Elsa, 1st Nachexen

“Two daggers,” deadpanned Olga, glancing at the sleeping Tattie. “Then she’ll be twice as dangerous.”

“Best thing she can learn to do if some big lad tries to grab her is to run fast,” she said. “At least, the best thing she can learn from me. Can’t you teach her to turn people into frogs?”


Elsa, 8th Nachexen

“Dug up?” said the innkeeper. “I don’t know about ‘dug up’. It was my grandfather’s.” He looked back over his shoulder towards where it was mounted above the bar. “Never told us where he got it. Said it was his lucky charm.”


Jarla, 8th Nachexen

The winter cold hadn’t let up, and as Jarla walked out through the city with Jacques, she was glad of her cloak. Jacques was dressed less appropriately for the weather, his lute slung over his shoulder and his fine feathered hat set at a jaunty angle on his head. He strummed a few chords as they walked, unheeding of the hungrier, dirtier people who crossed their path.

“As I was a-walking, one midwinter morning...” he sang softly. Jarla hadn’t heard him composing in Reikspiel before. “As I was a-walking, one… midwinter morn…”

“Watch where you’re going!” shouted a red-faced man pushing a barrowful of beets. Jacques gave a sharp retort in Bretonnian - Jarla wasn’t sure what it meant, but it sounded obscene. They carried on their way, and he went back to his songwriting.

“I saw a fair maiden a-walking beside me,
Her eyes and her smile were... as fair as the dawn…”

He continued in this vein as they began the ascent up the winding path that led to the top of the Rock. It would have been hard work even on a warm day, the steepness of the climb making him huff and puff - Jarla was in better shape than he was - but the wind was keen, growing colder and sharper the higher they climbed above the tops of the houses. Soon his face was looking pale and pinched, and his fingers had grown so cold that he was fumbling the notes he tried to play.

“A b-b-beautiful view, is it not?” he said, turning around to look out over the vista below them when they were about one-quarter of the way up. It was impressive - they could see the long, lazy loops of the river as it flowed down towards the Mere, and the faint tops of the Giant’s Teeth rising up in the west. “Alm-m-most as lovely as yourself, m-m-ma’moiselle…”