Unofficial Business

[BDAdmin]

Councilor Treadwell - when is he to be found in his office?

A simple enough question, and easily answered for the functionaries at the Meetinghouse, particularly when asked by a junior officer in Trae Kelsan blue-and-gold.

And when he is not in his office - where might he be found then?

A slightly more involved answer, but the Councilor's movements are not hard to predict; if not at home, and not in his office, the taxman might most often be found at the Broken Dagger - a mile south of town on the North Passage Down - or in his toyshop at the marketplace, or at his... church.

Thus the toyshop is visited by a slightly incongruous little party a morning or two later, the very image of painted lead figurines with which boys might play at war in miniature. Two of them, soldiers in iron helms and gleaming harness, cast sidelong glances for the carven statues of the shop's proprietor as they wait outside the door. The third - older, stern and grizzled - ducks his head slightly as he steps through the door; a cursory glance for the bright playthings that line the shelves before his gaze seeks out the shopkeeper himself, announcing himself clearly in case the man is at the back of the building.

"Colonel Surdemer, for Councilor Treadwell."

[Treadwell]

A morning in Myrken Wood means breakfast, and a Treadwell eating breakfast means a breakfast finished. Councilor Treadwell hears the tinkling of piercing bells--pitched enough for his old ears to still make out--above his front door, and, in a moment, out he comes, dressed simply enough, as he always is at the toy shop. Today, it is a green vest with matching trousers and the long yellow sleeves of a shirt visible. His cane rests on the front counter, lying in front of the broad, leather belt of tools and shiny instruments hanging on four nails on the wall.

Colonel Surdemer.

Councilor.

Matching green coat is tugged from its rack in the kitchen and wriggled into. Cane is reached for as he comes into view.

"Mmph! Good day, sirs! Colonel! What, ahem," a rumbled clearing of throat, and again, "what might I do for you? Please, speak, and I shall do as I may!"

The toymaker gives a wave toward the two rocking chairs, Treadwell-width and comfortably cushioned, by the extinguished fireplace in the back of the shop.

"Please, seat yourself, if you wish. Would you fancy something to drink, perhaps? It's dreadfully warm out, and there's ale in the kitchen, some milk, a bit of tea left from last night, hm hm?"

[BDAdmin]

"And a good day to you, Councilor. I trust it finds you well." Perfunctory pleasantries offered as a matter of rote, and a bow of his head in greeting to go with same.

The toymaker offers a seat and refreshments, and it takes only a glance to the window and the glare of summer sunshine beyond to make up the Baron's mind. "Ale would be most welcome, if it's not a trouble." In the meantime he moves to the indicated chair, settling himself into the upholstery with as much dignity as can be mustered.

"My apologies for calling upon you unannounced. I'm told that you are what might be considered a veteran of Myrken Wood politics, such as they are, so I thought I might solicit your views on a few matters - unofficially, of course, so that we might speak freely."

Surdemer's manner is politely curious, his tone easy and relaxed, but there remains a particular intensity in his gaze as he speaks, as he regards the fat toymaker. Watching, measuring, evaluating.

"First of all, though, perhaps you could tell me a little of yourself? Specifically your experiences in public office."

[Treadwell]

The Councilor nods.

"But a moment."

A turn into the kitchen sees him vanish only momentarily to pour an ale for the Colonel. He soon returns, that steady ta-ta-thump of heavy steps and cane that so favors his left side. The front door is locked and barred on the way from the kitchen, and then the mug is offered, and into the paired rocker Treadwell sinks with a huff.

"My experiences in public office!"

A chuckle ripples across the Councilor.

"My good Colonel, I've been involved with politics and public office, mmph, longer than your fellows here have been alive, I'd wager. If you know of a port city to the northwest of here--Westenford, by name?" A snuff of breath as he wriggles in place. "Born in one-forty-and-five, I took the seat of Magistrate and Clerk of Court--one policy maker out of twenty-eight and the Chief Magistrate above us--in one-seventy-two, following my father's passing. That lasted all of, mmph mmph, about three hours, by which time I had seen the former Chief Magistrate voted out and a certain suitable fellow voted in as replacement."

