[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard, Ludo, Urgrim

"I thought I saw something moving when me and Elsa got off the boat to meet with Groz," he said. "But when I warned her, she told me she had Morrslieb look around and couldn't see it. So it would've had to have been someone very good at sneaking about."

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo nodded, his face a little more composed. "And then after what happened... perhaps they felt that there was blood on their hands. And chose what they did next based on that."

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard, Ludo, Urgrim

"It was a war. There's blood on everyone's hands. It's less about that and more about whether it's worth it in the end. I'm just not so sure that it was anymore."

[LCP]

Elsa, 20th Jahrdrung

Abdul’s expression remained politely neutral, as Elsa found it usually did these days. Only the mention of the book raised a flicker of something more.

“I think you and the Prince may be in agreement,” he said. “I’ll be sure to let him know, if the subject is raised.” He paused, collecting his words. “Myself, I think I would much prefer it was far away from here.”

---

Jarla, 24th Jahrdrung

Jarla’s hospitality was well-received. Perhaps still a little unnerved by the brief and ambiguous way the Prince had spoken to them, the guilders seemed perhaps a little relieved to be treated as welcome guests. They ate with gusto, and while some of them were a little past their dancing prime, a handful at least - Uto included - got up to dance to Jacques’ tunes. Little Eberhard seemed to be enjoying the music too, regarding his surroundings with wide-eyed smiles and gurgles.

"Uto you know these men far better than I. Is there anyone whose wine is better served watered?" She glanced around to make sure no one else was eavesdropping and smiled ruefully at him. "To be clear I am not trying to winkle state secrets out of you, just to avoid someone embarrassing themselves this evening."

Uto chuckled. “It’s a state secret now, if Max can hold his wine?” he said. He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Lady Schreiber, we’re all perfectly dull, respectable people. Nobody’s come here to embarrass themselves.” He looked up to where Jacques was launching into his up-tempo rendition of The Maid of L’Anguille. “On that note, would you care for a dance?”

---

Jarla, 25th Jahrdrung

Most of the guilders seemed to rise fairly late the following day. Jarla saw them about the place in ones and twos, exchanging cordial greetings and making sure they could find their way around the cavernous old castle. Al-Makir, it seemed, was holding private conferences with them each individually. It seemed to be taking some time.

That evening, after she had made sure the last of the guests had been fed and watered, Jarla found her royal patrons together in the solar, in front of a crackling fire. Al-Makir was there too, looking rather worn and tired.

“Jarla!” said Irene, turning her head. “Come in, sit down. You must be exhausted from entertaining these fishmongers.”

“I don’t believe the head of the fishmongers’ guild is in attendance,” said Al-Makir. Jarla wasn’t sure whether or not she detected a twinkle of mischief in his expression; Irene waved the correction aside.

“Abdul has been telling us,” said the Prince, “that none of our guests will take individual responsibility for the charges being levied at the Falls.” His tone was serious and matter-of-fact. “And since they all view their part in it as being only a response to outside pressures, they are all powerless to do anything about it. Do I have that right?”

“More or less, your highness,” said Al-Makir.

“They’re fools if they think they can play these games with me,” said Sforza. “Who do they think I am? Do they think I didn’t know men like them in Tobaro?” He looked into the fire with a scowl. “We should make their situation more clear.”

“You know if you keep throwing people in the cells, my love, sooner or later they’re going to fill up,” said Irene. Her husband bristled a little at her gentle mockery.

“What would you have me do, then?” he demanded.

Irene yawned. “I don’t know,” she said. “Let me talk to them, and I’ll find out. Verena knows there’s nothing else I have to do.” Her last remark seemed rather pointed - Jarla wasn’t sure why.

Sforza drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. He looked to Al-Makir, who shrugged.

“Alright,” he said. Irene smiled.

“How exciting,” she said, in a tone that implied it was anything but. She looked to Jarla. “You’ll help, won’t you, Jarla? I’ll never remember their names otherwise.”

She took a sip of her wine and made a face. Turning to her maidservant - the same one who had brought the news of what had happened in the market - she snapped something in Tilean. Practically shaking, the girl took the cup and the bottle and scurried away below-stairs.

“Gina can’t do anything right these days,” she said, turning back to Jarla. “I think it must have scrambled her nerves, what happened to poor Allegra.” She swung her gaze slowly to her husband, and said something in Tilean. The Prince said nothing - in the heavy silence that followed, Al-Makir got up and politely excused himself.

---

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Jarla had barely risen the next morning before poor Gina was at her door, delivering the summons to attend on the principessa. Irene had so far absorbed precisely zero information about their guests - now she wanted names, descriptions, and introductions. All but one of them, anyway - Leona Groz she seemed to want nothing to do with.

“Find some reason to get her out of the castle today, if you can,” she said, as she examined herself in her mirror. “She knows exactly what she’s doing here. I don’t want her talking them round.”

Once the last of her preparations were made, Irene Sforza went on the warpath. Like Al-Makir, she wanted to meet the guilders in ones and twos. Unlike Al-Makir, she wanted to meet them in different places, asking Jarla to engineer meetings in hallways, side-chambers, or even out on the top of the walls. The contempt she had expressed in private for their visitors was nowhere to be seen - instead she made herself a model of gracious hospitality, flattering her guests and seeming to fall into talk of the business that had brought them there only by accident. Of course she didn’t understand any of it, it was not the kind of thing her tutors in Tobaro had taught her. Perhaps they would be so kind as to explain? Only Muzio had been so angry about it, and one of the other guilders had told her something quite different…

“They’re old men who don’t look past the walls of their counting-rooms,” Irene said, when she was back with her husband in the solar later that evening. “They haven’t taken a risk in their lives. They’ll let the young one take the fall… what was his name, Jarla, Udo? Dreadful name, it sounds like a name for a cow.” She beckoned for a drink; Gina brought one with a white-knuckle grip upon the bottle. “Call them up tomorrow and give them reason to worry. The old men will blame him, and the others will follow. Pim pam pum, they don’t have to be punished, and we won’t have to pay their tolls.”

The Prince was listening closely, but still looked a little skeptical. “And the young one?” he said. “What are we to do with him?”

“Well,” said Irene, “I suppose that depends how far he’s willing to bend in meeting these costs they keep talking about.” She raised her eyebrows at her husband. “He said he represents the coopers. He ought to be familiar with the idea.”

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

Let me know if I’m moving too fast over this stuff. I wanted to break here to let Jarla get up to any intriguing of her own that she might want to do, and also to check - does she do as Irene asks and get Leona out of the castle for the day? No tests required for that, just wanted to know Jarla’s choice.

---

Painford, 26th Jahrdrung

"We're only going to be able to find so much work here, going forward, and it's nobody's idea of good farmland, unless you want to be plowing around tree stumps every year."

The labourers looked at one another. They didn’t look enthused by the idea, but no-one spoke up against it.

“You’ve done alright by us,” said one of them - still a little grudgingly, Ludo thought. “If you think it’s a good idea, I s’pose it doesn’t do harm to ask.”

[RossN]

Jarla, 24th Jahrdrung

"I'd be delighted Uto," Jarla replied, elegantly offering the man her hand for a dance. Jarla was an excellent dancer and with Irene absent it was rather pleasant to be the most glamorous one in the room.

