Spirited Away - The Game

Maximilian walks by Edward's side towards the village, keeping his eyes open for anyone who looks like they might be interesting to talk to.

It is a wonderfully idyllic afternoon for a walk. That is, if one is not engaged in working the land for one's living - from the road the two investigators can see the people out in the fields sowing next year's crops. The road bears signs of being trodden by animals, sheep and pigs most likely, being driven to markets in neighbouring towns. The wind carries the faint sour smell of vinegar, as every housewife in the village is busy pickling everything that can be pickled in preparation for the approaching winter.

The road narrows as it enters Little Barnsthorpe and turns into a street. A few houses in it even turns cobbled as it leads to a small square with a well at the centre of it and various stores and workshops lining the buildings on each side. There is a grocer, a butcher, a cobbler, also the baker, where Fiona had allegedly received the news about Mr. Tubbs. There are a few women in front of it now, holding clay pots and gossiping as they wait around. The arrival of Maximilian and Edward causes a bit of a stir among the younger ones, who stare and giggle, and then pretend not to have been staring with little success.

"The bakery appears to be a place for gossip," Maximilian points out. "Maybe we should pay that a visit. And it would be quite a shame to leave those young ladies wondering about our identities, would it not?" He flashes a smile at the group of women in front of the bakery.

"We definitely should, who knows what useful snippets of information a couple of hot cross buns might get us..."

He looks around the small square to see if their presence elicits more than the girls' curiosity, then follows Maximilian towards the bakery.

"Good day to you, gentlemen!" the oldest among them greets after all of them have curtsied with varying degrees of success. She is a beautiful woman, although age and hard work have left their mark upon her skin, especially her hands, and she speaks with the confidence of one who has been married for some time and beautiful youths such as Maximilian are no longer an object for fascination. The rest of the girls have fallen silent and are attempting to look demure and dignified, which results in several rather comical expressions. "May we be of any assistance?"

Maximilian lets his eyes wander over the younger women's faces. He wonders if in some other life, he could have ended up as one of them, fawning like a fool over some handsome gentleman or other. He flashes them his most charming smile. "Maybe we are just curious to hear what there is to know in this lovely town," he says, the smile still playing around his lips. "My associate and I are from London and this rurality is quite unfamiliar to us. But it does appear quite lovely. Though when we arrived this morning, it looked rather uncanny in the fog."

Edward observes the scene staying in the background. His attire and demeanour, next to Maximilian's, will denote his subordinate status.
It isn't a butler's place, to interrupt their master.

I wonder if any of these women has the acumen or observational power to spot the true gender of this stranger... however confidently she seems to perform her masculine role.

He looks at each of the women in turn, in search of tell-tale signs of recognition.

Now that the two strangers have gotten closer, most of the women look down to their shoes and avoid meeting the gazes of the men. Only the older women look at them without shyness, but for the moment at least, they don't appear to see further than Maximilian and Edward's expensive clothes.

"Well... We are as you see us. You flatter us by calling Little Barnsthorpe a town, but it really is only a village." A few of the girls shoot her indignant glances, but none of them speaks up to reproach her for diminishing Little Barnsthorpe's charms in front of the strangers. "We work, and cook, and clean, and our husbands farm the land. There isn't really much to it."

"My father is a sailor on the Tartarus!" the youngest girl, who does not look to be older than thirteen finally pipes up. Apparently the claim that her father is a mere farmer proves to be too much of an insult.

"But he is not a sailor in Little Barnsthorpe, silly," another young lady admonishes her. "And he is not a sailor but a clerk, which is not the same thing at all!"

"It is so! He lives on the ship, doesn't he?"

"You may live on a ship and you would still be no sailor but just a snotty little girl."

"Quiet, you two!" the older woman manages to step in before the girls start pulling their hair. The younger one definitely has the look of someone who means to throw her clay pot at her opponent in lieu of a more civil argument. "Barking at each other like foxes! What would the gentlemen think of us! My apologies, sir," she turns to Maximilian again. "As I said, we are only simple people. There is nothing much to interest a gentleman such as yourself, at least not at this time of year."

"We don't even have a fairy anymore," woefully adds the youngest girl.

"A fairy?" Maximilian asks. He was amused before, now he's back on task, though he doesn't let his casual smile drop. "I'm pretty sure there haven't been fairies in England for a long time. Or do you know something that I do not?"