Pudgy fingers drum on armrest.

"Officially, I've held the post since then, only handing it off to a colleague, mmph, as an extended, temporary loan of such, when I came here in two-oh-three."

A glance at the mug of ale, watching its contents. Up? Down? Untouched?

"I directed laws and policies there for, thus, the better part of thirty years and a little better, managing the economy of the city first hand, mmph, and seeing Westenford's criminal activity reduced to nearly zero. Where men were found trying to do aught out of line, they were caught, mmph, and they were suitably punished." A wave of meaty hand. "In coming here. . . you have to understand, Colonel, that I was an actor in my youth, a player on a traveling stage outside and around Westenford, hm hm? For the better of two years, I astounded audiences in the lead of our chief play, mmph, prior to this."

Cane lightly brushes his left leg.

"But that experience served me rather well. I came to Myrken Wood in two-oh-three, yes, and found the briefest of acquaintances with then-Governor Phuri. On his passing under dreadfully horrid circumstances still unsolved, to my recollection, mmph, and on my being the first to discover him, and on the realization that my being in the building and being new to town meant casting me under most terrible suspicions. . . ."

A sniff.

"Well, it's all quite public record, sir. For a year and some, perhaps, I used my playing capabilities to imitate the man, to properly run this province the entirety of the time, mmph mmph, and I saw no major outbreaks or disasters or troubles of aught in the time."

Pointer finger of the left hand pokes upward, sharply.

"After all was found out, and a brief matter of public trial and concern, mmph, and the government here restructured, I was voted into my current position as Councilor for Revenue and Finance--under a different title back then, I might add, hmph--that I've held ever since. My duties, daily, involve maintaining proper records of the census, land ownership, taxes owed and paid, mmph, and serving as the needs of the Council dictate."

Brief pause.

"Including serving as Acting Governor of the province when under times of duress, stress, strain, and peculiarities that might find the Governor indisposed, mmph. In many ways, I have been the sole and singular public figure to offer stability to two comparably sized towns, across two provinces, mmph, and to do so with no setbacks. Experiences with public office?"

Another chortle.

"Good heavens, Colonel! I've spent more time at a meetinghouse desk or council seat than not, I should think!"

[BDAdmin]

Baron Surdemer is an attentive audience, quiet but for the occasional murmur of appreciation, still but for a sip from his mug here or a lofting of brows there. The Councilor has enjoyed a long and storied career, by all accounts, and by the end of it Surdemer is nodding in something like admiration.

"Most impressive, sir. Particularly in a land with such a reputation for strife and calamity." Another unhurried sip of ale, savouring the drink for a moment before he speaks again. As evenly-spoken as before, though if anything that careful scrutiny has increased.

"Might I ask, Councilor, your thoughts on the Thessil problem? Burel's rebellion, his invasion of Derry and so forth." A broad subject, and the Baron has no doubt that the fat taxman will moderate his answer with his audience in mind. So, a nudge.

"I'm told that Myrken Wood has enjoyed close ties with Thessilane in years past - that the traitor Duke spent some time here, and developed an affection for this land and its people. Do you think this is still the case? That there might remain a mutual sympathy?"

[Treadwell]

A slight smile creases the Councilor's face.

"Thessilane. Duke Burel, and the rest."

Fingers fold together over gut, lacing there with a thumb hitching behind the buttons of his vest.

"It's a complicated matter, Colonel. Myrken Wood is very much 'a land with such a reputation for strife and calamity.' It brings it on itself, somehow. It's an innate. . . peculiarity, mmph, of the place. Why I fancied bringing children into the world here--bless them!--I shan't know why I was ever so bereft of good sense!"

The smile only grows as another chortling ripples his throat again.