It had turned out a very pleasant evening after all, even if she still could tell many of the Putbad folk were nervous about the morning.

Later, when every one else was off to bed she lingered a while for a glass of wine with Uto and a little friendly chit chat. Taking a seat by the fire and sipping her white she smiled at Uto. "Are there many plans for Mitterfruhl in Putbad? I'll be the one organising things here so I best know the competition!"

---

Jarla, 25th Jahrdrung

A busy day and Jarla was kept busy. She'd begun her plans for the Mitterfruhl celebrations. Tradition at least in the Empire saw a hunt for painted 'griffon' eggs, in a playful recreation of the real painted griffon egg presented to the Temple of Sigmar in Altdorf. Jarla intended to follow this custom, ordering a dozen large goose eggs and trying to find a painter in Savonne who could do them justice (ideally she'd like portraits of a member of the royal court painted on each egg but she was realistic enough to suppose merely making the eggs look beautiful would be sufficient challenge.)

That evening during that uncomfortable meeting with Sforza and Irene she found herself having to back up her mistress.

"Of course milady," Jarla replied, managing a smile despite the heavy atmosphere. After Abdul left (and surely the cad could have thought of a reason for her to leave too?) Jrla stuck it out for a few moments more before making her own excuses and fleeing.

"If you'll excuse my lord, my lady, I have to oversee the wine list for tomorrow..."

---

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

The following morning brought an exhausting interview with the principessa, where Jarla had to reveal what information she had gathered on the guests. Fortunately she'd made polite chit chat with them all when they arrived so even if she didn't know their exact plans Jarla could manage that and introduce them to her highness.

It was something of relief to try and get out of the keep with Leona Groz, and Jarla offered to go for a ride to clear their heads. "It can get a little much here," she said to Leona, and smiled. "Besides we have a mutual friend in common - Elsa, though don't let the princepessa hear I called Elsa a friend."

[LCP]

Jarla, 24th Jahrdrung

"Are there many plans for Mitterfruhl in Putbad? I'll be the one organising things here so I best know the competition!"

“I didn’t know it was a competition,” said Uto, good-naturedly. “I don’t think there’ll be anything out of the usual back home. Some dancing, you know, and drinking, and baking disappointing little cakes. The monks like to send an offering over the Falls in a barrel. That’s our guild’s contribution, making the barrel.” He smiled. “I’d ask if you’d like to come and see it, but it sounds like you have your hands full.”

---

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Leona was a little surprised at Jarla’s invitation, but seemed eager to take it all the same, as soon as a maid could be found to look after Eberhard. Borrowing a palfrey from the Prince’s stables for Leona, they rode out through the south gate of the city, into the open country where they could let the animals run. Leona wasn’t the most skilled rider, and Jarla quickly realised she had to hold Countess back a little if she wasn’t to leave her guest behind.

If spring was supposed to be arriving, it had made a poor showing so far in the land outside the city walls. The rains they had prayed for in the Temple had not yet come, and the fields still looked brown and dead, the road smoking with dust beneath their horses’ hooves. Glossy black crows squawked and circled in great numbers over the broad banks of the river to their left, picking over scraps of food in the expanse of dried mud revealed by the retreating waters. Lean-looking cattle lifted their heads to watch the two women as they passed, their equally lean-looking herders keeping close watch as they did.

"Besides we have a mutual friend in common - Elsa, though don't let the principessa hear I called Elsa a friend."

“I don’t know if I’d call Magister Holt a close friend,” said Leona. She seemed a little guarded with Jarla, though still perfectly pleasant. “I mean, we’ve spoken, I know her. Just, not very well.”

Reining in her horse, she looked around at the rolling landscape of the Downs around them. “It’s very different here,” she said. “To Putbad, I mean. I just wish I had better memories of this place.” She looked to Jarla with a rather serious expression. “Thank you for bringing me out of that castle.”

[RossN]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Jarla looked a little disappointed at Leona's statement she merely knew Elsa. For some reason she'd imagined they were closer. That made this next part much more difficult.

"I am afraid my lady that I did not just bring you out here to admire the view and get some fresh air," Jarla said. She pulled Countess's reins and steered her steed so she could more comfortably look Leona in the eyes. "Irene ordered me to keep you out here so she can manipulate the guilders without your interference. What she didn't expect me to do was to tell you about this."

She leaned in a little closer, feeling the start of tears form at the corner of her eyes. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to let the dam burst. "Oh by all the gods that woman must go! Her husband is bad enough but Irene is a thousand times worse! Vain and fickle and cruel! You know she was responsible for my brother's death? Oh not by her own pretty hands and not out of spite for him but simply because he got in the way of the assassins she sent after another!"

Jarla drew a shuddering breath, aware that she had almost started shouting. "Lady Groz, I am sorry I have been a party to this but I had to warn you. Never trust Irene Sforza, never assume she is harmless. When we get go back talk to your people as discretely as possible. Present a united front."

[LCP]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

"You... surprise me, Lady Schreiber," said Leona. "I thought you and the Princess were close."

She looked around, as if thinking that some cowherd in a neighbouring field might be eavesdropping for the Sforzas. "I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I didn't realise - I thought you were from, uh, somewhere far away." She paused again. "As for the Princess... I've had to live under her roof before. I promise you, I'm not entertaining any illusions."

She glanced back towards the city. "I can talk to the others. What the Sforzas want, the Sforzas have always got... but I think Putbad has some power to bargain with, if we can stick together." She looked Jarla straight in the eye. "Thank you. If there's anything I can do to help you... well, it's not much, but I'll do what I can."

[RossN]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Jarla looked pale but managed a smile. How good it felt to open up for once!

"Lady Groz I think you do yourself a great disservice. The Sforzas have military power, gold and the principessa can charm anyone but at the end of the day they are foreigners who rule at swordpoint. You are a native I believe, with a great and prosperous town behind you. I came late in life to the nobility but your position may be more secure than their's in the long term!

She glanced back at Savonne, then at Lady Groz.

"As for my brother Adelbert and the principessa...," Jarla's voice grew hoarser her and she had to draw a few shuddering breaths to herself once more. "I entered Irene's service well before I knew she was responsible. The gods are passing strange it seems. As for me I think I am alright for the moment but thank you."

An idea occurred to her. "Lady Groz, I am going to suggest to the Prince that he send an official diplomat to your court and you to his. The actual terms might be different but essentially I mean an exchange of permanent ambassadors. If it happens - and I confess I have no idea whether he will accept my advice or not - do you have a man or woman you think you could spare?"

[LCP]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

"My court?" echoed Leona. She shook her head. "Lady Schreiber, my husband had a court. I have a house. And if you tell them it's a court, I may not even have that for long. Or a head."

Leona Groz took a deep breath, and nodded. "I was born here. My father was a guildmaster of Putbad, just like those others. He was one of the men who decided that it might be a good idea to invite mercenaries from the north, to help bring down the Duke of Savonne. And when one of those mercenaries decided he liked our town and wanted to keep it, my father married me to him, because that was the way the wind was blowing."

"Eberhard wasn't a bad husband, but he made some bad choices, and a year ago they killed him," - she looked back towards the town again - "in that castle. It suits the Sforzas to call me Lady Groz, because the men who killed him were the men they killed to take the throne, and because they want to keep the river guilds sweet. But all I am to the others on that boat is old Leofrid's daughter. Please, don't think I'm anything more."

