HLoM: The Firebird, Prologue

[Isabella]

"I should hope so, Master Blackwood," Marcel replies, seating himself again. "No rest for the wicked, as Bastion Wachter warned us, though I hope I haven't been as bad as my travels would have it."

"I-I've at least one acquaintance in D-Dementlieu who would argue i-it's no rest for the-for the virtuous," Richard replied, with a slightly sheepish grin. "W-well, between the two sayings, it-it's a wonder that-that anyone gets any rest. You didn't find any, any terribly dangerous trouble, I-I hope?"

"I remember your being a bit...unsure of your father's reaction. Did he take the unveiling well?"

"A-ah..."

(It had to be said that Richard was not the sort of young man who tended to lie. He was, first of all, uncomfortable doing so; and second of all, absolutely terrible at it. There was, however, no polite way to describe Lord Blackwood's reaction, which had involved some very vibrant threats about giving Richard a lot more scars. He hadn't gone through with it - he never did, there were far too many young women in the household that would take Richard's side, and Lord Blackwood had never been willing to upset Richard's mother by beating her son. He was quite capable enough of punishing Richard in other ways.)

"I-I-I... believe it was something of-of a shock," Richard answered, grimacing and rubbing the back of his head. "He-he-he has gotten used to t-them, o-over time."

"It-it-it is no skin off his back, a-at least," he added, in a quiet voice. "I-I've never once been displeased, nor wanted f-for better. I-I must confess to you, however, I ended up coming, coming home from Demenltieu with... ah, a-a somewhat unintentional new set. Which I-I think has cooled his opinion on-on purposeful and accidental, alike."

Richard held out his left hand. The pale scars did not contrast that much with his skin, but they were evident when pointed out - if Richard's hand had been a mirror, it would have looked as though it had been smashed, a jagged spiderweb of cracks radiating down his forearm. "Not q-quite the pattern I would have chosen, n-nor as fine as your w-work, but the lines are-are fine enough to match, at least," he said, with a sheepish grin.

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Very curious," the anchorite says, examining the new scars with a professional eye. "How on earth did it happen? They're quite regular in their way--it would be quite difficult to achieve that effect on purpose." His cheerfulness has been rather dimmed by the news that Lord Blackwood didn't take his efforts well. "I'm sorry to hear your father objected so strongly," he say quietly. "I thought your sister's manner seemed a little...strained, but I attributed that to...well, never mind."

He gropes for a moment for a new topic of conversation, then realized his catalog of travels had been cut short. With a visible air of relief he takes up that thread again. "It's a marvel that any of us rest, indeed. The last few voyages haven't been too dramatic--mind you, there was a bad moment or two," Marcel allows. "There's nothing quite like taking a wrong turning and being out of doors at sundown a few miles outside Karina to make one realize the meaning of 'fervent prayer'. Still, we lost nothing more than one of our baggage horses, so I have to count us lucky. A few months in the Wolfwood, a few in Barovia, a trip through Nova Vaasa...took another stab at Vechor, still not much doing there. Another few months in Paridon, then back home for a bit. And now it's on to Hazlan."

[Isabella]

"Very curious," the anchorite says, examining the new scars with a professional eye. "How on earth did it happen? They're quite regular in their way--it would be quite difficult to achieve that effect on purpose." His cheerfulness has been rather dimmed by the news that Lord Blackwood didn't take his efforts well. "I'm sorry to hear your father objected so strongly," he say quietly. "I thought your sister's manner seemed a little...strained, but I attributed that to...well, never mind."

"Ghosts," Richard said, a little darkly and a little sad. "Ghosts a-and dark magic. I-I... well, I've been given t-to understand the country is not, not usually so eventful as w-when A-Alice and I visited! And yet I-I must confess, I would have liked to stayed there. I-It's a peculiar sort of madness that I've caught." He chuckled.

"We-we are all a-a-a little strained, of late," he continued quietly. "A-and I-I-I beg you to forgive us for it, I beg more that you not take it upon, upon yourself. My-my sister and my-my-my... nephew..."

Richard paused, rubbing at his beard, as if the very word and concept was somehow foreign to him.

"S-she has had a delicate constitution of-of late, and h-he not much better. I-I-I think they will be-be well. They have been well o-of late, and they c-could not ask for better care." Richard smiled, though it never reached his eyes. "But such things, such things can turn around q-quickly."

"And now it's on to Hazlan."

