Session One Hundred and Twenty-Four - December 19, 2015

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

Session One Hundred and Twenty-Four - December 19, 2015

Postby Matt » Thu Jan 28, 2016 9:29 pm

Azura 16, 732

The two knights still occupied their places, one upon the bed and one in the room’s only chair. The interrogation continued.

The calculating First Knight of Kaldor placed his hands flat upon his thighs, “If you were to rejoin Benere where would you do that?”

Sir Hogan mumbled, cleared his throat and started again, “The Coin and Broom. He is usually there. In the evenings.”

The next question was sharp, “You have shared that for years you have been in Harabor’s service – just here in Tashal?”

Sir Hogan waved his hand absently and stared at the knotted rope in his lap, “No. I have served him wherever he has been.”

“You mentioned several areas in the city; why did you name them?”

“Oh the days and nights I have spent in this room. It was not always so. I named them, yes. That is where Sir Chadrin is, I assume that he would keep him near him and Otto.”

The First Knight of Kaldor attempted to get answers to direct questions. “The Coin and Broom?”

Sir Hogan held up three fingers. “Yes, he is fond of his drink. Three mugs on his coat of arms.” His hand returned to caress the rope.

“And the rope, what are your plans with that?”

For the first time Sir Hogan looked directly and clearly at the knight, “I was thinking of marrying it.”

The seated knight’s answer was clipped and sardonic, “I’ve seen prettier.”

The knight looked back to the rope and stroked it, “She is made of silk and is soft.”

The inquisitor stood abruptly and turned to the door not looking at the knight.

“I wish you well with it, goodnight.”


Descending the stairs quickly and exiting into the street Sir Ewen made his way, but not directly, to Hag Hall. His long strides soon taking him to his destination.

He placed one solid rap against the hard plank of the door and in moments the door opened. After a brief interaction with the guard Sir Ewen was before Sir Harth, who previously was occupied with updating his journal.

“Sorry to disturb you Sir Harth,” begins the knight, “but it is good that I still find you awake.”

“Indeed.” He looked neither up nor at the knight.

The calculating knight absently looked around the room and spoke to the books around him, “I need to impart some unpleasant news. I had the opportunity to speak with Meden Curo this evening. Among other things he mentioned that I was the brother of the King of Tharda and then made slightly veiled threats against my sister.”

Sir Harth put down his pen and looked at the knight. “A most unfortunate conversation. How did he come by this information?”

The knight now recognized returned the gaze of the seated Sir Harth, “I don’t know.”

“Are all those in your employ shielded?”

“Except those recently in my retinue.”

Sir Harth was direct, “Remedy that. Will you tell her this news?”

Sir Ewen maintained his gaze locked on Sir Harth. “No, she is probably sleeping.”

The seated knight again took up his pen and began to write, “Very well, I will tell her in the morning and look into it.”

The First Knight of Kaldor without any further pleasantries turned and left Hag Hall directly.


As was the custom at Raven Hall the major principals assembled in the morning to share the news and events of the previous day and night. Sir Baris’ arrival, along with his squire, was marked with the addition of a walking stick. Someone, perhaps even the knight himself, had carved the crude image of a tusked boar into a knot of wood near the top.

As the principals of the house discussed the recent events and the uncanny knowledge and bearing of Sir Ewen’s last meeting with Curo two letters arrived at the house. One for Sir Æomund and the other for Mistress Kaelyn.

Kaelyn is the first to break the seal and scan the letter. She reads quickly, “Who is Lady Irla Labarn?”

Sir Æomund answers while he works the wax off of his own letter.

“The Labarns are a knightly family, perhaps seven or so manors to their name. Not baronial, but the closest thing to it without the title itself. Lady Irla is the dowager of the family.”

Kaelyn looks quizzically at Sir Æomund, but refrains on asking the knight how he knew that off the top of his head. “Well I have been invited to tea. I shall attend.”

And with that she pens a response.

Sir Æomund nods engrossed in his own letter written in his mother’s hand. Scanning the contents he sees that he has been invited to a cosmological lecture at the Temple of Save-K’nor, at noon presented by his mother. Taking a moment he pens a response of his own and then immediately follows that up with a letter to Lady Alyce to accompany him.

Sir Baris, having received no letters of his own, rises. Grabbing a pork sausage for the walk he motions to Goreg to follow him. The squire looked to his liege, received a nod, and then followed the knight.

“Where are we going?”

“To get a drink,” was the response around bites of sausage.

“There were drinks inside.”

“We are going to look for Sir Chadrin. Two birds with one stone.”

“Birds?”

“I don’t know, the falconer said that and it seemed to fit. The guy we are looking for likes to drink, so we are going drinking.”

Goreg followed the somewhat hobbled strides of Sir Baris to the Coin and Broom.

