RP Session 3: "The Diemen Gambit"

Mathom accepted the paper and examined it scrupulously. First he scrutinized the paper itself, then unfolding it he held it up to the lamplight, then finally scanned whatever illusory message his mind must have conjured. Whatever conclusion he'd drawn, that mild frown never changed. The thin lips did not so much as part.

He looked slowly up at Rhoderick, and then back at the document before fastidiously refolding the sheet of paper and returning it. "My apologies. This clears up everything. Captain, please guide these travellers back to their companions and escort them through the camp by the highroad. They are not to deviate from that path."

With that he turned and walked back into the pavilion from which he'd emerged.

Pavel nodded in complete agreement with the halfling. It had taken Balthis Malthom some time to get there, but Diemed's spymaster eventually made the correct decision. After all, the party was no threat to the army, delaying them would serve no purpose.

Sometimes the only way to help someone see the truth of things is to deceive them.

"Very good. Shall we be on our way? Captain .. Braight?"

"Storm Mother’s blessings Captain. Let us collect the Lady and be on our way." Rhoderick’s tone was brusque and perfunctory, still playing the role of annoyed. He gave a respectful nod to Pavel as he wheeled his horse around.

Pavel swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. As the group left the Spy Master's little corner of the encampment, the mage was sure to position his horse far enough that the Captain wouldn't be able to discern words quietly spoken but close enough that he'd hear if Pavel slightly raised his voice.

The mage then casually retrieved the spell scroll from his saddlebag and then looked around to ensure that The Gecko's tent was out of earshot. He then spoke the arcane phrases inked on the scroll as quietly as possible, directing the spell at Captain Braight. As soon as the magic of the scroll was released, Pavel directs his horse to catch up to the Captain as he leads us back where the others waited for us.

"Why don't you set a hasty, but not unseemly, pace and then, once our travelling companions have rejoined us, you can escort us through the camp by way of its perimeter?" Pavel Suggested. He went on to explain, "The Lady who travels with us is shy and I am certain she would wish to avoid the base stares of common soldiers."

Pavel said a silent prayer to the Silver Prince: Please, please let this work...

Lan had to swallow a guffaw of amazement as the halfling seemed to accept the blank parchment at more than face value. He would owe Rhoderick and Pavel a hearty clasp of the hand and pat on the back for this piece of cunning-work! But for now, he kept playing the dour guard, staying close as they prepared to collect the rest of their party and ride through.

It wasn't until Pavel began fidgetting with another sheaf of parchment and muttering to himself that Lan sensed something was wrong. The way he spoke to Captain Braight so sharply, so directly, so imperiously... something was wrong. His hand slid to the haft of his weapon again and he glanced at the wizard curiously.

Rhoderick’s smugness and fake annoyance fell away as Pavel barked at the Captain. Had he lost his cool? Or had he sensed something wrong with the spell? Either way he grasped the haft of his mace and started glancing about alertly.

Braight nodded with a matter of fact air as Pavel felt the casting settle into place on his mind. "Of course, your lady needn't ride through the whole camp. There is a supply track to the south that will serve very well." He indicated Tovrunn, Erron and Corson ahead as they approached the perimeter of the encampment. "It is a little rugged, but your mounts should be more than a match for the ground."

Tovrunn's face slowly morphed into a scowl. That was unusual. For a moment the displaced druid wavered, unsure of what to do, before she silently commanded Ira to give pursuit, flying low enough to hear whatever the man had to say.

Perhaps the man was following an order unrelated to their passage. She hoped he was following an order unrelated to their passage. But if that wasn't the case, if there were some obstacle that their ruse had failed to move - or worse, had inadvertently placed in front of them, Tovrunn needed to know about it. As far as her husband-to-be was concerned Diemed was an enemy, and that meant that they were Tovrunn's too. They would have to be a day's ride away or more from this warcamp before she loosened her vigilance.

A figure emerged from the pavilion, dressed head to toe in crushed velvet of maroon and forest green with a pair of light-weight blades sheathed at his side. His back was to Ira, but even then the missing hair and angry, puckered red of burned flesh was obvious.

"Describe ze silent Anuirean to me."

"Very good, Captain. The supply track you mentioned sounds perfect. Let's do that," he said, with a pointed look at Lancaelad, Rhoderick, and Salien before turning back to Braight.

"And we really must make haste. Her Holy Ladyship's exposure to, well, anything that would cause impure thoughts, really, should be limited. And, with Diemed's finest here en mass ... I'm sure you understand my concern."

"Allow me a moment to speak with her and we shall be on our way."

Pavel pulled his horse ahead of the Captain and gestured for the man to wait. He spoke courteously but there was an unconscious, quasiaristocratic undertone in his gesture, one that silently communicated that he expected to be obeyed.

