[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[-Sentinel-]

“I suppose those poor fools in the Lost Library came the closest. Casting it into another world entirely… that was some magic worthy of a master.” He looked to Elsa, the reflection of the lamplight making his eyes gleam brightly under the shadows of the owl mask. “I don’t suppose they had the blessing of the Colleges, either.”

The Lost Library, thought Elsa bitterly. What if we had never gone there? We had no reason to go. None, but curiosity and greed.

"That was... powerful magic, yes," Elsa allowed reluctantly, not too happy with the priest's way of looking at it. "Dark magic, magic that made a new tear in the veil between our reality and the Realm of Chaos. I hope that when all is said and done, none of us have to choose between serving the Dark Gods and surrendering to the dead."

And she had come perilously close to doing the former... How long had it been since she swore off the use of Dhar? Was it long enough for its taint upon her soul to have faded? Or did it leave marks that would never quite go away?

Elsa stopped walking shortly before reaching the ballroom, looking thoughtful. "I've learned a bit about the history of the Elven loremasters. They founded the Colleges, after all, and they wanted to make sure we lowly humans remembered what we owed them. Have you heard of Caledor Dragontamer?"

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla felt a little sorry for Solya and smiled at the other, gently touching her on the shoulder. "Maybe you'll get a proper chance. In the mean time at least you can say you spoke to a noblewoman."

Jarla hadn't considered that the attendees might be so enraptured by Irene that they'd simply wish to be in her presence, but as she had to admit the princess did look fantastic.

She enjoyed her dance with Carraciolo. The Tilean soldier was so wonderfully masculine and his Taal costume really did suit him. As leaned her auburn hair against his chest she reflected on the novel pleasure of dancing with a man taller than her - Jarla was tall to begin with and normally wore heeled shoes to begin with so a lot of dances had seen her peering down at a bald pate.

In between her own dances with the others Jarla tried to keep her wits about her and seperate the worthy from the mouth breathers, and just exactly what and why they realoly wanted (excluding the ones who simply wanted to stare down her cleavage - she had a fair idea what they were thinking...

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Gossip: (1d100)[23] vs 64 (or 74 if Etiquette works here.)
Perception: (1d100)[26] vs 51

Her dance with Jacques was sweet. He might not have had the raw machismo of Carracilo but he was handsome (especially with his trim beard - she had a thing for well groomed facial hair) and charmingly egocentric and the Ranaldite in her warmed to a rogue. Jarla actually found a twinge of disappointment that he was not more jealous.

"Not long. Giovanni is...," she tried to think how to finish that sentence. She sighed and smiled ruefully at her dance partner. "What can I say, but there is something there. But I am not a married woman Jacques, and I like you."

As it all wound down and 'Taal' stood next to her at her ear Jarla made a decision. Turning to Carraciolo she kissed him on the lips, and as she drew back she smiled, running her hands along his brawny arms. "I say let's slip away somewhere quieter and have some private fun..."

[LCP]

Elsa

"I hope that when all is said and done, none of us have to choose between serving the Dark Gods and surrendering to the dead."

“That's certainly true,” said Hieronymus. “Although we must remember… there is wisdom in recognising the lesser of two evils.”

He stumbled, putting out his good hand to catch himself against the wall. He stopped there for a second or two, momentarily disoriented.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “I think my age is catching up with me.” He took off his mask and looked sheepishly at Elsa. “What was it we were talking about?”

Elsa stopped walking shortly before reaching the ballroom, looking thoughtful. "I've learned a bit about the history of the Elven loremasters. They founded the Colleges, after all, and they wanted to make sure we lowly humans remembered what we owed them. Have you heard of Caledor Dragontamer?"

“No,” said Hieronymus, “I don’t believe I have.” He cleared his throat. “It would have been before your time here, but Prince Belehir wasn’t a great one for cultural exchange.”

He took a seat at the edge of the hall, and took a cup of wine from a passing servant. With an abrupt screech, Euthymius flew down from where he’d been perching in the musicians’ gallery and settled on his shoulder again.

“I’d like to hear it, if you’re content to keep an old man company,” said Hieronymus. “I think I’m going to give these old bones a rest for a while.”

Jarla

"Giovanni is...," she tried to think how to finish that sentence. She sighed and smiled ruefully at her dance partner. "What can I say, but there is something there. But I am not a married woman Jacques, and I like you."

“You’re very to the point,” said Jacques. He had to pause as the steps of the dance drew them apart, waiting for the chance to speak again. “Is this how things are in the Empire?”

Jacques was a better dancer than Carraciolo, and not one to let conversation get in the way of showing off. It took another turn around the floor before they were back in range of quiet conversation.

“Of course, you know I hold you in the greatest esteem, m'amoiselle” he said. “You already see how my life is changed, thanks to your kindness. If this soldier wishes to keep you for himself, then, well, Jacques Langue d’Or has never shirked from a challenge.” He pronounced challenge in the Bretonnian way, flashing his white teeth in a grin.

As it all wound down and 'Taal' stood next to her at her ear Jarla made a decision. Turning to Carraciolo she kissed him on the lips, and as she drew back she smiled, running her hands along his brawny arms. "I say let's slip away somewhere quieter and have some private fun..."

Carraciolo returned the kiss with interest. “Volentieri,” he said, already steering them out of the crowd and towards the shadows that waited round the edge of the brightly-lit hall. A few eyes turned to follow them, but not too many. “Let’s go.”

---

Aubentag, 1st Nachexen, The Year of Our Lord Sigmar 2525

Savonne

Jarla woke up to the sound of Carraciolo pulling on his boots. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, now mostly dressed. At the sound of movement, he looked back at her and smiled.

“Buon anno,” he said. “I think it’s started well, don’t you?”

Getting up, he came over to her and bent down to give her a kiss. “Prince Sforza has me riding back to Castel d’Irena this morning,” he said. “You are welcome to visit. It gets cold in Alvarr’s castle, this time of year.” He gave her a wink. “I can use someone to keep me warm.”

---

Painford

The new year dawned bright and cold in Painford. The young Morrite Nastassa was saddling up her doleful-looking pony, the animal’s breath misting in the frosty air.

“Good morning, Herr Stubbs,” she said when she saw Ludo. “And a blessed new year to you. Are you still wanting to come to Manann’s Keep?”

[-Sentinel-]

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “I think my age is catching up with me.” He took off his mask and looked sheepishly at Elsa. “What was it we were talking about?”

Elsa tried not to let her concern show. "Our fight to protect the Reaches, Father."

She sat down next to Hieronymus. "Caledor Dragontamer was an archmage. The greatest Elven wizard of his time... maybe of all time. When the world was about to fall to Chaos, he and his followers wove a mighty spell to drain magic from the material plane. Supposedly they are still casting it, thousands of years later. Trapped inside it. Buying the rest of us one more day... and then one more after that. No end in sight, no final victory possible. The High Elves believe that if Caledor's strength ever falters, if his spell comes undone, daemons will overrun the world and all will be lost."

This was the kind of knowledge she wished she could unlearn.