The two arrive at the tavern, and though early in the day the tavern is full of the usual patrons for this hour. The two men scan the room and then make for a vacant table. Sir Baris waves for the girl and orders two ales.

The knight seeing nothing of note quickly drank the two ales and headed for the bar, leaving both the squire and his walking stick.

“Lorel, good to see you. I’ll buy a few more ales, how’s business?”

The tender of the bar had watched the knight as he approached, no hint of an expression on his face.

“How’s the business at the Elf and Dwarf?”

Sir Baris leaning on the bar, “I leave that to what’s his name. I have a guy who does that.”

Two more ales are seemingly conjured in front of Sir Baris, the knight is even unsure when they were poured.

“Those are on the house. Professional courtesy.”

The large knight smiled and nodded. “What brings me here, other than the free ale, which I will never turn down, is that I am looking for someone. Sir Chadrin, have you seen him?”

Lorel’s face adopted an expression of mock surprise, “I never knew him to have a friend.” He shrugged, “he may be here.”

Sir Baris continued, “He drink alone?

“Well if you drink alone it’s all for you, with others you have to share.”

“Hmm, true enough. Do you know where he spends his days?”

“Sleeping it off? How should I know?

Sir Baris grabbed his two ales taking sips out of both. “If you come to my place I’ll have the guy extend the same courtesy.”

The knight turned missing most of Lorel’s response.

“I wouldn’t expect to you to be behind the bar … maybe under it.”


The temple of Save-K’nor was in the northern part of Tashal. Sir Æomund arrived just before noon, he knew the way having worshipped there on occasion before. The lecture hall was set and most everyone was in their place. Sir Æomund’s keen eyes quickly surveyed the hall and took note of who was where. His mother was at the lectern shuffling papers, the acolytes at their assigned positions to the left, and the visitors to the right. He recognized Lady Alyce immediately as well as the Ibarti Derenli Arvoult and other temple officials.

The bearded knight smiled unconsciously when he saw Lady Alyce and then his face returned to a perfect calm when he realized he had no idea what to say to her. Trying to buy time the knight made his way towards the lectern to greet his mother. Smiling the knight moved forward but the downturned corners of his mother’s mouth and the paper flutter indicated to him that now was not the time. Making a sharp turn he made his way to the right.

The knight pulled on the bottom of his tunic stroked his beard and greeted the temple officials and Lady Alyce, taking his appointed seat next to the gentlelady of Melderyn.

She inclined her head in greeting, “An aficionado of cosmology are you?”

The knight smiled, “Well I am the son of my mother. Glad you could make it.”

“I received two invitations.”

Sir Æomund had difficulty in judging the tone of that response. “I sent two?” inquired the knight.

“No, one from your mother and one from you. I received the first from your mother as an invitation and the second as an escort.”

The knight held his smile, “Ah, well it’s a shame that we had to meet here. I have been deprived of half of the journey.”

Layna began her lecture. Though retired officially from the temple it was not uncommon for the clergy to spend their time dedicated to their own studies and presenting them. As the lecture proceeded the bearded knight was surprised that his grasp of cosmological theories and celestial bodies was greater than he would have guessed.

Celestial bodies, bodies, her body thought the knight.

Lady Alyce’s was seated right next to the bearded knight and his mind was no longer focused on cosmological events and began a mental exploration of his own. Why was she smiling?

The knight’s reverie was broken by the words of the Ibarti. “Your mother’s views are quite stimulating are they not Sir Æomund?”

The bearded knight, aware now that the lecture was over, stood and replied quickly.

“She has a keen mind and the advantage of one of the few observatories here in the Tashal.”

The Ibarti smiled and nodded, “We are having some refreshments would you care to join us?”

“As Lady Alyce’s escort I can only attend if she too so desires.”

The Lady Alyce now standing by the knight’s side smiled and inclined her head to assent.

There were only four people present at the refreshments, the Ibarti, Sir Æomund, Lady Alyce, and his mother. The last appearing decidedly uncomfortable, Sir Æomund noted, thinking she was never uncomfortable.

The Ibarti continued her previous conversation, “I find it a pleasure to finally meet you. Your mother has spoken of you often, and your own skills.

The bearded knight nodded, “I am afraid that I have been a most truculent and troubling child.”

The Ibarti glanced at Layna, “Oh no, she has spoken very highly of you. Most children have no time for a proper education and it is seldom to find one so conversant and educated.”

The knight tried to avoid looking at his mother as his doing so seemed to make her more uncomfortable. “The arts and sciences are hard to describe to those who have no intellectual pursuit or academic curiosity. The knowledge even when taught can only come when accompanied by an inquisitive mind.”

The Ibarti smiled, “Your mother tells me you are working on a book.”

The bearded knight found that he was swept into this conversation. Sir Æomund had forgotten the excitement that educated discourse gave him, he was so infrequently able to avail himself of such pursuits.