Jarla wasn't sure that Leona's protestations of powerlessness were entirely on the level - but she could see very plainly that her fear of the Sforzas was quite real.

[RossN]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Jarla felt a sense of bitter disillusionment. Why was everyone in the Reaches so hopeless? She pitied Leona for her tragedy but at the same time she had far more of a power base than Jarla could ever hope for.

"Lady Groz," she said, "one of these days the Sforzas will fall even I have to do all the hard work single handed. Still, I understand your fears. Forget about the envoy idea, I'll think of something else."

She forced a smile to hide her own disappointment in this jellyfish. "Well, let us get you back shall we? We both have our roles to play."

[-Sentinel-]

27th Jahrdrung

Shortly after her arrival in Putbad, Elsa moved with Tatiana and Olga to a moderately-sized but well-furnished home in one of the better areas. The monthly rent was not cheap, but in her newfound privacy away from the bustle of the Silver Lady, Elsa found that she progressed a lot faster with her study of Nehekharan hieroglyphs. It was as if everything was finally falling into place.

---

31st Jahrdrung

Elsa reined in her horse. She and Tatiana had ridden two miles northeast of Putbad and were now in a vast field where the snow was slowly beginning to give way to mud. Ahead of them, a flock of ravens (an unkindness, Elsa believed it was called) were picking at the carcass of what looked like a stillborn calf. The pyromancer dismounted and gestured at her apprentice to do the same. Together they walked as close to the ravens as they could without scattering them.

"Magister Fredrik Leitner of the Bright Order had an interesting analogy for spellcasting," Elsa said softly, looking at the birds. "When he was a child, he lived in a coastal village in Nordland. There was a cliff where young boys would dive into the sea, even though their parents forbade it. The cliff wasn't too high, maybe twenty feet... but it had this slight incline. You had to make a running leap. If you fell short, you'd break your bones at the bottom of the cliff, and then tumble into the sea and drown. One of Leitner's childhood friends died that way. He ran all the way the edge... and then had a split second of hesitation and failed to leap far enough."

She turned to Tatiana. "Spellcasting is a lot like that. When you begin to channel the Aethyr and shape it into a spell, you still have a moment to change your mind. But once it's time to release the spell... you must be utterly committed. There mustn't be a doubt in your mind that you can make the leap."

"That's why I won't ask you to attempt a leap until you firmly believe yourself ready."

"On that day, you will not only leap, but fly."

An unspoken question hung in the air.

---

Mitterfruhl

For the Mitterfruhl celebrations, Elsa granted Olga a day off—if she wanted it—and went out with Tatiana to enjoy the public festivities, such as a play that disappointingly turned out to be aimed at young children, some street musicians of varying degrees of skill, and a rather decent stage magician. She allowed Tatiana to try a tankard of beer, but the girl did not find it to her liking, and so Elsa gladly finished the tankard for her.

"It's an acquired taste, I'll grant you that," she said, sipping the excellent beer. "But once acquired, it is never lost."

Her gaze swept the crowd. "I see lots of boys your age."

She found it important to subtly remind Tatiana once in a while that her scarred face and eyepatch did not make her any less lovable.

[LCP]

Jarla, 26th Jahrdrung

Leona held silent for a moment or two, looking across at Jarla. Jarla had a distinct feeling of being assessed. “Yes,” she said at last, “yes, I suppose we do.”

The two of them turned their horses and rode back for the city, sending the crows that had settled across the road behind them squawking back into the sky.

---

Backertag, 27th Jahrdrung - Jarla

The next day, the guilders were summoned abruptly to the Prince’s audience chamber. There, Sforza was waiting for them, along with Al-Makir and his more than his usual complement of Iron Company guards. He was wearing the crown he had had made for his coronation, as well as a fur-lined half-cape and a fine doublet of black and gold thread. Seated on the dais above his visitors, it was perfectly clear that this was not a meeting between equals.

His initial greeting to them was perfectly cordial, expressing his hope that they’d enjoyed his hospitality, and graciously giving Jarla the credit. However, his tone grew sterner as he went on, describing in accurate detail what Al-Makir had told him about the situation on the river.

“You all know I would not brought you here without a reason. You’ve seen how the Downs are suffering. Savonne needs all the grain the river can carry. Perhaps in ordinary time such profiteering would be… how would you put it… business as usual?” He swept a searching gaze around the room. “But in these times, it is not something I can allow. This is your chance, gentlemen, to tell me how it should be stopped. Because I will see it stopped, one way or another.”

There was hesitation among the guildmasters as they decided which of them would be the first to reply. In the end, it was Magretha who spoke up.

“Your highness,” she began, “we have great sympathy for the suffering of the Downs. The Uplands have not escaped this drought either. But we must object to the charge of profiteering.” The other guilders nodded and murmured agreement, each trying to be a little quieter than his neighbour. “We have more goods passing through Putbad than we’ve had in decades. Moving them over the Silver Falls takes time and work - and our workers must eat too.”

The man Jarla knew as Maximilian nodded in agreement. “No-one has taken more than their fair share, your highness,” he said. “There simply isn’t enough to share around.”

Sforza seemed far from happy with their answers. He sat in silence, letting them stew, and drummed his fingers against the arm of his throne.

“You are all agreed on this point?” he asked, as if he expected otherwise. No-one obliged by contradicting him.

“With your highness’ permission,” suggested Uto, “we’re limited by what we have to work with. The cranes we have over the Falls are getting old - and some of the porters who work them are too. If we had the men and the funds to improve them, then prices this side of the Falls might match the other side more closely.”

“Funds?” asked Sforza, with a sharp edge to his tone. “I was not under the impression you had a shortage of funds.”

“I think I can speak on behalf of all the guilds of Putbad,” said Maximilian, “that we would be happy to contribute to the, uh, cost of such a suggestion” - he cleared his throat, perhaps feeling the Prince’s gaze on him a little too keenly - “if the crown could provide us with the labour. Our town is a small place, your highness. Wages are not so cheap to pay as they might be here.”

One of the other guildmasters - Jarla believed he represented the Carpenters - didn’t look best pleased by that. “Our wages are fair, is what they are,” he started to stay, but the pointed stares of the others prevented him from going further.

Sforza had fallen silent again. He looked to Al-Makir, and by means of minute expressions, some slow but secret exchange of information seemed to take place between them. The Arabyan covertly balled up and threw away a piece of parchment he had been holding behind his back.

“I believe the workers can be found,” said the Prince at last. “If these works are what the Reaches need, then the crown will support them. Provided,” he added, raising his hand, “that Putbad makes a proportionate contribution.”

“Of course, your highness,” said Magretha, bowing her head low. “We are very grateful for your generosity.”

“The Lord Treasurer will cover the details,” said the Prince, rising from his seat. He seemed less than pleased, but kept a dignified face. “I am placing my trust in you to see this done. Believe me when I say, I will hold you to your word.”

As he turned and left, his guards filing out with him, Leona caught Jarla’s eye from across the audience chamber. On her face was a look of quiet appreciation.

---

Bezahltag, 28th Jahrdrung - Jarla

After their brief meeting with the Prince, the guilders had spent all of Backertag in conference with Al-Makir, ironing out the numbers of Uto and Maximilian’s proposal. The next morning, their boat was ready at the docks, waiting to bear them back upriver. They seemed in high spirits as they made their way back to the riverside, thanking Jarla effusively for the hospitality they had enjoyed as they left.