"H-Hazlan?" Richard furrowed his brow, pulling out the surprisingly dry parchment from his coat. "Now t-that is a familiar name today, I-I've just had a letter from a-a-a friend there. A strange... strange coincidence."

Richard turned the parchment over in his hands for a moment, pensive.

"T-though that seems an oddly s-specific destination, e-especially when you begin in-in-in Mordent!" Richard said, with a flash of a grin. "Does something b-bring you there?"

[DeepShadow of FoS]

"Vasili Boritsi. Tell me about the Bergsforg."

Vasili clears his throat nervously, sets a sheaf of papers on a nearby drafting table, unfolds the one on top and struggles to find the beginning. Upon finding it, he changes his mind and decides to paraphrase it instead.

"As in my father's last report, your Grace, the yield has been decreasing from both mines in recent years and the Bergsforg, in particular, is beginning to look played out. There's evidence of good deposits deeper in the mountain, but the mine is already at the limits of what can be safely excavated using current methods, and the Rashemani and Thaani who form the bulk of the mine laborers are extremely unwilling to go further. My father says that the current veins will meet their margins of profit within the year, at which point the expense of excavation would exceed any profits gained."

Selecting an oilskin map from among the other papers he brought, Vasili unfolds it to reveal the Bergsforg. Using the map as a reference, and glancing to the Jarenberg and Renhalt for any sign of disapproval, he casts a spell to make a larger, three-dimensional version of the map, set in a translucent version of Mt. Jarenberg* itself.

"Based on the veins we are currently following, we expect the next veins are in this area," He enlarges the area and shows them several possible arrangements for the iron veins. "We're testing for minerals at four other sites around the Jarenberg--"

Vasili indicates them on the mountain slopes with four flags of the silver-on-red Jarenberg death-bite sigil, and illustrates how they might be used to triangulate the location of the deeper veins, and access them from another direction.

"--with no results yet. Unless those tests show us another way to access the deeper veins, father's solution would be to push the labor force to go deeper. He says that Thaani are superstitious, and Rashemani are sullen. We'd need to double the guard to enforce the Will of the Lawgiver."

He looks around nervously, clearly hoping he hasn't said too much, or too little, or the wrong thing.

(Bluff check for Innuendo DC 30)

* It may be incorrect to use the term "Mount," but it was too confusing to talk to the Jarenberg about the Jarenberg, without some kind of differentiation.

[Nathan of the FoS]

The Jarenberg seems to appreciate the presentation; he makes an "Ah" of approval as Vasili lays out his map and goes so far as to give a half-smile for the death-bite flags marking potential deposits; Renhalt picks a moment when the Jarenberg is busy considering the map to give you an encouraging smile. He seems to think it's going well. At the end of the presentation the Jarenberg nods once, then watches Vasili for a long moment before speaking.

"This is your father's solution, young Vasili. You have a different one."

It's not really a question. Gesturing slightly with one hand, the Jarenberg invites Vasili to share it.

[Kaitou Kage]

Altan quietly watched from top of the Stair, hands clasped behind his back. He let his mind empty, finding little useful to think about just now. He stared at the stars, watching for the Firebird, and wondered if he could see it the way Sigurdssen allegedly could.

Artabaxes' arrival pulled Altan from his reverie. The sorcerer turned and smoothed his red zarong. Here, indoors, it was warm enough that he did not need to wear the full robe. So like other Mulani, he proudly displayed the tapestry of ink writ across his flesh.

"Of course," Altan bowed his head deferentially. "Lead the way."

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Ghosts," Richard said, a little darkly and a little sad.

"Ghosts?" Marcel looks as if he wants to ask several questions here, but is too polite to press.

"T-though that seems an oddly s-specific destination, e-especially when you begin in-in-in Mordent!" Richard said, with a flash of a grin. "Does something b-bring you there?"

"All my destinations are specific, young Master Blackwood," Marcel replies, in a mock-chiding tone. "I just don't always know the specifics until I get there. But in this case, yes, I have something specific in mind. There's a small Ezran community in the western mountains...not far from the border with Forlorn, as I understand it...who I'd like to visit. It's hard country, and harder for Ezrans--I haven't heard of official persecutions, I gather the local nobles are relatively tolerant, but still. She's certainly a brave woman."