“Yes, two actually. One on cosmology and the other on fortifications.”

“Two books on cosmology from the same family, how intriguing.”

The bearded knight now had difficulty disguising his own discomfort.

“Well more an atlas and map of the stars.” Sir Æomund had intended the book to be gift to Lady Alyce and hoped to change the discussion quickly. Switching to discussions on engineering the two continued for a time on the subject of books and other matters. In the course of the discussion Sir Æomund learned that the Ibarti was an aquaintance of Lady Alyce from their shared time at Vil Abbey.

The conversation having taken its natural course Lady Alyce broke the silence.

“Sir Æomund has agreed to escort me home.”

For the first time the mother of the bearded knight broke the lacuna of her silence, “It’s next door. Oh, yes …”

The bearded knight turned to address his mother, “It will be a short walk then won’t it?”

The Lady of Melderyn smiled and touched Sir Æomund’s arm, “We shall make it last.”

The two left the temple and made their way to Melderyn House, slowly. Sir Æomund waited until they had cleared the temple grounds before setting upon what he knew Sir Ewen would want out of this meeting, information.

“Most unsettling times in the city as of late.”

Lady Alyce had a natural and graceful way of looking about as she walked, “You speak of the most unfortunate kidnapping of Sir Prehil. I understanding your friend uncovered himself in glory.”

Sir Æomund replied in stern jest, “A knight is sometimes called to his duty at inopportune times.”

Lady Alyce responded, “I have seen more of this kingdom since last we met.”

Sir Æomund was not slow to miss that this non sequitur was intentional.

“How so?”

“I was invited on an excursion north, which I found interesting. A place called Gardiren.”

“I have been there. How did you find it?”

“I was led by the most unerring of guides. I took a boat, with Sir Meden Curo, a gracious host. He’s a bit cold, and of course Sir Arren. The old earl is very ill and I did not see him. Provincial town.

“No other notables to be graced by your presence?”

“Oh no. Just a small contingent was with us, the likes of him always have people.”

“Did you return by boat or see more of the country?”

Lady Alyce paused and said as if thinking, though Sir Æomund didn’t believe the ruse. “Sir Arren went on to Olokand I believe.”

Sir Æomund not versed in courtly intrigue came straight to his point and a bit alarmed, “Did you travel to Tashal alone?”

“Oh no,” she smiled at the knight’s protective nature so easily brought to the fore. “ I traveled back with Sir Meden. Well here we are. I hope this has been enlightening for you Sir Æomund.”

“Yes, and I hope to see you again soon. At the observatory hopefully if this weather clears.”


Still at the Coin and Broom, and with no other free drinks, Sir Baris plopped his empty tankard on the table.

“We don’t know what the guy looks like and no one here looks like a knight.”

“Apparently not, Sir Baris,” replied Goreg evenly.

The knight finished the second ale which for some reason was always placed nearish Goreg, but Sir Baris always drank.

“Let’s go spar, I need to flex my upper arms after all this forearm work.” The knight reached over and laughing at his own joke punched the squire in the arm. “Drinking and Fighting is what knights do Goreg. Well that and sometimes Fighting and then Drinking. Damn we need to find Prehil!”


The bearded knight of Larani contemplated events after parting with Lady Alyce. Looking to return to Raven Hall with more information than he had, and seeking to limit the confinement of Sir Prehil to as short a time as possible the knight made for the College of Heralds.

After conducting all the normal formalities Sir Æomund was soon in the company of Sir Rohn.

“Good Sir Rohn, I have need of your expert assistance. I have found that there are more of the knightly class than I ever thought here in the city. I am having trouble keeping them straight in my head and who is who. I have recently been acquainted with a Sir Chadrin Benere, he bears three mugs on his shield, but that is all I know of him.”

“Ohh yes. Him. Azure, in chief sable, three mugs argent, over crossed swords argent” spoke the herald most surgically.
“Are you familiar with the man as well as the arms?”

“As well as I need to be. He is registered in Chybisia as well as here in Kaldor from when he entered into some tourneys.”

“Do you know where he resides in the city?”

“A very grating fellow. His dubbing was …”

Sir Æomund broke in, “Perhaps we can remedy him of that situation.”

Sir Rohn paused, his face unrevealing but his eyes sparkled with his keen intellect, “I believe now you are revealing too much to me.”

Sir Æomund smiled, “Perhaps I am. It’s unfortunate that we must always meet under terms of business, there was an excellent lecture on cosmology today.”

“I don’t normally attend Save-Knorian services.”

Sir Æomund redirected, “Well then perhaps a meal sometime. Thank you for your assistance Sir Rohn, most educational.”


Returning to Raven Hall Sir Æomund shared the information of the trip and company to Gardiren, as well as Sir Chadrin’s coat of arms with Sir Ewen and Mistress Kaelyn.

