[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa almost wept with relief to find Tatiana still alive, though with Branca dead, it seemed hardly appropriate to call this a victory... at least in the presence of the remaining Tileans. Poor Tattie would find it even harder to fit in society with those scars, but the animals she preferred to humans would not mind it at all.

<Morr protect us. Those weren't wolves, they were daemons,> said Gualdo.

I've met daemons, Elsa was tempted to reply, and I'd much rather fight those wolves again than daemons.

Instead she nodded, and said: <Daemons under the command of a human. Mala is probably running already, but she has no minions left to throw at us.>

She switched to Reikspiel to address both Olga and Bartolomeo without the need to repeat herself. "You two, get Tattie and Branca out of here. And collect the wolves' tails; we need to show the refugees in Morr's Seat that it's safe to go home. Olga, when Tattie comes to, make sure she knows I'll be right back."

<Lorenzo, Gualdo, let's see if we can find a way up those rocks.>


OOC

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If either path appears to be going up, we take this one. If neither path seems to obviously lead up, we try the right-hand path.

[LCP]

Elsa, 28th Nachexen

The rocks were steep, and in places sharp, but offered enough ledges and handholds for Elsa and the soldiers to climb. Heaving herself up to the top of the highest pinnacle, Elsa looked around, holding up a hand to shield her face from the stinging cold of the wind.

From up here, she could see for miles. Behind her, the bleak uplands stretched away, broken only by the occasional wind-carved outcrop of rock like the one on which she stood. In front, the escarpment shelved away towards the white haze of the Waste. The rocky edge marched away to either side, the wind whistling between its craggy stone teeth.

Away to the west, she could see a small, spidery figure scampering away over the rocks. Mala certainly knew how to move quickly over this broken terrain - she had clearly secured herself a comfortable head start.

---

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Four more days passed, and Jarla scarcely saw the principessa at all. Perhaps sensing she had more time on her hands, Jacques took the opportunity to hang around Jarla a little more closely, strumming his lute or showing off his new hats. The minstrel certainly seemed to have acquired a very varied wardrobe since Jarla had found him his post.

On Wellentag, he nearly made Jarla jump out of her skin, appearing suddenly from behind a darkened doorway as she was on her way back from talking with Mouna. He had the look in his eye of a man who was very pleased with himself.

“Bon matin, ma’moiselle,” he said. “I take it you have heard about these… enclosings? Enclosures?”

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Jarla blinked in surprise. She'd been lost in her own thoughts, waiting and wondering what to do while her relationship with the Sforzas had cooled. Riddles from the Brettonian minstrel were not what she needed now.

"I have heard nothing," she said, sighing. "No one tells me anything in this place."

[-Sentinel-]

Elsabeth kicked a pebble down the hill in frustration. Even if she took only the fastest men with her, it could take hours to catch up with Mala at the pace she was going, and the slippery woman would have a hundred and one opportunities to lose her pursuers. Nahorek might even send a dust storm to cover his minion's flight.

<Can't go after her without leaving our wounded behind.>

She was wounded herself, and her leg injury throbbed a bit more every minute now that the excitement of the fight was behind them.


OOC:

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Here are my short-term plans:

• Finish exploring the fissures, just to make sure we're not leaving any important knowledge behind. (I'm not 100% sure the stench came only from the wolves.)
• Break, cut off or otherwise mess up the legs of any wolf corpses that look like they could conceivably stand up if raised by necromancy again.
• Return to the others. Get first aid from Olga. See if we can make some kind of stretcher for Tatiana out of Elsa's tent.

[LCP]

Elsa, 28th Nachexen

Clambering back down from the rocks, the soldiers joined Bartolomeo in the grisly business of collecting the wolves’ tails. Putting the carcasses beyond a necromancer’s ability to re-use was difficult, wearying work, but the Tileans did their best, even if Elsa thought she heard them muttering to one another as they did.

Olga inspected Elsa’s bite-wounds, washing them out with stinging spirits before binding them up as best she could. “You want to keep an eye on those,” she said. “Dog bites are bastards for turning rotten.”

Between the two of them, they broke down Elsa’s tent into a serviceable stretcher for Tattie - though Elsa suspected that it would no longer be much of a serviceable tent.

OOC:

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Olga’s Heal roll: [roll0]

“Finish exploring the fissures” is a bit open-ended - there are rocks along the edge of the escarpment for a long way in either direction, with gaps between them - but the ones in your immediate vicinity seem empty of anything other than dead wolves.

