Frank & The Boys, Ravensburg Ducal Court, Too much wine

 Arian's accounting:

After the bodies of the toad followers had been taken care of, things at the Fort settled into a quiet rhythm. The arrival of Thibault’s servants brought with them the ring of hammers and slowly but steadily repairs were being made. They all helped clearing out the rubbish, though Greeba spent much of her time at her makeshift forge. Gorlock’s room was also filled with the sound of snips and infrequent swears as he worked on some jewellery pieces, including a lovely moonstone one for Wisteria.

Arian, for her part, spent a part of each day collecting plants to make healing potions and in training Shaggy. He was an apt pupil and had already learned many non-verbal commands—sit, stay, attack, shake paw and her favourite, howl. It was bloodcurdling if you weren’t expecting it.

But soon, Eamon returned from his time with the monks and it was time to make their way to Ravensburg and for Thibault to officially align himself with the Duchess in the hopes of making the fort their permanent home. Home. Arian wondered at the strange thrill the word gave her. She’d never really had a permanent place to call a home; certainly nothing so solidly built of stone and definitely never a place full of so many other people.

She had, in fact, found a small quiet clearing nearby where she spent a fair amount of time. It was a great location to train Shaggy and also had a goodly supply of berries. She was there when she received another sending from Jaroo, stressing the urgency of her mission.

She ran back to the Fort to speak with the others. They were already talking about what needed to be done with the Duchess. It was something that could not be put off for much longer.

“Everyone, I had another sending from Jaroo. He says the situation is critical. Can we take a look there after we sort out things with the Duchess?”

That started a flurry of discussion, but they soon arrived at a plan. Duchess first, while they were fresh and presentable. And then on to Feycircle Tor to see if they could sort out what was happening with the ley lines. Arian wished Jaroo had been more specific – things were bad…how? She kept her sending back to him equally simple: "Will make way there asap, have one thing to clear up to secure our future first."

They set off on the horses towards Ravensburg, following the main road and crossing the old toll bridge. They left Sirondar, Elia, Thib’s servants and Shaggy behind to hold down the fort. It would not do for some evil to recapture it so soon after they had released it from the clutches of the orcs or the invading Tsathoggua cultists. Arian made sure that everyone staying behind knew not to open any of the barred doors and that Shaggy had a good supply of rat jerky. They really didn’t want any more rats or a drake wreaking havoc – or worse.

It was an overcast, drizzly day as they rode, which put a damper on conversation. Not much was said until they came upon the old toll bridge. It was supposed to be abandoned but it was clear as soon as they approached that someone had set up camp there – a lot of them, actually. They were a rag-tag group of mostly bearded men, obviously led by the one in slightly better armour. Or, at least, cleaner armour.

“I do believe that’s Frank…” Thibault muttered to himself. He dismounted from his horse and strode purposely forward, clanking.

“Stand back, Thibault!” called Eamon, but the paladin ignored him.

Frank, seeing him approach, snarled, “Oi! This is a toll bridge!” He pointed up the ridge. “That there is a 16 lb ballista, the most powerful spear chucker in the world... it can take yer 'ead clean off!”

Thibault didn’t react to this news and kept on going. “Oi! Frank! Remember me? What happened to you after the battle? Did you get lost or something?”

“Er.. Yeah!” Frank seemed slightly taken aback. He glanced at the ranks of men behind him and cleared his throat. “Anyway, nows the time to pay the toll! Rich folks like you, 10 gold each should be nothing!”

Thibault shook his head. “You look lost indeed. What are you doing with these friends of yours? I thought you were one of the good ones!”

Arian whispered to those closest to her, “He certainly couldn't fire a ballista if we were close to him. They aren't that exact!” She moved quietly forward, but off to the side. It wouldn’t do to make themselves easy targets.

“I have a different deal for you,” said Thibault, standing straight and tall. The wind whipped through his hair. “You stop being a brigand and I will not bring you to the authorities for high treason. And your little friends stay alive…or most of them...”

