Birthright: Chapter Seven

[VAN]

FILBERT

Light burns Filbert’s eyes, bringing instant hot tears. He staggers through a burning web of shadows and steps into a deep forest of budding broadleaf trees and tall evergreens, with early morning sunbeams cutting through the boughs to reveal patches of tangled brush. The land tilts west, into the fleeing twilight.
How many ‘days’ he spent in the Shadow World, he can’t say for sure; longer than ever before, maybe.

After getting his balance, the little lord finds a clear pool fed by a little stream where he can kneel to slake his thirst.
His thin, skittish pony whickers with delight and shoves its muzzle into the water beside Filbert’s face. The animal drinks deeply, raises its head to shake its wane in the cool zephyr, and runs about the woods for the sheer joy of being alive and on the right side of Shadow.
Filbert chances to see his own face in the waters; waxen skin, hollow-eyes, limp hair, and looking at least ten pound lighter than the last time he looked at his reflection.

…

Later in the morning, Filbert comes across a road leading into a small town at the edge of the great hilly forest country. Looking back the way he came, he sees the Seamist Mountains rising above the green woods, their rounded tops wreathed in low clouds. Looking ahead, beyond the settlement he sees acres of clear cut stumps interspersed with black fields where fragile wheat stalks push up from the loam.

The town guards, big men with halberds and dented breastplates, detain Filbert for a short while, but treat him with more signs of curiosity than hostility. A friendly local merchant puzzles out the flowery handwriting of the diplomatic letter Filbert carries; after that the local people hear the news and soon a small crowd has gathered to see the ‘Half-man Lord.’ Filbert is bombarded with questions about what’s going on over the eastern side of the mountains.

Filbert sees all the crowd gathered around him and greeting him as lord. In a different occasion the halfling would have enjoyed that, after all pass from a fool to lord isn't little thing! But not now, Filbert feels really exhausted, the Shadow travel even if took less days than go by horse is still exhausting and makes him feel ill. He hasn't slept and eaten for who knows how much time because he didn't trust anything to eat in the alternate Realm and was afraid to sleep in case he was attacked. When he made short pauses was mostly for the pony that needed to rest, Filbert was trying to stay at the clear paths and avoid the shadow forests with all of a kind hidden enemies. But neither the paths were actually safe, many times he had to run to hide because he has heard noises in the distance or he thinks he saw shadows pass over his head at the sky. And the red spots, Filbert thinks he will never forget the red spots he used to see now and then, were like fiery red eyes looking at him, but no animal was around, no noise was heard. Everytime the halfling turned his head the red spots disappear to only appear a few feet at his right or left. Was like the whole Realm was mocking him, making fun of his courage to be there one more time.

With these images still burn his mind Filbert gets a chair and jumps on it so everyone can see him. Since he has never spoken to such a big crowd before, unless it was to perform, he feels a little embarrassed as he doesn't know how to address these people properly. So he just bows and says:

"Hello, please don't call me lord. I'm just an ambassador of His Grace Duke Devlin Flaertes. I'm trying to get to Seaharrow as soon as possible. I need to get an important letter to Archduke Aeric. I know you have a lot of questions about the war but please may your questions wait till tomorrow? I have had a really tough journey so far and both me and my pony are exhausted and really hungry. May we have some food and a place to stay. Tomorrow before departing to Seaharrow I promise to answer all your questions."

Thinking for moment the halfling adds:

"And can you please tell me the name of this town, I want to make sure the Duke knows the fine people that have helped his ambassador."

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

LOGGING CAMP

Rennault stares into a polished steel mirror and regards the crease in his face where the Baron's sword had nearly split his head in two. Even with healing arts, it would leave a noticeable scar. Fitting. Yet despite the wounds he sustained last night, he feels a certain ineffable sense of power that stands in conflict with how close he'd come to dying. With that duality creasing his mind like the scar, he makes his way to the command tent.