"What does this have to do with anything, you may ask? Well. I'm thinking about what we're doing. In a way, perhaps we are Caledor Dragontamer, on a smaller scale. Perhaps the Broken Reaches really are doomed, and their downfall is a matter of when, not if. Perhaps all we can ever do... is buy them another day. But days add up. They add up to seasons, to years, to generations. Those who destroyed Nahorek the first time, only for him to return... their fight may seem to have been in vain, but was it really? I think not. Thanks to them, thousands of men and women lived out their entire lives not having to worry about the Jackal. That's not nothing. I say it's worth fighting for, even if we lose in the end."

She smiled thinly. "As long as we have strength to draw breath, we buy the Reaches one more day."

---

1st Nachexen


Elsa rose early on the first day of the new year. She had several places to go before setting out for Castel d'Irena with the Iron Company, and she knew soldiers were themselves early risers. She roused Tatiana, gave her a handful of shillings and told her this was her last chance to buy anything in Savonne for a while.

"Be at the stables with all your luggage by the tenth bell at the latest." And count yourself lucky the Prince didn't go through with his plan to have you perform some magic last night. I don't think you were ready anyway.

Next, she took Olga and a couple of Iron Company men with her and went to the tent city, neither announcing her presence nor actively trying to stay incognito. She had her guards add bundles of sticks to some of the common campfires to get a good flame going, then tried out the spell she had been researching lately. If the theory was sound, her magic should keep those fires roaring for weeks without any new fuel being added. It hardly made up for the ill she had caused, but it was something. Besides, it felt good to know that violence was not the only way in which she was able to help people.


OOC

Spoiler

Show

Casting number 8+ with a successful Channeling (and we're not pressed for time).

(2d10)[4][7](11)
(2d10)[5][3](8)
(2d10)[4][7](11)
(2d10)[4][5](9)
(2d10)[2][4](6)

4 fires. Not bad. With Magic 3, they'll last a month.

Lastly she visited the temple of Verena to borrow some of Father Hieronymus's notes. The old man's mind seemed to be going, and she did not want to have to restart the translation of Nehekharan hieroglyphs from scratch if he passed away or became too scatter-brained to continue his work. She donated a couple of crowns to the church as a gesture of goodwill and assured the priest she would send him a letter if she made her own discoveries.

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla blushed at Jacques's compliment, genuinely touched. "I feel honoured Monsieur. Just please try and not get on his bad side," she gave him a peck on the cheek. "As flattering as it might be I'd prefer no blood on my account!"

---

1st Nachexen

Smiling as she woke up and stretched Jarla playfully nibbled at Carraciolo's neck. "My gallant Tilean soldier. Don't worry, I'll find an excuse to visit soon."

Her blue eyes widened as a thought struck her. Shifting out of bed the auburn haired woman moved to the small chest that had her current fortune. Rummaging through it she pulled out a gold crown, a shiny but seemingly ordinary coin stamped on one side with Karlf Franz and on the other with the Heldenhammer.

"If this was the Empire I'd give you a hammer pendant, but I guess this will have to do. Here," Jarla dropped the crown into Giovanni's palm, and kissed him. "Holy Sigmar watch over you this year Giovanni Carraciolo. I know you are a Tilean but it can't hurt to have someone else watching out for you." She shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I know it's silly but I'm an actress; we're all superstitious and a bit mad. Part of our charm."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo had slept poorly, remembering what had happened the previous new year - or the year before, which he had spent failing to sleep on the edge of a camp outside Alvarran, surrounded by grouchy Tilean caravaneers and deeply regretting his choice to go on an "adventure". It was this, in the end, that persuaded him not to travel with Natassa: it would be horrible weather, he was sending two veterans with her, and Jocasta had last been seen in exactly the opposite direction that Mala and her wolves had been travelling. No sense to leave his fire, really, though he had got up in time to send Natassa off. Going with her would be Rike and Karla: Rike had fully recovered after the ambush in the Thornwood (though still preferred her crossbow over the rifle), and Karla was a lean Savonnite woman who had vaguely alluded to pushing a many-handed member of the Red Company into a midden once, and was one of the finer shots with the new weapons. The Morrite would be very well protected.

"You're in good hands," he assured her. "But I'll probably more useful here." He looked to Rike. "Give her a hand finding Jocasta, don't be worried to use the commander's name if anyone gives you trouble."

[LCP]

Elsa, Hexensnacht

“That would be an elvish way to view the world,” said Hieronymus. “An eternal struggle against inevitable decline.” He cleared his throat. “They have the luxury of thinking in eternities.”

Euthymius clacked his beak, and the old priest fished in his robe, producing a dead mouse for his pet. “If Mother Raqiyah were still with us,” he said, as the owl choked down its morsel, “I’m sure she would urge you not to see endings as such an evil. All things end, in their time. For Nahorek’s people, the Reaches fell thousands of years ago. And yet here we are.”

“You and your friends proved there was nothing inevitable about Nahorek’s victory. He was not a servant of death, but of the Great Necromancer. And even Nagash was just a man, once, with his own dreams and desires.” His eyes took on a slightly faraway look. “It would be just as much a mistake to think that his goal was only death, as it would be to think it was as inevitable as death. I doubt our suffering would matter any more to such a man than our joy."

---

Savonne, 1st Nachexen

Jarla

Carraciolo examined the Reikland crown in his hand, before flicking it in the air and catching it. “Gold is always lucky, mia cara,” he said, tucking it away in his pocket. He returned her kiss with gusto. “Myrmidia watch over you too.”

Elsa

Elsa’s guard detail proved very necessary in the ramshackle camp outside the river gate. The conspicuous weapons and armour of the Iron Company men kept anyone from trying anything too foolish, but the atmosphere of resentment as she walked among the battered and dirty tents was palpable. No-one would shift from around their fires without forceful instructions, and no-one wanted to come too close to them after Elsa had worked her magic on them - at least, not while she was still watching. Distant shouts of “witch!” and “arsonist!” drifted after her on the frosty air, the men and women who shouted them safe in the knowledge that her guards couldn’t leave her alone to chase them down.

“You’re really popular around here, eh?” said Olga. “Maybe Alvarran might be for the best.”

By the time Elsa had made her way back to the castle, Carraciolo and his men were already formed up in the courtyard, looking a little put out at having had to wait in the cold. There was no sign of the Prince - but in the high window of the solar, Elsa thought she caught a brief glimpse of Irene’s pale face looking down at her.

“Here at last, Holt,” said Carraciolo. “Ready to leave?”

---

Painford, 1st Nachexen

Nastassa nodded, not seeming put out. “Thank you for your help,” she said, with a bow of her head. “I hope I’ll be coming back this way soon enough.”

With the two Thorns walking at her side, she headed south out of the village, and away down the frosty road to Manann’s Keep.

[-Sentinel-]

Hexensnacht


"I doubt our suffering would matter any more to such a man than our joy."

"And yet we suffer because of him," said Elsa with a shrug. "So what do we care about his intentions, unless they give us some insight into how to thwart him? Outside of hypotheticals and thought experiments, I find that our choices are often quite clear. I'm on the side of the living, always."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you have a spare mouse for Khalida?"

