess can lead a man to thrive.”

“Did you know he was from Minarsas?” Rohn asked.

“It came up when I asked him, gathering the information you would need,” Ewen explained.

“Of course. I see you have all the paperwork in order. Witnessed by – eleven – other knights.” That seemed to give the herald pause. “I see one of them is Sir Baris ... but the other knights are of are impeccable credentials. So we must conclude that Sir Dickon is a knight, and we will recognize him as such. He will need arms. Did you have anything in mind?”

“No, but something with crenelation, I imagine. Dickon is a practical man. Arms are not in his wheelhouse. I’ll leave them to your judgment.”

The herald nodded. “I believe we can work with this. Typically these things can be done in a short time, I trust there is not a rush? He is not going to carry a banner into battle?”

“That depends on whether his grace the King calls upon us to go into battle.”

Rohn signed. “Will by the end of Azura do?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ewen confirmed. “Have the results sent over to Raven Hall and we will have make sure they get to him.”

“I understand you do business with Pesera of Hendel?” Rohn inquired.

“Yes.”

“We will send him the bill,” the herald said, and scribbled a note. “Well, Sir Ewen, that covers the first aspect of things. The second involves Clan Verdreth? I shudder to think why you would want to speak to me of Clan Verdreth. It is one thing when your retainer comes to study families, which also worries me, but that is another issue. But when you want to talk about a specific clan, it makes me wonder if I have enough ink and parchment handy.”

Ewen smiled. “Sir Rohn, I do not come seeking information, but rather to dispense information.” He sat back and steepled his hands. “I thought it was only the right thing to do to inform you of the latest developments regarding Clan Verdreth. I regret that I was witness to the demise of the elder Baron and his son Sir Anzarn.”

Rohn’s eyes widened. “So you are reporting the death of the Baron of Ternua?”

“Yes. I have his head if you need to see it.” Ewen nodded at the sack Goreg was carrying.

Rohn was silent a moment, nonplussed. “It is times like this I wish I had a little bell.”

“I believe you are aware, Sir Rohn, that the Baron had been attainted by the King.”

“I don’t believe any formal procedure had been undergone,” Rohn said, coming back to himself. He refreshed his pen and began to write some notes. “For our purposes we can consider him still the Baron of Ternua. We are of course speaking of Tarmas Verdreth, and his son, Anzarn?”

Ewen nodded. “Yes.”

Rohn looked squarely at Ewen. “Are you aware that the Baron’s sister has been recently found dead?”

“I believe Sir Prehil told me that macabre tale.”

“So that is a compressed tragedy for this family, isn’t it?”

“In retrospect,” Ewen agreed. “The late Baron and his son took up arms against me, and I unwittingly had to deal with it.”

“Do you say they picked a fight with you?” Rohn said incredulously.

“With my men,” Ewen clarified. “I did take it personally.”

“Of course,” Rohn said understandingly, with the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone. “You are saying that the Baron of Ternua, attainted by the King, about to lose his land that has been held by his forbears for many centuries, took time out of his busy schedule to pick a fight with you?”

Ewen sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “Since coming to Kaldor, I have ceased to be surprised by the twists and turns that happen to a simple knight as myself who is trying to make his way in life.”

“I could see why you would see it that way.”

“Do you want to see Anzarns’s head? I have it here, too.”

Rohn was silent for a moment and very deliberately put down his pen. “Ahem. For my own notes, Sir Ewen, you are claiming in that satchel to have the heads of Anzarn and Tarmas Verdreth?”

“I know how much a stickler you are for evidence.”

“Sir Ewen, you exceed your own standards of punctiliousness. I regret having doubted you, that you feel compelled to bring this level of proof. It was clearly my bad. No, I do not feel the need to see the heads of Tarmas and Anzarn Verdreth. The very fact that you feel you would need to bring them to me is proof enough. It is a situation in which I never thought I would find myself.”