Marcel seems a bit lost in thought toward the end of this explanation, and realizes with a start that he's being less than clear. "The anchorite of the congregation, I mean. It's been a long time since I saw her, but she's quite extraordinary in her faith. Her name's Tara Kolyana."

[Isabella]

"Ghosts?" Marcel looks as if he wants to ask several questions here, but is too polite to press.

Richard just shook his head, idly massaging his left hand. "I-I wish I knew more. I-I wish I-I had been of more a-aid." But he did not continue - there was too little else to say, and ghosts were not spoken of so openly in Mordent, even by Richard, for fear of inviting them. Richard did not dare risk inviting them.

"All my destinations are specific, young Master Blackwood," Marcel replies, in a mock-chiding tone. "I just don't always know the specifics until I get there."

"We are indeed all-all guided by-by Ezra's hand, to fulfill our-our roles in her Grand-Grand-Grand Scheme, but I-I would have expected you to reply Valacán, or-or Richemulot, or somewhere nearby, a-and from there onward," Richard replied, rubbing at his beard. "Ta-tara Kolyana... she does indeed sound brave. S-she sounds like an amazing woman..."

Richard trailed off, turning the parchment over in his hands again.

"Fo-fo-forlorn's border is near my-my friend's household, I-I think," he continued, after a moment. "Do-do you know, this is at least the-the third time that Hazlan h-has come up, within the month? A very, very... ah. H-How long are you to stay in-in Mordentshire, before you depart?"

It was the fifth such sign, if Richard wanted to be honest with himself. Two had come from Darius, in dream and letter. One had come from Marcel just now. The fourth had come from a strange stone, that had roused his uncle for just a few fleeting moments. The fifth was the fact that he now had a nephew.

[DeepShadow of FoS]

"This is your father's solution, young Vasili. You have a different one."

Vasili allows himself his own half-smile and draws a steadying breath. "Indeed, I fear he has neglected to consider some non-mathematical approaches. We could change the method of mining, or change the products of the mine. Either or both of these could be implemented for a fraction of the cost of doubling the guard.

"First, approaching the lower veins from the outside is all wrong. The closest approach would be from within the mountain, where we've already excavated. Rather than waste time and resources seeking the distant end of the vein, this would allow us to follow the vein with certainty, from the nearest end. This is the method used by the dwarves and gnomes from Darkon and Lamordia."

He shows on the map how the far end of the vein might hare off in any direction, but the near end remains close to the current excavation. It has, in effect, already been triangulated.

"I've been studying their mining methods; the dwarves of the Sleeping Beast mountains excavate many miles deeper than anything we do. I know this sounds a lot like my father's proposal of last resort--to push the miners deeper into the mines by force--but it's actually quite different. We can mollify the workers by making the mine safer even as we press further ahead. If we change the mining of method from 'stope and retreat' to 'stope and fill,' we can prevent accidents before they happen."

Enlarging areas of the mine, Vasili shows how filling previous areas in could add strength that could be used to move deeper.

"The backfill is a kind of cement. It can be created from the existing mine tailings with minimal investment, and it would save the expense of hauling the tailings out of the mountain, which is currently an exponential contributor to the dwindling margin of profit. We'd have to increase ventilation because the cement would need air to cure properly, but that would also pay off in worker safety.

"This brings us to my other solution. We need to be profiting from the other products of the mine--things that are currently listed as byproducts. The mine tailings are mostly going to waste, when they could be used to create medium-to-high grade cement for roads, buildings, and other construction. Some parts could also be used as fertilizer for your fields, or even as alchemical supplies. One abandoned adit has been overrun with rock-eating fungi that excrete acid. Currently it's listed as a liability, but with a little care it could be turned into an asset. Even empty space in unfilled areas can become a salable commodity with a little creativity.

"Making this change would not be easy, but it's far more profitable than any of the current alternatives. If you commit to the change by hiring a dwarven foreman, I'd expect to see worker willingness to proceed would increase dramatically. Calibans might also be helpful, if only for their strength, preference to remain unseen, and the ability to see in the dark. If you have access to the slave pens we might select a few of them to forge ahead, and after seeing them return safely day after day, the workers would be much easier to persuade.

"I know the Lawgiver demands loyalty without compromise, but investing in workers can yield a far greater profit than proceeding dangerously. I...seem to recall you saw the value in such an investment, when you asked your mother's cousin to heal the tongue of a boy stricken by the hand of Mytteri. If that investment has not pleased you, you are welcome to do as you wish, and I remain your humble and obedient servant."