---

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

“Ah, ma’moiselle, please do not criticise yourself,” said Jacques, slipping out of the doorway to walk alongside Jarla. “There has not yet been l’annonce officiel. I am only hearing it from the kitchen maid, who I understand heard it from Monsieur Al-Makir’s page. Of course, the servants may not be the witnesses most reliable… but I thought it might interest you.”

Clearly enjoying being the bearer of the latest gossip, he needed no prompting to continue. “I heard the proclamation will be going out on Marktag. Royal deeds for the untenanted land in the West Downs, for anyone who will promise to see it turned back to farming by the spring.”

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Jarla looked doubtful. "From what I've seen of the Reaches Rhya herself would have trouble getting a farm up and running."

She sighed. "Still, good and all if they manage it. Are you thinking of applying? I'm afraid I probably can't help much. My contacts with the royal couple are not what they were."

[-Sentinel-]

"You want to keep an eye on those. Dog bites are bastards for turning rotten."

Elsa nodded, and chose not to ask how Olga knew so much about dog bites. "I will. I certainly didn't survive battles with daemons and greenskins and vampires just to die from gangrene."

While she and Olga were fashioning a stretcher out of the tent, she asked—rather than ordered—the Tileans to make whatever arrangements they saw fit for Branca. She then took Tatiana by the hand, just to reassure the semi-conscious girl that she was still by her side.

"She needs proper care, and she can't get it out here. Let's make the most of daylight... It's a long hike to Morr's Seat."


OOC

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“Finish exploring the fissures” is a bit open-ended - there are rocks along the edge of the escarpment for a long way in either direction, with gaps between them - but the ones in your immediate vicinity seem empty of anything other than dead wolves.

Ah, okay. I had the suspicion that the fissures had been some sort of base of operations for Mala, but if nothing seems to bear this out, I won't bother.

You messed up Olga's Heal roll, by the way. And if successful, Elsa should regain d10 wounds (lightly wounded).

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo had spent the week much as most others - meeting the new arrivals as they came through, offering some small amount of food and then suggesting whether they stayed or moved on. It was emotionally taxing work, sending families out into the cold, and had left him a little testy when teaching, including snapping more than one stick of chalk demonstrating multiplication. However, the school was calming to him, and over a glass of wine in the evening he reminded himself that the reason he had to do this was to protect those that were already here, under his care.

Which had left dealing with Katja a little fraught. She had made no friends in her time in the village, and as Ingwald had pointed out, they couldn't throw out some people and let others bully their way into staying. She had to go, so Ludo approached her one evening and explained clearly that the town couldn't look after her: that she would have better luck finding charity in a bigger place, and that there was nothing here that they could spare. He was uncertain how well she had reacted to it - but it didn't matter. If she couldn't leave by consent, she would leave by force.

The next day, he told the children a version of their first entry into Kheneb.

[LCP]

Elsa, 28th Nachexen

The Tileans built a cairn for Branca, collecting the loose stones that lay in the gaps between the larger rocks. Bartolomeo took his sword to carry back to Morr’s Seat, and Gualdo found a piece of brushwood to serve as a marker. Taking out his dagger, he scratched a crude approximation of Myrmidia’s eagle into the dry wood before wedging it upright among the stones.

Returning east through the rocks, at first they saw no sign of the others where they had left them. The sight of blood on the stony ground made Olga reach for her cudgel again - but before conclusions could be leapt to, they heard Sorin’s voice calling from the top of one of the nearby rocks. He and Senka were standing up there, waving.

It seemed there had been more wolves lying in wait behind. The three hill-folk had climbed the rock to escape them, but they had given Skender a couple of nasty bites, and mauled Val so badly that it seemed a miracle he was still breathing. It was clear the sheepdog needed putting out of his misery; Senka didn’t deny it, but seemed more than a little upset at the prospect of losing her faithful companion. Refusing the Tileans’ offers of help, she took him off to do it herself.

Sorin gave a low whistle when he saw the tails Olga and the Tileans had collected. Skender seemed more concerned for Tattie, despite his own injuries. “Morr’s mercy, her poor face,” he said, perhaps not realising that she could hear him. “We have to get her back to Morr’s Seat. She needs a proper healer.”

<Thank you doctor,> Lorenzo muttered sarcastically to Gualdo. <We had no idea.>

~

It was two days’ hard march back across the high moor, much of it without any clear path to follow. The bites on Elsa’s calf were bleeding through their bandages, and throbbed every time she put her weight on that foot. She was glad to have her staff to lean upon.