“Sir Rohn, I believe that you are suggesting that you and I are able to have a fresh start.”

“Well, it is a new start Sir Ewen, but whether it is fresh ...” Rohn’s voice trailed off as he glanced down at the satchel Goreg was holding. “I am afraid it is quite rank, Sir.” He took up his quill once again. “Alright, please provide me with the details. Sir Tarmas Verdreth ... demise?

“In combat,” Ewen supplied.

“How unexpected.” The herald wrote a note. “In combat. Double swords. And Anzarn? Double swords as well?”

Ewen nodded. “Yes. It should be noted his father predeceased him.”

“Yes, that would make him baron when he died- well, except the fact that the King had taken away the barony. I will just put a question mark.” Rohn scribbled some notes, and turned the page. “And the Lady Elana, you have no knowledge of her?”

Ewen shook his head. “No.”

“And the Lady Evlana, do you have any knowledge of her?”

“Oh, my neighbor!” Ewen said. “No, I have no knowledge of her.”

“And the Baron’s sis- er, rather, the previous baron. His sister, Solia, married to Sir Rindan Caldeth ... she is still with us?”

Ewen’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped an octave. “None of the sisters took up arms against me.”

Rohn suppressed a shiver and looked down at his notes. “Oh my, and there is young Tulath,” he said. “But he is only thirteen, and he is a Kaphin, not a Verdreth. So I believe, Sir Ewen, that you are telling me of the demise of the entire male line of the Verdreth clan.”

“I would leave that to you to ascertain.”

“I am so ascertaining,” Rohn confirmed.

“I does sound like the male line is extinguished,” Ewen agreed.

“And it seems to me that the line is extinct because they picked a fight with you?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You are a dangerous man, Sir Ewen.”

“My Lord the Earl of Balim said that once to me.”

“Well, I think we are finished here. I will close the books on the Baron of Ternua. I wonder who will be the next baron?” Rohn said, looking pointedly at Ewen.

“I wonder a point of protocol. What does one do with the heads of an extinct baronial line?”

“I would have buried them, but I suppose you could bring them to someone who wants to see him.”

“Yes, perhaps his next of kin.”

“Perhaps.” Rohn smiled. “Forgive me for finding it rather amusing when you speak of next of kin.”

“Well I hope I have not taken up too much of your time.”

“Sir Ewen, I always have time for you.”

“Sir Rohn, having been outside of Tashal for a few weeks, I wonder if you can tell me any good news of the King’s health? We all hope to hear that he has been able to make a public appearance to the reassurance of us all.”

“Funny you should ask that, Sir Ewen. The King himself lives. Long may he live,” Rohn said, and Ewen and Goreg echoed the sentiment. “His health, as I think you already know, remains in jeopardy. His wound, it festers and it tasks him. There is a strangeness. I do not believe that the King yet rules. You are a strange little fellow Sir Ewen. You have come to this kingdom, and you have provided both amusement and perplexity. But you are a factor. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. But it is my belief that King Haldan no longer rules this kingdom, and it bothers me greatly that I don’t know who does.”

Ewen nodded and his expression took on a pensive demeanor. “That should trouble us all. This kingdom needs a strong hand, as any kingdom does.”

“It does,” Rohn agreed. “In my role as chief of the College of Heralds I am supposed to be neutral, extra-territorial, but I am from Kaldor, and cannot forget that. I would encourage you, Sir Ewen, to find out what is going on. You have a way of worming your way into things. If anyone can open up the curtain of secrecy I suspect it is you. And after all, it’s not as if you will become king or anything. Right?”

Ewen chuckled. “I thank you for your thoughtful response to my question, Sir Rohn.”

“We will get started on that coat of arms for your man.”

“Thank you.” Ewen stood. “Perhaps we shall talk again soon.”

“Perhaps we shall. And who knows, the information may actually be worth something.”

“Information usually is.”