Frank seemed to consider a moment, perhaps thinking back to his days of fighting alongside Thibault or maybe just mulling over the paladin’s confident tone. “Alright, alright!” The rest of the men milled about, suddenly confused and scared.

Thibault smiled smugly and crossed the bridge, his footsteps echoing on the wood. He went right up to Frank. Wisteria shifted on her horse, looking impressed.

“On yer way then... I mean, on yer way then, Sir.”

Thibault leaned over to whisper in Frank’s ear. “Frank, you know my nature is forgiveness: would you like to come with us and we can forget about your past life?”

“Er. You got honest work fer us? With pay and such?”

Eamon spoke up, moving his horse forwards. “We're on our way to get a land grant for a local fort. We already have the approval of the church.” He had already spotted that a few of them wore saint symbols around their necks: one St. Sollars, the twice martyred, and another of St. Cecilia.

Thibault turned back to his companions. “If I keep an eye on them, I think we can trust them. What say you?”

Arian squinted at Frank, considering. He looked upstanding enough, she supposed. Oh, wait! A red-tailed squirrel! She missed everyone else’s nods.

Thibault looked Frank in the eye and waved his hands at the rest of the men. “Would you pledge allegiance to me? You seem to be men of good spirit and soul! In exchange, I will give you lodging in my Fort, protection and a decent pay without having to sell your soul.”

“If you join us,” added Eamon, “you will be in much better standing with the law and the church.”

“If you accept, I will write a laisser passer for my friend Sirondar, who is at the fort at the moment.”

"Sirondar? That Banacath princeling?” Frank nodded. “Yeah, I remember he always treated us decent like...Lemme talk with the boys.” The gang conferred for a few minutes, then Frank turned back to Thibault. “Alright Captain, we're yer boys!” He grinned, showing off a surprisingly healthy mouth full of teeth.

Arian bowed politely to Frank and the boys while Thibault discussed their pay. She suddenly felt better about having left the Fort so empty-handed. If these men could truly be trusted, then surely their new home would be safe. She couldn’t stop herself from interrupting the discussion: “And are there any among you skilled in tradecraft? Because we are fixing up the fort after ridding it of the orc infestation that had been there.”

A few of the men spoke up, saying they were handy with a saw and nails. Arian smiled. “Good honest work! When you arrive, be sure to report to Dove Tailjoint.”

“And keep in mind that the main population of the settlement will soon be refugees. They might be a bit rowdy since they're under a lot of stress, so guards would be good,” said Eamon.

Frank nodded. At least he seemed to be on top of things and quick to grasp the situation. Arian handed him a few rat jerky treats. “And give this to Shaggy, if you want to be friends. And trust me, you want to be friends.”

Frank took it. “Shaggy? A dog?”

Arian grinned wolfishly at him. “Something like that.” If he wasn’t trustworthy, Shaggy would certainly sniff him out.

“Congratulations, all of you! You have chosen the righteous path!” declared Thibault grandly, as he handed over an installment on their monthly pay.

“Loads more where this came from! Captain Thibault here's a right fine geezer, didn't I always say?!” Frank looked much happier than when they had ridden up, as did the rest of the men.

Thibault penned a quick letter to Sirondar explaining the situation and signed it with his noble sigil, passing it to Frank along with instructions.

“And,” said Arian, thinking back to the stench of the well full of dead bodies, “if you can sort out the well before we get back, I shall give you a bottle of my finest homebrew.” She looked at the river and noticed a boat. “Frank, if that boat is fit, perhaps you could take the ballista along with you and install it on the tower at the fort? Because certainly we don't want it left here for any brigands to come upon it.” She blinked innocently at him.

“Er, good idea, miss!” Frank directed a few of his men to dismantling the ballista to take with them.

“Good luck in your Journey, Frank, and glad you have made the right decision today! See you in a few days!” Thibault hopped back on his horse, a definite spring in his step.