Spoiler

Show

I'm happy to end this convo any time.

---

1st Nachexen


"You're really popular around here, eh?" said Olga. "Maybe Alvarran might be for the best."

Elsa smiled sourly. "Yep. I had a few enemies there, too, but I'm pretty sure most of them are dead."

If she chanced upon Eugen Jager in Castel d'Irena, she would take it as a sign that there was a god up there whose sole purpose was to make her life difficult.

---

"Here at last, Holt," said Carraciolo. "Ready to leave?"

"As soon as I've saddled my horse, yes," answered Elsa, ignoring Irene at the window and trying to look more chipper than she felt. "Should only take a moment. And please, Giovanni, call me Elsabeth."

[RossN]

Savonne, 1st Nachexen

Jarla

Jarla laughed lightly. "I'm sure she will." A final kiss and then she let Giovanni depart.

Jarla bathed, dressed, applied her makeup and went to see if Irene was available for breakfast.

[LCP]

Elsa, Hexensnacht

Hieronymus fumbled under his robe for another mouse, which he handed to Elsa.

“There are plenty of good men who are now dead,” he said, “and plenty of wicked ones who are still living. But if we don’t apply ourselves to understanding why men perform acts of good or evil, can we say we are either?” Hieronymus seemed quite recovered from his moment in the corridor; this kind of abstruse discussion seemed like his natural environment. “To act without thinking… even the insects on an anthill are capable of that. That is why Verena teaches us that understanding is the highest virtue.”

Taking a sip of his wine, he turned his eyes back towards the dancers, where Sforza’s Mannslieb-mask flashed in the moonlight. “Mm… and why her daughter Myrmidia says, know thine enemy,” he added.

---

Elsa, 1st Nachexen

“‘Holt’ is quicker,” said Carraciolo, brusquely. “Be quick about it.”

Olga looked around at the soldiers. “Are we all going by horse, then?” she said. “Only, I don’t have one, you see.”

“Who’s this?” demanded Carraciolo. Olga gave him an imitation salute.

“Olga Betz, your lordship,” she said with a smile. “Bodyguard to her magical majesty.”

Carraciolo looked from Olga to Elsa and back again, unsure if this tiny woman was giving him cheek. “You’re small enough,” he said, “and Holt’s horse is big enough. You can ride double.”

~

They rode out of the north gate of the city, Sforza’s banners flapping over the battle-scarred old gatehouse behind them. The sky was a clear, pale blue, but the air was bitingly cold, the open country of the Downs offering no shelter from the westerly wind that blew down off the Giant’s Teeth. The cracked earth of the road turned to dust under the fall of their horses’ hooves, an ochre cloud that swirled out east on the wind behind them.

The warmth of Olga clinging on behind at least offered Elsa some insulation from the wind as they continued north, away from the river and through the lands they had been raiding last spring. The further they travelled from the city, the clearer the scars of war and drought became - overgrown shells of burnt-out farmsteads yet to be rebuilt, and abandoned fields so parched and dry that even the fast-growing weeds had begun to die back. The only things that seemed to be thriving in this thirsty country were crows. They combed over the fields and crowded the leafless trees, rising into the air in squawking flocks when the horses thundered by.

They made camp that night in a drystone shelter at the mouth of Pieter’s Pass, Carraciolo’s soldiers barely exchanging a word with Elsa or her two hangers-on. Making her own fire, Olga produced a flask of something and offered it to Tattie. She grinned as the liquor made Elsa’s apprentice cough and splutter.

“You mind if I give you a bit of advice, fraulein?” she asked Tattie, taking back the flask. “Where we’re going, there’s going to be no prince and princess to keep these soldier boys in line. You’ll want to keep your wits about you.” She knocked back a hefty swig as if it was water. “All men are dogs... but some men are wolves.”

Iron Company men had been so ubiquitous in the keep that for Elsa they had almost become part of the furniture. Glancing over towards their fire, Elsa saw them as her bodyguard must see them - the dark eyes, the hard, scarred faces, the swords hanging at their belts.

“That doesn’t sound too bad to me,” said Tattie. “Wolves won’t hurt you if you leave them alone.”

Olga laughed. “Alright, you got me,” she said. “Maybe I don’t know as much about wolves as you.” She poked the fire with a stick, and raised her eyebrows at Tattie. “Which animal’s the ****tiest? Pretend that’s what I said.”

---

Wellentag, 8th Nachexen

Painford

Hegalun was not one for holidays, and straight after Hexensnacht, work had resumed on Sieghard’s manor. With fires smoking to keep the cold at bay, they had pushed through the final stretch, and the last shingle of the roof had been slotted into place on Angestag. Now the finished manor loomed above the humble houses of the villagers, startling in its solidity.

Inside, it was dark and empty, all wooden floors and bare stone walls. Hegalun led Sieghard through it room by room, evidently proud of her handiwork. Sieghard couldn’t find fault in it either - this was clearly a house built to last.

If Hegalun was pleased with a job well done, there was one group that weren’t - the workers that Sieghard had brought down from Savonne. The work had given them food, shelter and pay. Now that it was done, Holban and Hargrim were unlikely to keep them on. Their future seemed as uncertain as it had been back in the city.

It was Wellentag when Karla and Rike returned, with both Nastassa and Jocasta in tow. They had found the priestess of Rhya in the back country of the Vale. Now the two priests were headed back to Savonne. While Nastassa went to thank Ludo for the escort, Jocasta stood in the village square, looking around.

“It seems like each time I’ve passed through this village lately, it’s changed,” she said to Sieghard. “Do you have many more changes planned?”

---

Savonne

The new year seemed to get off to a quiet enough start for Jarla in Savonne. The principessa was in a good mood following the Hexensnacht ball, and if the principe wasn’t, he at least didn’t seem to be in a bad one. The castle’s larder was still well-stocked following the ball, and if those outside the old curtain wall were going hungry, those inside still ate well.

The one point of complication was Jacques. When he wasn’t entertaining the Sforzas, the minstrel seemed to spend most of his time finding convenient excuses to cross Jarla’s path. Sometimes he had a tune that he wanted her to hear; sometimes he wanted to show off a new pair of shoes or an extravagant hat. Today, his latest idea was asking her if she wanted to take a walk up the Rock with him, ‘to take in the sights’.

“You know, ma’moiselle,” he said, “it’s very easy for me to keep playing the old tunes for their highnesses, but to write new music, to create art,” - he raised a hand as if to grasp something immaterial, just above his head - “an artist must have a muse. And I hear the view from up there is very fine.”

---

Castel d’Irena

Castle Alvarr was considerably more cramped than the sprawling old keep of Savonne, and absolutely packed with Iron Company men. Carraciolo had found some quarters for Elsa and her retinue in the east wing of the castle, where the Duke had built out into the rock of the Karst, but it felt - and smelt - like living in a barracks. The only women Elsa saw outside herself, Tattie and Olga were the cooks and scullery maids in the kitchen.