The rest of the party weren’t in much better shape. Skender in particular seemed to be walking slower than he had before, his face paler than Elsa remembered. With Sorin and the Tileans taking turn carrying Tattie, their progress was slow.

They spent the night of Bezahltag camped out on the open heath, huddled close around the fire. The wind was rising again, making the smoke stream out to the north - somewhere out in the gathering night, Elsa thought she heard the lonely howl of a distant wolf. This time, no others answered it.

OOC:

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Another heal test from Olga: (1d100)[82], (1d10)[5]

Can I also get a Toughness test from Elsa (at +20) against infection.

---

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

The sun was setting on Konigstag when Elsa’s party made it back to the gates of Morr’s Seat. Heading to the Jarl’s hall, they found Giuliano’s men there, being waited on by some of the local women as before. The soldiers stood and paid their respects to Elsa, seeming vaguely surprised to see her back. Of Giuliano himself, there was no sign.

---

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

“Yes, I’ve heard the conditions in the Downs are… not so good, this year,” said Jacques, with the air of recalling a conversation he could only vaguely remember. “But, I suppose that must be why his highness is so keen to get people back on the land? I mean, someone has to do it.”

When Jarla asked him if he might be interested himself, he laughed and shook his head. “Ah no, ma’moiselle Schreiber… if there is anything in this world of which I know positively nothing, it is agriculture. Besides, my finances, they are not so strong at the moment, that I could afford to be paying farm hands, or buying… manure, or… pitchforks.” He self-consciously adjusted his hat. “But for a richer man, it would be an attractive prospect, non? All that land, free for the taking.”

---

Painford, 8th Jahrdrung

Katja’s response to Ludo’s firm persuasion was the same kind of foul-mouthed tirade others had been experiencing for the past few days. Ludo suspected the woman wasn’t well - she spoke almost as if she thought he couldn’t hear her. Her insults were mostly indiscriminate, although some of what she said seemed to imply she thought Ludo was acting on Prince Sforza’s personal order.

When she showed no sign of calming down or moving on, Alvin and Jori stepped up to help escort her out, perhaps eager to prove their worth to their new employers. Forcibly ejected from the south gate, she lingered outside the palisade for a while, shouting back into the village.

“Little half-grub!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “Who’s got his fingers in the Prince’s pies? It’s true, where there’s muck there’s halflings!”

At last, when Ingwald appeared on the parapet, she headed off south, still chuntering to herself as she disappeared between the trees.

That evening, the story of Kheneb-Ptra-Urush proved a smash hit - far more interesting to Ludo’s younger pupils than learning their letters.

“The dead… they’re still there?” asked Ciril, a boy of about twelve. His expression was wide-eyed, totally engrossed in the story. “How long had they been waiting for you?”

OOC:

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Ludo picks up 3 more potential recruits this week.

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Jarla nodded politely, though in truth she was struggling to understand why Jacques thought she'd care about all this.

"Are you suggesting I buy my own estates?" she asked, looking thoughtful.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa, 28th Nachexen


"Oh, Senka. I am so, so sorry," said Elsa softly, as the hill woman petted Val's bloodied fur one last time before putting him down. "He was a good boy."

She helped Senka bury Val and had Olga take a look at Skender's wounds before getting on their way.

Spoiler: OOC

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Elsa's roll vs. infection, target 61: (d100)[2]
Fortune point: (d100)[19]

---

Elsa, 29th Nachexen


Elsa had Sorin and Skender set down Tatiana's stretcher in a warm but not too brightly-lit corner of the hall and paid them their crown and a half each for the wolf hunt; they would receive the rest of their pay upon return to Castel d'Irena. She also paid three crowns to Senka—no amount of gold could possibly replace a beloved companion, but Elsa had little else to spare, having not come to the hills with a full purse. She was not about to put the Nehekharan gold coins back in circulation, at least not until Mala was out of the picture.

<Where's Giuliano?> she asked after the three hill people had departed. The man had not been looking too healthy, so she would not be surprised if he had coughed his last or been sent back east to recover.

Elsa sat near Tatiana and briefly peeked under the makeshift bandages covering the girl's face to make sure her injuries were not getting gangrenous already. She then requested some solid food and a drink for herself, and lukewarm broth for Tatiana.

<We were delayed by the dust storm,> she explained, once she had her mug of fermented milk, <but we caught up with the wolves and killed most of them. As I suspected, they were... unnatural. Foul creatures of necromancy, under the command of one of the Jackal's servants, Mother Mala. She got away. We also lost Branca in battle. I'm very sorry.>

She sipped her drink. She was finally acquiring the taste for it, she found. Or perhaps she was hungry and exhausted enough that just about anything tasted heavenly right now.