“It was good to meet you properly, Lady Schreiber,” was Leona’s quiet goodbye. “I hope we’ll have an occasion to meet again soon.”

Back at the castle, the mood was not as sunny. Jarla had heard fragments of a blazing row from the royal bedchamber the night before - in Tilean, of course - and now Irene Sforza was stalking the corridors like a lioness looking for someone to eat.

“Cagniciattola!” she raged. “It was her, I know it was her. She got to them somehow.” She rounded on Jarla. “You were supposed to keep her away from them. I give you one thing to do, one simple thing - and Muzio thinks this is my fault?”

The door opened, and the maidservant Gina came in, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of some herbal infusion for her mistress. Irene turned and gave her such a look that she barely set the tray down before sprinting out of the room.

“I have a headache,” Irene declared suddenly, sinking down onto a chair and cupping her forehead in one hand. “I want - “ It seemed like she was about to ask for someone, but she caught herself, and breathed out a long, deep breath. “I want to be alone.”

---

Festag, 31st Jahrdrung - Elsa

Elsa had been in Putbad for almost a week, and if she had achieved one thing, it was to make it abundantly well-known in the town that Sforza’s court wizard was staying at the Silver Lady. A few river traders had shown some interest in ingratiating themselves to her - even one who claimed to know Suzana - and a few brave townspeople even came to her asking for magical solutions to their ailments. As far as she could discern none of the problems they brought to her were ones that could be solved by fire.

Talking to the river traders, Elsa heard more news about what was happening upriver than she could reasonably be expected to remember. Apparently a town called Blintz had traded hands recently between Counts Rutgar and Hiln, and the latter was rumoured to be employing some questionable allies to get it back. The topic of the weather they seemed to find less interesting, but she pressed them on it all the same. As far as she could gather, the Uplands and their immediate surroundings were certainly suffering from the same drought that afflicted the Downs - but those traders who came from further upriver did not report the same problems further north.

On Festag, the boat carrying the Savonne delegation returned, and within a few hours the town was full of rumours as to how their meeting with the Prince had played out. Reports varied, but the news seemed to be good, and soon a good number of people were beating a path to the doors of the various guild-houses to hear it first-hand. As the evening drew in, lights could be seen lit in the windows of the old Groz residence again, with Roth and his men back on guard duty outside.

---

Aubentag, 33rd Jahrdrung - Jarla

It was the day before Mitterfruhl, and Jarla had been entirely absorbed with her preparations for the equinox. Irene had become sullen and entirely withdrawn, communicating with her prima cameriera only through perfunctory orders. Her husband was more composed, and remained civil towards Jarla at least, hearing out her questions about the celebrations even if his answers were brief and lacking in interest. Still, he seemed to be going about under a cloud, and the court felt it. Everyone in the castle knew by now that it was best to keep out of the royal couple’s way until this most recent storm had passed.

Around midday, a messenger arrived from the north. He was carrying a report for the Prince, but he had a letter for Jarla also, which he put directly into her hands.

Spoiler: Jarla’s Letter

Show

My dear Jarla,

I have returned to Castel d’Irena, and can report that the Raven Hills are notable only for miserable weather and ugly women. I long for your company again. Please come and visit me here at your earliest convenience.

Yours,
- G.

---

Mitterfruhl

Elsa

Mitterfruhl in Putbad was an interesting affair. At midday, the monks of Azriller held their ceremony on the rocky island overlooking the falls where the statue of their goddess stood. Taking with them a large barrel packed with their offerings to the river queen, they cast it over the falls, to the cheers of a moderate crowd - not that you could really hear them, over the thunder of the water. In the evening, every tavern was serving a great deal of the local beer - which was rather good - and wherever there was space, there was dancing.

"I see lots of boys your age."

Tatiana gave a non-committal sort of grunt. “That worked out great before,” she muttered under her breath.

Painford

Times were tight in the Thornwood just as they were in the Downs, and although the trees were now showing their green leaves, saying that the food and drink the villagers had to spare was limited would have been putting it very mildly. The presence of so many newcomers in their midst as well made the festival atmosphere more muted than it might otherwise have been. There were still those among the locals who didn’t trust the recent arrivals from the north.

Still, the village had never passed up an opportunity for a celebration before, and they weren’t about to start now. Even if the offering pig to Taal was very small and thin, they had found one, and a dancing-ground had been cleared, and a white crown of flowers placed on Mayor Drago’s head, just like the year before. Spring was here, and they were going to greet it properly.

[-Sentinel-]

31st Jahrdrung

Elsa took Tatiana's silence to mean that the apprentice was not yet ready to make a leap, let alone to fly. She did not insist; if Tatiana did not feel ready, then she was not ready. The girl was a late bloomer when it came to magic, but that did not mean her ability was lacking. Indeed, Magister Volans, first Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, was said to have been in his middle years when he began regularly casting spells.

After a long moment watching the ravens, Elsa said: "Let's ride back, shall we? I'm starving. Or should I say, ravenous."

---

That evening, Elsa listened attentively to tales from beyond the borders of the Broken Reaches, as she remembered Sforza's plans to expand northwards. The mention of Hiln's 'questionable' allies made her perk up with curiosity. With Sforza openly employing ogres, she wondered what ranked as questionable by the standards of the Border Princes.

"Questionable how?" she whispered, leaning forward.

---

Mitterfruhl

Tatiana gave a non-committal sort of grunt. “That worked out great before,” she muttered under her breath.

The edges of Elsa's lips quirked up. "My advice? Give it another year or two before you decide to join a convent."

She stayed up late to enjoy the festivities, as she used to do before she had any duties to perform or decorum to observe. She did not go man-hunting, but she was still cross enough with Sieghard that, if someone attractive flirted with her, she might just flirt back.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I'll come up with longer-term plans later.

[RossN]

Aubentag, 33rd Jahrdrung - Jarla

Jarla had instantly regretted informing Lady Groz about Irene's plans and the following few days hadn't done much to help her mood. Fortunately she had the excuse of her work and with the help of Mouna and the castle staff she arranged the celebrations for Mitterfruhl. She was not exactly looking forward to the festival - given Irene's temper any such social occasion would probably be torturous - but she was determined to do as much as she could.

Then Giovanni's letter had arrived. Right. Time to leave.

Fixing her hair and make up for battle Jarla had walked over to Irene's chambers and rapped boldly on the door: "Milady may I speak with you? Signor Carraciolo has requested my presence in Castel d’Irena and I request permission to depart at once. The preparations for the celebrations tomorrow are all finished so I do not believe you require my presence."

[LCP]

Elsa, 31st Jahrdrung

"You know," said Elsa's informant - a heavy-set boatman with a selection of fish-bone charms dangling from his hat. "Questionable." He looked around, as if checking whether they were being overhead - or maybe just making sure he had a big enough bridge. "They say he's got witches working for him. Blew up the bridge at Hamlin Gorge."

"You don't need witches to blow up a bridge," chipped in a bystander.

"Green fire, that's what I heard," insisted the boatman. "You ever hear of black powder that gave green fire?"

The bystanders had to admit that they had not.

---

Jarla, 33rd Jahrdrung

There were a few moments' silence before Jarla got any response. At last, the serving girl Gina opened the door.