To first inspection, the town still looked much the same - but once Elsa got out in the streets, she began to see the ways in which it had changed. The high palisades around the Duke’s Yard had been taken down, turning it into a parade ground for the Tileans. The chapel of the Lady was shuttered and empty, and the square outside still bore dark stains that it seemed wind and weather could not erase. The Boar and Crown was now just the Crown, its sign painted over with what the innkeeper imagined was a picture of the Sforzas in full royal regalia. Someone was going to have to tell them that Irene was not blonde.

Though she was not as easily recognised here as in Savonne, Elsa still had little success trying to strike up conversation in the town’s taverns. Even if the description of the Prince’s wizardess hadn’t been known in the Reaches, her tattoos and fine clothes were more intimidating than inviting. Having tried her best in the Crown, Wellentag found her reluctantly making her way to the Gilded Beetle. She hoped that this time there would be no drunken dwarfs looking for a fight.

The Beetle was still as seedy as she remembered it, and its patrons looked as wary of Elsa as those in the Crown. Taking a seat near the wall, Elsa ran a dubious eye over her surroundings - and stopped as she saw the tarnished old scarab beetle mounted over the bar, flakes of lapis lazuli still clinging to its chipped carapace. The last time she had been here, it had seemed far less interesting than the orange-haired dwarf trying to turn the place into an arena - but now, she saw it was unmistakably Nehekharan.

[-Sentinel-]

1st Nachexen - At the camp


They wouldn't dare harm the court wizard's apprentice... would they? thought Elsa, upon heeding Olga's warning to Tatiana. But she knew men could get reckless after a few drinks. She waited patiently for Tatiana to go to sleep—not wanting to scare her—before addressing this serious matter with Olga.

"I think I'll get her a second dagger," she whispered. "She needs a long one at her belt, mainly for show, and a small one tucked away in a pocket just in case. Now... Olga, you're tight-lipped about your background, but something about you tells me that you've learned to fight dirty. Am I wrong? I'd like you to give Tattie some training. Nothing fancy... just teach her what to do if someone bigger than her grabs her by the arm."

---

8th Nachexen


During her first few days in Castel d'Irena, Elsa tried to keep Tatiana too busy to run off to Sigmar knows where. Mornings were for magical training, afternoons for self-defense training with Olga, evenings for reading and writing. It was not as if there was much else to do in this sad, dreary city anyway.

At the Beetle, Elsa's gaze kept coming back to the eponymous beetle ornament on the wall. She walked over to the bar and ordered a full meal.

"Ah, the famous beetle," she commented when her meal arrived, trying to butter up the innkeeper. "You won't find a crown at the fancy-pants Crown, but this establishment, at least, lives up to its name. Would you happen to know where that thing was dug up?"


OOC

Spoiler

Show

Either Gossip 44 or Charm 54, not sure. (d100)[3]
If failed by 10: Fortune Point for a +10.
If failed by more than 10: Fortune point re-roll. (d100)[74]

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla had had her hands full with trying to find ways to push her interests in court, some in some ways Jacques pestering was a relief. In other ways less so.

Still... it was flattering, and despite herself there was a certain charm to the rakish minstrel, so different from Giovanni. After a moment of hesitation she smiled and nodded. "Very well, a stroll it is. Ida fetch my cloak, good girl."

Truthfully Jarla rather enjoyed being out and about in Savonne. Her expensive gowns and jewellery might have been a poor reflection of Irene's, but the principessa hardly interacted with her people. Lady Schreiber could dazzle without competition.

[LCP]

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…”

[-Sentinel-]

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

Elsa gave a shrug. "War is all about deception, yes? Let the foe think you'll go for the big dagger, stab him with the small one."

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

"Not my kind of magic, so she'll have to learn that on her own," said Elsa. "Now, the thing with running away is, you can't do it if someone's already got you. Are there no moves for getting someone's hands off her? I'm not asking you to turn her into a pit fighter."

---

“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.”

Elsa nodded, disappointed that her line of inquiry had already hit a wall. "Will you let me have a closer look? I'd like to see the underside, too. Lost civilizations are a hobby of mine..."

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Nachexen

This is ridiculous, Jarla thought to herself, watching the poor fool chatter his teeth so hard she was worried he'd break one or two. Unclasping her dark cloak she hung it around Jacques's shoulders. Jarla was certainly not immune to the cold but she'd be willing to bet she could resist it better than he could.

"That's a fair song Jacques and it is a fair view but let's try a little warmer shall we? The Duke of Aquitaine perhaps?" She offered a slender, gloved hand to the bard to hell him.

[LeSwordfish]

With the thorns now increasingly busy with stewarding business, Ludo had taken to clearing out and maintaining Adelbert's shrine, and had began inviting the local children to learn their letters there. It had taken a certain amount of persuading for some of the parents - "why would he need to read, he can use a shovel" - but most had acceded, and he had spent a few pleasant mornings teaching several youngsters their basic letters. After the first day he had hired Rhadegund to assist - she had been tutored by a real verenan after all, and he had to admit she was rather sharper in some matters than him, even if her Reikspiel clearly owed a lot to Adelbert's education. She had been reluctant too, but had been persuaded by the offer of pay, and for the chance to lord it over some of the smaller children - who were apparently getting a little big for their boots.

Ludo had always had a soft spot for children, and now had a certain amount of experience in teaching, after giving both Urgi and Sieghard lessons. This was a very agreeable way to spend his way, scratching out basic sentences and words in chalk and helping the children copy them down, Rhadegund circling behind them. He had found it very easy to be side-tracked, too, and had spent most of the one lesson at the centre of a circle of wide eyes and open mouths, telling the story of their escape from the goblin cave, with only slight embellishments.

"...teeth as big as swords, a mouth big enough to swallow you whole! And there were two of them! I grabbed Tatiana by the wrist and we ran! Still wearing that big cloak of course! Flapping around my ankles and tripping me up, like trying to run while wearing a fishing-net. And the monsters coming after us, charging like bulls, howling like wolves. We rounded the corner and there was the wizard, her hair burning like a torch, a fireball in each hand. She flung them at the monsters, and Sieghard came running in after, fast as the fire, his sword flashing! Chopped them up like you'd cut your beef for dinner..."

The older children had seemed particularly excited by the swordplay, and Ludo had already profaned the shrine as a place of scholarly learning by showing a few basic parrying techniques with a stick. He didn't feel any particular need just yet to explain how any member of the Thorns they might ask could probably knock him down without issue. It was a very agreeable way to be spending the winter.

[LCP]

Elsa, 1st Nachexen

Olga shrugged. "You want me to teach her, I can teach her," she said. "But learning how to fight and how to stay alive isn't always the same thing. You give a kid a knife, they'll think they ought to use it. And once the knives are out, someone's going to get cut."

---

Elsa, 8th Nachexen

"I don't know anything about any lost civvy-lisashons," said the innkeeper, defensively. "Give me a schillin' and I'll take it down for you, if you're so keen to have a look at it. Only lookin', mind. No touching."