<Oh, and we figured out the provenance of those gold coins with an eye on them. It's not bandits... it's bribe money from Mala. Has your prisoner said anything yet?>

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

<Giuliano’s very sick,> said the soldier Elsa had chosen to question. <The cough… it’s been getting worse.>

At Elsa’s story of Mala and the undead wolves, he looked across to Bartolomeo, who gave a curt nod. He still didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

<The woman with the gold?> he said, latching onto a question he could answer. <Hasn’t said anything we haven’t heard before.>

---

Jarla, 8th Jahdrdrung

Jacques gave a very Bretonnian shrug. “I make no recommendations, ma’moiselle. As I said, I know very little of these things.” He stopped to lean against the wall. “I just thought you would be interested to hear the news. I’m sure when it is announced there will be many people coming to his Highness’ door. And some of them may soon become very rich.”

[-Sentinel-]

<Giuliano's very sick. The cough… it's been getting worse.>

<I could take him with me when I head back east, likely the day after tomorrow,> offered Elsa with some reluctance that she did her best to conceal. <I doubt he's going to get any better if he stays here.>


<The woman with the gold? Hasn't said anything we haven't heard before.>

Well, that is very vague, thank you, thought Elsa irritably. Aloud she said: <I'll speak to her, then. Perhaps the right questions and a gentler touch will yield results.> She paused. <What are your plans for her if she won't talk?>


OOC:

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Short-term plans:

• Tonight, Elsa questions Darja.
• Tomorrow, Elsa ties the wolf tails to a string and announces all over Morr's Seat that it's safe for the refugees to go home. Tatiana rests some more, so that she can hopefully travel under her own power the next day. Maybe Elsa can also touch base with the blacksmith's daughter one last time, in case her opinion of Elsa has changed sufficiently for her to say something she's been holding back. (I remember she was spying on Elsa before the wolf hunt.)
• On the 31st, if Tatiana's condition allows, we start heading back to Castel d'Alvarran or whatever they're calling it these days.

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Jahdrdrung

"Probably," Jarla said, suddenly feeling a shard of bitterness. "Though apparently not interesting enough the prima cameriera herself has to learn of it through court gossip!"

With an effort Jarla tried to reign in her temper, momentarily shut her blue eyes and took a deep breath. Opening her eyes again she looked at the minstrel. "Thank you Jacques. It is good to know where I stand. I will talk with you later."

Lifting up her skirts she made for her own chambers and some peace to help clear her head and wondering what on earth she'd do now.

[LeSwordfish]

"About three thousand years," Ludo said, "since before Sigmar's comet! But they weren't just waiting! They were drilling every day, just like the Thorns do. They think it's their desert, you know."

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

The soldier looked to Bartolomeo. The look on his face wasn’t the look of a man with plans.

<If she got the money from that witch in the hills, it explains why she didn’t want to talk before,> Bartolomeo said. <Now that we know her little secret, she’ll crack. Maybe tell us who else here is taking the wolf woman’s gold.> He looked to Elsa. <We can handle the questioning, Magister. Those were our orders, to bring this place back into line.>

He looked back to the other Iron Company man. <How sick is the sergeant?>

<Very sick.>

<Sicker than that?> Bartolomeo asked, jerking his head in Tattie’s direction. The other Tilean gave her a cursory glance and shrugged.

<He can’t stop coughing,> he said, <and he keeps asking for water. I don’t think he would get far if he had to walk.>

---

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Jacques gave Jarla a low bow. “I will look forward to it, ma’moiselle,” he said. “Until then!”

---

Painford, 8th Jahrdrung

“Desert?” said Ileana, one of the older girls. “I thought they were in the Mere.”

[-Sentinel-]

<He can't stop coughing, and he keeps asking for water. I don't think he would get far if he had to walk.>

Elsa blinked. That bottomless thirst sounded familiar. It did not seem to be just the dusty wind making Giuliano sick.

<If Tatiana can walk by then, the sarge can take her place in the stretcher,> she suggested. She gave a shrug, not wanting to insist too hard to take a bedridden and possibly contagious man with her on her return trip. <We'll see. If he thinks he's better off here, then he stays.>


<We can handle the questioning, Magister. Those were our orders, to bring this place back into line.>

Elsa gave Bartolomeo a flat, skeptical look. As far as she could tell, bringing this place back into line seemed to consist mostly of helping themselves to any gold, food and women they could get their hands on, under no recognizable law aside from the ancient principle of 'What are you going to do about it?'. Sooner or later the hill men would lash back at their oppressors, and Elsa did not intend to be in Morr's Seat when that day came.

