RP Session 2: "To the Mattresses"

Sven Bjornding watched Corson go with a furrowed brow. "The Green? I've not heard anyone talk like that in some years." Shaking off his reverie he continued. "Of course Rikke's here - you didn't think we'd leave her to the jackals at court did you?" "Or them to her" murmured Mathilde under her breath. "No doubt she's still out riding - you chanced upon us just before a hunt, and the rest had gone ahead."

"As to Diemed-" the lord took a savage bite of his meat as if he could tear a bite from the Duke of Diemed "-something's riled them up. We expect them to march on Braeme come spring unless something can dissuade them. The worst of it is that they make no secret of massing their troops, as if conquest's inevitable. Ghoere is Ghoere - if Gavin Tael sees a hint of our reinforcing Medoere he'll be looking for opportunity. On the one hand that ties young Marlae's hands, but on the other Medoere's fall would be far more than an injustice."

Looking at Tovrunn he shook his head. "I'm sorry child, I don't mean to make you think you've come to a land of savages. Of course were the worst to happen even the Iron Guard would see you returned to your home."

"If you'd as soon keep a low profile I might have a solution for some added protection though. There's a fellow we've used a few times staying with us. He might be persuaded to bolster your number, and he'll be able to get a boat should you need it. Perhaps the Gods meant it?"

Still not sure if he was frustrated more with himself or Lancaelad, though in truth the man was insufferable at times, Corson marched out of the overgrown lodge's doors and onto the broad bridge that led back to the woods. The lack of guards was troubling, but at least the surrounding woodlands offered places to bolt. At worst the Elvenmeres were mere hours away and those swamplands were unkind to strangers.

Even if their pursuers had the numbers to scour the countryside, would they directly assault a noble's estate? No. If these mercenaries knew where they were then they'd be setting up an ambush on the roads. They'd kept a low profile so far. More likely they were watching border crossings by now.

Spotting a young chamber maid Corson made a brief enquiry, but the girl explained that the household had only arrived some four days prior, and only the huntmaster and her hound trainers stayed on a permanent basis. With Delaen Gap only an hour or so away folk were common enough, and poachers weren't unheard-of, but she knew little else.

"I think you overestimate our numbers son. We'd be stretched thin on either front, but both? Roesone needs a strong ally to make Tael think twice. Then we'll be free to reinforce Medoere." The Lord of Edlin seemed glad to have someone to speak of strategy with.

Mathilde meanwhile took up the thread with Tovrunn. "Yes, Master Rhoderick seems a fine fellow. He's a friend of Lady Tiesera - we've half the court here for the week - but he is a member of a militant order devoted to Nesire, and so naturally they travel the coasts. Should you need aid I'm sure he would step in."

"Gorgon's teeth boy, you want Ogre?" Bjornding blustered for a moment before he looked at Tovrunn and gave a snort. "Oh... very well. For the realm. But I'm trusting you with some of the greatest prizes in my possession young Noelon. If you don't take proper care I'll have words with your father, mark me. I will arrange for the grooms to saddle him for you, but don't ride him lame. I might have need for a warhorse before too long, and Ogre's the very beast I'd trust my life to."

The chambermaid gave a nervous shrug, a guest of her master's asking after her treatment must have seemed a sure trap. "They took me in afore I was a maiden and trusted their finery to me" she replied wide-eyed. "Tis a life far better than one spent wed to a pig farmer to be certain. I've meals in me belly, a roof over my head, linens on me mattress and the society of all manner of fine and gracious folk." Looking about nervously she bobbed a curtsey and blurted "with your leave m'ud" before scurrying away towards the kitchens.

The day's hunting had been a pleasant enough diversion, pretext though it was to discussions of a far less leisurely nature, and the fiery young Rjurik girl who was the Lord of Edlin's charge had even brought down a big brown boar. Evidently you could take the girl from the highlands, but not the highlands from the girl.

When the Lord and Lady had failed to join them Rhoderick had briefly worried that one of the looming conflicts smouldering on Roesone's borders had burst to full-fledged flame, but plucking at her dulcimer Tiesera looked the picture of disregard. It was true that he'd managed to travel the Medoere-Diemed border unaccosted as little as a week ago, and battle lines looked anything but ready to march. But that was all the more reason for concern. Appearances were, after all, not to be trusted.

Still, of anyone in the nation the Tiesera would know if there were cause for worry. Officially the court herald, she made it her business to stay well informed and Rhoderick more than suspected that she did so for reasons more serious than a need for musical inspiration.

As they made their return the weather had soured and the party had picked up to a canter lest the darkening sky overtake them. By the time they reached the stables the Nesirite was ready to forsake horses for good. No ship had ever shaken a man about so savagely, or by so unforgiving a part of the anatomy as the animal he'd been given.

---

Corson had no desire to return to the dining hall, but nor did he know the lodge or its grounds, or where they would be staying. At a loss he remembered the saddlebags Tovrunn had taken from the Brecht mercenary's rooms in Bardenhold - like as not they were still in the stables with their animals. They'd glanced inside on the journey here, but the personal effects of a man who made his life on the road demanded closer scrutiny than a ride through the night allowed. Perhaps now was the moment to try and learn something about their enemy.

Making his way back to the stables, the squire made enquiries with a groom and was quickly shown to their horses. He found the saddlebags sitting alongside the crossbow (and recalled Breuddyyd's parting words - "There's a dweomer about that") and emptied their contents onto a bench then began the task of organising their contents. There were the obligatory supplies for living on the road - a pot, flint and tinder, knife and spoon, a bedroll slung beneath one bag, a short length of rope, an equally gaudy change of clothes, a few books of history and poetry in a mix of Anuirean and Low Brecht, a trader's map of southern Anuire tucked into a small almanac. More unnusual were the set of manacles tucked at the bottom of one bag, and what appeared to be a particularly ancient scalp.

Amongst the books were a sheaf of waxsealed parchments, and closer inspection revealed these to be orders describing travelling to Abbadiel with a contingent of no less than a hundred men divided into cohorts of no more than a dozen. They were ordered to take into custody any Anuireans debarking from the Golden Prowl and deliver them, or failing that to establish a perimeter to prevent their escape. Other orders described taking up a watch in Bardenhold, and a message in a hurried hand described their party as "two knights,
one sun-dark and the other fair; a Rjurik woman with pale hair and face markings; a sidhe with a hound; a Roesonian nobleman, young and of uncanny presence; and a Khinasi half-caste of middle years." They ordered that all be taken with no special mention made of Salien. They also made no directive of where they should be taken, suggesting that this was something known to the reader.

The whole bundle bore the same seal - an ornate device that appeared to be the head of a hare or rabbit.

As he finished reading Corson heard the clatter of hooves, and voices approaching the stable from outside, and saw the grooms hurry to straighten their livery and meet the riders.