Not to be bothered with boat rides and shield painting, Mistress Kaelyn nodded at all the appropriate parts and then departed for tea.

Making her way to the appointed place she saw a guard at the door. The man was armed and wore the badge of Dariune. Presenting her invitation, and then explain to the man what it says she entered the house.

Upon entering Kaelyn saw that the balcony had three chairs placed upon it, two occupied, and a small tea server. Making her way to the balcony the ladies exchange greeting and introduction. The presence of the man at arms out front is soon explained by the introduction of the Lady Dariune.

The ladies seated, Kaelyn notes that the aroma from the pot is anything but tea and is soon sipping on wine.

Lady Irla smiled when the cup touched her guests lip, ”I hope you weren’t expecting tea, we much prefer this. I most confide …”

The esoteric lady Kaelyn finished for her, “That this is a ruse?”

Lady Dariune laughed and Lady Irla smiled and looked at her other guest, “She is on to us.”

Lady Dariune was now quite serious, “I have invited you here for, what do they call it … a double-blind operation? My brother has several people to do his dirty work, but I like to occasionally put the trousers on, so I have asked to do this. My dear nephew Scinia has gone and gotten himself captured during a skirmish by that horrible man of Qualdris. We would like him back, my nephew that is. It occurred to my brother that you work for a man that could do this. If not quietly, he has a reputation for getting the job done.”

Kaelyn knew that this hornet’s nest was far bigger and deeper than she had expected and decided to reveal as little as possible. “Yes.”

“If you wish to relay that, and perhaps if there is a meeting of minds, we can talk further. It’s my understanding that my nephew is in Heru. Along with some number of his knights.”

The practitioner of the esoteric arts nodded, “I will relay the message.”

“If the answer is positive then simply send word to me at Balim House.” She smiled, “More tea?”

Having quickly and directly gotten to the point of the meeting the three ladies spent not a little time discussing the usual topics and themes of such a gathering. Kaelyn found them a welcome change from Sir Baris.


Early evening all the companions are assembled at Raven Hall.

Sir Æomund bangs his hand on the table, “We need to find this guy and beat the Prehil out of him.”

Mistress Kaelyn rolls her eyes at the knight. “Yes, I am sure that both of you are missing your august patron and sponsor at the house of Courtesans. It’s been all of two days: I’m sure you’re both dying.”

Sir Baris chimed in, “That’s not all we do, and he is a good friend.”

Kaelyn turned on Sir Baris, “Yes and parched to withering as well. Sir Ewen, what of this offer to free Sir Æomund’s other friend, Scina? This could be useful.”

Sir Ewen sat at the head of the table with his eyes closed and then addressed his retinue.

“Yes. Kaelyn, we will agree to effect the deliverance of Scina to his parents.”

The calculating knight opened his eyes. “Sirs, conceal yourselves in the house of Sir Æomund’s parents. It won’t do to have two armed knights in the tavern lying in ambush. Then Sir Æomund your squire and mine will lay in wait at the Coin and Broom to see if this Chadrin appears. Cekiya shall do her part.”


A short time later.

Three figures walked through the darkening streets of Tashal. Two squires and lithe dark feline woman made their way to the Coin and Broom.

The better dressed of the two broke the silence, “We need to do a good job on this mission Petros.”

The stout squire frowned in the dark, “Eeeh.”

Goreg looked directly at his companion, “This … this mission is important.”

The stout squire stopped in the street forcing his companion to do the same, “Yeah, I figured that when we left Khalas behind to oil the leathers.”

The two squires entered the Coin and Broom leaving Cekiya to the shadows.

There are more patrons at the inn at this hour, but the two squires manage to find a table for themselves. They scanned the crowd and saw that it was mostly laborers with a harper preparing to entertain the crowd.

Petros points a finger, “I know that guy, his name is Ornild. Not too bad either.”
Goreg frowns, “We are looking for a lone knight fond of drink,” he then scans the crowd for himself. Less than a quarter of the crowd are bearing weapons, only a few of which are chivalric.


Outside, the preternatural eyes of Cekiya watched a large man wearing assorted armor with a studded leather jerkin in the street. Bordering on brutish he appeared tall and strong and she recognized him from the cobbler’s house incident. She then observed as he entered the Coin and Broom.


Petros spots the same man as he enters and alerts Goreg. The stout squire stood, plastered a half drunk smile on his face and circulated through the room towards a knot of his own social class near the man who were playing at shells.

The scar twisted lip of a man placing a bet looked at the newcomer who had drifted into his proximity, “Who are you bound?”

Petros’ reply was short and to the point, but non-descriptive, “Order of Paladins.”

Several at the table gaze at Petros more interested now. “I hear the geirr-orka is good.”