<If this were just about bandits,> she replied, <Darja would be all yours. But when users of dark magic are involved, that's where I come in. I'll go speak to her now.>

She got up, motioned Olga to do the same, and filled a bowl with hot stew for the prisoner.

<Keep in mind, Bartolomeo, that the longer the girl rots in that cell, the more the locals will... ah... question our motives for wanting to keep her,> she warned, before departing with her bodyguard in tow.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'll stop using italics to indicate a language other than Reikspiel. In my posts, italics are for internal monologue and for emphasis.

---

"Hello, Darja. I'm Elsa."

Elsa sat on the bench facing the cell, squinting in the darkness at the prisoner. Her tone was very quiet, almost a whisper. Olga stood behind her, her squat silhouette shrouded in shadows. The bowl of stew was not within reach of Darja yet, but its smell filled the room.

"The Tileans take you for a thief. I know better."

She toyed with a Nehekharan gold coin and let the moonlight shine on the eye sigil that adorned it. "I found where this gold comes from. It's not stolen. It was given to you fair and square by a certain woman. I don't know if she ever told you her true name, but we know her as Mala. She's caused us no end of trouble."

"That woman is dead."

"Now... you can't be blamed for being deceived by her. Mala had a way of coming to people in their moment of despair and telling them what they wanted to hear. She even claimed to be some kind of healer."

She paused.

"Please help me, Darja. Tell me what Mala wanted from you in exchange for that gold, and we can put this unpleasantness behind us."

Spoiler: OOC

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Charm 54 for the "good cop" act and the lie about Mala being dead: (d100)[37]
Fortune: (d100)[28]

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Jahrdrung

Jarla looked at the bard go without comment. She felt tired and drained.

Alone in her room she started examining her wardrobe and jewellery such as it was. If needs be she could sell possessions to get coin, maybe even Countess though she'd fight tooth and nail to avoid that; time to start considering her escape plan... whatever that was.

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

The hut behind the hall was much as Elsa remembered it, although it smelt a little worse. Darja was still tied to the post that supported the roof. The left side of her face was swollen into one massive bruise; she squinted in the light from the doorway as Elsa came inside.

"What do you mean, 'put it behind you'?" she asked. Her voice was weak. "You're not one of the soldiers. Who are you?"

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa winced in sympathy when Darja turned her head enough for her bruise to be visible.

Please, Darja, help me get you out of here.

"I'm not a soldier, no. I'm more of a scholar." She peeled off her black gloves to let Darja see her uncallused, unscarred hands. "I came all the way out here to learn about the Jackal, so that we may defend ourselves against him. It's important that we undo his servants' work, even after they're dead."

She tossed the gold coin into the air...

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Ag 44 test to catch it: (d100)[6]

...and caught it with a dexterity that surprised even her.

"A few days ago I met this man, Georg, who'd been given coins like these. Coins from old Nehekhara. He told me his wife had been sick, and a woman came and offered to take her away. Said she could cure her."

Elsa's gaze met Darja's. "She was lying. Now... one might call Georg a fool for letting some stranger take away his ailing wife, and for not wondering why she would be the one paying him. But I've never had a beloved one struck down by a long sickness. I don't know what it does to someone. I didn't feel it was my place to pass judgment on him. So I let him be. Never did figure out what the woman, Mala, wanted with his wife..."

Her voice trailed off.

"Pardon me, I'm rambling. Tell me your story, Darja. You can walk free tonight."

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

Darja gave a wry sort of grunt. "If you're not one of them," she asked, "then how am I going free?" She paused for a moment, looking Elsa up and down. "You going to break me out?"

[-Sentinel-]

"I'm the court wizard," said Elsa simply. "I outrank them."

She had no idea if she actually did, given the vagueness of her place within the chain of command of Sforza's armies, but so far none of Giuliano's soldiers had shown an especially strong spine in her presence.

[LeSwordfish]

"A ruined castle, built into the cliff's edge, where the mere meets the desert," Ludo said, as dramatically as possible for Ileana's nitpicking. "Of course, it wasn't a desert in their day."

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

That seemed to give Darja pause. Elsa had already seen that people here had heard of her - clearly this woman was no exception. At length, she seemed to come to a decision.