“Cheers Sir Thibault, Sir!” Frank smiled and saluted. “Don't worry about this lot, I'll get 'em shaved and shipshape when ye see em next!”

Bidding the new recruits farewell, they continued on. Riding on east, they arrived in the large village of Hodges Rock in time for a late lunch and by that afternoon, they could see the high walls of Ravensburg ahead of them.

The massive fortress of Ravensberg Castle loomed on its mount at the east side of the city.

Passing through the West Gate without incident, they joined the afternoon crowds as they headed through town.

“Oh, so big and grand,” said Arian, awed at the sights and smells. And the people! So many!

Greeba put a close eye to any weaponry upon the citizenry, trying to see if there were anything she’d like to make herself.

“Beautiful place, ain’t it?” asked Eamon.

“I swear I have never seen it's like,” said Arian.

Gorlock seemed to be checking out anything in a skirt as they passed by, though Xarius seemed almost oblivious to the crowd.

High on the Holy Bridge span, the cold westerly wind down from the glacier whipped at their cloaks. The vast indomitable fortress loomed high above them - once seat of the legendary first kings of Damara, before Heldrin conquered the Bloodfeathers Nar and founded the new capital of Heliogabalus. It still held royal grandeur.

“Such opulence...,” said Wisteria. “Skullspire is a little more austere than St Sollers!

This is very impressive!”

They headed on to the castle and, after a brief consultation with the guards, were escorted into an antechamber to freshen up. Arian removed a few twigs from her hair. Gorlock swished his robes about, ridding them of dust. Greeba spit in her hands and then tidied Thibault’s hair, momentarily taming his blonde ringlets.

“Thank you so much Greeba!... I guess...”

A page boy came to inform them that Master Temminische and Steward Dahnim would meet with them in the Courtroom and led them there.

“Good luck, Thib,” whispered Gorlock as they went. Thibault gulped and nodded.

The Ravensburg Ducal Court was truly awe inspiring, rivalling the royal seats at Heliogabolus & Lyrabar. Thick red carpet covered the floor. Two elderly fellows left off chatting with a group of bigwigs to greet them. Eamon recognised Master Temminische of the Yellow Rose and Sir Arthur Dahnim, Steward of Ravensburg. Thibault bowed low to them.

“Welcome, welcome!” said Dahnim, beaming.

Thibault gave an answering smile. “Master Temminische and Sir Arthur. This is an immense pleasure to meet you today in this magnificent place!”

Behind them, the rest of the group was gawking. Arian whispered excitedly to Wisteria, “Is that Joriun Whitefeather??” The legendary bard was indeed handsome.

“Hmmm, it could be! He's rather handsome, isn't he?” Wisteria rubbed her hands together, almost as if she were forming a plan of attack.

“The pleasure is ours, Sir Thibault. Some wine?” He waved to a passing servant girl and wine arrived nearly before he had finished his sentence. “So, please do tell us of your plans...”

“Oh, thank you for the wine,” said Thibault, taking a sip to calm himself. “My companions and myself have recently freed the Fort of Skullnar...and we would love to bring that beautiful piece of history back to its former glory. The glory of good, obviously!”

Greeba gave Thibault a jaunty thumbs up.

Dahnim nodded. “Ah yes! That ruin has been a sore point for some time. Ever since the Orcs sacked it and wiped out the Ironwolfs…as a garrison point, it no longer has the strategic importance to warrant Ducal forces... but with restoration it could make an excellent castle for an enterprising knight!”

Eamon cleared his throat. “We've already acquired some guards for the fort while removing the bandits from the ruined toll tower.”

“Therefore, I came here to request the great honour of becoming the steward--with my companions--of the fort and bring that territory back under the Duchess dominion,” said Thibault.

“An estimable notion!” said Dahnim. He looked to Master Temminische, who nodded in agreement.