[Adam]

Cormac rolls out of bed, well rested. He performs his morning ablutions and then heads to the command tent, giving the ring of mushrooms a wide berth and giving it a warding gesture.

[ewancummins]

COMMAND TENT



Renn arrives to find his father, dressed in a light suit of brigandine and wearing sword and hand axe on his belt, standing in the tent talking with a couple of men-at-arms of his household guard.
"Renn, welcome! Are you well enough for a hunt today?”


Cormac enters from the other side, followed by Dietric as a sort of squire for him.

[ewancummins]

FILBERT

Light burns Filbert’s eyes, bringing instant hot tears. He staggers through a burning web of shadows and steps into a deep forest of budding broadleaf trees and tall evergreens, with early morning sunbeams cutting through the boughs to reveal patches of tangled brush. The land tilts west, into the fleeing twilight.
How many ‘days’ he spent in the Shadow World, he can’t say for sure; longer than ever before, maybe.

After getting his balance, the little lord finds a clear pool fed by a little stream where he can kneel to slake his thirst.
His thin, skittish pony whickers with delight and shoves its muzzle into the water beside Filbert’s face. The animal drinks deeply, raises its head to shake its wane in the cool zephyr, and runs about the woods for the sheer joy of being alive and on the right side of Shadow.
Filbert chances to see his own face in the waters; waxen skin, hollow-eyes, limp hair, and looking at least ten pound lighter than the last time he looked at his reflection.

…

Later in the morning, Filbert comes across a road leading into a small town at the edge of the great hilly forest country. Looking back the way he came, he sees the Seamist Mountains rising above the green woods, their rounded tops wreathed in low clouds. Looking ahead, beyond the settlement he sees acres of clear cut stumps interspersed with black fields where fragile wheat stalks push up from the loam.

The town guards, big men with halberds and dented breastplates, detain Filbert for a short while, but treat him with more signs of curiosity than hostility. A friendly local merchant puzzles out the flowery handwriting of the diplomatic letter Filbert carries; after that the local people hear the news and soon a small crowd has gathered to see the ‘Half-man Lord.’ Filbert is bombarded with questions about what’s going on over the eastern side of the mountains.

Filbert sees all the crowd gathered around him and greeting him as lord. In a different occasion the halfling would have enjoyed that, after all pass from a fool to lord isn't little thing! But not now, Filbert feels really exhausted, the Shadow travel even if took less days than go by horse is still exhausting and makes him feel ill. He hasn't slept and eaten for who knows how much time because he didn't trust anything to eat in the alternate Realm and was afraid to sleep in case he was attacked. When he made short pauses was mostly for the pony that needed to rest, Filbert was trying to stay at the clear paths and avoid the shadow forests with all of a kind hidden enemies. But neither the paths were actually safe, many times he had to run to hide because he has heard noises in the distance or he thinks he saw shadows pass over his head at the sky. And the red spots, Filbert thinks he will never forget the red spots he used to see now and then, were like fiery red eyes looking at him, but no animal was around, no noise was heard. Everytime the halfling turning his head the red spots disappear to only appear a few feet at his right or left. Was like the whole Realm mocking him, making fun of his courage to be there one more time.

With these images still burn his mind Filbert gets a chair and jumps on it so everyone can see him. Since he has never spoken to such a big crowd before unless it was to perform he feels a little embarrassed as he doesn't know how to address these people properly. So he just bows and says:

"Hello, please don't call me lord. I'm just an ambassador of His Grace Duke Devlin Flaertes. I'm trying to get to Seaharrow as soon as possible. I need to get an important letter to Archduke Aeric. I know you have a lot of questions about the war but please may your questions wait till tomorrow. I have had a really tough journey so far and both me and my pony and exhausted and really hungry. May we have some food and a place to stay. Tomorrow before departing to Seaharrow I promise to answer all your questions."

Thinking for moment the halfling adds:

"And can you please tell me the name of this town, I want to make sure the Duke knows the fine people that have helped his ambassador."