***

“It is my opinion that the Lady Thilisa is not safe in Tashal. My position, which I have expressed to Sir Ewen, is that we move her to Ternua,” Sir Aeomund explained to Sir Rollard. Aeomund had gone to speak to that worthy, surmising that perhaps Rollard could convince Thilisa where Ewen could not. Aeomund had found Rollard staring at a chessboard, having just be checkmated by Lady Elena, who departed to attend to Thilisa, leaving the two knights alone.

“Suh Ewen has been made Baron of Ternua?” Rollard inquired.

“Sir Ewen has a writ from the King and an army encamped there,” Aeomund said in answer. “Sir Ewen has tacitly agreed to this plan. Lady Thilisa is of course the greatest treasure of the household.”

“Suh Ewen has a mere temporary tenure to the castle? What if the King decides to bestow this writ upon someone else?”

“It would take some time to dislodge us.”

Rollard’s voice rose. “So you are suggesting mah lady would be safer in a besieged castle?”

“And surrounded by an army!”

“Whence comes this army?”

“Sir Ewen stamped his foot and this army appeared.”

“Ah do not actually believe Suh Ewen can cause wondrous events.”

For an instant the images of exploding heads formed in Aeomund’s mind. He blinked, and came back to the present. “There are at least one-hundred men-at-arms sworn to Ewen at Ternua. Sir Rollard, it comes to this. Raven Hall is subject to the whims of the city. I don’t believe the lady is safe here, because there are too many aspects we do not control. I believe we should take her by boat so as to not inconvenience her.”

Rollard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ah do not know if the danger is to mah lady or to her lord husband. Mah consideration, mah only consideration, is the safety of mah lady. If Ah thought for a moment that she would be safer separated from her lord, Ah would support that. But Ah do not know that that is the case. You are an honorable man, if a little stiff, but Ah am a little stiff myself, so Ah appreciate that. It is our lot, we who serve. Ah believe that Tashal is safe for mah lady, but it has proved to be unsafe in the past, and Ah cannot be as sure as Ah would like to be. You dangle a castle, which would be safe, and yet Suh Ewen’s tenure in this castle is tenuous. On the other hand, he has a way of turning the tenuous into the strong. His tenuous claim to her affections turned into marriage, which caused our expulsion from Vemionshire. Ah shall reluctantly agree to go along with your plan, Suh Aeomund.” He sighed. “Ah shall support this move.”

Aeomund bowed his head in thanks. “From your close association with the lady, how would you recommend we put this to Lady Thilisa?”

“That her lord husband be the one to put his head in the vice and see if his head is squeezed like a grape.” Rollard grinned. In other words, he was saying ‘I ain’t telling her!’

Aeomund returned the grin. “I support this plan, the way you support mine!” He gestured at the chess table. “Would you care for a game?”

Rollard sat. “Ah would love another game. If Ah lose to a knight of your caliber, Ah will not feel quite so unmanned.”

Aeomund joined the older knight at the table. “We are all in service to women in one way or another.”

Rollard gestured to the sky. “Yours is somewhat more remote.”

***

“Walin, have there have been any letters, notes, correspondence, or flyers for me?” Baris asked the servant. He was eagerly awaiting a reply to his letter from the Lady Meleine.

The majordomo shook his head. “Why no, Sir Baris, nothing that I know of.”

Baris’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, thanks.”

Walin left, somewhat confused at the knight’s behavior. Baris turned to leave, with some vague thought of heading to the Elf & Dwarf. However, just then, Walin’s wife, the cook Bernethe, came up to him. “Sir Baris, just a minute.” The woman retrieved a small folded piece of parchment from her apron. It was still sealed, Baris noted. “I intercepted this,” Bernethe said.

“Intercepted?” Baris inquired as he took the letter. As he looked down at the letter, the cook left to give him some privacy.