The principessa was still in her shift, and looking genuinely unkempt - a fact that seemed so out of character that Jarla wondered for a moment whether she had somehow got confused about the time. But no, it was afternoon, and here was Irene looking as if she had only just crawled out of bed.

"You want what?" she asked, staring Jarla down with an expression that seemed to dare her to ask about her appearance. She let the silence hang in the air until Jarla repeated her request.

"No," she said, when Jarla had finished. "No, I forbid it. You must remain here."

She turned away, and motioned for Gina to close the door. After a little while, however, it opened again.

"Jarla!" Irene called after her. Her tone had regained some of its sweetness - something which somehow made Jarla feel she was in more danger, not less. "The witch, Holt. Do you know where she is?"

[RossN]

Jarla, 33rd Jahrdrung

Jarla hadn't honestly expected another answer but she still felt a stab of anger. She had already turned and begun to storm off when Irene had opened the door again.

"No your highness I do not," she answered reasonably truthfully. Elsa had said something about Putbad but that was many days ago. Seeing Irene's general state she hesitated a moment and said. "Milady do you...," she searched for the right word, "...need her for anything?"

[LCP]

Jarla, 33rd Jahrdrung

"No," said Irene, and as she did her voice lapsed back into its previous register of sullen pique. "No, don't be ridiculous Jarla. Why would I ever need her?" The question was clearly rhetorical. "I only wondered if you knew where she was."

Getting up, she moved swiftly across the room to the window, where she threw open the shutters and took a deep breath of the outside air. "You can go now," she said, without looking round. Jarla got the sense it wasn't a request she should wait to receive twice.

[RossN]

Jarla

"Milady," Jarla said. She curtsied and left, angry and humiliated.

Later she wrote a quick message for Giovanni:

Spoiler: Letter

Show

My gallant Tilean soldier,

I would run to your arms in a moment but her highness refuses to let me depart. We must stay apart a little longer, though my thoughts are with you till I may know your kiss again.

J.

[TheSummoner]

Sieghard

Despite not being able to have much of a feast, Sieghard was reasonably pleased with how the celebrations were going. To make up for the limited food and drink, he had focused on coming up with games and contests to keep the village entertained, most of them drawn from his own experiences. Near the eastern wall, a bridge (really just an area marked by two lengths of rope) had been set up where the village children could take turns being the orc king. The others would then take turns challenging the orc king and trying to knock him off the bridge. If they succeeded, it was their turn to be the orc king, but if they themselves were knocked off the bridge, two more would take their place. It wasn't much different than a game he had played in his own childhood, though in that version it had been a beastman on a cliff rather than an orc king on a bridge. He had challenged the adults to try shooting the Thorns' crossbows, offering a crown to anyone who could shoot as accurately as his own men. Once the sun had set, he asked Ludo to tell a few stories from their adventures for anyone who wasn't dancing or otherwise distracted. One tale he had suggested was about their encounter with the beast of Harmugstahl, though he had suggested downplaying the monster's nature as a creature of chaos.

[LeSwordfish]

Ludo took to the story of the Beast of Harmugstahl with gusto, enjoying the opportunity to play to an adult crowd for once (mostly with the occasional mild joke at Sieghard or Elsa's expense), before moving on to some more genuine recollections - conspiring with Viggo to take the lute of what-was-his-name-Longdoor. He had had his turn as the Orcish king (complete with his best Waaagh, a noise that still tugged at his gut) before allowing himself to be toppled by a group of his students.

He had ended the evening with his feet up, drinking from a large stein of the finest ale the hostel had available, watching the dancing, with Stoutheart noisily masticating a goat bone at his feet. It was a very pleasant way to spend the evening. Nahorek seemed very far away.

[-Sentinel-]

Elsa made a mental note of the rumors about the green fire. It could indeed be magic, but then again, it could also simply be some sort of little-known alchemy. She would mention it to Abdul the next time she saw him; perhaps the Arabyan had heard of some concoctions that produced such an effect.

---

Spoiler: saving this for later - subject to change

Show

After Mitterfruhl

Given her position in Sforza's court, Elsa did not want to look like she was snubbing Leona or trying to live incognito in Putbad, and so shortly after Mitterfruhl, she sent Leona a polite invitation to come dine at her rented house with her baby. Since neither Elsa, nor Tatiana, nor Olga knew how to cook, Elsa hired an experienced cook from one of the city's best inns to cater for the five of them. The meal began with a creamy, tangy vegetable soup, garnished with some parsley and dusted with crumbles of blue cheese. The main course was some crayfish-and-vegetable skewers grilled on an open flame and dusted with black pepper. Dessert consisted of honey and nut pastries which, according to the cook, were a traditional Border Princes treat called 'baklava'. A light-tasting white wine accompanied the meal.

Conversation touched on various topics, including Elsa's magical education, her efforts to decipher Nehekharan, Leona's child, and the history of Putbad. Elsa cautiously steered clear of anything relating to business, politics, or the ongoing famine and its causes. She paid the cook and bade him good night shortly after dessert was served.

Spoiler

Show

Let's make it 1.5 gc, including wine and catering. If I'm under, correct me; if I'm over, assume Elsa bought an especially pricey wine.

Once the cook was gone, Elsa felt more free to discuss confidential topics with Leona. She trusted Tatiana and Olga utterly, and it was time that they, too, know what Elsa knew.

"Frankly, it's good that we're rid of Falkenwald. I never trusted him. As far as I can tell, he's made a career of switching sides at the most opportune moment." She drained the rest of her cup of wine and lowered her voice. "How much did the Prince tell you about... the circumstances behind Falkenwald's downfall?"

---

With her study of Nehekharan out of the way, Elsa had more time to attend to Tatiana's education, both magical and mundane. She decided to wait until next year before starting to teach the Classical language to her apprentice, who already had her hands full learning to read and write Reikspiel.

Elsa also worked to carve herself a place among Putbad's upper crust, trying to portray herself both as Savonne's unofficial representative and as an advocate for the industrious, enterprising people of the Uplands. She used her status as a lever to attempt to get better prices out of merchants who had dealings with Suzana, and encouraged some of the up-and-comers to undercut their competitors. She did not know if she was any good at business, but it cost nothing to try.


OOC

Spoiler

Show

Charm 54 (64 if Etiquette applies) to have Elsa welcomed among the elite of Putbad: (d100)[24]
Fortune: (d100)[65]

Haggle 22 to negotiate better prices: (d100)[98]
Fortune: (d100)[88] - yikes...

[LCP]

Mitterfruhl - Savonne

There probably weren’t many children in Savonne who saw the ancient, blood-soaked stones of the castle as their ideal playground. Unfortunately for them, there weren’t many parents who were going to turn down an invitation from the Prince’s prima cameriera either - particularly among the movers and shakers of the town who might conceivably want something from the royal court. So it was that Mitterfruhl morning saw the courtyard and out-buildings of the keep filled with the sound of childrens’ voices, hunting along the walls and under the feet of the guards for Jarla’s painted eggs.

An assertive little boy called Josef was the one to find the egg painted with the gatehouse and fanned spears of the Sforza arms, though several other bruised and squabbling children claimed to have found it first. There was some delay in producing Josef’s prize, the goose having got loose in the kitchens. Eventually, Ida appeared with the bird held securely in a burlap sack, unaware of the stray goose-feathers still stuck in her hair. Everyone agreed that the event had been a great success, and asked Jarla to pass on their personal thanks to the Sforzas.