"It is that Jack Starhouse, from the big house!" scoffs another woman who had been silent until now. It quickly becomes apparent that they all have something to say about Jack Starhouse and none of it is flattering. He was odd, they say, unnatural, and they are lucky to be rid of him; and although it is surely a misfortune that poor old Mr. Tubbs has been taken (and their prayers are with Mrs. Tubbs), it is good that Starhouse has left before managing to cause even more mischief. The youngest girl recounts with some evident pride of an instant, when Starhouse had offered to buy her some sugar plums after seeing her looking wistfully at the grocer's window.

"I was mighty tempted, but I remembered Fiona telling me once at the Feast of St. Andrew, that I should never accept food from a fairy, nor any other gift, for I shall be taken away!"

"And what would a fairy want with you, you ugly little thing! They only take those who possess beauty and grace, or some other virtue, and you have none."

"It is you who is ugly, Phoebie Plaice, and you are stupid and mean too, and I hope your pie burns and your mother beats you for it!"

"Ladies! Ladies!" the door of the bakery has opened and a man stands there, tall and scrawny as a beanstalk. He wears a white cap and a white apron, and his hands are also white with four. "What is this now? Can you not wait quietly for two minutes while I prepare the oven?" Phoebie Plaice, who had been teasing the youngest girl lifts up her nose and pushes past the man without a word.

"We were only telling those gentlemen about the fairies and then she started telling lies and calling me ugly!" the child complains and wipes an angry tear with her sleeve.

"Oh, not that nonsense again," the baker groans and scowls at Maximilian and Edward, suspecting them as the cause of the commotion.

"Our apologies, sir," Maximilian says to the baker. "We're just on a walk through town and got into a conversation with these young ladies. We certainly did not mean to cause any unrest."
He does however turn to the youngest girl and lean in a bit. "Don't listen to that other girl, alright? You're a pretty thing and you'll grow up to be the kind of woman any fairy would be proud to kidnap. Now my sister Adelaide on the other hand..." He smiles conspiratorially at her, then turns his attention back to the baker.

The look on the man's face darkens.

"I don't much care for that talk of kidnapping, sir. I don't know what business you have here, but you better not be putting ideas into that girl's head. God knows, she doesn't need encouragement of that sort."

Edward bristles at the man's tone, and gives the baker a hard stare. "I believe my master has apologised already. Since when it is a baker's place to decide what people should or should not say?"

"And since when is it a gentleman's place to fill the heads of poor village girls with romantic nonsense? What, you think that just because you are dressed fancy you can come here and insult me and make free with our womenfolk? If so, then you have another thing coming!" The baker stoops to pass through the door and then unfurls himself again to his towering height. The effect however is somewhat diminished by his slight, willowy frame.

"See what you've done, you chit!" Phoebie has come out again, having left her pot inside. The other women are also filing into the bakery and leaving it similarly empty-handed, and in some hurry, not to miss anything. "Barely out of your swaddling clothes and already tricking men into brawling over you!"

"Now that's just vulgar, Phoebie, for shame!" the lady who had first greeted them steps in.

"There is nothing wrong with a bit of romantic nonsense in a young girl's head," Maximilian says. He throws Edward a look. Part of him appreciates the support, part is worried that his tone only made the situation worse. "A few stories and dreams never hurt anyone. But we did not come here to make any sort of trouble, so perhaps we should continue on."

He begins to turn as if to leave, then turns his attention back to the baker. "Although if I may ask one more thing," he suggests. "I swear it has nothing to do with fairy folk or magic."

Edward clenches his fists, his blood boiling at the baker's insolence. He takes a step towards the man, but intercepts Maximilian's look, and stops in his tracks.

Make one wrong move, insolent swine, and you will be baking from a hospital bed for a while... he thinks, trying hard to keep his rage in check.

He stays close in case things degenerate from there, observing the baker's reaction to Maximilian's request.

"You may," the baker replies, eager to be rid of the strangers.

Maximilian smiles his most polite smile at the man before asking, "We're on our way to see Mrs. Tubbs. She and her husband are friends of my father. You wouldn't happen to know if she has any preference in cake? Given the unfortunate circumstances, I would like to buy something to try and lift her spirits a bit."