The first thing Baris noticed upon opening the missive was that the ink that has been used was a vermilion color. It was, however, extremely difficult to read. Each letter had more serifs and flourishes than an entire alphabet warranted. The writing had a rounded quality, which the knight was unfamiliar with, given the general sloping nature of Harnic script. Nevertheless, after a time he deciphered the letter:

“My Dear Sir Baris,” it began, and the knight’s heart fluttered. “How kind of you to write to me. Well do I remember how you saved me from the awful unpleasantness in the tent that evening. I think of it all the time.” Baris’s heart beat faster. “And then, you wrote to me.” For a moment, as he tried to decipher the writing, Baris was worried the next word would be ‘but.’ The letter continued, “Dared I imagine that behind the strong, powerful arms lay the heart of a poet.” ‘Thank Sarajin I went to Sotor!’ Baris thought. “I count the days until I see you again. Yours, in expectity, Meleine.”

Remembering the perfume he had placed on his missive (or at least, that Sotor had) Baris sniffed the letter, but it smelled more of eggs and meat than anything else.

A smile on his face, Baris nearly ran to Sotor’s house, the letter clutched to his breast. At the physician’s door his knock was answered by a tall, thin, gaunt man with his hair plastered to either side of his shiny pate. “Yes?” the squeaked.

“My good man, I must speak to Sotor!” Baris exclaimed.

“The master must not be disturbed! He is busy!”

“But, my good man, this is a matter of the heart!”

The servant sniffed. “The master is a man who is unconcerned with matters of the heart.”

“Just tell him that Baris is here, and that she wrote back!”

The servant paused. “Wait, Sir Baris?”

“It is I.”

“You are on the list. Enter!”

***

“EWEN! YOU MAGNIFICANT BASTARD! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!”

Prehil could be heard all the way to Mangai Square.

“Prehil! How have you been!” Ewen greeted as he made his way over to the alderman.

Suddenly, Prehil looked as if he had seen a ghost. “I need your counsel my friend. It’s my wife. She’s pregnant.”

Ewen had quite a bit of experience with this matter, considering his own wife was pregnant, and his own sister had recently given birth to his child. “I can tell you all about that.”

“I hope you will!” Prehil exclaimed. “Her moods... I can’t keep up with them! She goes from angry, to shrewish, to maudlin, back to angry... I never know where I’m facing!”

Ewen smiled. “But I thought you never see your wife?”

“By Halea’s magnificent mammaries, I had to go home! It turns out, sometimes, you forget stuff! You know, there is always a clothier, someone baking a tart. You can find food and clothing elsewhere. But sometimes you need papers. And you can’t just replace them!”

“That is why you have a house after all,” Ewen said.

“But why does my wife have to live there!” Prehil complained.

“She is bearing your heir after all.” A small serving girl carrying two laden pails of water was forced to maneuver around the knights, who were still standing in the middle of the street.

“You’re right! Doesn’t that tie her to me forever?”

“Only in the formal sense.”

“What about informal?”

“Well, that courtesan you hang out with. She’s informal. With wives, you have to be by the book.”

“Who wrote this book, and how do we get a hold of him!”

Ewen sighed, thinking of the unpleasant conversation he was going to have to have with Thilisa regarding the boat. “I’m going to need that book in twenty-four hours.”

“Do you think there is only one copy?” Prehil wondered. “No wonder there are so many problems!”

“You know, Meden never seems to never have these problems,” Ewen observed. “Maybe he has the book.”

“You’re right, what does he know that we don’t?”

“What is Meden up to these days?” Ewen asked the alderman. “Have you seen him lately?”

Prehil, who was still standing in the middle of the street, put his hands on his hips and stood up straight. “You’re right, I haven’t seen Meden in days. I don’t know what he’s up to.”

“Up to no good I’ll bet,” Ewen said.

“That’s not fair, he’s a standup guy,” Prehil replied.

“I was just kidding of course,” Ewen said, chuckling. “You know, I haven’t seen him in a long time,” he added.