"Might I give you an answer by a likeness of comparison, perhaps? My first wife--Blanche--was my dearly beloved at one time and lived in my house, mmph, much like the Duke has had time here in Myrken, and much like my family and Blanche's family were fairly close, mmph, when we were wed. Then, my wife did the perfectly stupid thing of running out with my butler and nearly costing me a good bit of my fortune, hm? I had a proper divorce paper drawn up, priests agreed, she promptly saw herself to her own foolish ends, and I saw myself invested again with what she tried to steal of me. And, to quote good Professor Chadwick in his Alfred and Genevieve, 'To be quite honest, / I should never care to see her again / and would her unmentionables rot 'twixt her thighs.'"

A clearing of the throat prompts another chuckle.

"Ahhh, dear me. I acted the lead in that play for two years, sir. I've not quoted of it in ages. . . . But I see Myrken Wood's relationship with Thessilane and the Duke the same as I do with my Blanche. Beloved at once, hm? Perhaps! Admittedly, yes, the Duke was the occasional guest of things here, of course, as you and your men are now, as the King's own manservant would be, as the King Himself--bless Him!--would be! But with idiocy and peculiarities, mmph, comes consequences. Should Blanche ever show her lard-laden rump here at my door, sir, she would be most unwelcome for it, mmph. Should Thessilane attempt a crawl back to Myrken to win her favor?"

Head slowly shakes.

"There's no love for the Duke and his Thessilane causes here, Colonel, and that you can vouchsafe straight to the King's ear."

[BDAdmin]

A comparison; a slightly rambling comparison and an off-colour recital, such that by the time mention is made of rot the Baron has lifted fingertips from his mug with a hurried ""Yes, quite."" to forestall further elaboration in that vein.

Still, the meaning behind that anecdote of domestic acrimony is clear enough, eventually, and Surdemer's nod is quietly approving. Though there is a frown of something like puzzlement to follow, as if attempting to reconcile these assurances with a quite contradictory understanding.

"Not the impression given to his Majesty's last envoy, I fear. From his conversations with Governor Burnie, it seemed that Myrken Wood had yet to choose between loyalty to the Crown and throwing in with Burel. Unless your Governor failed to make his true position properly understood?" A possibility, perhaps, an innocent misapprehension that might be easily resolved.

"Candidly, what are your thoughts on the current Governor, sir? On his... style of leadership, I suppose. From all accounts Myrken has suffered a difficult year - how well would you say he has risen to the challenge?" Another sip of ale before the Baron offers a genial smile, a glance for the locked door before he leans forward with a faintly conspiratorial air.

"In confidence, of course."

[Treadwell]

"And I repeat for you, speaking as boldly as I might, mmph, that Myrken Wood holds no love for Thessilane. Now, as for Governor Burnie, Colonel?"

This bodes odd. These secretive glances to the door. This leaning close.

By the Glutton's great, slimy arse, I feel like I'm back at home.

"I respect him for his title, sir, and his friendship. However, Governor Burnie is ill at ease in the political arena. Two years of experience as Governor, alone."

A glance at one guard, and then the other.

"He is young, and thus he is brash. He is a mapmaker by trade, first, and a politician second, or third, or fourth. Myrken has indeed suffered a difficult year, sir--famine, a mindwitch, and various other troubles, mmph. None of these are certainly his fault. . . but Glenn Burnie can only do so much of his own with his, ahem, limited experience. He is no traitor, and he means well for Myrken Wood, I think, but he is careless, I fear. I support him as I can and should, given his title, sir, and mine."

Absent scratch-scratch of a roll of gut.

"For a suitable resolution of problems with public affairs, my good Baron Surdemer," a remembrance of and use of his other title, "for the most proper associations with royal concerns and diplomacy, mmph, for the correct outcome for the province, you need a man with copious knowledge, hmph, not only of the situations involved but with politics."

Treadwell chuckles where he sits.

"I fancy we've someone of the sort here somewhere, should you care to seek him out and listen to him, hm hm?"