They needn’t have asked, as the Prince chose that moment to come out into the courtyard. Jarla felt a flicker of trepidation, in case he was still in one of his black moods - but he was a model of courtesy, greeting her guests and even talking to the children. He seemed pleased when Josef said he wanted to be a soldier when he grew up. “Bravo,” he said, ruffling Josef’s hair. “When you are ready, you will join us in the Iron Company, yes? No better place to learn.”

“A smart boy,” he said, watching the parents shepherd Josef out before he could get too excited. He looked to Jarla. “You do this every year, where you are from?”

~

Clearing the North Market square had been quite an undertaking for Norten and his men, but after the incident with the statue, Norten seemed very eager to oblige any request coming from the court. Hawkers and improvised market stalls still crowded around the edge of the space they had cleared, doing their best to take advantage of the event. Some were selling early-season fruit from the south at outrageous mark-ups; others were selling skewers of highly unidentified meat. One of them had chalked their prices on the back of a wooden board - catching a glimpse of the reverse, Jarla saw it read RATTES CATCHED FOR REESNABL RAYTES.

Under Sforza’s statue in the middle of the square, Jacques was lording it over a number of hired musicians on a hastily-erected wooden stage. People seemed reluctant at first to dance when the band struck up - but gradually, as the music became part of the background, they drifted into the centre of the square to join in. Spring was here, the sun was shining, and that was reason enough to dance, even for the poor and hungry of Savonne.

The dances the common people knew here weren’t the same ones they did back home, but as Jacques and his minstrels moved to something higher-tempo, Jarla found herself impressed with them nonetheless. For a moment, among a square full of music and strangers’ faces, the fears and intrigues of life in the Sforzas’ shadow seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the simple enjoyment of the moment.

All too soon, it seemed to her, her time for dancing was done, and the time had come to assume her public persona as judge of the contests. The winners received their prizes with gratitude, but the greater crowd seemed to have little interest in this bit of ceremony. It took the blare of trumpets from the west end of the square to regain their attention.

Flanked by two lines of Iron Company soldiers, the Sforzas arrived in all the pomp that anybody could expect. Irene had shown her face at last, glittering in green and gold and looking every part the royal. She smiled and waved at her subjects as she passed them - but when she mounted the stage alongside Jarla, she cut her dead, as if she didn’t exist.

“You have the things?” murmured the Prince, keeping his face turned towards the crowd so it wouldn’t be too obvious they were conferring. Seeing the ritual crowns Jarla had made ready, he nodded. “Who are we giving them to?”

Jarla pointed out her candidates, and Sforza nodded again. He waved a hand to his men, and the Iron Company trumpeters sounded another brassy blast, silencing the hubbub around the square.

“Signore e signora!” shouted Sforza, his commanding voice ringing across the square. “My subjects! You know why we are here. To crown the king and queen of the spring.” He extended a gracious hand towards Jarla. “The Lady Schreiber will call them forward.”

OOC:

Spoiler

Show

I leave it to you to invent your own NPCs to call up - Jarla will have had her pick of hundreds of people!

---

Mitterfruhl - Painford

The village children took to Sieghard’s games with a will, as did some of the children who had come to Painford with the travellers from the north. It didn’t take long for some of the older children to get into a scrap over the use of what might kindly be called unorthodox tactics to throw the orc king off the bridge, and Ingwald and some of the nearby Thorns had to intervene before the respective parents could escalate things any further.

Ludo’s storytelling went down a storm, as it usually did - looking around the faces of his audience, he saw many of the newcomers to the village there, which felt like a first. For most of them, all they had known about Sieghard and his men before they arrived in Painford was that they were Sforza’s enforcers, and despite the number that had joined up, many of them still gave the Thorns a wide berth. Hearing Ludo’s stories of monsters and musicians was clearly giving them a new and unexpected perspective on their hosts.

Watching the dancing later that evening, Ludo was pleased to see that it wasn’t just stories that could bring the village together. Mannslieb was only the barest sliver of a new moon, but by its light and the light of the fires, he could see faces old and new all joining the circle. There was Antonio hand-in-hand with Hanna, and Rhadegund dancing with young Juri. It was only a shame Viggo wasn’t here.

[RossN]

Jarla

“A smart boy,” he said, watching the parents shepherd Josef out before he could get too excited. He looked to Jarla. “You do this every year, where you are from?”

"Not exactly sire," the watching Jarla replied to the Prince. The prima cameriera was dressed in a blue and white gown and matching hat with feather. While she obviously couldn't compete with Irene Jarla was determined to make a mark fashion wise and had also spent hours having Ida fix her copper hair into a daring yet attractive Bretonnian style.

"The egg hunt is real, and in Averland where I am from it is a children's game but in Altdorf the custom is to lay a real, decorated gryphon's egg on the altar of Sigmar. As we have neither gryphons nor temples to Sigmar I made do." She smiled at Sforza, enjoying this uncharacteristic moment of friendliness and curiosity from the prince.

~

As the dances came to a close Jarla could feel that if not a outstanding success she had at least made a positive mark. The winners of the dancing had been a red haired seamstress named Lenka with legs for days and the darkly handsome first mate on a river boat named Jan. Both had displayed admirable enthusiasm and energy, even if their style was so rustic they'd have been jeered out Nuln the first time they showed their faces!

Jarla herself did a little dancing, though it was somewhat difficult given her usual partner Jacques was unavailable for obvious reasons. Still she managed to brighten the day of Aloysius the vintner, a boatwright she'd never previously met and member of the Iron Company (who trod on her toes once too often and received a strategic high heel in his own foot in retaliation.)

As the royal couple arrived she curtsied before the prince and princess, pretending not to notice Irene's rudeness. As she stood waiting for Sforza to say a few words she shot a smile of gratitude towards Jacques. He'd done very well.

"Your highnesses," Jarla said, curtsying once more before turning to face the crowd and calling upon her acting background to carry her voice without turning it into a shriek: "Solya Lange, please come forward and don the crown of flowers in honour of Queen Rhya as a from their highnesses."

She paused for breath. "Muskar Zyldavja, please come forward and don the crown of antler in honour of King Taal as a gift from their highnesses."

Jarla remembered her friend Solya from the boatwright's guild and had been relieved to find that underneath that ridiculous fish mask she was fair looking enough to make a non-blasphemous Rhya. As for Taal Muskar was a jeweller by trade and certainly not the most important but he did have a rather regal mien Jarla liked when she had been to him at the 'Gryphon' egg hunt. Fine characters both, and both people who might matter in the future.

[LCP]

Mitterfruhl - Savonne

"A real griffon's egg?" said the Prince, raising his eyebrows. "It must be a brave man who gets it away from the griffon."

He looked back to Jarla. "You have a good way with the children, I think," he said. "This was well done."

~

Solya seemed absolutely bowled over to be chosen. Coming forward through the crowd with her face burning pink, she received her crown of flowers from the Prince, while Muskar got his antlers from the Princess. Taking each others' hands, they turned to face the crowd to a mixture of applause and raucous whistling.

Before the noise had fully died down, Jarla became aware of a disturbance at the back of the crowd. Two of Norten's guards guards were trying to shoulder their way through the press, while one of them shouted "Stop that man!"

