RP Session 3: "The Diemen Gambit"

During his esquiry, Lancaelad had spent more than a few nights in the field – albeit usually with a bedroll, at least. The misty light of dawn stirred him and he awoke to the smell of sheep shit and lanolin, feeling chill from the lack of fire and a crick in his back from an uncomfortably placed stone. He was youthful, strong and hale, however, so the discomfort was quickly forgotten as he sat up and flexed his shoulders and back, banishing the crick with a pop.

"What fool extinguished the fire?" he grumbled, rubbing his hands and forearms, glowering at Corson. "Go and fetch some more wood. I should think a would-be 'Knight of the Greenwood' is up to that,at least." Of course, they had little in the way of food that needed cooking, only dried meat, fruit, cheese and hard bread packed for them by the Bjording's kitchen. Lan eyed the flock thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should butcher one of them. Mutton to break our fast"

Dressing in steel was a little slower and more awkward than usual without his retainers on hand to assist. The party was entertained for a while by the sight of the knight industriously attempting to stick his head into the maille sleeve of his hauberk. The armour creaked more than usual, and some of the links were starting to gain a patina of rust from neglect.

Once he was properly attired, he sat down and listened to Pavel's question, but addressed his answer to Adalric Salien. "The Lord Seneschal gave us no hard-inked date, but the sooner done means the sooner you may catch a tradewind back east, if that is your intention, Adalric." He addressed the Suirienese man by his given name for the first time, and there was something oddly ingratiating in his tone that was usually absent when addressing those without titles.

"As for how we cross the border to Endier..." A glimmer of uncertainty fell under the hooves of rooster stubbornness. "Guile served us well yesterday," he gave Rhoderick a nod in recognition of his quick witted ploy with the 'poacher', "...but we have no wagon, no company to make us seem like merchants now. There is no lawful reason for the baron of Diemed's men to bar our passage if we proclaim ourselves as emissaries of Roesone escorting a guest of the baroness to another country."

The folly of this was obvious to everyone who wasn't Lancaelad. There was no love lost between Diemed and its rebel eastern provinces. A group of armed Roesoneans – including a knight and the son of one of the high officers of Marlae Roesone's court – would certainly face scrutiny, if not apprehension, especially with tensions so high at the border. Not to mention the risk of word escaping to reach the long, floppy and numerous ears of the Prince of Rabbits.

"Umm.." Pavel looks at Lancaelad to see if he's joking.

Erron gave a tight little smile. "I see you've not heard of the Lord Castellan's first son by reputation. His directness is famed throughout Proudglaive." By the time he turned to Lan the smile had vanished. "I am afraid Roesone is see as an ally to Medoere in Diemed. We'd most certainly be labelled spies were we to confess to our allegiances-" he glanced at Rhoderick "-and given that we are spies..."

"Perhaps a week ago we rode the borderlands, Rhoderick and I, and many of the small towns were near empty. Medoere is braced for war. No doubt the many guilds whose interests span the border have found some amnesty, but their agents are likely shrewd enough to ask why we might want to hide amongst their number."

"Rhod, do you recall any point of weakness we might exploit?"

Pavel stared at Erron for a moment. "First son..?" he asked. "You mean, there's more than one?"

Try as he might, Rhoderick had spent the week riding Diemed's borders watching for what might come out of the southern Duchy, not a way in. Erron wasn't exaggerating though - many border villages, sensing war on the air, had packed up their goods and made into the heart of Medoere or (if they were fortunate) out of the little realm altogether. Those that remained did so because they didn't have a choice.

"There is another option," Tovrunn said from where she sat. Like Pavel, she too had risen early as was her custom, studying the movements of the last of the morning stars as they tracked across the brightening sky and listening to the wisdom on the wind. Pulling her fingers from the well-trod soil, she rises and brushes stray grass from her clothing.

"The direct approach. Through the Spiderfell. I fear neither wildlands nor goblins, and two days careful ride within the fell will see us at Endier's border. At least, that is my guess from what maps the Lord Bjordling possessed." Holding her hands in acquiescence, she explained before protests could form. "I know it to be dangerous, but Erik and Ruornil have given me enlightenment on new magic that will cloak our footfalls and wipe away any trace of our passage. For a time, at least. With proper timing, care, and preparation, I believe that we can cross without attracting too much attention."