The stout squire smiled, “Allows me the freedom of the city. I tried to escape the ennobled tonight, but see that one found his way here. The guy in the jerkin.”

“We call him Sir Grumps of Lot,” said one of the gamblers at the table.

Petros laughed, “Is that a real place?”

The gamblers collectively chuckle, “Ha, no. He complains if anyone talks to him, so no one speaks to him.”

The stout squire grabbed a nearby chair and elbowed his way to the table and nodded at Goreg. “I see, well are any of you gentlemen familiar with Crown and Anchor?

Goreg observed the signal from Petros and then attempted to look at the man, but not look at him. This lasted but a moment before he exited the Coin and Broom to find the silent watcher outside.

Goreg began to describe the man to Cekiya, “There is a man that entered, he had a leather jerkin …

His short description was interrupted by the night stalker, “I saw him; I almost killed him once.”

Goreg, who had been watching the door as he spoke, looked directly at Cekiya. The question formed on his mouth, but he thought better of it and changed his tack. “Go tell the knights …

Again the anxious squire was interrupted, “You go see the knights.”

“What if he leaves?”

“I’ll go to his house, you go in and tell the other knight slave, and then the knights.”

Goreg not willing to argue with the strange woman any further resigned himself to the safest path, “Fine.”

The squire made his way back into the tavern and to the side of Petros, who was in the midst of tossing dice in a game he was teaching the other men at the table.

“Petros … Petros …” he tugged at his sleeve.

“WHAT!?”

Goreg dropped his voice, “The guy.”

Petros looked back at the table pointed to the image of a crown and an anchor and began to shake the dice again, “What guy?”

Goreg’s voice was low but insistant, “You know. The guy.”

“Oh, he isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be here for a while yet.” The stout squire pointed at another man at the table and he placed a coin upon a club and another on the anchor.

The attentive squire continued, “I’m going to tell the knights he is here. Don’t let him leave.”

“Got it,” was the clipped response. Then he turned, “You wanna place a bet?”

The adder quickly left the vicinity of the Coin and Broom and headed to the cobbler’s house she had visited on a previous errand.

As she stalked through the hall a small voice was heard from a sidedoor. “Have a farthing?”

The small woman stopped and looked. A small child with hair unbound in messy ringlets stares at her.

“You want to earn a farthing?”

“Mommy says I can’t do that until grass grows on the field.”

Unphased Cekiya responded, “You can have a farthing if you forget I was here.”

“Yes farthing lady.”

A penny appeared seemingly from nowhere in her hand, “Now go inside.”

Watching the child do so she quickly and unobserved ascended the stairs and made for the door she knew to be the knight’s room. Taking the tools of her trade into her hands she attempted to pick the lock and instead heard the tumbler fall and something inside break. The door then rustled and there was a voice.

“Fucking door … Sir Chadrin?”

Meanwhile, down the lane from the Coin and Broom where the knights are secreted, there is a knock and a whispered voice, “Up Sir Baris.”

There is was small sigh and the door opens, “Yes Goreg?”

“I think we have him, loner, drinking a lot.”

The bearded knight replied, “if he were not with me I could say you had seen Sir Baris.”

“What!? People are fond of me,” came the loud refrain from deeper in the house. “Did he have a shield?”

“No, but Cekiya said she knew him.”

The two knights looked at each other and shrugged, neither one willing to plumb the depths of Cekiya’s knowledge, but willing to take the report on face value.

“Well then, let’s go see what our fine squires have beaten for the hunt,” declared the bearded knight.


The dark passages and halls of Tashal were far from free of knife work in the dark, but it was not frequently that the halls of tenements witness the quick violence that was about to unfold.

The key turned again in the lock, shattering the mechanism, opening to the passage beyond. A non-descript man at arms filled the frame of the door and gazed into the hallway, hand poised on his weapons.

“You’re not Chadrin,” said the armored man looking at Cekiya.

The black adder’s response was quick, “Well, you’re not the cobbler.”

The warrior tilted his head to the side slightly never taking his eyes of the girl.

“The cobbler is next door.”

With a languid lean Cekiya tried to both look into the room and dispatch the man. She spoke while shifting the weight of her body to grab her dagger, “I was supposed to give the cobbler …

With that a knife was produced as she sought to take the man at unawares and quickly send him to her dark god. Pressing the attack she failed to score a strike on the armored man, but was successful in working her way from the hallway and into the room.

As she glances about she sees another figure in the room lying on the bed with only his back showing. That lost moment was all the warrior needed to be able to draw his shortsword. For his efforts the man received a savage and quick kick to the jaw by the lithe adder. Stabbing wildly in the confined space the armored man attempted to land a blow with his short sword, but managed only break the point of his sword on some object other than the woman he faced. Cekiya is quick to press the attack and manages to land a blow with her blade to his adomen. The two are pressed together like lovers when the man hissed, “who are you?”

