[RP] Averancia: Hero's Call

"A man should tend to his garden before considering his neighbor's."

Rafn said and grabbed a haunch of meat, boar, devouring it clean to bone and grabbing himself a handful of roasted fowl, turkey, five legs fit in his plate. He took an entire tureen of gravy and drank a mouthful, swallowing, devouring a turkey leg, stopping, filling a bowl with gravy and feeding it to Silver. Then committed himself to drinking the entire contents of the gravy boat nearest him. He had no time for further conversation as he devoured all the meat he could see.

On a second thought, Aundovald then wonders if this meeting was in truth turning more strange than historic.

Why was the Lord Chamberlain being so long-winded and evasive with his words? The visiting aristocrat first, and now even the towering shepherd, had asked direct questions to learn what was to be done. Surely there could be a fairly simple answer. What was the most pressing threat? Were there brigands or pirates to be dispatched? Was the Duke in a known trouble and needing support, or even rescue?

The royal letter of decree called for heroes. Aundovald had assumed heroes meant men of action, resolve, and strength-of-arms, who were ready to accept a perilous mission. Whether the men assembled in the room, Aundovald included, were heroes or not was yet unknown - fair enough. But the call had been answered. Even oaths sworn as the first instruction - quite a demand! The gifts and payment are generous and appreciated, but the vague platitudes from the regal commander invoke more questions than answers.

And now: a timid and wandering invitation to a rural sheep-herder to decide where to launch a martial campaign, and to what end?!

Meanwhile a feral boy recently commissioned as a "Beast Lord" drinks bowls of gravy, chirping quips and running roughshod over the formal setting without even a slightest correction from the Realm's Highest Steward.

The vapid indecisiveness of the Lord Chamberlain is disappointing, if not troubling. Perhaps Master Aelwynd will speak again to lend direction to this faltering encounter, as he is a skilled orator - a nobleman experienced in exchanges of the royal court.

What is this? The man calls for heroes but asks that we be his council? He is indecisive and overwhelmed. Wilfrid eyes the piles of papers on the Chamberlain's desk.

"Often, my apprentices have tried their own hand at crafting an epic. Much of the time they start off eager and inspired, but then they inevitably come to a halt. Too many choices. So many threads to track and hold together. Indecision wrought by the worry that any one decision is not going to drive the epic forward well enough - that such a decision would be wrong. I tell you, the wrong decision is no decision. May I?" Wilfrid approaches the desk and reaches for the stack of papers. He would like to rifle through them to see what takes the Chamberlain's time and attention. Wilfrid suspects that bureaucracy is to blame for inaction. Where does this bureaucracy stem from?

"A man cannot clean the speck from his neighbor's eye, when there is a log in his own."

The Beastlord reiterates sagaciously. Wondering how there was any deliberation to be had over the obvious. He chuckled at that. He had taken a break from gorging himself. Instead observing what was not happening.

"I have seen much from my high seat. How does this land treat the unclean, the widow, the orphan? If one needs a place to start, attending the needy is the obvious choice."

Ængus shivers as if gripped by the ague. Then, the fires of true belief enter his eyes and he turns suddenly to his companions and says I know where we must go, or at least where I must go. Father Elion directs me to the foot of the Blackridge mountains, and there I must go. You are welcome to travel with me, for there is strength in numbers. If you choose to remain and follow other paths, then I wish upon you the greatest of Father Elion's blessings for success. But I know where I am bade to go, and go Brutus and I shall. Turning to Lord Amberstead, Ængus concludes If you have any last words of wisdom or issues on which to focus, my Lord, please say them soon, for after a brief moment to refresh and restock, we depart.

Rafn watched closely as the spell took Ængus, he had seen many such trances in his life. Though none were inspired seemingly without cause. Ængus spoke with the authority he had come to recognize, the very voice of the Sun. Immediately following his declaration came proof patent of the Seer's words. He saw in Ængus the Holy Spirit, and it resonated strongly within his heart. It confirmed what he had already known, the Gods had not abandoned Averancia, merely the institution of the Church which had forsaken the way.

Aundovald watches and listens carefully, trying to gather what he can from the spoken interchange.

The Chamberlain now says the commissioned patrol should travel to Blackhill, from whence the messenger has come. Aundovald wonders what "situation" must be dealt with in Blackhill.

He moves close to Master Aelwynd. "Can you read the letter aloud, my Lord?," he asks.

Noticing the emotional response of the Lord Chamberlain as he whispers the dramatic news, Aundovald prompts Amberstead as well, "Tell us more then, Lord Chamberlain. What is the meaning of the white dove? What does it reveal about Duke Anvilstar - his current state and location?"

Aundovald studies his new exquisite map.