RP Session 4: "A Halfday's Ride"

The Wastrel's stables were bustling. Many merchants whose goods were bound for the City of Endier and who didn't care for Halfday's gate tax were making their way in to the establishment, while others ended their day's travel just short of the city's caravan curfew. Corson was shouldered more than once as the expansive coach house became cramped and chaotic.

No one arrested the weary warrior's attention as malicious, but with so many coming their departure would be worryingly obvious. Any casual, seemingly innocent enquiry of where the party of bloodied warriors who arrived an hour or so ago had gone would almost certainly be answered with 'they rode out just before dark' and might even include 'bound west I think.' Not to mention the ostler would need to clear passage for their animals.

"In the warm of the spring
Did the Milk Maiden sing
That she dreamed of the day
She would wed."

"But until that day,
She would wile away
Taking any she could
To her bed."

"And the cows of the field
Would most solemnly yield
To speak ne'er a word
Of her trysts."

"With a welcoming wink
And her mouth soft and pink
She would spare any
Fine fellow's wrists."

And so it did go in the sun or the snow, the maid's welcome would always be warm.
Till into the town with a shadow-ed frown came the awnsheigh that could choose his form."

"HUH!"

Voices boomed with bawdy glee across the tradehouse yard as the third round of the song began. The poor minstrel had rolled her eyes at Lan with the same scorn he might expect if he'd invited her back to his chambers. If ever a mere look said 'you filthy pervert' it was this one, but coin was coin and it seemed she was honest enough to play until her breath gave out.

In truth the lyrics were rather more... graphic than Lan recalled.

They met Rhoderick in the stables where he'd persuaded the young informant to retire. The suggestion to 'take a nap' when there was coin to be made through the busiest part of the night likely would not have found traction, but the lad was so addled by the priest's power that he'd convinced himself there might be another coin in it for him.

Having taking the lay of the place, Corson saddled the horses without bothering any of the ostlers who were in high spirits at the music in the hall and all looked set, but they found their exit barred by a large team of fractious oxen who hadn't been properly dealt to before the knight's diversion began.

Moving swiftly to clear the animals from their path, Corson and Lan dismounted and found bags of oats to coax the things with, but in their haste the foul tempered animals sensed something was amiss and put up a terrible din. By the time they cleared a path out of the stables and once more made for the gates the singing had reduced in enthusiasm and the full team of the Wastrel's stable staff as well as a few road-worn men, their cheeks rosey with merriment, who were presumibly the animal's owners were all staring daggers at the party.