After Winter, a Spring Fair

Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Treadwell » Sun May 11, 2014 3:38 am

A gladdened heart. Fees. Poor excuses.

She had plenty of time to talk to you the other day, Aloisius. This is time to do a little exploring.

A wheezing mmph is followed by a flitflitfliff of fan at face, an action accompanied by tucking the cane under Treadwell's arm long enough to fetch a handkerchief from a pocket and wipe at the sweat starting to oil the man's face. A proper list of fees can be drawn, of course, in potentially exorbitant amounts, on returning to the meetinghouse.

But for now?

The handkerchief is swapped to the hand with the fan, and the cane returns to its rightful place. No words are returned to his most gracious host; instead, he finishes his slow lumbering over to--

"Chairwoman Kaczmarek, hm hm? How might I, hmph, help you today?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby BDAdmin » Sun May 11, 2014 4:35 am

The Baron remains quiet as Egris and Kaczmarek spar, turning his attention first to one and then the other as they speak, watchful and patient. Eventually the Lady Verreaux calls an end to the back-and-forth, and he nods indulgently as she takes her leave of them, gaze following her for a time before drifting out across the crowds.

"I'd not want you to trouble yourselves. I've heard something of how your Governor received Duke Kostroma." The smile that tugs at his lips is wry, the glance to the Chairwoman knowing. "He was an envoy of the Crown, with all that entails. I am a soldier, and it's better for morale if I remain with my men. Rest assured, though, that the Crown has remembered Myrken Wood - indeed, Kostroma has worked tirelessly to that end."

She speaks next of sappers, of the King's Own and the fortified Pass, and takes a moment to turn his gaze east to the looming mountains, as if he might scry the defences for himself. When he speaks again his tone is quieter, pitched for the Chairwoman's ears alone.

"The Crown marched north with the thaw, so we've been pushing Burel's forces from Derry for a month now. The winter's done most of our work for us, though, mage-roads or no. We'll have Wrexham out from under the traitor's boot by midsummer - maybe sooner, as he'll be drawing troops back to defend Meadowford if he's a half-ounce of sense in his head - and I have been assured that the Pass will be clear by the time my regiment arrives." Uttered as a matter of fact, as if the very idea of the Pass being closed to his troops bordered on the absurd. Still, he accepts that the Chairwoman is right to be doubtful. "If you're curious we might ride up to see for ourselves. It'd be something to do while waiting for the Governor to return."

Ah, yes, the Governor. That reminds him, and he grimaces slightly as if raising some necessary but regrettably distasteful matter.

"In the meantime I wouldn't push my luck with the Lady Verreaux, however much you resent her." A sidelong glance, a flick of blue eyes for the sigil at her collar. "Your Governor made that mistake with Kostroma. He got away with it then, but the world has turned since. You'd be wise to consider where you stand - and with whom."

A small bow of his head, the difficulty addressed and thus his duty is done. And not a moment too soon, as a couple of local youths strike a course towards the pair of them, the girl's voice lifted in greeting; and just after that an old man of prodigious girth lumbers near, also apparently intent on claiming the Chairwoman's attention. In the face of this advance the Baron politely steps back a pace, allowing Agnieszka space to speak with... whoever these people might be. In parting, though:

"Just some advice, my lady."
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby catch » Sun May 11, 2014 4:52 am

They were too bright. All the colors were too bright, noxious, gold and blue and black and green and brown, rioting together, crying from multiple throats. They shouted about wares, and man-made foods, and instruction as they passed salted meat and tubs of grains and bushels of food from tongue to tongue. The Green held no shy deer, no gentle brightness, only man-made horses and silly chickens and small, caged water-dragons, the less regal cousins of real water-dragons.

He fell into the color, the clamor. It assaulted all his senses. Peering out from between the trees had drugged him, overwhelmed him, so that Catch, his clothes loose around his body, his hair a shorn madness and shedding flowers, had blundered drunkenly into the mess without even knowing that he had. The jabber of humanity closed around his head. He was choking, choking, a cruel pin through his nose that sought to drag him out of the wild wonderful of Spring, to drag him back into reality.

He fought it, in his own way. Here was a line of men, and these had cuts of fresher meat, a stag brought down by a lucky arrow on the march. It had been quickly butchered; now it's parts were passed along by bloody hands, a bloody thread, so that they might be spitted and roasted. Catch sank into this line, a cancerous mass; his strong, steel fingers closed along a leg-bone, and it made a hideous noise as his grip sunk through wetness and through flesh.