"There is indeed another," Lan said conversationally. "My twin sister Brieony serves as a lady-in-waiting at the court of the queen of Aerenwe in Calrie, and our younger brother Anson is an acolyte of the Impregnable Heart's mother church in the city of Ilien." There was warmth in his voice, with a layer of grim satisfaction behind. He loved his family, but on some level he was also glad that they were on life-paths that meant they would not challenge his claim to the Noelon title and holdings. Brieony would probably marry some courtier from Aerenwe, that buccolic kingdom to the east, and Anson would renounce his claims when he took holy vows. "Neither of them have the mettle of a true knight, but they serve in their own ways and are my dearest kin."

He bristled as Erron Von continued, his hand falling to his belt and the haft of the crow's bill hanging there. "Speak for yourself, churl. The lady and myself are no spies, and you would do well to remember that." He did cast a more suspicious glance over Rhoderick and Pavel, though. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he knew little of their true allegiances or purposes, as magnetic as the sea-priest was. Could the Prince of Rabbit's coneys be more cunning than he had anticipated – cunning enough to pretend to be allies?

He stamped a seal on that for later, and turned away from Von with a snort, and listened to Tovrunn's pitch with a widening smile. "Yes! Few sell-swords would dare the Fells, for what use is gold to a man dying in agony from a spider's bite? Any that did in great numbers would rouse the Spider's minions far more than our small band. A courageous plan, my lady!" He slammed his fist into his palm.

Pavel grinned as Lancaelad played along with Tovrun's suggestion. Pavel had acquired a great respect for her when they worked together to study Goodman Salien's artefact and he could not fault her for not knowing the history of the Fell. But there was a reason why The Spider had survived all this time surrounded by hostile Anuirian realms. The young mage had no doubt that Tovrunn's god would grant her the ability to neutralize poisonous spider bites but he doubted she was capable of healing the entire group, should it come down to it.

Clearly Lancaelad was eager to marry for he was already playing the 'yes, dear' game.

The thought of actually going into the Spiderfell made Pavel throw up a little in the back of his throat. He reflexively reached out for the waterskin hooked onto his pack. The waterskin obediently rose in the air and closed the distance, gliding into Pavel's grasp. He took a much needed gulp of water before releasing the waterskin so it could return to its rightful place with his gear.

"While proving our prowess against goblins does have a certain appeal, they are the least of the dangers of the Fell, or so I am told. The Spiderfell is home to more than goblins. It is infested with, as I am sure you can guess, spiders of all sizes. Rumor is that The Spider controls all of them and can see through their eyes and that even the smallest arachnids are deadly. I have no fear for my own safety, mind, but dare we expose Goodman Salien to such danger? And what of our horses? If it comes to a fight, would our steeds not serve us better in open terrain?"

Pavel realized that criticizing a course of action without offering an alternative did nothing to help the situation. He set his mind to searching for something safer than the suggested route through the Spiderfell.

"A route," he voiced his thought aloud. "Why try to come up with our own when a route already exists? A trade route, that is. The Heartland Outfitters have caravans coming and going to and from Endier, is this not so? They likely have the means to safely cross the border into Diemed, even in these tumultuous times."

Tumultuous. Such a big word for someone who speaks Anuirian as their second language. And, yet, it rolled off his tongue quite easily.

"My talent for soothsaying can be of particular use to regents," Pavel said, somewhat modestly. In truth, he suspected that regents would pay a hefty amount of gold crowns for his services, an amount exceeded only by magic wielded by a wizard capable of tapping into the power of the land. Of course, such lofty feats were beyond Pavel. For now.

"We could tell a caravan master in Caerwil that I seek to offer my services to their guildmaster and wish to negotiate in person at the guild offices in Endier. If the caravan master believes you all are my personal escort, surely he will welcome the added protection your strength of arms would provide, especially since it is very possible that a caravan could be raided by goblins from the Spiderfell. Between our might and the guild's political connections, nothing would be able to stop us from succeeding in your mission."

And if that doesn't work, I can always fall back on magic to get us past the border. Pavel kept that particular thought to himself. He feared presenting a back-up plan might undermine the group's confidence in his suggested course of action. There was no way he would allow Erron to embrace the almost-certain death that would follow should the group choose to enter the Spiderfell.

"A varsk's feathers are best left unruffled," he spoke that last thought out loud. Pavel was only too happy to share the weighty gift of Vos wisdom. Even spoken without any context, surely they were words to live by.