The Iron Company immediately closed ranks around the stage. The crowd parted in front of them, and through the gap, a dirty, stark naked man came running with a squealing piglet held high above his head.

"EATS ALL OUR CROPS AND WALLOWS IN SLOPS!" he yelled, as the pursuing guards sprinted after him. "EATS ALL OUR CROPS AND WALLOWS IN SL-"

The nearest of the guards took him down with a flying tackle around the waist, sending the piglet tumbling from his grasp. Landing on its feet, it took off like a rocket through the legs of the onlookers, squealing loudly as it went. At last, one of the Iron Company managed to grab it, amid scattered laughter from the crowd.

Solya looked mortified - but her expression was nothing to the thunderous look on Prince Sforza's face. The muscles of his jaw were tensed, a vein standing out on his forehead while his eyes glared bloody murder at the man struggling in the grip of the guards. Before he could speak, Irene swiftly intervened.

"How could we forget?" she said, projecting her voice just as well as her husband had done. "We've crowned our spring King and Queen, but not a Fool! Signor, clearly in that respect there is no-one else here who can hold a candle to your… talents." The crowd snickered with her. "And how kind of you to feed everyone as well. Marco!" she called to the soldier holding the pig. "Roast pork for everyone, I think."

That drew a real cheer. As the assembled people in the square crowded forwards after the pikeman with the piglet, few of them seemed to notice its original owner being dragged away. Putting a steadying hand on her husband's arm, Irene turned them back towards the castle.

~

The events in the square cast something of a pall over the meal Jarla had arranged in the great hall that evening. The other guests did their best, but the Prince's mood was dark and withdrawn again. Irene was deploying all her charms to compensate, but it still felt like eating next to a bomb with a smouldering fuse.

In fact, it was towards his wife that the Prince's manner seemed the coldest. Jarla supposed that he was dissatisfied with how she had handled the pig man - but as the assembled company were breaking up after dinner, she overheard him talking to Father Hieronymus in the passageway outside the hall.

"...your priestess, your blessings, none of it has worked."
"Well, your highness, if you are, ah… quite certain that the… fertility of the de Vela bloodline isn't in question…"
Jarla could feel Sforza's baleful stare without needing to see it.
"Ahem. Right. Yes. As I was saying… there may be another reason. To try to bring new life into the world, while so close to such a concentrated power of death..."
"What are you talking about?" snapped the Prince. "Speak sense."
"What you have buried in the courtyard," said the high priest, gently. "Do you know, your highness, that every plant, every blade of grass in that corner of the courtyard is dead? I examined it myself on my way here." He cleared his throat. "If the Book of Nagash can have such an effect on mere vegetable life… well, I would not be surprised if having it here were responsible for your wife's… difficulty."

[RossN]

Jarla

Jarla was so caught off guard by Sforza's compliment that she found herself blushing. "Thank you sire. And yes many a brave adventurer loses life and limb in the attempt." She smiled ruefully. "Strictly speaking if this was the Empire we should also be honouring Ulric as well to mark the end of winter but I've noticed he is not worshipped in these parts. I'll pray in private later. I admit I am not nearly as devout as my brother was but I have lived through enough winters in Grenstadt to know they can bite."

~

As the guards dragged that poor wretch who'd interrupted the ceremony Jarla stopped to wind up ceremonies and say some kind words to Solya and Muskar, reassuring them they were not responsible for anything wrong. Then she followed her master and mistress.

Naturally with all that the feast tasted like ashes but Jarla kept up small talk with Abdul until the ghastly affair was over and she was able to go to bed... which was when she heard that strange conversation.

Well... that made sense. Jarla slipped away before she could be noticed eavesdropping. Returning to her chambers she wrote a quick note to be sent to Painford in the morning:

Spoiler: Letter to Sieghard and Ludo:

Show

My friends,

There has been a lot of tension between Irene and Muzio and I think I know why. At Mitterfruhl I overheard the Prince speaking to Father Hieronymus about Irene's failure to carry a child. The High Priest suggested it may have something to do with the malign influence of the Book of Nagash.

He could well be right but I'm sure none of us want that book disturbed!

I'll tell Elsa when she gets back.

-J. S

[LCP]

Konigstag, 3rd Pflugzeit - Painford

Jarla’s letter arrived in Painford late on the afternoon of Konigstag, carried by a fruit merchant returning from the city to the Vale. The man put it into Sieghard’s hands at the manor before carrying on his way.

---

Wellentag, 6th Pflugzeit - Sieghard & Ludo

The delegation that Sieghard and Ludo took with them to see Abdul ended up consisting of six people, self-selected from among the Downlanders in Painford who felt most willing and capable to speak on behalf of the rest. They set off early on Wellentag morning, with a promise to come back for the others if they met with any success.

They reached Ravenskird by sundown, where they were greeted by Brother Petre - Cezar’s young replacement at the Morrite chapel. The village seemed busy - here at the edge of the Mere was one of the few places where the Downs were still green, and Sforza’s edict had brought a few would-be farmers out this way. Ludo found some of them in Ravenskird’s ramshackle alehouse, looking decidedly the worse for wear - and not just from the quality of the local brew.

“I’m not going back out there,” one of them was saying. “Georgeta wants farm-hands, she can find someone else. I’m not going to end up like poor Lela.” He knocked back what was left in his tankard. “I mean, how strong must it be, to lift a draught horse a hundred feet up in the air?”

---

Marktag, 8th Pflugzeit - Savonne

The party from Painford arrived a little after midday on Marktag. Entering through the south gate, they wormed their way through the market-day crowds towards the castle.

Copies of the Prince’s edict had been nailed up in prominent places here and there, reminding the people of the city of the punishment for profiteering on the price of wheat. The goods on display, however, told the story of hardship that could not be abolished by royal proclamation. The bakers’ trays were almost empty, while foodstuffs that ordinarily would not have been worth bringing into the city - bundles of nettles and arch-lector’s lace, and baskets of grubby hog-nuts - were displayed prominently for sale. Trapped crows and pigeons dangled from the butcher’s stalls; as they passed through the North Market square, Ludo even saw an old woman selling snails out of a basket at the foot of Sforza’s statue. Two of Norten’s guards were standing close by, keeping watch for any would-be graffiti artists.

The Downlanders looked apprehensive as they passed through the open gates of the castle, casting their gaze down away from the Iron Company soldiers on guard. They were equally speechless when Jarla came out to meet Sieghard and Ludo - they didn’t know this woman, but her clothes and manner of speech made it perfectly clear that she was of a different class.

Ludo was afraid they would be the same with Abdul - but after a faltering start, the Arabyan’s easy, welcoming manner seemed to give them the confidence to speak for themselves. They took it in turns introducing themselves, describing their skills and their history with the land. Abdul looked like he was listening attentively.

“This is all very good,” he said, “this is all what my friend the Warden of the Thornwood told me before. You know, people may say many things about my friend, but I have never heard him called a liar.” Abdul gave them an easy smile. “But I’m afraid there is more I must know before I can just give you this land. I must know that you have not just the skills, but the assets to bring a harvest to market.” He looked to the nearest of them. “What assets do you have?”

“We have… some animals,” said the man, slowly. “And a great many more people, back in Painford.”