“The one sending you home,” came the tender reply as the blade exited the man, came around and plunged down into his skull, dropping him to the ground.

With no further thought to the man or the growing pool of blood, Cekiya stepped towards the bed. There, laying in a rough mattress of corn husks was the semi-delirious scion of the house of Firith. Checking him quickly for wounds Cekiya quickly deduced that he had been drugged and would prove no assistance in his own liberation. So, with a shrug the girl wrapped him in a sheet and figuring he would be none the worse for wear began to drag him out of the house and into the street. While the Little Adder worked and dragged the unconscious but thumping nude body of Prehil through the dark corridors of a tenement house, she was observed only by the little girl in ringlets who giggled, “You were never here, but you caught a big one.”

The two knights in the company of Goreg approached the Coin and Broom ready for a fight. Each has a hand upon their blade and though the streets are mostly empty, any passerby would have seen the determination in their steps as they made their way quickly to the north entrance of the Coin and Broom. With a nod to Sir Baris, Sir Æomund flung open the door to the tavern causing such a dramatic change in the atmosphere that for a moment the whole place went silent. This spell was broken by the rapid rise of Sir Chadrin, who not even looking to the northern door to see who had busted upon the scene took a stride, leaped over the fire and exited through the southern door.


Petros dropped the dice he had clutched moments before in his hand and sprung after him. Fearing an ambush as he exited the squire ducked through the doorway drawing his blade. In a moment the squire was across the street steel barred looking back at the tavern and up and down the street with no sight of Sir Chadrin.

In a moment he was joined by the other three men.

“Where did he go?” barked the bearded knight.

“I came out and he was gone.”

“Well he can’t fly, he must be somewhere,” replied Sir Baris.

The men conducted a quick council of war and decided to split up in search for the burly knight. While there were only two major roads the passages of the buildings and the alleyways made the search slow and difficult to execute.

The Knight of the Lady of Paladins stalked the passages listening for running feet with his sword drawn. Making his way north he almost ran a drunkard through under the mistaken belief that he had found the hiding place of Sir Chadrin. In mid sentence of a wrathful berating of the man the knight spied Cekiya in the alleyway dragging something.

“Cekiya, is that Chadrin? Did you kill him?”

The adder paused in her labors and looked up stoically, “No his friend. I knew where he lived and knocked.”

Sir Æomund had little idea what the strange girl was talking about and in his haste tried another tactic. “Æomund Sir seeks man in jerkin. He is a bad man. Æomund Sir seeks to save friend Prehil.” The knight peered at her hoping that he could pierce the cloudy stuffing of her mind.

“Oh he is here,” was the simple response.

The knight lowered his sword and pinched the bridge of his nose, “By Larani’s merciful kindness who? Who is here? Nah, who is there?” As he pointed his sword at the sheet wrapped bundle.

The answer came as if the entire previous conversation had never occurred, “Sir Prehil.”

“PREHIL! Is he dead?

“No just woozy.”

“Let’s get him to my father’s house.”

Assembling the other companions quickly and abandoning the chase for Sir Chadrin they bear Sir Prehil to the Legith household. As they attempt to sort out what has happened they are interrupted by Sir Æomund’s mother.

“There is a naked and senseless Sir Prehil Firith grinning at me in my house! What is going on here?” The question was left unanswered as the little children of the house giggled behind her.


Across town at Galopea’s Feast the First Knight of Kaldor prepared to advance his schemes upon his own initiative and to meet Sir Ilken. The knight was greeted on his arrival by the manager of the house with a worried smile, “A pleasure to see you Sir Ewen, and how fare’s the search or Sir Prehil?”

“It continues,” was the short reply.

The weak smile abandoned Mak wrung his hands, “If there’s is anything that I can do to assist please let me know.”

“I would not hesitant to do so if it’s required. Has your patron learned anything?”

“He did, all he learned was that it was not an outside foreign mercenary incident.”

“Perhaps if I am correct, and my people can redeem Prehil, I can enlighten him further.”

Mak led Sir Ewen to a side table, “I have something special for you tonight a flagon of Finarian wine.”

No sooner than had the wine been placed and Mak had left the knight to his thoughts Aethel Atan sauntered over.

“My best felicitations to you.”

“And the same to you.”

“I hope you are not insulted that I cannot abide with you, I have another engagement this evening.”

“As an impresario of this establishment I would not presume that you could cast that aside for me.”

The comment produced a slight head bow accompanied by a smile from Aethel Atan who removed himself to sit with Worton Harabor.

Sir Ewen did not have to wait long for the arrival of Sir Ilken. His entranced was apparent and noticed by the strange leather outer garment he wore and flourished about while removing it. “Thought it would rain.”