“We should have him out for a drink. He needs to loosen up, find a courtesan on the side. I don’t trust a man who is faithful to his wife. You never know what he’ll do.”

“I’ll tell you what Prehil, because I have to go in a minute, why don’t you drop him a line and we can all meet up at Galopea’s feast tomorrow night and we’ll drink until the cows come home!”

“Do we need to involve the cows?”

“What about the girls? That might help Meden.”
“Nothing helps relieve stiffness of the back like a little quim. I think I’ll go see him right now.”

“Excellent,” Ewen said. “The usual place and time, Galopea’s feast, around seven?”

“Consider it done. And I’ll bring Meden.” With that, Prehil wandered off, muttering to himself something about “Who has that book ...?”

***

“Good evening, Sir Ewen, noble Sirs,” said Lord Stimos.

Sirs Ewen, Baris, and Aeomund along with Goreg found themselves in a private room on the second floor of Galopea’s Feast for a meeting with Lord Stimos. The assemblage sipped wine, except for Sir Baris, who was quaffing ale. Fortunately Ewen had successfully convinced him to not don the boar helmet for this meeting.

“It is a pleasure to see you again my lord,” Aeomund said.

Ewen bowed his head. “Good evening my lord.”

“My lord,” Baris said simply. Goreg, humbled to be in the presence of so high a noble, mumbled his own greeting.

Ewen took a sip of wine and put down his glass. “Thank you for agreeing to see me upon such short notice.”

“At least fifty-percent of my portfolio is short notice.”

Ewen came straight to the point. “As you know, the primary occasion for my needing to call upon you, is of course to get whatever news you have of court life and events in Caer Elend.”

“Yes,” Stimos replied.

“I will begin by sharing that I was involved in the recent demise, that I do not believe has been made public, of the former Baron of Ternua and his son. As I briefed Sir Rohn …”

“The last I heard of the Baron of Ternua was that he was under house arrest,” Stimos interrupted.

“He decided to unburden himself of that restriction,” Ewen said. “I suppose he was free to leave by the gate.”

“Bribes are always possible,” Stimos said.

“Yes of course.”

“If it were, for example, only he and his son, they could have left covered by the tarp on a wagon. But so far as I know, the former Baron of Ternua is still under house arrest in Ternua house. But you apparently know differently.”

“Yes,” Ewen confirmed. “The former Baron of Ternua is no more, nor is his son Sir Anzarn. “

“This news does not distress me,” Stimos said in the same tone he would discuss the weather.

Ewen took a sip of wine. “It would do me a signal favor if you would notify me if you get any information about reactions to this news.”

Stimos nodded and tipped his glass in Ewen’s direction. “You may rely upon it.”

“As a consequence of these developments, did I tell you I was in possession of Ternua Keep?”

“I certainly inferred that you had greater possession than the King asking you to look into matters implied.”

“That is putting it correctly. The unfortunate demise of the Baron and his son makes the possession of said keep better than prior,” Ewen said.

“In the sense no one will contend it based on preexisting right,” Stimos agreed.

“My holding on to this asset will be highly dependent upon information as to how others view and plan to respond to the state of affairs as they come out, as I’m sure they inevitably will come out.”

“Are you suggesting that the King who presented you with the writ may regret it now that you are in actual possession?”

Ewen shook his head. “No, I went to see Sir Rohn, and in the course of my interview with the master herald, he was surprisingly forthcoming.”

“That is not his reputation,” Stimos said.

“He saw fit to unburden himself of the opinion that the King no longer in fact rules Kaldor.”

“I would agree. I would say the Earl of Balim rules Kaldor.”

Ewen nodded. “So I am more concerned with what my lord the Earl of Balim will do than what the King says.”