"Think on it," he urged his new traveling companions. "For now, we should at least stop by the Temple of the Sacred Moon to get current information as to the goings ons in Medoere. It is close to our current location and the time we spend there will be well spent if it prevents us from blindly walking forward to who-knows-what awaits us."

Corson looked at the group in conversation, silently listening to every suggestion. He turned to Salien. "How are you hanging in there? We
are almost there."

The squire of the Green gave the man a reassuring nod while assessing what is left of his charge's patience and perseverance.

It was easy to forget that barely a day ago Corson's charge had been adamant that he would return to the east. That wasn't down to Adalric's air of sullen denial having lifted so much as how fraught the past twenty four hours had been. Still, of all people Lancaelad's oath seemed to have satisfied the foreigner, and the rotted standard that he'd found in the swamps had served as a distraction. Still, the squire of the Green wasn't convinced that Salien wouldn't bolt if he were given the opportunity. And if he was as valuable as all of this seemed to imply... it was hard not to wonder what he knew. Had he seen something without knowing its significance? Was this hapless innocence a mask worn by a master spy? Corson hadn't had cause to doubt until they'd set foot on Anuirean soil.

"Just an army in our way" Salien replied wryly "and maybe another hiding at our backs. This is hardly a field of dates." He shook his head. "I should have said no, but here we are now. And I suppose you no more expected this than I."

Pavel's advice took the blowhard wind out of Lan's sails. Lost in thoughts of blazing a trail across the Spider's silk-garotted domain, leaving the Prince of Rabbit's men stumbling into web and angry goblins in their wake, something in his blood relished the thought of crossing blades with the awnshegh more than a troop of assassins of Diem soldiers. But Pavel was right, there was another body to consider... their charge's.

"I... suppose you are right," he admitted grudgingly. "I have no doubts in your facility to guide as swiftly and silently through the woods, my Lady Tovrunn, but it would be an ignominious end to our quest indeed if Adalric was to fall prey to a verminous attercop, no less than a hired sword." Looking a bit sullen at the prospect of not riding into mortal danger he took a last bite of the withered apple he was eating and then offered the core to Ogre. The brute nearly took his fingers off with a hearty bite, and Lan stroked his mane.

"Break camp. Petranova, let us take in the wisdom of these moon priests, if you know the way."

"Adalric" Corson said "we will get you there."

The squire of the Green looked at his companions. Lancaelad showed moments of brilliance, if only he could keep his pride from blinding him to wisdom, the young noble could be a real leader to his people. He regarded Tovrunn next. The seeress was a little creepy sometimes, but he felt more comfortable with her than with the nobles.

Corson turned to regard Pavel, Erron and Rhoderick, these three were strangers to him, but seemed invested in helping them get Salien to their final destination. Only time would tell how helpful they would be.

With a sardonic glance towards the young noble issuing orders Rhoderick helped strike the camp before mounting up. Hopefully he doesn’t have to ford another stream or he’ll be thrown again he snickered to himself.

A deep sigh and then a respectful look settles upon his face again, the goddess and the spy mistress never set an easy path, either of them.

"Pavel lad, why I saw you not a month past did I not? And here you are again. Have the heathens over the river so taxed you that you need the wisdom of the Silver Prince again so soon?" He looked askance at the Vosman "Or so early" he added before giving a high laugh. "I jest of course. I'd be an old fool not to court the good will of our friends to the east in such times as these. Come, you'll not begrudge me breaking my fast will you?"

"You gained weight," Pavel said, frowning in mock disapproval. He paused just long enough for his words to sink in before mirth got the better of him. Unable to maintain his usual stoicism, a very un-Vos-like grin briefly made an appearance before decorum reasserted itself.

When Father Landen obliquely questioned the reason behind Pavel's unexpected appearance at the temple, the young mage shrugged helplessly. "I had a dream," he said, as if those four words explained everything. Maybe they did.

"That, and I felt the need to offer my to help my friend and his companions," Pavel gestured to Erron and the group at large.

"Everyone, this is Father Landen. Father Landen.. this is everyone." Pavel kept the introductions purposefully vague. He knew the group travelled incognito. If they wanted to identify themselves, that was their decision to make, not Pavel's.

"Yes, eat. Please. I understand that sharing knowledge helps ward off indigestion. We'd be all to happy to help ensure you don't get a belly ache."