The First Knight of Kaldor waved him over, ”Sir Ilken, if care to join me, I have a fantastic wine.”

“I don’t mind if I do. There are many things to say about the Kath, but they produce nothing so fine as this. It’s a test of character to drink it.”

“This vintage requires no test at all.”

Sitting comfortably now and sipping wine Sir Ilken began to wax, “May I tell you a tale? There was once a bird and this bird flew, as birds do. It flew in such a way as to see Heru. Alas since I am not more, as a poet that’s the best I’ve got. “

Sir Ewen was nonplussed, “What did the bird see?”

“Heru is a busy place. Full of martial comings and goings. Many banners that it knew and didn’t know. Funny thing about the bird, it can get into places you wouldn’t imagine. They are small and lithesome, but being in a position of advantage can often taunt their would be foe. There is a window on the upper castle of Heru, it is difficult but not impossible, for a bird to perch on an arrow slit. Did you know that?”

“No, but the bird deserves credit for the trying.”

“The bird tried ten arrow slits and on the third story a young noble man was found pacing and angry in the room.”

“Was the man jealous of the bird’s freedom?”

“Had he seen it most likely he would have. The bird also learned that the troops appeared to be preparing to settle in.”

“I hope Pawade has had a bountiful harvest to feed such a host.”

“Indeed, but those crops have not yet been gathered. This would be a terrible time for that food to go unpicked.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m sure the castle would get on well enough on its own.”

“Was it besieged?”

“The bird saw no conflict.”

“I pray you consider me in your debt, let me know if I may repay it.”

“For me it was enough to do my part. I must confess that having returned to Tashal I find the wanderlust that normally takes to the spring has come upon me. I could be convinced to winter elsewhere this year if it were useful to someone.”

“The winter this year will not be a sedate one in western Kaldor this year.”

“Are you suggesting that the east would be more temperate?”

“Perhaps Vemionshire would allow sufficient room for one to stretch their wings.”

“I have never been to Vemionshire. Vemionshire, hmm Minarsas no doubt.”

“I was there for a wedding once, it was delightful.”

“In the spring? I hear that the spring there is delightful. I shall revel in Minarsas but alas no barbarians.”

“Oh there are barbarians, just not the sort you are used too, more cultured but still barbaric. My father-in-law is there.”

“I shall be happy to see a winter in Vemionshire. Ah, and it appears another friend of yours has come.” Sir Ewen followed his gaze to Meden Curo who had just entered.

“Friend is such an elastic term,” opined the First Knight of Kaldor, “It’s good we finished the wine.”

Sir Ilken stood setting down his goblet and with a slight nod to the seated calculating knight made his exit.

Meden Curo without breaking his stride and without being bidden sat in the vacated seat. He sniffed the glass, “Ahh a fine Finarian.”

“Your nose is good Sir Meden.”

The scion of Curo raised his hand, “Mak, bring more of this if you have it. Ewen. It is good to see you since I returned to Tashal.”

This comment raised an uncharacteristic questioning expression to Sir Ewen’s face, “Didn’t we meet yesterday?”

“I am sure I would have remembered that.”

The calculating knight was sure that Curo was telling the truth from his perspective and attempted to truth read him to make sure of it.

“I heard that Prehil was killed, then that he was alive but kidnapped. Have you any news? He is instrumental to our plan.”

“I am making some steps to retrieve him. Where have you been since last we met? Tell me of your travels.”

Curo waved a hand, “Not so great as travels, I just simply went home to confer with my father.”

“Ah I see, When did you return?”

“I returned on the end of the day on the 13th I believe. I took a boat with the most enchanting lady.”

Sir Ewen smiled at the last bit, “Tell me more.”

“Well I am married, so there is not much to tell. The Lady Alyce Dulye, a very inquisitive and enchanting lady. Just the thing for a long river journey.”

“I have met her, my man Æomund knows her well. Why did she desire to travel north?”

“The journey was not of her instigation.” He paused, “I find your line of questioning curious.”

“I believe my man Æomund was interested in her, though he hasn’t said anything to me, just mild curiosity on my part.”

“Ahh, well she did not initiate the journey she was merely a traveling companion. You must be acquainted with the lately arrived ambassador of Melderyn, Sir Arren Lydel?”

“He was at the tourney, but left abruptly halfway through.”

“Yes, I was under the impression he had just been to Kiban and as part of his role wanted to see more of the kingdom. So I took him to Gardiren. I found him a bore frankly, but to my delight he brought along Lady Alyce.”

“A more congenial companion.”

“Yes, we stayed a few days, Sir Arren headed to Olokand and the Lady Alyce returned here with me.”

“Besides being a bore what do you think about the ambassador?”

“Another curious question from you.”

“I am curious about what our neighbors think of us here in Kaldor.”