"No," he says. He does not pass the haunch along, and though he feels the pulls, he does not relent. "No, no, no!" Each denial rose, until the madman was fairly bellowing, jerking the precious meat to his chest, the smell of the stag's deadness causing him to gag.

"You can't be here! You're a wrongness!"
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Cherny » Sun May 11, 2014 1:30 pm

"'S not swords th-that's the problem. It's the, the h-hands that hold them." Aware, as ever, of his sister's near-superstitious aversion to blades, but determined to see responsibility laid where it belongs.

Aware also of the looks and glances and faces traded with Ser Henderson, stoic defender of the seamstress' Rememdium room for weeks of her convalescence; his nudge for the girl's ribs is accompanied by brows that climb for his hairline in mock disapproval, lips pursed like a prim society matron. Outrageous! He grins in the moment after, though, and offers a nod for the man before the dwarf reclaims his attention.

"Ought w-we?" A distinctly un-squirelike note of doubt to his voice when Gloria suggests rescuing the Wormwoman from Ser Blue-and-Gold, and though there's little alacrity to his step he trails after her with an air of quiet resignation.

Until a commotion a way off through the crowds draws his gaze.

Until a voice lifts in bellowed denial.

It is the work of an instant to extricate himself from his sister's grip, turning to her a brief look of apology, of worry, before he hastens towards the centre of the disturbance, darting between meandering townsfolk and bustling soldiers.

By the time he reaches Catch - because of course it is Ser Catch, who else? - the soldiers and wagoners have drawn back in an uneven circle from this unwelcome intrusion, all scowls and muttered oaths and perplexity; each looks to his fellows to see who among them will be first to remonstrate with the towering madman, to wrest that good cut of meat from his grasp. An infantryman hurries off to find a sergeant, while a few of the teamsters have taken up horsewhips and stout pieces of firewood in readiness.

The moment is a breath drawn before a shout, the knife-edge sliver of time between balance and fall, and Cherny is moving before he realises it. He squirms between a couple of gawking townsfolk to hurry towards his friend, stretching to touch at his arm, to draw his focus away from the crowds, the overwhelming hubbub.

"S-ser Catch!" Raw voice raised to snare the addled man's attention, the boy's eyes dark and concerned as he seeks that mismatched gaze. "Ser C-catch." Quieter, a glance over his shoulder for the nearest teamster to silently beg a moment's patience. Thin hands reach to touch at the madman's calloused paws, gently urging him to release his grip, to surrender the haunch.

"You, you d-don't want this, Catch. Let it g-go, you don't w-want it." The butchered meat; the attention, not with the Wormwoman so close; the crowds, angry and glaring at him. "You, y-you don't want any of it." A soft little mantra, murmured over and over in an effort to soothe the young giant's distress.

"Come with m-me, we'll f-find somewhere better to, to b-be. I, I've f-found some sweets you'll l-like. C-come on."
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby channe » Mon May 12, 2014 1:33 am

"Lady Verreaux," she begins, lifting her chin slightly, "ignored me completely when I introduced myself and continued to treat me like I was less than the dirt on her shoes ever since. I think it's obvious where I stand --" she fingers the blackstone sigil again while she talks, almost absently -- "but she treats me like smelly tripe for no reason at all, so until she's able to see me as a human being, I'll return the favor. It's sad, because I think that we could be good friends. Anyway, yes, it would be a pleasure to take you out on patrol to the Pass. You can find me tomorrow morning at the Meetinghouse stables. Now, I'm sorry, if you'll excuse me, I seem to be popular today -- "

She turns, then, to figure out what to do next. "Councilor Treadwell! Good morning. These soldiers are from the Crown. They brought a shitload of relief goods." That should be enough to get his attention. "Do you think you can round up the Council?"

And then there is Catch, and she swears underneath her breath. "Goddamn it, Aloisius. Is there one thing in this whole town that asshole doesn't ruin worse than it was before?" This said, quietly, to Treadwell alone. "I'm going to stay back and see if Gloria and the stable kid can't get him out before I have to intervene..."
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Treadwell » Mon May 12, 2014 2:04 pm

"Good morning!" comes the aged, wheezed squeak as Treadwell stands there nearby, mopping still at his face. Relief goods? Fluffy white eyebrows go up, setting ears a-quiver, which sets the backs of jowls a-jiggle. "Relief goods, hmm?

Fees! Taxes!