Stimos took a long sip of wine, put his glass down, a thoughtful expression on his face. Finally he said, “Much will depend on what Balim knows. And I do not know that he knows that much. Certainly he is unaware of the Baron of Ternua’s flight. At least I haven’t heard anything. It is my belief that his lordship the Earl of Balim has bent all of his energies to learning what the kingdom will accept in terms of an heir in the event of the death of King Haldan. He may have a blind spot at the moment on any other thing. Though that will not last long.”

“Such as, perhaps, the presence of a force of men under the allegiance of the Earl of Osel in the precincts of Caleme?”

Stimos shook his head. “I know nothing of this. But I do know that his son and heir Sir Scina has been sent to Kiban.”

“That is good information.”

“I believe that he has not gone alone. That his child went with him.”

“What of Sir Karsin?” Ewen inquired.

“I do not know where he is,” Stimos replied.

“Of course my lord Baron, I share these details of my Lord the Earl of Osel with you so that should you hear partial information, you will be in a position to make a sound judgment as to what I need to know.”

“Indeed.”

“I understand in times such as these that information may only come in incomplete packets to your castle.”

“I understand. There is one additional thing I can tell you.” Stimos took another sip of wine. “The Queen and the King are at odds.”

“I understand.”

“As the King grows more and more capricious, some might say erratic, the Queen seems to steel herself with more and more with resolve. I would say she is formidable and not to be underestimated.”

“And what of Prince Brandis?” Ewen asked.

“I have no news of him,” Stimos replied. “He is under house arrest in the upper chambers.”

“Perhaps his house arrest is less permeable than the Baron of Ternua’s.”

“The Prince’s house arrest is enforced by the royal guard.”

“Ternua’s house arrest did not end well for the Baron,” Ewen said quietly.

“It is hard to see Brandis’s house arrest ending any better,” Stimos said. “I have some information for you, not directly related to the situation in Kaldor. I thought that you might wish to know of certain activities regarding his Majesty the King of Tharda.”

Ewen sat back in his chair. “Absolutely.”

“The King, his queen, and the young princess have engaged on something of a royal progress. They debarked from Aleath and traveled to, among other places, Melderyn, to Cherafir, where the King met with his royal uncle, King Darebor. Ultimately, they traveled to the Queen’s land of Emelrene. It is my understanding that they have left the court at Berema and are in the process of returning to Tharda. I believe that this progress indicates a certain belief on the part of His Majesty that the campaign in the former kingdom of Orbaal is all but concluded.”

Ewen nodded. “There has been little news from that corner this campaign season.”

“Indeed. The Duchess Brigyth seems in control of the western corner of that land. We can hope that the fur caravan starts up again next year.” Stimos lifted a finger. “One other thing, her Grace the Duchess of Jara has been betrothed to one of the King’s brothers.”

“Which brother pray tell?”

“I believe, Doriath, the Duke of Golotha. He is a bit young to sire any children by her Grace. But he has plenty of time. This will make her Grace a Parkhurst.”

Ewen raised his glass. “May that line flourish.”

Stimos gestured his glass towards Ewen. “Yes, Sir Ewen.”

“I thank you for your news, my Lord Baron. Now perhaps as we enjoy this board, you can tell me if you are enjoying the charms of that lovely lady of the Meleken clan?”

“Yes, that is another tale.”

***

“Good evening Sir Harth.” Ewen found himself at Hag Hall, a place he had neglected of late.

Harth nodded. “Sir Ewen.”

“I trust Lady Rahel is well.”

“She is.”

“Is she available for a visit?”

“Yes Sir Ewen, she is indeed. She is expecting you on the third floor, in the outer chamber.”

“Thank you Sir Harth, I believe I can find my way.”

“No doubt you can. Forgive me Sir Ewen, I have an entry to make into my journals.”

Ewen smiled. “Sir Harth, I hope your journal is every bit as interesting as mine.”

“If only that were so.”

On the third floor of Hag Hall Ewen found Rahel in one of her typical slinky black gowns, languishing in a comfortable chair, awaiting him.