Meden paused and sipped at his wine. “I find that he lacks subtlety. Which I would think is a critical skill in a diplomat.”

“I do find it interesting that Lady Alyce has come to Kaldor at the same time as Sir Arren. She, while not official, may have the more personal touch.”

Curo shrugged absently, “Never thought of that, but Sir Arren seems to be firmly the man in the office. But enough of trivialities, tell me of Ternua.”

“I presently hold Ternua,” was the plain response.

“As we planned.”

“Yes as we planned.”

“What of Verdreth?”

“He is dead, as is his son.”

“I should find that shocking; what do you think?”

“He was stripped by the King, his life was a short-term prospect from that moment on.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true. Have you seen or heard from the the King?”

“No it has been some time.”

“I wonder, there is talk of a council among the tenants-in-chief of the crown, baronial and above. Have you heard anything of this?

“No I have not.”

“I believe that it is to address order in the realm.”

It was Sir Ewen’s turn to inquire as to the line of questions, “What are you getting at?”

“Only observing and wondering what you have heard.”

“Nothing. My holding of Ternua is de facto and I possess a writ by the King. The last writ to be issued by the King on anything I might add.”

“If a council is called there is a seat for Ternua. If it is called would you occupy it?”

“I would act as if that were a fait accompli. I believe there are too many problems for that to be a concern.”

“I could express enough influence to that end, but should I?”

“Given what we know now, I would say it is more to our benefit than to our detriment.”

Curo nodded and finished his wine, then paused. “One more thing … your man Sir Baris.

“Yes, the holder of Selepan what of him?”

“He has been peppering my sister with schmaltzy love letters.”

Sir Ewen had no expression on his face, “He has not shared this with me.”

“I don’t doubt it. The shame of it all. I accept that my sister has the right to choose her own husband, but really??”

“I am of the opinion that Sir Baris needs more than anything the attention and guidance of a good woman.”

“Well then with your leave, I would love to take up this enterprise.”

Sir Ewen actually smiled, “Sir Baris the falcon giver? Well if you could find a suitable woman of high station …”

“High?”

“Well a certain station would be able to make a greater influence on the free will and initiative of this knight.”

“Practically an unlanded knght?”
“He sets his sights high, and the influence of the wife to be should be greater than his own.”

Curo frowned, “While distracted by important matters, this is a matter that is important to me.”

“Before you depart, please indulge me in a trivial matter.”

“Perhaps,” was the wary response.

“How did you spend your evening last night?”

“That is trivial, I spent it with an old friend. Here in fact.”

“I thought that that was it. I believed that I had seen you yesterday. I hope when next we meet I will have some good news in terms of Sir Prehil.”

Sir Ewen stood and then Curo. Sir Ewen extended his hand to shake and noticed that Sir Meden recoiled as if by instinct. The scion of Curo withdrew and Sir Ewen watched as his companion man-at-arms stared for a moment at Sir Ewen before following his lord out.


Soon after the departure of Meden Curo a breathless Petros appeared at Galopea’s Feast to fetch Sir Ewen to the Legith household.

The scene in eastside was still organized chaos. Children were shuffled about and while the table was being cleared a hue and cry was raised by the actual occupants of the house that the son of the Baron of Kobe couldn’t be laid out on a table. The dead weight of Sir Prehil was moved again upstairs to the bedroom. The arrival of Sir Ewen solicits a stern rebuke from the lady of the house as to how he should keep care of his retainers, one of whom is her son. The bedlam is augmented when Sotor of Pelanby arrives and the children in chorus begin pointing at him and chanting dabbler, dabbler as loud as they could.

Ejecting everyone from the room Ewen attempted to rapport with Prehil and found that even though he was naked and free of all objects he still encountered the warbling sound. In short order Sir Prehil is dressed in some clothes and carried through the streets to Raven Hall.


Later that evening Sir Ewen is in Hag Hall in conference with his sister, who stands and wanders the room thinking.

“You have two memories of Meden Curo which are not compatible, one of them is wrong.”

“One had information he shouldn’t have but that doesn’t make it the wrong one.”

“Just so, and you were unable to truth read him? Am I to chastize you? I think not … this time.”

“There is no indication that Meden Curo or any other member of his family has any kind of abilities. It is hard to imagine that the kidnapping of Prehil is a coincidence.”

“He was found in the custody of the retainer of Maldan Harabor, as was expected. Sir Hogan’s words proved true.”

“As I read it Sir Hogan is an unreliable source, an asset to be used, expended perhaps, but to be used as a luxury and not an important or critical piece.”

“What are your thoughts on Sir Arren playing a part in this? Or in the challenge he and I got from Aethel Atan and his colleagues.”

“Mind Control by Arren? No. Perhaps Aethel Atan over-played his hand …”

With that, the contemplative portion of the visit concluded.
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Matt
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