"The rest of the Council! Ho ho, my dear lady! If I could summon up that lot when I wished, hm hm, we would have a lot fewer problems in this town, mmph mmph, and I would be a touch more important here."

A turn in place, to the backstepping Baron.

"Good day, sir, mmph mmph. Aloisius Treadwell, Myrken Wood's Councilor of Revenue and Finance, formerly known as Councilor of Administrative Sanctions, sometime Acting Governor and briefly Governor here and various other posts, hm hm, before that elsewhere! Welcome, well met, and might we have a brief explanation, hm hm, of all this?"

Flitflitfliff of fan away from face at the stuff around them and then back to face.
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby BDAdmin » Tue May 13, 2014 3:15 am

"I'm sorry to hear that, Chairwoman." The Baron turns his head slightly to gaze after the noblewoman in question, before eventually he shrugs. "It's better to make friends where you can. Something Lady Verreaux will have to learn if she wants to get very far."

He nods in agreement at the proposed time and meeting place, and inclines his head as the fat Councilor is introduced, or introduces himself; his brows lift curiously at that list of posts and titles.

"Baron Almeric Surdemer, of His Majesty's twenty-eighth regiment of foot. A pleasure, sir." Polite, reserved, though he shakes his head slightly at the Chairwoman's explanation. "I and my men serve the Crown, but all this" Blue eyes sweep briefly across the wagons and stalls. "was arranged by the lady Egris, for the relief of Myrken Wood. My regiment was marching north, and encountered the convoy not far from the border - given the difficult winter it seemed prudent to make sure that these supplies arrived safely." A happy coincidence, then, and nothing more. A moment of apparent though, considering the Councilor's words and their implications.

"Acting Governor - I presume, then, that you are currently attending to Governor Burnie's duties until he returns?" A glance for Agnieszka, perhaps checking for conformation. "And am I to understand that the rest of the Council is also absent?"
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Rance » Tue May 13, 2014 9:13 am

Catch's voice was an unavoidable din. It lacked all the subtle qualities inherent in most voices: it boomed, careless of consideration or propriety. From around him there came the impatient gasps and curses of people whose obsession with the new food was interrupted--

Cherny unlatched himself from her, apologized with his eyes. Her lips were a firm line. She nodded. When he scampered off to deal with the mountain -- Let it g-go, you don't w-want it -- she lingered. For Catch, she'd do nothing yet; sight of her might further confuse him, drive him deeper into wild, implacable outbursts. She shot her stare in Agnieszka's direction. Cautious. Directive. Stay, it would say if it could. Just stay right here.

Cherny would have far better success with Ser Catch than she would; no, no, it was more advantageous to approach this from another angle altogether. She lifted her starched skirt out of the grass, but instead of pivoting in the direction of her brother and the addled man, she swiveled, shrugged her way through a few lingering gawkers, broke into the meadow, and overheard--

...am I to understand that the rest of the Council is also absent--

--only to blurt around the broad body of the fat Councilor toward the Baron:

"Governor Burnie," she said, brash and incredulous. "Pardon my interruption, but Governor who, ser? With the exception of Councilors Treadwell and Agnieszka, and the Lady Egris, there's been scarcely any presence to the authority at all. With the Marshall recovering--" a lie, a fib, but accurate enough; one did not simply transition with ease from dresses back to military britches, she imagined! "--and Glenn Burnie acting a hermit away from his responsibility, I dare say, you're -- you're looking at Myrken Wood."

She was loud. She blew a commoner's accent into her voice. Her cheeks were red, her single arm loud and wanton in its motions. A distraction. Perhaps enough of one for Cherny to soothe Catch, to keep Agnieszka focused elsewhere.
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby catch » Tue May 13, 2014 10:50 am

Red smeared his hands. It added the the riot of color, and it was bright, bright against his pale skin, bright against the backdrop of good, green grass. It stood out like black lines on a page, hyper-sharp. Unreal. It was one more color in a riot of colors, and it shorted out his brains, made then hide under jar-lined shelves like shattered mice. He looked, in desperation, his drunken pupils seeing the wood held in men's hands, held lead-filled canes, makeshift weapons blurred into very real ones.

His throat wanted to swell.

It was an absence of color. It was a little boy of black and white, soft hands on his bloody knuckles. It was a thin thread of soothing voice. Black, black. Catch let his eyes be caught, the slump of his crooked shoulders like a relief. It was a relief. His fingers loosen on the haunch, and it is only partially the echo of candy, of sweets, that moved him. He was already moving, the haunch slipping from nerveless fingers.