“Mm. People who need feeding, no doubt,” said Abdul. His tone was sympathetic, but Ludo didn’t imagine he was noting that down as a point in their favour. “You know that a great many of the farmhouses west of the river have been destroyed? You would need materials for rebuilding. And seed grain, it’s certainly not cheap at the moment.” He paused, waiting as if to invite some useful contribution. “Do you have any money?”

“Some of us do,” said Matej, one of the men who had come from among the workers on Sieghard’s manor. “Lord Sieghard paid us for our work.”

“How much?” asked Abdul.

Matej was less confident there - Ludo suspected he wasn’t terribly numerate. “Enough,” he said, trying to sound assertive.

“I’m afraid I must have better grounds than ‘enough’,” said Abdul, apologetic but firm. “If you could give me a figure - even if you could borrow the money, perhaps - then perhaps I could sign off the deeds. But you understand, I must answer to Prince Sforza for my decisions.”

“Why do we need deeds anyway?” demanded Brina - a woman who had arrived in one of the later caravans. “It was our land to begin with.”

“You’re welcome to return to it without them,” said Abdul. “You always have been. In fact, the reason for this whole arrangement is that not enough people have.” He smiled again. “Of course, you would have to understand that should someone else be granted the deeds, the Prince’s law would be on their side. But I’m sure it would be a very unreasonable landlord who would evict you if they found you were making their fields grow again.”

[-Sentinel-]

3rd Pflugzeit - Putbad

Given her position in Sforza's court, Elsa did not want to look like she was snubbing Leona or trying to live incognito in Putbad, and so shortly after Mitterfruhl, she sent Leona a polite invitation to come dine at her rented house with her baby. Since neither Elsa, nor Tatiana, nor Olga was much of a cook, Elsa hired an experienced cook from one of the city's most upscale inns to cater for all of them. The meal began with a creamy, tangy vegetable soup garnished with parsley and crumbs of blue cheese, with some freshly-baked bread on the side. The main course was lamb and onion skewers grilled on an open flame and sprinkled with black pepper and herbs. Dessert consisted of honey and nut pastries which, according to the cook, were a traditional Arabyan treat called 'baklava'. A rich red wine accompanied the meal.

Conversation touched on various topics, including Elsa's magical education, her successful deciphering of Nehekharan hieroglyphs, Leona's child, and the history of Putbad. Elsa cautiously steered clear of anything relating to business, politics, or the ongoing famine and its causes. She paid the cook and bade him good night shortly after dessert was served.

Spoiler

Show

Let's make it 1.5 gc, including wine and catering. If I'm under, correct me; if I'm over, assume Elsa bought an especially pricey wine.

Once the cook was gone, Elsa felt more free to discuss sensitive subjects with Leona. She trusted Tatiana and Olga utterly, and it was time that they, too, know what Elsa knew about the principessa's crime. After all, their safety was at stake by virtue of proximity to the wizard.

"To be honest, Leona, it's good that you're rid of Falkenwald," confided Elsa. "I never trusted him. As far as I can tell, he's made a career of switching sides at the most opportune moment." She drained the rest of her cup of wine and lowered her voice. "How much have you been told about... the circumstances behind Falkenwald's downfall?"

---

With her study of Nehekharan out of the way, Elsa had more time to attend to Tatiana's education, both magical and mundane. She decided to wait until next year before starting to teach the Classical language to her apprentice, who already had her hands full learning to read and write Reikspiel.

Elsa also worked to carve herself a place among Putbad's upper crust, trying to portray herself both as Savonne's unofficial representative and as an advocate for the industrious, enterprising merchants and tradespeople of the Uplands. She used her status as a lever to attempt to get better prices out of merchants who had dealings with Suzana, and encouraged some of the up-and-comers to undercut their competitors in order to earn a place among Suzana's most privileged partners. She did not know if she was any good at business, but it cost nothing to try.

OOC

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Already made the rolls. Charm passed with 4 degrees of success, Haggle failed by a significant margin.

Reminder that Elsa wanted to be informed of any noteworthy news about Carraciolo's expedition. (Though this is entirely up to Al-Makir, who I assume is a rather busy man.)

[LeSwordfish]

3rd Pflugzeit
Ludo read the letter with mounting concern. "I told you something was up with Hieronymous. I think he's trying to persuade Sforza to do something reckless with the book."

"I want to go and see him, when we're in Savonne, and maybe the temple too."


8th Pflugzeit
"Not enough people?" Ludo asked, trying not to too obviously sieze on the phrase. "It's funny you'd say that, I heard talk amongst some of the other refugees that they weren't willing to go back yet because of the wyvern in the Teeth. It's a shame to hear you're having trouble because, well, the reaches has survived one winter without a proper crop. I don't know if it would survive a second."

He leaned forward a little bit, slipping back into his old negotiation mode. "If I may, Herr Al'Makir, it's obvious that you have great concern for the farmers here but if you choose only the wealthy to work your lands, you'll find them being managed by chinless guilders from Putbad who think crop rotation is passing the pipeweed to the left, and by the time they've got their act together the planting season will be over and we're looking at another lean winter, with all the consequences for the prince that that implies. You don't have a month to delay here."

"Instead, wouldn't you rather have experts working the land? The people who've managed it for a chain of generations?" He knew full well that Brina had won her farm in a card game but carried on. "We can send a shipment of thornwood timber north with them and I'm sure between yourself and Herr Sieghard some kind of loan could be made to get these folks started. They can be planting within two weeks. Surely that's a long-term investment worth making?"

"If you wouldn't mind them returning without a lease... I fail to see what benefit to the crown there would be to grant the lease to someone else, frankly, aside from a handful of coins."

OOC

Spoiler

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Charm test: (1d100)[35] vs 92

If I don't get, say, three degrees of success, I'll re-roll that: (1d100)[69]

[LCP]

Elsa, 3rd Pflugzeit

“Not much,” said Leona. “Just that he had crossed the Prince in some way, and we wouldn’t be seeing him here again.” She seemed fairly unperturbed by that sentence. “As far as I understand it, the Lord-Lieutenant of the North is responsible for Putbad now - but Lord Carraciolo seems to have been content to leave this town to run itself.”

---

Ludo & Sieghard, 8th Pflugzeit

“Herr Stubbs,” said Al-Makir. “Always a pleasure.”

Leaning back in his chair, he took his time composing his answer, as if this was a game he rather enjoyed. “You know of course, Herr Stubbs, that owning the land and working the land are two quite different things. And as for a loan from the crown, I’m afraid that’s out of the question. But you make a strong point, all the same.” He looked across to Sieghard. “I think if we can say this endeavour has both the… material and financial support of the Steward of Painford, then the risk is not so great.”

He drew out a map of the Downs, over which a patchwork of names and boundaries had been drawn in vivid red ink. West of the Azril, the lands nearest the river were the most heavily scribbled-over.

“Somewhere out towards the hills, perhaps,” he said, running his finger to where there was still open space to write. “It’s harder land, but then you have all that experience. You said there were more of you, back in Painford?” he asked. “How much were you thinking?”

OOC:

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The amount of land they’ll need is dependent on how many of them go - just for subsistence they’ll need a certain acreage per family (maybe 1 acre in the most fertile areas nearest the river and the Mere, going up to 2 or 3 in the foothills of the Teeth). The question for you guys here is I guess how many of them do you want out of Painford - are you looking to get them all out in one go?