Temminishce waved an imperious hand in the air. “Sir Thibault, perhaps Brother Eamon has mentioned the refugee issue? Many Brandiarans who fled the ruin of war now languish in poverty - in Arcata, in Carmathan and elsewhere throughout Damara...”

“I have,” interrupted Eamon, “and that is why we have hired some veterans to guard the fort so the refugees feel welcome and safe.”

Gorlock repressed a snort. The masters might not find those veterans such a good idea if they knew that they had very recently been the bandits preying upon Fulscarp Road.

“Aboslutely... and I would engage my word to host them and provide them with asylum!” declared Thibault, taking another sip of his wine. It was a very good vintage.

“We can help rebuild the community and bring some prosperity to the area,” said Gorlock.

Dahnim said, “We shall see about directing folk to your new manor, once you have had the chance to make it ready for them. Now, shall I introduce you to her Grace, the Duchess?”

The conversation had turned to taxes and tax breaks and upkeep and resources. Arian looked around to see if she could find anyone interesting. She wandered towards a wealthy but interesting merchant near Wisteria. There was something about him that made him look like the type of man who knew things. Or, at least, where to find them.

The red-hatted man bowed to Arian. “Hello there, milady! An excellent gathering today, eh?”

Arian firmly repressed the giggle that threatened to come out. M’lady? Heavens. “Good day, kind sir. I must admit I have never seen the like.” She bowed. “My name is Arian. And you, good sir?” She hoped he didn’t have a title that she was supposed to use.

He doffed his hat. “Tenho Isotalo, Merchant Sage and Chronicler, at your service Milady!”

Oh, he did sound intriguing! A man of letters! She attempted a curtsy that somehow wound up more like another bow. “Well met! I confess I am but a simple druid.”

“Ah! A Druidess! Have you met Jaroo, the Ashstaff?”

Arian’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Why, yes, he is the one who sent me this way. I am investigating the ley lines.” She sidled closer. “Have you heard anything about that in your travels?”

The others, meanwhile, were approaching the Duchess…and the handsome bard that hovered near her elbow. Arian noticed them moving that way, but stayed where she was. Perhaps she could learn something useful! Besides, Gorlock certainly didn’t need her cramping his style and Thibault looked to be doing well enough on his own with Eamon to prod him. Greeba was looking a bit bored, but Arian hardly blamed her. There was nothing to bash in this room.

“I consulted with Jaroo in regards to his delving into the ruins of Khundrakar, the Forge of Fury... most useful preparation for my own expedition! I am but lately returned from my second adventure in those fell halls...” Tenho threw his shoulders back, as if imagining himself back in the ruins.

Enthralled, Arian leaned forward to listen closely and slightly stumbled, trying to catch herself before she had to grab on to Tenho. He put out an arm to catch her, smiling. "And the ley lines... I've heard a little of such things, yes.”

“I would appreciate greatly any advice you have,” said Arian earnestly. “We are headed that way after this, we hope, barring any unexpected problems. Jaroo said it is urgent.”

“Hmm... Perhaps we can talk of this later, milady? In private?”

“Certainly, kind sir! I should very much like to introduce you to my companions as well.” Arian didn’t notice Tenho’s slight twitch at the mention of her companions.

Tenho cleared his throat. “I was with the party who rescued our new Duchess from Gurzun's Hall, you know?”

Arian leaned closer, eyes wide. A very brave man, indeed! “I had heard whispers of that daring rescue, but I know little of the details.” Tenho seemed to relax a bit and let out a chuckle. “This is the closest I have ever been to a duchess.” Arian whispered, “Is she a kind woman?” She hoped so. She could see her friends up ahead, smiles plastered to their faces.

“The Duchess is a kind soul, yes... And wise enough to closely follow Sir Dahnim's advice.”

“And what of Sir Dahnim? Is he a wise man?” The man had seemed nice enough, but had, probably rightly, taken no notice of her. She hoped he was a good man, as they were tying themselves to him and to the Duchess.