"I am the King." It was a wavering explanation. He was afraid of the men, afraid of their clubs, but he tried to hold the regality in his tone, the faint bray of bells. Cherny would hear it. He would know how close he had come. "I need permissions. There - there's only supposed to be green, here. Only green."

Cherny was there. Catch reached his red-streaked hand towards the little blot of black, fumbling blindly, because he had closed his eyes against the colors.
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Treadwell » Tue May 13, 2014 3:18 pm

Acting Governor - I presume you are currently attending to Governor Burnie's duties until he returns? And am I to understand that the rest of the Council is also absent?

And then, before Councilor Treadwell can give a proper answer, a shrill rebuttal.

I dare say, you're -- you're looking at Myrken Wood.

Merciful heavens. . . .

However, shiny, beady eyes focus through massive glasses on the one figure being addressed, all others being ignored for the moment.

"Officially, Baron Surdemer, mmph, the members of the Council attend to their own personal duties just as we attend to those of the province. The Governor yet recovers from a most grievous series of events, mmph mmph. Although he is back in his proper position, he simply cannot be everywhere at once, hmph, given his currently poor state."

Currently poor state? Glance at yourself in a glass or lake, Aloisius!

"To that end, I have sat as Acting Governor in recent months before his return from said events, mmph, and, as senior member of Myrken Wood's Ruling Council in experience and longevity, hm hm, I must note that, in the physical absence of Governor Burnie himself, it is safe to consider me as being his voice, mmph, here in any proceedings."

A nod. A slow sopping of handkerchief at face.

"So, that said, my lord, I humbly thank you for the safe delivery, hm hm, of this aid that shall be distributed with haste, mmph. Our good people of Myrken Wood have seen very few proper meals these last months. Lady Egris' assistance will be properly and duly noted by the Council, mmph."

A pause to wheeze for breath and fumble about in his robe for a flask that is uncorked with sweat-slicked fingers and promptly drained.

"This heat, sir, is murderous. Have you anywhere cool and quiet where the lot of us can rest and meet, mmph mmph?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby channe » Tue May 13, 2014 3:39 pm

So. Gloria, again, doing what she does best. Ruining things.

And then, there's Treadwell, ruining things some more.

She's the only one who has been to Razasan, she's the only one who knows how things work there, she wants to say you can't do that, you can't say that -- but no. This is too delicate a situation. And so, she'll send Gloria a murderous glance, and step around Treadwell to stay out of the sight of Catch for the moment. Fine. She hates being managed, but maybe something can still be salvaged from this clusterfrack, she thinks. The fat councilor is right; best distract the envoy and get him out of here before Catch blows his top. Teamwork. Hell. She and Treadwell do work well together, a fact which she'd never have admitted before this fall.

"Myrken Wood has the gross domestic product of the Night-howl district right now, sir, the Council sits when it is needed, and right now most people are needed in food production, even the Councilors on their manors. There was a terrible sickness here over the summer, and right now, everyone is participating in getting us back on our feet," Agnieszka says, apologetically. "I'm sure Glenn will return from Foggy Bottom --" she looks at Treadwell, here -- "as soon as he hears of your arrival. But right now, yes, let's get inside, we might be provincial, but there's no need for the Baron to be subjected to the wacky ravings of the village idiot."
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Cherny » Thu May 15, 2014 12:54 am

The wagoners and soldiers are quiet, if not entirely silent - grumbling to one another, muttering oaths and insults; a collective groan of dismay goes up as the madman lets the haunch fall to the trampled grass, but at least he has surrendered it, and Cherny reaches to take the young giant's now -empty hands, bloodied though they are, blind as he is.

"You're the K-king." A quiet affirmation, though Cherny glances nervously over his shoulder towards the blue-and-golds, uncertain as to whether he is allowed to say such a thing; there's been murmur of the Crown here and there, that these soldiers serve the distant King in Razasan.

"It's j-just spring flowers, S-ser Catch - just, just c-colours in the green. It's the right t-time for, for flowers now." His tone that of one who offers a discreet reminder, a loyal advisor aiding the memory of his distracted lord. "C-come away, we'll find somewhere they're n-not so loud. They're just g-glad for the s-sunshine, is all. You know h-how it is, to be excited f-for Spring." And so on, a steady murmur of soothing words to explain how things are fine, how they make sense, how the field of bright awnings and uniforms is not a wrongness after all, an iron-black lodestone telling him how to find North.