"I don't know... anything about the Jackal, or the robbers," she said, getting her defence in early. "I don't know any names. I was just... I couldn't go on." There was a crack in her voice when she spoke. "Miro was dead. She said she would take him. She didn't say where."

---

Painford, 8th Jahrdrung

The listeners murmured to each other as the picture became clearer in their heads. There were no more questions for now - but later that evening, Ludo heard one of the younger children roaring "I'M A SKELETON!" as they played in the square.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa was quiet for a moment. She did not even ask who Miro was. Lover? Husband? Baby boy? Brother? It did not really matter, did it? "I'm... so sorry about Miro," she said at last, meaning it. Darja had already lost enough and it was horrific that she had to endure torture on top of it.

She felt bad about questioning her further, but went on: "Was it an illness, too?"

"Did the woman just come straight to you with her offer, as if she somehow knew you'd lost a loved one?"


OOC

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Is Darja restrained only with ropes, or is a key required to free her?

The listeners murmured to each other as the picture became clearer in their heads. There were no more questions for now - but later that evening, Ludo heard one of the younger children roaring "I'M A SKELETON!" as they played in the square.

Awww. This seriously warms my heart.

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

"It was the cold," said Darja. "She met us on the road, passing by. Anyone with eyes would have known he was dead."

Darja swallowed, glancing towards the door. "I know it's not... right. The soldiers wouldn't believe me that it wasn't from the raiders, but I couldn't tell them... if they told the others..." She trailed off, hanging her head as she looked to one side. "Miro's dead. I wanted to live."

OOC:

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She's only bound with rope.

[-Sentinel-]

"Well, I believe you," said Elsa. "And I understand."

She walked over to Darja and began to unbind her. The young woman was tied with well-made, military knots, but Elsa eventually managed with a bit of help from her dagger.

"You must be starving," she said, pushing the bowl of stew and spoon into Darja's hands. "Now if I were you, I'd avoid the soldiers. I'll talk to them, but I can't guarantee they won't try to arrest you again after I leave town, in a couple of days. They got themselves convinced you can lead them to more gold, and they won't let go easily because that would mean admitting they spent the better part of a week beating a woman for no good f*cking reason."

She also gave Darja a handful of silver shillings for immediate expenses, such as a night at the inn. It was hardly adequate reparations for several days of getting punched in the face (and perhaps worse), but Elsa's purse was getting light.

Spoiler

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(3d3)[7] shillings

I'll be good to move on to the next day after this scene, unless there is something else.

---

Elsa returned to the common room a few minutes later with the empty bowl.

<Much the same story as Georg's,> she reported. <I told her she'd go free if she cooperated. She did, so I held up my end of the bargain.>

She looked at Bartolomeo squarely in the eyes as if challenging him to protest her decision.

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen

<You let her go?> Bartolomeo looked surprised. <Did she give you any names?>

[-Sentinel-]

<This town doesn't harbor, as far as I can tell, a secret society of people who've accepted gold from a stranger to take away their sick family members,> said Elsa in a tone drier than the Pale Waste. <Georg didn't even tell his own household about his gold, so there's no reason to think Darja's been in contact with others who have gold. In any case, they didn't break any of the Prince's laws that I'm aware of.>

But you're not concerned about laws, are you, Bartolomeo? You're just looking for other people to shake down.

<The only name she gave me was that of her man Miro, who died of cold on the road to Morr's Seat. If she had any other names, I trust one of you would have managed to beat them out of her by now.>

She set down her bedroll right next to Tatiana's and prepared to go to sleep. Tomorrow she would be looking for whatever passed for a healer or wise woman in these parts, as she needed her apprentice up and about before too long if she was to ever return to the green lands and warn of the Jackal's return.

[LCP]

Elsa, 29th Nachexen
None of the soldiers spoke back, but Elsa could hear the low murmur of their voices as she settled down to sleep. They clearly weren’t happy - but then, that was their problem.

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Elsa, 30th Nachexen

Dawn broke, and Elsa woke to the sound of ravens croaking on the roof of the hall. She didn’t feel very rested, but at least her dreams had been free of jackals.

Olga was sitting up with Tattie, having dressed her wounds with clean wool the night before. Elsa’s apprentice was conscious and able to move, but still in a great deal of pain from the bites to her face.

“If there’s a healer here, we should get them to take a look at her,” said Olga to Elsa. “It’s a long way back to Pieter’s Pass, and her eye’s looking ugly.”

Over by the fire-pit, the bag of wolves’ tails that the Tileans had collected was giving a rank smell to the air, only half masked by last night’s stale smoke.