“My dear sister. They say that Larani hath a thousand hands with which to chastise, and you have but two. We will see which I fear more, for I have neglected to be by your side.”

“You are, brother, very good at knowing when you have been naughty, and how best to deflect anger.”

“Then come embrace me sister, and see how naughty I have been.”

Rahel stood and moved to a tall cabinet. “No, you come and embrace me, here, on the portal.”

Ewen walked over and embraced his sister. As her arms slipped around him he felt her power envelop his body. They disappeared from Hag Hall, whisked away into the ether.

A moment later, Rahel and Ewen reappeared elsewhere on Harn. They stood on a curved portico that was partially open to the elements, with a stone wall at their backs and columns in front. Ewen heard the whistling of wind and felt a chill in the air. He resisted the urge to shiver.

“This is but one portal in this place,” Rahel breathed next to the knight. “This is the one that you are to know of now.” She took his hand. “Come, look with me.” With that they walked towards the edge of the portico and looked out into the night. There were mountains before and behind them, and a great gorge far below. Off to his left, Ewen noted a bridge crossing the gorge, from one side of the mountains to the other. Overlooking the bridge, but still far below the pair, was a great stone tower.

The knight noted that it was the same time of day it was in Tashal.

Rahel gestured at the magnificent vista. “This is Darrindale. This is the place where Sedris Meleken was killed, among other things.”

“How beautiful and austere,” Ewen said.

“It was originally built by the dwarves for the King of Evael. But the elves shunned it and abandoned it and forgot about it. We are high in the mountains above Lake Benath.”

“And you are going to tell me, dear sister, the occasion to which this journey has been prompted?”

“It was time you knew,” Rahel answered. “You made the decision, a decision that our father approved of, when you sent him home.”

Ewen was silent for a short time, considering her words, and suddenly he had an answer. “Ah, yes, the Red Knight.”

“Not the whole time, you understand,” Rahel confirmed. “Only amateurs play the opening rounds. But it was he who was the Red Knight. If you ask me, brother, he enjoyed himself a little bit too much. It has been a long time since he participated in a tournament.”

“I am glad that he took the opportunity, but regret that he and I did not have the time to speak to each other.”

Rahel nodded. “That opportunity may yet come. But his instructions were to bring you here, to show you this place.”

“Darrindale,” Ewen repeated.

“Yes, Darrindale, which is connected with Hag Hall.”

“The sword is here ...” Ewen began, but his voice trailed off.

“Do you really want to know?”

Ewen shook his head. “No.”

“Then do not ask. There is much that goes here. This place is very very difficult to reach.” Rahel pointed down at the gorge so far below them. “If you look down there you might just see the opening of a cave. It is a gargun complex. The Gargun do not come here. They fear spirits, ghosts, or some reaver in the dark. But they do prevent any from climbing this high who might see this elven castle built by dwarves, occupied by us.”

“I am glad of course to know of this place. But I am even more gratified to know that our father’s judgment accords with my own. I came to the conclusion around the time of the tournament that our operation in Kaldor had reached a new inflection point.”

“Yes,” Rahel agreed.

“And I have attempted to seize upon that momentum and carry the plan forward,” Ewen continued. “I gather from what you say that our father sensed the same thing.”

“He does,” Rahel said with huskiness in her voice. He felt her warmth as she leaned against him as the two stood by the railing. “He feels that you have done very, very well. He watched the battle of Ovendel Field. He longed to join it. I feel the greatest regret that he has of the choices he has made is that his sword is so stilled. He longs to unleash it. To slake it.”

“I know how our blood can drive us to feel such things, for that same hot blood runs in my veins. For much of my life it was a great mystery to me, and this past year or two I have come to understand it, and perhaps, I hope I begin to master it.”

“Yes, you do understand brother. But enough for now. I’m sure you have questions for me. But they can wait. For right now, here, in this place, in this open portico under these skies high above Lake Benath, I would feel you brother. Take me.”
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