“Oh yes, very wise indeed! Wise enough to survive Zhengyi's Assassins in the Night of Long Knives... to depose the Impostor Duke Helmont, and to place Malla there on the throne before Sylvia of Ostel could seize it!”

“He sounds a most distinguished man, then,” said Arian. She hadn’t understand even a quarter of any of that, but it all sounded very impressive.

Her ears perked up as she heard Greeba loudly thanking Eamon for some apparent advice. Poking? Asking? Arian wasn’t sure what was going on up there. She listened as the half-orc loudly but cheerfully stage whispered to Dahnim, “Sorry for poking you earlier, I didn't mean to be rude!”

It was best to stay out of it, that was for certain. She turned back to Tenho. “Is there somewhere we could perhaps meet up with you after this, to, if you forgive me my phraseology, pick your brains? I wish to prepare myself however I can for the coming trials and any knowledge you have would be much appreciated.”

“Why certainly, milady! I don't think I've ever met an elf of such radiant fair countenance before, I would be delighted to spend more time in your company...”

There he went again with the m’lady talk. Radiance? Maybe it was her silver hair. It did gleam in the light sometimes. But surely it was no match for the hair of that bard upon the dais…or Thibault’s, for that matter. She supposed he was being polite and surely she should respond somehow in kind? Not sure what to do, she simply bowed again.

The room suddenly went quiet and Arian wasn’t sure why at first, until she heard the Duchess’ clear voice ring out: “Then kneel once more, Sir Thibault, that I may knight thee a Ducal Knight of Carmathan.”

She watched as Thibault knelt. The Duchess stood and swept up to him, her heavy gown sweeping the floor. Bishop Odratus hurried over and uttered a short blessing in a nasally high voice, “In the name of St Sollars, Lord Ilmater, and the Creator who is above all, may this knight's heart be true to his cause.”

“Oh!” said Arian and clapped excitedly, stopping quickly once she realised no one else was clapping.

Greeba, at least, waved happily at her. She waved back.

“It looks like we have something to celebrate tonight!” Arian said to Tenho, smiling as she watched Thibault turn to wink at Greeba.

Sir Dahnim handed the Duchess a slender rapier, with which she tapped Thibault lightly on both shoulders. “Arise, Sir Thibault - of Carmathan!” she proclaimed grandly.

There was a smattering of applause from the courtiers below. Arian hurriedly joined in. Thibault turned to the crowd and bowed low in gratitude. He was positively shining.

The brief ceremony was over. The Duchess handed the rapier off to a servant. “And you must all dine with us tonight!”

Arian smiled uncertainly. That sounded like something a lot of people would be at. The very fine people that filled the hall. She turned to the merchant. “I hope you will join us, Sir Tenho? I confess I would like to see a friendly face.”

“Oh yes, I'm sure we can sit together...”

“That would be most kind!” She smiled at him, then noticed another twig in her hair. She plucked it out and would have dropped it, but thought better of it and pocketed it instead. “Wisteria! Xarius! Come meet my new friend!” They would certainly like him.

That evening, they dined in splendor, albeit at the far end of the dining hall away from the Duchess and her advisors. But true to his word, Tenho sat with them. Arian excitedly introduced him to everyone, extolling his virtues. They seemed not terribly impressed, but maybe it was the fast-flowing wine.

Eamon soon wandered off to see if he could find any members of the church and Gorlock had attached himself to Trystan, the handsome bard. They were apparently commiserating over stories of tavern wenches.

Arian had already had two full glasses by the time the conversation turned to a possible loan from a merchant to help with repairs on the fort. She tried to follow the back and forth between Eamon and Gorlock and the rest, but had trouble concentrating. They needed security? What kind of security? They had Frank and his boys…was that not security enough?

She only snapped out of it when Greeba clapped her soundly upon the back. She had dozed off somehow, an empty wineglass in each hand. It was definitely a very fine vintage. Elven. Red. Deep red.

“Er, perhaps you’ll come visit us, Master Tenho?” she said, but drifted off again before she heard his answer.