A big burly man in a smith's apron tells Lord Filbert-
"This is Alfcrost."

A boy runs ahead to the village inn to secure a room for the visiting ambassador, and stable space for the pony.
…
Filbert may sleep with the window open to let in fresh air and sunlight, despite the sounds of dogs barking, children playing, men at work or haggling in the wee market square.

Or, if he prefers darkness and silence he can close the shutters to have both together.

[ewancummins]

ROALD, CATHEDRAL OF HAELYN


Roald is admitted via a side door and escorted past a large gathering of worshippers and clerics.

Taken to the Archprelate's brightly illuminated office, he is kept waiting for a few minutes, and then the head of the church arrives, still dressed in full ceremonial regalia. The old man removes his cloth-of-gold stole and hangs it in a small, heavily gilded and carven closet built of polished hardwood.

He sits down in a well-stuffed, high backed chair.

"Master Roald."

The high priest extends his right hand, showing a garnet ring.

(Etiquette would indicate kneeling and kissing the ring now).

[steveflam]

Atli discusses the tavern business first; offering a drink to his fellow dwarf while he does some calculations summons and dismisses hirelings, etc.
“I think we can make a go of your newly acquired tavern. I’ll be happy to invest in it with you and Meg’s heir. He’s just a small manling, isn’t he? You’ll be the one really running the operation.”

Once the ordinary sort of business has been taken care of, Atli receives a middling size man almost as dark-skinned as Atli, with short curly hair and aquiline features. The stranger (strange to Torthur, at any rate) wears a long navy blue cloak with a lyrepipe hood. He bows before Atli.
‘‘Master Atli, how may I serve?”

Atli replies, “Petrus, I want you to get my friend here into Lofton, unrecognized.”

The dark man laughs. “That’s too easy.”

Atli laughs. “With his bear.”

The dark man frowns. “A bear? Well…hmmm…” He laughs. “I have an idea!”

…
TAXIDERMIST SHOP

The taxidermist repeats his estimate.
“Can’t have it done before the end of the week at the soonest, and that’s dropping my other work, which will just a little extra. But yeah, I can do it….”
He measures Torthur again.
“You are going make a cute baby bear. This is for a stage play, you said?”
…


ATLI’S OFFICE A LITTLE LATER

“I got sketches for maps, a man asking after the target’s habits, some rope and spikes and such for you. You can pay me later. “

Atli jots down charges in his ledger.

Torthur nods at Atli. "Thank ye, Atli. I'll be takin Petrus with me ter the tavern now. Keep me appraised fer tha infermation yer gittin fer me, friend. I am really appreciative of yer help an I thinks ye be knowin I is a man o me word. I'll pay ye every copper I owes ya."

He looks at Petrus and smiles. "C'mon, lets go ta the Arms. Wants ter check in. I think Imma meet Magga's son. An I wants ter see how Lora be doin too. Plus yer gonna meet Clyde, me best friend." He heads out of Atli's shop, leading Petrus. The dark skinned man will notice a bear outside the building. "Tha be Clyde, Petrus." He scratches the bears ears and tallks to it as if it were a person. "Tha' be Petrus. He gonna be wit us fer a bit now. Treat im like yer treat me, ye lush." He looks at Petrus.

"Awright, off we go."

The dwarf leads Petrus through the streets of the city to a tavern, the Gorgons Crown. He pushes through the door and enters, Clyde in tow. Patrons greet Torthur warmly as well as Clyde. They look at Petrus oddly but nothing more.

[ewancummins]

At the Gorgon's Crown, tavern




Petrus looks over the common rabble that drinks at the Gorgon's Crown. He returns their curious looks with a blank stare, and then follows the Dwarf.
…

A bit later, sitting in the back room, the dark man tells Tothur, “I get looks like that sometimes. Nobody’s hostile, really, but people often think I’m a foreigner. I’m not.’’