Once the coin was in his hand, he fetched a stool to stand on so he could take the beetle down from where it hung on the wall. It was easy to detach it from its wooden mounting, having been held on with little more than twine. Placing it on the bar between them, the innkeeper watched Elsa with a hawkish eye, as if she might try to bolt with it at any moment.

The scarab was cast in one solid piece, a little bigger than Elsa’s hand. Under the fragments of blue stone that still adhered to its shell, there was a cracked and tarnished layer of gilt - but by the weight of it, it felt more like ceramic than metal. Between its legs on either side was an empty slot where another, thin piece might have fitted in - perhaps wings.

Turning it over, Elsa saw the reverse was inscribed with a vertical stripe of hieroglyphs, bordered by a human figure to either side - a man and a woman, turned in profile with stiff arms extended towards the picture-writing. The inscription was old and worn, some of its lines still crusted with old earth - but she recognised one of the symbols from Hieronymus’ notes. It was a stylised representation of a winged skull - Hieronymus had written that he thought it had some association with the Nehekharans’ concept of the soul.

---

Jarla, 8th Nachexen

Jacques spluttered a feeble protest as Jarla gave him her cloak. "P-p-please, ma'moiselle," he said, "it would not be - it is not proper for a g-gentleman to take a l-lady’s cloak. And we are… h-hardly halfway up.”

Despite his objections, he was smart enough to back down before a minor embarrassment became a major one. The common room of the Duke of Aquitaine was definitely warmer and more agreeable than this windswept rock.

With a seat by the hearth and a warm cup of hippocras in his hand, Jacques was soon back in lute-playing form.

“I never would have thought when I came south to these lands, that they could get so cold,” he said. “We must try the climb again in the spring, oui? Perhaps the view will be better as well as the weather being warmer.”

Dropping his eyes and his voice, he leaned a little closer.

“Ma’moiselle Schreiber… I didn’t want to walk with you only to help me write my songs. You know I have the greatest appreciation for you - for your kindness, and your grace.” He paused, his timing as perfect as an actor on a stage. “I had dared to hope that you had an appreciation for me too.”

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Jacques will throw a Charm test at Jarla - up to you what to make of it.

(1d100)[71] vs. 57.

[-Sentinel-]

1st Nachexen


"You want me to teach her, I can teach her. But learning how to fight and how to stay alive isn't always the same thing. You give a kid a knife, they'll think they ought to use it. And once the knives are out, someone's going to get cut."

"I want you to teach her to stay alive," said Elsa. "And Tattie's not a kid anymore. She's had a spot of trouble back in Brauzeit and I don't think she's eager to repeat the experience. I just want her prepared. Between fight and flight, flight is preferable, but sometimes that option is off the table."

"And thank you," she added.

---

8th Nachexen


"Magnificent," breathed Elsa, peering at the inscriptions.

The beetle artifact must have had something to do with death, as many Nehekharan things did. Some sort of strange urn, perhaps? Elsa had a close look at the dirt on the underside, wondering if it was typical of a certain area of the Reaches such as the karst or the Pale Waste.

Spoiler

Show

It's a long shot, but I'll try Common Knowledge (Border Princes). Base skill 75 but I assume this niche knowledge carries a hefty penalty.
(d100)[44]
(d100)[55]

"I'd like to copy this writing. I'll be right back with some parchment... You'll get another shilling. No, make that three shillings, but please wipe the dirt a little, I need that thing clean. I'll have to touch it a bit, but I'll be very gentle."

She returned a short time later with parchment and charcoal to make two rubbings of the inscriptions; one for herself and one she would bring to Hieronymus the next time she visited Savonne.

---

That evening, after staring at her charcoal rubbing and Hieronymus's notes by candlelight for an hour or two, Elsa realized she was stalling for time instead of doing what she should have been doing upon learning rumors of Nahorek's return and Mala's depredations. Sighing, she went to Olga for advice.

"If you had to travel to the Raven Hills to ask the locals some questions," she said, "how would you go about it? Well-armed party, or a small inconspicuous group?"

[RossN]

Jarla, 8th Nachexen

Jarla had tied her red hair back to better show off her new opal earrings, so she was rather glad to get the opportunity to show them off indoors. She leaned back in her chair, hands folded in the lap of her blue gown as she listened to the musician woo her.

"Jacques," she said, raising a finger to his lips to hush him. "I... won't lie, there is an attraction there. I like your music and your manners, your music and your wit," She smiled playfully and stroked at his goatee. "And the beard really suits you. There is however a large, Tilean shaped complication: Giovanni. He and I are involved, and while I'm not so empty headed as to believe I'm the only woman in his life I get the impression he has a jealous side. I'd hate to see this end with your head on a pike."

[LCP]

Elsa, 8th Nachexen

"Don't know," said Olga. "Never been to the Raven Hills."

Sensing her employer might want something more, she leaned forward in the rickety wooden chair she had appropriated. "Don't reckon you'd exactly blend in up there, even on your own. Nor me. Young Tattie's the only one of us who might pass for hill folk." She studied her nails in a curled hand, thinking. "But if you wanted to take some muscle, then what are your choices? Go begging to the Lord-Lieutenant for some Tilean soldier boys to clatter around in shiny armour, or hire some sellswords who you never knew before today." She met Elsa's eyes again. "Wouldn't be my first choice of companions to go camping in the hills. If you had someone you could trust, that'd be different."

"What's so interesting in the Raven Hills, anyway?" she asked, cocking her head at Elsa. "It's cold enough down here."

---

Jarla, 8th Nachexen

"You like my music twice?" said Jacques, flashing a grin. "It must be good."

"Oui, I remember the Tilean," he said. "But... where is he? If he wants you, why does he not come to you?" He pressed his hand against his chest. "I am not a lord, or a soldier, but I am not afraid of him. I must plead my case as best I can, and he must plead his. But if I had your favour, ma'moiselle, I would not leave your side. Not for all the lands in the Reaches."

[-Sentinel-]

"Wouldn't be my first choice of companions to go camping in the hills. If you had someone you could trust, that'd be different."

"I do have people I trust," said Elsa. "But they're not here."

"What's so interesting in the Raven Hills, anyway? It's cold enough down here."

Ah, right, she wasn't there when Sanne was heard...

Elsa brought Olga up to speed regarding Nahorek, Mala, the wolves in the Thornwood, and Sanne Raven-Cry's claims.

"Now... I'm not planning to go on a vampire hunt," she assured Olga. "You're not paid nearly enough for this—trust me. But I'd like to talk to the hill people. Hear a bit of the vampire folklore that the Norscan says they have. At the very least we could go to Hartmut's Fall; chances are the garrison there knows more about what's going on in the Raven Hills these days than Commander Carraciolo, who strikes me as singularly uninterested in governing his own land."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

"Abdul was right to recommend you," Sieghard said, just as pleased as Hegalun. "I'll have the men bring out the rest of the money I owe. You've earned every coin." On Urgrim's recommendation, he had made sure to check the count and had even had Ludo check it again for him.