Vasili reels for a moment, then looks at the floor. The temptation to babble some kind of nonsense about 'shrinking stoping' or 'drift and fill methods' is overwhelming, but he keeps his mouth shut. If he's ever going to drop the idiot act, now's the time to start practicing.

[Nathan of the FoS]

As Vasili speaks, Renhalt and the Jarenberg exchange glances--Renhalt's expressing something along the lines of "I told you so!," the Jarenberg's harder to read but obviously interested and approving. By the time he's finished, Renhalt looks delighted, slightly confused, and perhaps a little intimidated; the Jarenberg looks as pleased as his scars will reasonably allow.

"You see, Renhalt. The Mountain* will not fail us as long as we do not fail her. And it seems we have in the father a merchant, in the son a miner." Turning his attention back to Vasili's map, the Jarenberg studies it for a minute or so in silence, then says, "And something more, perhaps. I am surprised you remember that detail of your ordeal, young Vasili. It speaks well of you." Raising one hand, he taps at the nearest death-bite marker and does not quite smile as he glances at Vasili again. "Loyalty without compromise. A fit phrase. I will consider your advice carefully."

With a slight motion of his head, he indicates to both Renhalt and Vasili that they may go.



*In answer to the problem with "the Jarenberg, mountain" vs. "the Jarenberg, nobleman" vs. "the Jarenberg, noble house"--Vaasi solves this elegantly by making the mountain female, the nobleman male, and the House a neuter plural. There is, of course, no way to render this easily in English. In common talk in Jarenberg territory the Jarenberg itself is usually just called the Mountain.

[Nathan of the FoS]

When Renhalt and the Boritsi are well down the corridor, the Jarenberg sighs and takes up his discarded goblet of wine. He makes a summoning gesture in the direction of the map of the Core, which swings aside easily to reveal a strikingly beautiful young Mulani woman with the dogwood rooted at her collarbone and climbing to her temple, who slips into the room and closes the secret door behind her.

"So, daughter Cattia," he says formally. "Such is the young Boritsi. What do you make of him?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Marcel nods in understanding at Richard's reluctance to discuss the Other Side.

"Three mentions of Hazlan?" Marcel obviously doesn't quite understand why this should be so significant, but then, his talk is probably always filled with mentions of faraway places. "I'll be here in Mordent for another two weeks or so, to speak with the Bastion and spend some time with old friends," Marcel makes a little gesture to indicate his present occupation, "and then start off overland. I intend to spend a little while in Levkarest, but otherwise travel on pretty steadily and, if all goes well, be in Hazlan some time in June."

[Isabella]

Richard absently nodded, turning his letter over a final time.

"W-would you look at me strangely if I-I were to say, I-I think She wishes me to a-ask if I might come with you?" Richard gave a self-effacing grin, bowing his head. "I-I beg of you, s-say you will not. You are my-my only hope for understanding, Mister Boudreau, my-my-my family will be ill-pleased, and I shall not blame them for that."

Richard himself did not look terribly pleased, when it came down to it. He idly rubbed his forehead, looking down at the floor.

[Nathan of the FoS]

The look the anchorite gives Richard is more "searching" than "strange"; after a few moments of intent examination he shifts and sighs. "You feel yourself called to Hazlan?" he says quietly. "Our Lady knows that I understand being called to far places on strange errands, and if you have received a sign...this must have been more than a passing mention in conversation, I take it? Would you be willing to tell me more?"

[Nathan of the FoS]

Artabazes must be excited about something; that's not the kind of slip-up he would ordinarily make. Among the family they often talk, half-jokingly, of Nezar Isfahani as the Old Man of the Mountain, but it's not really a title fit for use in front of subordinates. Sigurdssen was probably horribly embarrassed.

The Old Man of the Mountain...hard gold eyes, lines of sorrow and anger carved between the eyebrows and in the corners of the downturned mouth, disappearing into the spade beard, still more black than gray...not the face of a man you'd want to cross. Ever. In anything.

Fortunately, you've never crossed him. And he can be generous. He's certainly been your protector when you needed it most.

You find him waiting for you outside his consulting chamber--a gesture which emphasizes the urgency of his request. He's not much accustomed to wait for, much less on, anyone. Gesturing you to his side, he begins to walk down the hallway.

"Altan, my son. I have some few matters to discuss with you. You were just now stargazing?"