Pavel quietly muttered something to himself, turned in the saddle to look at Lancaelad, and pointed a finger (accusingly?) at him but said nothing. The mage turned to face forward once more and hastened to rejoin Erron, Tovrunn, and Corson.

Lan frowned as the Dieman captain readily agreed to Pavel's alternate route. Why was the man being so obliging? What was the Vos's aim in leading them the long way around rather than straight through?

The blister of suspicion popped as the young knight suddenly heard an arcane murmur in his ear. He started, sweeping his gauntleted hand around in the air as if trying to ward off a midge. "Cuiraécen's spit!" he yelped, glancing around for the source of the sound. But then he actually listened to it...

He turned in his saddle and glanced back at the Gecko's tent, weighing the odds of galloping back and seizing the spymaster before he could set any schemes against them. No, thin hope of that. Pavel's voice said that the highroad was a trap now. If they went that way it would not be like a vice closing in on them; it would be an avalanche, hundreds of men pressing in on all sides. Certain death or capture.

The supply track it would be, then, once they were reunited with Tovrunn and the squire of the greenwoods.

As Pavel rode ahead, Lan tarried long enough to speak in a hushed tone from under his hood to Rhoderick and Salien: "The wizard says the little wretch saw through his ruse and is preparing to snare us as we ride through the camp, but he has bewitched this man to take us by another route. Be read to battle fiercely or ride swiftly. We are on the brink of a storm here." He twitched the reins and heeled Ogre forward after Pavel, his gaze flitting to the side with renewed suspicion.

"ᛖᚱᛁᚴ ᛋᚨᚡᛖ ᚢᛋ," Tovrunn cursed under her breath. The situation was quickly changing for the worse.

"Corson," she called a little louder, holding out her hand; she was not yet ready to return to her own senses as there was surely more to learn. "Come here for a moment." When the man reached her and took her hand, Tovrunn began to speak in a hushed tone, "Our Brecht friend from the inn in Bardenhold has recovered enough from his tumble down the stairs to beat us here. The others are returning, but we cannot venture through the main camp; a snare is being built. Steel yourself for whatever happens next."

Pavel took a few moments to quietly bring Tovrunn, Corson, and Erron up to speed in regard to encounter with Balthis Malthom and the Phantasmal Fiasco. It didn't surprise him that they had awaiting their return and were ready to be on the move. What did surprise him was Tovrunn's willingness to plunge headlong into danger while her senses were elsewhere. It was both a display of great bravery, as well as a show of the tremendous confidence she had in Corson and he wondered, not for the first time, if there was more to the man than was readily apparent.

Although Pavel was glad that everyone was together once more, something seemed off. After a moment, he realized what it was: Lancaelad.

Pavel realised, with a twinge of guilt, the he had been responsible for inadvertently creating a situation that had caused the group to split up during the group's initial encounter with the Captain. If it hadn't been for Pavel's blunder, the knight -- Tovrunn's intended -- wouldn't be stuck in the role of Salien's slack-jawed guard and would even now probably be positioning himself beside Tovrunn in order to provide her a measure of protection while in her vulnerable state.

He silently promised himself to be more careful with his words in the future.

Pavel brought his horse opposite Corson, on Tovrunn's otherwise unprotected flank. Honor demanded no less. He didn't have Lancaelad's armour but the mage was ready to conjure a magical Shield at a moment's notice.

"We really should make haste."

Wait. What was it he had vowed to do? He had just admonished himself for something. Well, self improvement would have to come later, he supposed. For now, he refocused his attention, looking for signs of danger. Evidently it was much easier to remember a vow made to another than one made to one's self.

Corson grimaced, but quickly was at Tovrunn's side. "I did not miss these intrigue when I was abroad."

"Shall we move a bit faster Captain?" Rhoderick suggested. "We don’t want to keep you from your duty more than needed."

As Braight led them beyond the pale, Lancaelad caught sight of those of the party they had left behind. He saw Corson holding Tovrunn's hand and his brow furrowed. Ogre trotted forward, leaving Salien behind, and Lan drew a breath to scold the squire for his shamelessness – until he saw that Tovrunn appeared to be asleep or entranced, eyes closed, upright in the saddle.

"What has happened to her?" he asked urgently, riding next to her and scrutinising her peaceful, distant face. Vaguely, he noticed that it was not an unpleasing face. A man might be quite content awakening to find that face on the pillow next to his each morning. Instinctively, his hand came up and brushed a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. Then the thought came to his mind, unbidden, of his Lady of the Woods, of forbidden fey frolics under the moon, of knightly vows abandoned and oaths of eternal devotion sworn. A furtive, vulpine expression raced across his face, chased by the hounds of guilt.

Corson continued looking ahead as he answered Lancaelad, not out of disrespect but not to call attention to their conversation. "She uses the seer's eye. She needs guidance while in that state. I remember the druids that my Order oft worked with used this magick."