He waited until Hegalun was occupied before addressing the workers. "When I brought you south, I told you that that I'd have work for you through the winter. The manor may be done, but what I said hasn't changed. There's still a few weeks until the snow melts. I'm of a mind to put you to work felling trees, then when spring comes let you take part of what you cut north with you to rebuild." He paused. "... Or if you'd rather rebuild in the Thornwood, you've got that option too."

---

“It seems like each time I’ve passed through this village lately, it’s changed. Do you have many more changes planned?”

"Hard to say. Besides the manor, none of what's changed was planned," he shrugged, "Even that I never would've thought about a few months ago. How are things in the south? Is there any news from the Vale?"

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla laughed lightly at his teasing. Say what you would, the man had a sense of humour.

"Jacques you have a way about you, you know? The ladies of Parravon and Bordeleaux must swoon at your feet. I'm not immune to your charms," she smiled ruefully. "As you can see it is not easy for a pale redhead to hide when she is blushing... But wealth and status mean something to me. I've been desperately poor at times and I don't recommend it. And Giovanni is the Prince's closest comrade..."

Jarla could have added that her night with Giovanni had been something she definitely wanted repeated but that seemed a little cruel.

"Look for the moment nothing is set in stone. Let's just see how things go for now shall we?"

OOC

Spoiler

Show

I think I'm ready to move on.

[LCP]

8th Nachexen

Elsa

Olga listened to Elsa’s account. It was a lot to take in.

“So... he was the real thing, then?” she asked. “Nahorek. The Hound of Morr.” She watched Elsa’s face attentively. “I mean, I remember hearing about what happened at the temple - and then all the proclamations, the army heading south. But a lot of folk were saying it was some warlock from the north. Jon o’ the Jackal.”

She paused. “My nan used to leave a bowl of milk out for the Jackal on Geheimnisnacht,” she said. “Imagine if she could see me now...”


Jarla

“Ah, ma’moiselle Schreiber,” said Jacques, still smiling. “I am a happy just to hear that you do not say ‘no’.” He raised his cup to her. “For now, then. And for the future… who knows?”


Painford

He waited until Hegalun was occupied before addressing the workers. "When I brought you south, I told you that that I'd have work for you through the winter. The manor may be done, but what I said hasn't changed. There's still a few weeks until the snow melts. I'm of a mind to put you to work felling trees, then when spring comes let you take part of what you cut north with you to rebuild." He paused. "... Or if you'd rather rebuild in the Thornwood, you've got that option too."

One of the bigger men among the crowd looked doubtful. “What… build homes?” he asked.

“What work would there be for us here?” asked another. “After we’re done cutting wood?”

"Is there any news from the Vale?"

“Things seem better there than in the north,” said Jocasta. “The Jackal’s storms filled the creeks, at least. The Vale should be green this spring.”

She sighed. “I would have stayed there, if the Temple hadn’t called me back. Apparently I’m wanted in the city.”

---

Bezahltag, 12th Nachexen

Jarla

Bezahltag afternoon brought two visitors to the castle that Jarla hadn’t been expecting. She knew the high priest, Hieronymus - with his walking-staff and slightly threadbare robes, the old man always looked a little out of place in the Sforzas’ court. The woman with him, Jarla had never seen before. With her nut-brown skin and her clothes of homespun wool, she looked more like a peasant than a priestess.

“Ah, Fraulein Schreiber,” said Hieronymus. “Are their highnesses at home? I sent a message, but I’m not sure whether it was received.” He remembered that introductions were in order, and cleared his throat. “Sister Jocasta, this is… Jarla, Jarla Schreiber, sister to our late friend Adelbert. Fraulein Schreiber, this is Sister Jocasta. Our resident - or should that be, ah, mendicant - priestess of Rhya.”

Jocasta’s expression had changed as Hieronymus was talking, from bland politeness to intense scrutiny. She seemed to realise she was staring, and looked down at her feet.

“I didn’t know Adelbert had a sister,” she said. “I knew your brother. He was a good man.”

At that moment, Father Barbaro entered the hall, hurrying towards his two fellow priests.

“There you are, your reverence! This is her?” He looked to Jocasta. “Mi scusi, sister, of course you are, we have met before.” He seemed quite flustered. “They are waiting for you, if you are ready.”


Elsa

Perhaps the regulars were getting used to her, or perhaps the landlord just liked the colour of her money - but for one reason or another, Elsa soon found that she felt less of an outsider in the Beetle than she had in the Crown. It had always been a no-questions-asked kind of establishment, and one soon got used to the smell of spilt beer and sweat.

On Bezahltag, she had the surprise of seeing a familiar face. He was looking even leaner than she remembered, and his narrow face had grown a rough coat of stubble, but it was Baldred the trader, all the same. He looked equally surprised to see her.

“You’re looking like you’ve done alright for yourself,” he said, his glum tone implying he hadn’t. “What are you doing back in these parts?”

When she asked him about the Raven Hills, he nodded. “That’s the only bit of my old routes I can still run,” he said. “Looked like we were going to lose even that, too - before the Prince’s men rooted out those bandits.” He drained half the mug of tepid beer he had in front of him. “Took their bloody time.”

His account of travelling the hills was bleak. “Used to be you could find shelter in any herder’s cottage, if you knew the right way to ask. Now half of them have packed up and gone to Morr’s Seat. Too afraid of robbers and wolves.” He saw the look of recognition on Elsa’s face. “You heard about those? I’ve heard of wolves in the hills before, but never this many, or so bold.” He nodded. “I tell you, for folk up that way, Prince Sforza’s peace is turning out a damn sight more dangerous than Jarl Rorik’s war.”

“They say there are soldiers up there now - that they caught the Norscan witch who was leading what was left of Rorik’s raiders. I doubt they’ll stay, though. Most of these Tileans can hardly speak the Emperor’s Reikspiel, let alone the way the hill people speak it.” He scratched his chin. “If you’re heading up that way, you ought to speak to young Miruna. She’s the nearest thing to a successor old Wadim left behind.”

When she told him she was looking for guards, he gave a wry smile. “Funny you should say that,” he said. “I’ve just had to let old Sorin and Skender go. You remember them?” He mimed a bushy beard. “Pepin and I are heading south, come the spring. There’s no money out west any more. But if you want them, they’re staying at a flophouse down on Pike Street.” He knocked back the rest of the beer. “Put in a good word for me if you see them, will you? Tell them, no hard feelings.”

Sure enough, Elsa found the two Raven Hills mercenaries just where he promised, in a place that seemed little more than a leaky roof over a collection of rotting straw mattresses. Despite their surroundings, they still seemed in good health, and happy to see her. If anything they seemed bigger and hairier than she remembered.

“Fire girl!” asked Sorin - or was it Skender? He put a grubby thumb to his palm. “I remember! Turnpike! How’s your hand?”
“And who is your friend?” asked Skender - or was it Sorin? He was looking intently at Olga. “So small! I heard some women lie with dwarfs, in the plains. I didn’t know they could bear children.”
“I heard a similar thing about the Raven Hills and goats,” Olga replied. “Didn’t seem polite to mention, though.”
For a moment, there was a frosty silence - then both mercenaries burst into gales of laughter. “Sharp!” said Sorin, or Skender. “So… you were looking for us, yah?” There was a hungry air about the two of them - Elsa suspected that work had been thin on the ground. “Got a job?”