"We find ourselves needing to travel up into the Heartlands but rumors abound about a possible conflict between Medoere and Diemed. More possible than usual, that is. We thought it best not to rely on gossip so I suggested we pay you a visit. I hope our unexpected presence here isn't too much of an imposition?"

"A dream?" The Ruiornilite's expression turned grave. "You'd best sit then."

He lowered himself onto a bench alongside one of the long communal tables. "I fear I may not be much use to you - matters of defence are not precisely my purview. Our forces are rallying around Tieren Pass while the Dieman army is spread evenly along the border. Warfare favours the defender or so they say, but many of the wounds of seven years past have healed and the Duke's army is strong again. We must pray that the Silver Prince will once again intercede on our behalf should it come to it."

"If anyone can convince Lirovka to make an appearance, surely it's his Sacred Voice. Hopefully the situation does not escalate to the point where such an intervention is needed."

"As for us, we will need to safely cross the border. Is there a sense that war could break out any day or more like any minute?"

Pavel couldn't help but wonder if they should abandon the idea of traveling with a guild caravan. By the time they found someone in the town of Caerwil to negotiate with, the trade routes could already have been closed because of fighting. Perhaps he was still feeling the urgency of his dream vision but something in the young mage suspected they should waste no time if they had any hope of crossing the border before the fighting starts.

Landen spread his hands. "Who can truly claim to know the mind of Duke Diem? Perhaps his soldiers march now, perhaps our forces plan to strike first like an arrow to the heart., perhaps it is all merely a ploy to make us afraid or a grand smokescreen concealing some other deed. I am no soldier, and the fewer who know Medoere's plans the safer its soldiers are."

He looked sad for a moment at the thought of the waste of life that awaited them. "I can tell you this - the battle will not be won by steel. Faith and mebhaighl will be the armies that win the day - for either side."

"If you still seek my council; soldiers are poorly paid. A hefty purse opens many doors."

Taking a boiled egg from a small basket he rolled the shell gently on the crude timber of the table and examined it thoughtfully as tiny cracks spider webbed its surface. Then he held it up into one of the shafts of light where the small brown ovoid almost glowed.

"Did you know that no man alive, no matter how strong, can shatter an egg by squeezing it top to bottom? Something that is the very emblem of fragility hides a strength few would believe. And yet does not man need his breakfast?"

Pavel felt a bit of reassurance when the Abbot declared that a fight between Diemed and Medoere would be won as a matter of faith and mebhaighl. After all, people often disappointed, but magic never did.

The young mage wasn't entirely sure he grasped the egg analogy but he supposed an egg could very well represent the alliance between Roesone, Medoere, and Ilien. As long as they stood together, they would be able to withstand outside pressure. Of course, we were discussing the border. Maybe his words held meaning that simply went over Pavel's (admittedly tall) head.

"It is the smallest of Varsks that have the largest of nests," Pavel said in agreement. Even if he wasn't sure if he understood the deeper meaning of Father Landen's words, it was only right and proper to repay wisdom with wisdom.

Changing the subject slightly, Pavel said, "Oh, we need to report the possibility of a fairly large number of mercenaries who may -- or may not -- have followed our trail from Roesone into Medoere. These mercenaries are not in the employ of the Baronness. They have been hounding my companions here for days at the direction of the King of Bunnies." He felt a little odd speaking the moniker aloud and looked at his travel companions to confirm he had spoken correctly.

Pavel then briefly outlines his attempt to throw off pursuit by means of misinformation, including the message he sent to Patriarch Tosiere in the hopes that Ruornil's priests in Roesone could help to uncover the unwanted spies in the Baroness' court.

"We felt we should inform the authorities," Pavel made a 'that's you' gesture to Father Landen, "just in case our attempt was unsuccessful. I trust you can inform those who need to know of such matters?" Pavel was obliquely referencing the Theocracy's widespread use of magic to facilitate communication amongst members of the priesthood. Such magic was beyond Pavel's ability -- for now -- but the young mage knew a Sending Spell when he saw one.

"I also wonder if you might be able to inquire if Patriarch Tosiere was successful in locating the Spider Sigil I brought to his attention." It was probably too soon to yield any results but it didn't hurt to ask.. Likewise, a little reminder for the Patriarch to look into the matter couldn't hurt either. He was a busy man, after all.

Pavel also glanced at his travel companions, purposefully making room in the conversation for anyone to ask Father Landen any questions they may have.