[Varrus the Ethical]

Cathedral

Roald kneels and kisses the Archprelate's ring after a moment's hesitation. More due to inexperience than to insolence. Rising, he says, "Your Holiness, you have done me an unexpected honor. How may I be of service?"

[steveflam]

At the Gorgon's Crown, tavern

Petrus looks over the common rabble that drinks at the Gorgon's Crown. He returns their curious looks with a blank stare, and then follows the Dwarf.
…

A bit later, sitting in the back room, the dark man tells Tothur, “I get looks like that sometimes. Nobody’s hostile, really, but people often think I’m a foreigner. I’m not.’’

Torthur nods in understanding. "Petrus. Lookit me. I aint even a man. N they accepts me. Someone who treats yer different cuz a whats yer looking like aint worth yer time o day, lad. Remember that. Stick wit me, me friend. You'll like whut you'll discover."

He smiles at Petrus and winks. He hops up on a table, clapping his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. "Awright! Ye bin waiting fer some wrestlin, ain't ya? Clyde n I be ready ter have us some fun! But first I'd jest like ter say a few words."

The dwarf clears his throat. Someone hands him a tankard and he downs most of it, before belching profusely. "I jest wants ter say I gonna be takin over runnin tha place, fer Mons. She gots a son an e's tha legal owner. If ye be seein im, treat im like ye'd treat 'er, awright? I gonna teach im a few things an the new server, Lora, she gonna help in raisin im too. Be nice ter her, cuz she's good people."

He catches Lora's eye in the crowd and smiles at her warmly.

"An one more thing. I gots a friend wit me, 'is name is Petrus. Petrus, come up ere wit me." Once Petrus does, Torthur adds.

"E's a good joe. Treat im like yer brother or like me, all right? Now,let's git us some wrestlin goin on!"

[VAN]

FILBERT

Filbert welcomes the sunlight, the sight breeze and the sounds of the town. They sound so vivid and so different of the dead silence or the battles that he was hearing at the Shadow Realm. Before going to bed the halfling goes at the window and looks outside, he spends few moments to look at every single color he could see from his window. He admires the colors of the trees, the houses, the flowers, everything. He wants to erase from his memory all the shades of gray and the crimson red of the Shadow Realm. Then he goes to his bed and tries to get some sleep.

Filbert wakes up many times during the night, the nightmares doesn't let him sleep. He keeps seeing himself running and someone or something is after him. The halfling cannot see what though. Red spots are all around him, fiery crimson red eyes. He can feel a hand or a claw getting him, grab his shoulder and drag him to the forest. He fights to escape but he cant, whatever holds him has a very firm grip. Laughs are heard and voice that seem to come directly from hell is calling at him, actually calling his name. And then he sees a sting and is heard a sound like...like a knock. One, two, three times. Filbert jumps up by the knock at his door, someone is calling his name. Wiping the drops of sweat from his forehead he blinks twice to make sure he is safe at the inn's room. Then he opens the door still shaking.

[ewancummins]

Cathedral

Roald kneels and kisses the Archprelate's ring after a moment's hesitation. More due to inexperience than to insolence. Rising, he says, "Your Holiness, you have done me an unexpected honor. How may I be of service?"

"I've called you here to discuss the ongoing war, and to confer as to what would best serve the interests of the church and the realm.

As you doubtless know by now, I have called for a truce with Alamie, to be followed by some form of arbitration to settle the controversy between the two duchies.
Duke Carilon has not yet given me a definite answer. He may be waiting to see what Duke Devlin will say.

The senior clerics of our temple in Lofton report that several Alamien nobles and rich merchants would welcome a break in the fighting, even a peace settlement. Duke Carilon apparently owes a lot of money to various creditors in the noble houses of the duchy. That, I imagine, is how he hired the mercenary rabble used in the Siege of Haes. I have heard rumors of secret loans from the Celestial Jewel, as well.”

The old prelate’s lips crease downward in a scowl that deepens the wrinkles on his face.