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

2gc 10s each for 10 days is in the realms of the reasonable, but they’ll try to Haggle you up. +20 to Elsa from the circumstances.
SorinAndSkender - (1d100)[67]
Elsa - (1d100)[14], Fortune - (1d100)[73]
Looks like they can't shift her up one pfennig.

---

Wellentag, 16th Nachexen

Jarla

A careful week’s information-gathering had given Jarla the date for the next delivery of fine wines from the north - it was expected in the first week of Jahrdrung, by the road from Pieter’s Pass. A lengthy and enjoyable wine-tasting session with Aloysius the vintner had convinced her too that there was nothing wrong with Reaches wines. They might not pass for a particularly old vintage, but they seemed to her as drinkable as anything she’d had in the Empire.

As the week drew on, Jarla noticed that the Iron Company soldiers were coming and going more frequently from the castle, along with the great lumbering ogres. The Prince had set them to work on the east side of the city - there was talk of people being turfed out of the tent town, and ground being broken on a new fort on the far side of the bridge. Irene seemed singularly disinterested in her husband’s project, but whenever Jarla saw Abdul, the Arabyan looked more harried and preoccupied than before.

Jacques had not been pushing his luck since their conversation in the Duke, but neither had he been leaving her alone. She had heard two new compositions and three impromptu recitals of what he called ‘the classics’, which were all in Bretonnian and thus incomprehensible to Jarla. More dangerously, she thought she was beginning to catch flashes of boredom in Irene’s expression when the minstrel performed for her lately. The principessa’s mood had seemed darker ever since the visit of the priests, and Jarla suspected that soon someone was going to feel the brunt of it.


Elsa

Carraciolo had not been pleased with Elsa’s announcement that she was going off in search of the Jackal. “The Prince told you this was foolishness,” he said. “The hills are my responsibility. My men will take care of them.”

When it became clear, however, that he would not actually have to do anything, his wounded pride didn’t stretch so far as to actually forbid her - only to instruct her that she was not to ‘boss Giuliano around’. “He has the command, you understand?”

So it was that by Wellentag, Elsa and her small retinue were walking the dusty Karst road to Hartmut’s Fall. Tattie in particular seemed happy to be back out in this rocky wilderness, even if the weather remained cruelly cold. Kites circled high overhead, black outlines against the pale, clear sky.

Dusk was drawing in by the time they reached the holed and crumbling walls of the fort. No soldiers greeted them at the bridge - in fact, as they passed through the gate and into the single street behind, Elsa realised there was no garrison here at all.

The place seemed crowded, for all that. The village was full of the sounds and smells of people, smoke from cookfires drifting on the breeze. Some even appeared to be colonising the old keep, a woman shouting for those below to watch out as she emptied a pot from out of the one of the high windows...


Painford

On Wellentag, a traveller through the village brought a letter for Sieghard. Squinting in the light that fell through the window - his window, he reminded himself proudly - Sieghard slowly read it.

Spoiler: Sieghard’s Letter

Show

Sieghard,

The warehouses on the riverfront are still occupied. I will still offer you a fair price for them, but unless the sale can be made within the month, I will be pursuing other options instead.

Replies to the Pink Peach, dockside.
- Filomena.

[RossN]

Bezahltag, 12th Nachexen

Jarla

Jarla tried not to look annoyed at being addressed as a lowly fraulein by Hieronymus. She was Lady Schreiber now, even if it seemed to be taking a long time for some people to notice. Still she knew the old priest meant no harm in it - and she was intrigued by this new person. She kissed Jocasta on the cheeks Tilean fashion and smiled in welcome.

"A pleasure to meet you Sister Jocasta. My brother mentioned you in his letters; he thought very highly of you." As the duo were being spirited away she gave a little wave. "We must talk properly soon."

She didn't envy the shy priestess having to face Irene, and uttered a mental prayer to Ranald to watch over her.

---

Wellentag, 16th Nachexen

Jarla considered herself a practiced Irene watcher by now and with the stormclouds gathering it might be wise to distract her. "My lady," she said over breakfast, "I am thinking of starting a fencing school here in Savonne. Would you interested in enrolling?"

[-Sentinel-]

12th Nachexen - Castel d'Irena


Though she had only known them for a few days almost two years ago, Elsa was glad to be reunited with Sorin and Skender. In truth she found them a much better addition to a traveling party than proper soldiers would have been, as they knew the Raven Hills and the way of their people and would undoubtedly be better company than any poor sod Carraciolo assigned to her. She brought them up to speed about her friends—Sieghard's heroics with both sword and spear, Ludo's cleverness, Viggo's misadventures ending with him getting dragged off to his wedding, and Adelbert's unfortunate demise—while trying as much as possible to sidestep the issue of the war and Sforza. She introduced Tatiana to them, and explained the reason for her trip to Morr's Seat.

"...So if the hill people have any old legends that can help us, I want to hear them from their own mouths. The Broken Reaches have always been ruled by outsiders, and outsiders think they know everything. The longer I spend in this land, the more I realize they know nothing."

---

16th Nachexen - Hartmut's Fall


Elsa was surprised that the Tileans had let a strategically located stronghold such as Hartmut's Fall go ungarrisoned. Were they truly that confident that they no longer needed it?

That night, as they shivered around a fire, Elsa peered at the map. "They say wolves prowl around Morr's Seat," she noted, addressing the two mercenaries, "so I'd avoid setting up camp too close to it. I suggest we have a short second day of travel, and a long third day. Is Greasy Drop a safe stop? I don't know what's become of it since that crazy old priest left the place."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard - 8th Nachexen

One of the bigger men among the crowd looked doubtful. “What… build homes?” he asked.

"Homes for yourselves, yes." Sieghard replied. "The goal's always been to get you through the winter and then able to provide for yourselves again."

“What work would there be for us here?” asked another. “After we’re done cutting wood?”

Sieghard paused. Truth be told, he hadn't thought that far ahead. "Whatever it is you did before the war, I suppose," he replied. "Many of you were farmers... Land can be cleared if you'd rather stay in the Thornwood than return north. Beyond that, I'll offer what help I can, but you'll need to decide for yourselves what the best use of your skills is. I'm not a trader or a guildmaster... the only regular work I can guarantee is in the Prince's army. That's an option if you're interested. There's risk involved, but it pays well and keeps food in your stomach and a roof over your head."

---

“Things seem better there than in the north,” said Jocasta. “The Jackal’s storms filled the creeks, at least. The Vale should be green this spring.”

"At least something good came of the bastard turning the ground to mud every day we were on the march," Sieghard replied. "He could've kept the storms going until even the Dead Hills were green with life if he wanted. Can't imagine that's the sort of thing a withered corpse would ever think about, though."