As he pulls his friend gently towards the trees, away from the circle of angry men the squire looks to each in turn, meeting their gaze and mouthing a silent I'm sorry or Thank you, dark eyes pleading for their forbearance.
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby BDAdmin » Thu May 15, 2014 3:20 am

Perhaps the girl - the Baron's gaze takes in dark skin, a glimpse of dull teeth, and a dress of good fabric but inexpert tailoring - perhaps she expected this visiting dignitary to scowl at being so impudently addressed, being interrupted in his conversation with two of Myrken's more prominent public servants. Perhaps she expected scorn or disdain at her raucous accent and lack of graces.

I dare say, you're looking at Myrken Wood.

"Really, now." The nobleman's brows lift at the news, and he smiles as if the girl had offered him a gift. "That's very interesting to know. Thank you, miss...?" A space left for her to introduce herself, his interrogative tone an invitation for such.

"Grievous, you say. Well, even so the wheels of government must turn onwards. It's good that at least the pair of you are rising to the challenge." This for the Chairwoman, for the Councilor, both of whom prove rather too ready with their explanations and excuses, and the glare directed by the former against the young girl does not escape the Baron's notice. The taxman's claim of very few proper meals earns a slightly doubtful glance for his gut, but no comment beyond that. The ranting man seems to have quieted in the meantime, no doubt to the relief of all.

"Though I must say that seems like a precarious way to run things, Councilor. What would happen if - heavens forbid - you were taken ill, or the Chairwoman found herself indisposed? You must have provisions in place to ensure continuity of governance, of course." Of course, because what government worthy of the name wouldn't?

"In any case, I'll not take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have your own duties to attend to, and I should probably inspect my troops now they've had a chance to set up camp. I'll see you in the morning, Chairwoman. Councilor, perhaps we might meet later, if Governor Burnie's excursion continues." A nod to each of them in turn, and finally to the seamstress a warm smile. "Young lady, thank you for your candour. Please, enjoy the market."
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Treadwell » Thu May 15, 2014 6:20 am

Brazen, bothersome oaf! Useless dolt!

Yet on the outside, Aloisius Horatio Treadwell is all peaceful, placid fellow with wet, beady eyes and huffpuffy pipe.

"Trust me, sir, I rarely, if ever, fall ill. It's something of an ongoing miracle about me, mmph mmph. Myrken Wood remains in proper hands now, and it will continue to do so."

No invitation to sit, to rest. Merely a mention of meeting later, and then conditionally.

"I bid you good day, Baron Surdemer. I've my office at the meetinghouse and my toy shop in the middle of the town square, mmph mmph. If you need me, simply send a runner to, ahem, either of those locations, and I'll turn up easily enough."

Then, to Agnieszka.

"Do come see me when you're finished here, hmm hmm I've a few matters we need to discuss."

With that, the black-robed fellow adjusts the white sash about his middle and turns to shuffle back toward his not-too-distant carriage. He's had enough of heat and nuisances bothering him today, so a ride back to his office is much appreciated.
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: After Winter, a Spring Fair

Postby Rance » Thu May 15, 2014 7:28 am

"Gloria," she said to the Baron, her dim eyes ashine. "Inquisitor Gloria Wynsee."

Agnieszka's stare bore its way underneath her flesh. Her response to the Councilwoman was, with all its ghoulish teeth, a smile. Try as they might to facilitate a friendship between them, the skin of it would always be blistered. The Baron excused the seamstress at the tail-end of his address. She flicked up the corner of her skirt, dipped her knees, and offered the quiet deference of a courtesy to the fellow.

Candour, he'd said. And she thought it a very agreeable word for truth.

"The market seems exciting," she added, with almost a child's glee. "I shall endeavor to -- to enjoy it."

The dip of her chin to Councilor Treadwell, was apologetic; to Agnieszka, her lips were an underscore to the hard angle of her nose.

"I look forward to seeing you at the chapel. Sooner," she said, "than later."

She pivoted away from the group. For a moment her attention flickered to find Henderson among the formations and the lines, his shoulders in line with all the others, a perfect reflection of the endless mountain-range of cobalt and gold sprawling in columns and lengths. Cherny was in the distance, still trying to usher Catch out of the crowd. His meandering pace gave the girl enough time to skitter to one of the carts, trading a few coins for a handful of wax-wrapped butter-drops. Despite the vigilance of the dwarf, she skulked up to Henderson and jammed a few of the sweets into his pocket.

Then, in a flutter of skirts and petticoats, her sling tugging tight against her throat, she darted away toward the squire and the addled man.
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