“No good can come from those unprincipled money-grubbers being thus enmeshed in the politics of our neighboring duchy
They have grown quite wealthy by means of usury, trafficking in contraband, and receiving stolen goods.’’

[ewancummins]

At the Gorgon's Crown, tavern

Petrus looks over the common rabble that drinks at the Gorgon's Crown. He returns their curious looks with a blank stare, and then follows the Dwarf.
…

A bit later, sitting in the back room, the dark man tells Tothur, “I get looks like that sometimes. Nobody’s hostile, really, but people often think I’m a foreigner. I’m not.’’

Torthur nods in understanding. "Petrus. Lookit me. I aint even a man. N they accepts me. Someone who treats yer different cuz a whats yer looking like aint worth yer time o day, lad. Remember that. Stick wit me, me friend. You'll like whut you'll discover."

He smiles at Petrus and winks. He hops up on a table, clapping his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. "Awright! Ye bin waiting fer some wrestlin, ain't ya? Clyde n I be ready ter have us some fun! But first I'd jest like ter say a few words."

The dwarf clears his throat. Someone hands him a tankard and he downs most of it, before belching profusely. "I jest wants ter say I gonna be takin over runnin tha place, fer Mons. She gots a son an e's tha legal owner. If ye be seein im, treat im like ye'd treat 'er, awright? I gonna teach im a few things an the new server, Lora, she gonna help in raisin im too. Be nice ter her, cuz she's good people."

He catches Lora's eye in the crowd and smiles at her warmly.

"An one more thing. I gots a friend wit me, 'is name is Petrus. Petrus, come up ere wit me." Once Petrus does, Torthur adds.

"E's a good joe. Treat im like yer brother or like me, all right? Now,let's git us some wrestlin goin on!"

Men thump mugs, fists, or dagger pommels on tabletops while women whistle or laugh, and a couple of kids shout.

Workers clears a space for the upcoming match...

[ewancummins]

FILBERT

Filbert welcomes the sunlight, the sight breeze and the sounds of the town. They sound so vivid and so different of the dead silence or the battles that he was hearing at the Shadow Realm. Before going to bed the halfling goes at the window and looks outside, he spends few moments to look at every single color he could see from his window. He admires the colors of the trees, the houses, the flowers, everything. He wants to erase from his memory all the shades of gray and the crimson red of the Shadow Realm. Then he goes to his bed and tries to get some sleep.

Filbert wakes up many times during the night, the nightmares doesn't let him sleep. He keeps seeing himself running and someone or something is after him. The halfling cannot see what though. Red spots are all around him, fiery crimson red eyes. He can feel a hand or a claw getting him, grab his shoulder and drag him to the forest. He fights to escape but he cant, whatever holds him has a very firm grip. Laughs are heard and voice that seem to come directly from hell is calling at him, actually calling his name. And then he sees a sting and is heard a sound like...like a knock. One, two, three times. Filbert jumps up by the knock at his door, someone is calling his name. Wiping the drops of sweat from his forehead he blinks twice to make sure he is safe at the inn's room. Then he opens the door still shaking.

Filbert finds himself staring into an eyeful of cleavage. The plump serving maid in a lowcut bodice takes a half step back and looks down at the little lord.

''Room service. my lord.''

She holds up a covered basket.
''The Master said you looked tired and hungry, so he thought you'd want a meal brought up to you.''


Filbert detects a pleasant, warm smell wafting from under the checkered cloth draped over the basket’s top.

[Varrus the Ethical]

CATHEDRAL

“No good can come from those unprincipled money-grubbers being thus enmeshed in the politics of our neighboring duchy
They have grown quite wealthy by means of usury, trafficking in contraband, and receiving stolen goods.’’

Roald purses his lip in throught.

"Your Holiness, it is clear that these Celestial Jewel folks are not high on your list of favorite people. However, being myself an unprincipled money grubber, I'm curious how you think that I of all people can serve the interests of the Church and the Realm. I've made no secret that of that fact that I'm motivated by personal profit."