She sighed. “I would have stayed there, if the Temple hadn’t called me back. Apparently I’m wanted in the city.”

"Did they say why they sent for you?" he asked. "Can't imagine it's anything good if they had to seek you out like that."

---

11th Nachexen

Sieghard had set aside a bit of the food that had turned in as tax at the beginning of the month. On evening of the 11th, he set his men to work cooking for the people of Painford and the workers he had brought from Savonne. It was a rather meager thing compared to the lavish excesses Sforza would've demanded, but for the villagers it was a nice meal and a chance to enjoy the fragile peace that had been won.

Once the sun had set, he invited Urgrim and Ludo to have drinks. The manor was still sparsely furnished, but he had bought a barrel of ale from Gavril and planned on going through as much of it as possible before the night had ended.

---

16th Nachexen

Sieghard read it a second time and stepped out into the village. He pulled Ludo away from the village boys who were trying to beat him with sticks and then handed him the the letter.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Probably not much chance the folk using them have found anywhere new, is there?"

[LCP]

Sieghard, 8th Nachexen

The Downlands labourers seemed unsure about Sieghard’s offer. They looked to one another and murmured.

“‘s better’n nothing.”

“Lot better’n nothing.”

“Can’t grow grain here.”

“Damned if I’ll list for a soldier.”

“No-one’s makin’ you...”

The man who’d first plucked up the courage to ask cleared his throat and addressed Sieghard again. “It’s very generous of you, m’lord,” he said. “I think folk need time to think it over. But if you need us cutting lumber for the meantime, can we keep the use of the shed?” By the direction he pointed, Sieghard took it he meant the barracks where they’d been housed. “And pay… will there still be the same pay?”

"Did they say why they sent for you?" he asked. "Can't imagine it's anything good if they had to seek you out like that."

“Some business of the Prince’s,” said Jocasta, in a tone of voice that made it clear that she would much rather have nothing to do with it. “A royal request. More than that, poor Nastassa doesn’t know.”

---

12th Nachexen

Jarla

Jocasta seemed a little surprised at Jarla’s greeting - perhaps that wasn’t how they did it in the Reaches. Still, she took it with good grace.

“Adelbert wrote about me?” she said, seeming more surprised still. Before she could continue the conversation further, Barbaro was hurrying her away. “Um, yes, we should talk more. I will be - you can find me at the Temple.”

Barbaro was clearly agitated that his guests - or more specifically, Jocasta - shouldn’t linger. He led her out of sight, leaving just Hieronymus behind. The High Priest cleared his throat with a dry cough.

“Do you... still have your brother’s letters?”

Elsa

Sorin and Skender seemed disbelieving of Elsa’s stories - at least, those about Nahorek. They were far more ready to believe in Viggo’s romantic misfortunes.

“It’s true!” protested Tattie, seeming a little put out that these wild men were laughing at her mistress. “I was there!”

“You saw it?” asked Sorin.

“Yes!” she said. “Well… no,” she reluctantly clarified. “I was at the camp.”

Skender nodded, as if to say I thought as much. Sorin shrugged and spread his hands with a vaguely conciliatory air.

“You can't kill the Jackal,” he said. “Is like saying… like saying you have killed the moon.” He leaned back, pointing to where Morrslieb was just creeping above the black silhouettes of the rocks to the west. “Maybe in the light of day it hides from you, but still, is there. Always.”

---

16th Nachexen

Jarla

Irene stopped with a morsel of smoked fish halfway to her mouth. “Fencing?” she asked. “Who were you planning on teaching?” She put her knife down with a tiny clink. “Besides myself.”

Elsa

“Mm… depends what you are meaning, ‘safe’,” said Skender. “That village has been deserted for nearly a year, now. Their prophet took them all with him.”

“The houses are still there,” said Sorin, shaving a sliver of cured meat into the pot he had cooking over the fire. “Four walls and a roof, if you are wanting them.”

Painford

Over the week since the manor had been completed, Sieghard’s team of woodcutters had kept cutting back the forest along the road, until the stack of logs outside the north gate of the palisade stood at least thirteen feet tall. A handful had approached him about the possibility of joining the Thorns - but more than that, the numbers in the old barracks block seemed to be growing. In the last few days, more refugees had begun arriving unbidden from Savonne, women and children following their fathers, husbands or sons south. Clearly word had got out that the Thornwood was offering a warmer welcome than the city…

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

(1d5)[4] Downlanders want to join the Thorns. All seem suitably fit, and they mostly skew pretty young. None have any soldiering experience.

[RossN]

12th Nachexen

Jarla

Jarla looked shocked at Hieronymus's question. She had moved in some pretty dubious circles over the years but she would have automatically assumed the straight-laced high priest would have been too well mannered to pry into private correspondence.

After a moment she found her voice. "Perhaps."

---

16th Nachexen

Jarla smiled. "Frankly anyone willing to pay who isn't an obvious criminal. Oh I don't expect to turn out any master blades but back in the Empire many a gentleman of breeding - or a guildsman who desperately wished he was - learned the art of fencing. In fact many of the finest fencing masters came from your native Tilea as I recall." She waved a hand to forestall the first objection she felt might come her way: "Naturally I won't expect you to attend with merchants and other riffraff milady, but I am certainly happy to give you private lessons should you wish for them."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo's class size had swelled a little with the new influx from Savonne, with another child - Giulia - who he suspected was being sent along mostly to get her out from underfoot and into the warm as her father began Thorns training. While the father, Antonio, was garrulous, Giulia was monosyllablic, but had started to pick up her letters well. On Angestag, Ludo had been persuaded (by Uter's son Juri) to tell another story, and he had opted for their first journey into Kheneb.

"...It rose out of the swamp. Ten times as tall as me, if it was an inch. And not a scrap of flesh on it! White bone, glistening in the moonlight. I threw a stone, and it bounced off, like flinging it at a rock!"

He had played down how much gold they had taken, and left Meskhenet out entirely, but had recounted his kill of the skeleton guard with a certain amount of pride. This had persuaded the children to talk him into a "duel" again, and eventually he had promised a schilling to any of the children that could land a hit on him - lining up a basic duelling form, teaching a few basic moves, and letting them have at him with the wooden rulers. Juri and his friend had both failed, and had to sit down (Rhadegund had shushed some jeers from the smaller children), but Giulia had volunteered, gripping the ruler in her hand. Ludo had perhaps been a little cocky, and the small girl had gotten in under his guard, and landed a stinging hit on his upper arm. He had taken it in the best grace he could, rubbing the growing bruise, and passed her the schilling with a flourish. True to form, the girl squirreled it away without thanks, and there was a slightly awkward moment before Rhadegund had suggested that they all learned to write "duel".

---

Ludo grimaced at Sieghard's letter. "Unless so many people are coming south that there's a street of empty houses, giving her those warehouses means booting people out into the cold."

He handed it back. "Look, unless you need the money right now, I say you tell her to go hire herself. Sure, nobody's going to give you quite as much money for them, but I bet Burhan or some other boatman will give you a good price in the spring, or next year when the harvests start coming in."