[BDAdmin]

The taxman offers what is, by all appearances, a fair criticism of his Governor; Treadwell neither excuses Burnie's failings, nor betrays his own ambition by offering too harsh an indictment. Sudemer is a soldier by choice, but a career in His Majesty's army has given him a good nose for maneuvering.

"I imagine I'll be speaking with Governor Burnie directly before too long, and shall see for myself. But thank you for your candour, Councilor. If I find myself in need for such a man as you describe, meanwhile, I shall be sure to seek him out. Given the state of things, it might take a good many such men."

Ambition, yes, for all that it's veiled in hints and allusions and circumlocutions. Ambition supported by experience, though - that's a combination to watch closely. For the time being the Baron drains the last of his ale, nodding appreciatively as he lowers the mug.

"This has been a very informative talk, Councilor; very informative. You have been most patient in answering my questions, and refreshingly open. Perhaps you have some questions of your own?" He raises his brows in polite inquiry.

[Treadwell]

"Only a few, mmph mmph. Only a few."

Thumb wriggles free from behind vest button.

"First, I should trust the contents of this discussion shall not reach the good Governor, hm? And second: the Lady Verreaux. If you shall pardon my saying so, mmph, she seems to think that she controls the place personally, that she sits in the meetinghouse and signs the laws into practice and dictates the Council's actions, mmph."

Left hand goes up to smudge glasses back into place.

"What, precisely, is her role in all of this? If she is meant to be a replacement, a Governess of Myrken Wood, mmph, I can't say that I fancy her quite politically suited, either. It's. . . well, sir, it's quite like my time in Westenford and my brother Langley's time working as a traveling, circuit judge over Amasynia until a few years ago. Langley and I, mmph, well, we knew our roles and jurisdictions. We had the trust of the people, and we knew how they interacted with each other, and, mmph, we knew how they would react to us."

A gentle nod.

"I firmly believe that the Lady has her. . .uncle, is it? The King's support, yes. I think she has the greatest of intentions. However, sir, I fear she might not be the one entirely suited for the best. She implied as much, here, in a letter she sent out to the Council members."

A pause as fingers tighten around armrests; the chair rocks; the old man grunts and scoots forward with a huff of breath.

"One moment!"

And up he goes! Cane is almost immediately in hand, and Aloisius makes for his countertop, soon bending to pull out a locked chest, about the size of a breadbox, from roughly knee height. Keys are fished from pocket, lock is twicked, and the letter retrieved and carefully unfolded.

"Here 'tis," he offers, holding the note out for the Colonel as he returns, "for your perusal, hmm?"

Councilman,

I pray that you will still your loyalties to the Governor to heed the dire warning that I bring.

The King has noticed the faltering attentions in the territories that He controls. He will stand against the cur in Thessil very soon, since that dog continues to bite the hand that feeds. In that most urgent duty, He wishes to gather close all of those loyal to him in a united front. His questioning eyes rest solidly upon Myrken Wood.

He wishes for a kinswoman, his favored cousin, to bring order to the current chaos.

Baron Surdemer and his men stand at my side in defense of His Majesty's rulings. I have sent word to your wayward Governor. I would expect him soon, should it find him in good health. Your positions on the Council will not be altered. You have my word.

I implore you, do not stand against the Might of your King. For the people's sake and for your own, do not earn his ire.

I will humbly step aside if you find that I am not fit to give these lands guidance.

The choice is yours, good Ser.

The Lady Egris Verreaux

"'Order to the current chaos,' sir, and 'I will humbly step aside?' It seems to me, and take this not as a mark against her, that, should the Lady see titled power in Myrken Wood, she will either need a personal advisor, mmph, or she will need someone else to take that title and rule in her stead. So, in brief summation. . . what, precisely, is she meant to do, here?"

[BDAdmin]

"I did say in confidence, Councilor." As binding a guarantee as necessary as to the Baron's discretion. He is quiet for a time as the taxman voices his misgivings about the Lady Verreaux, meanwhile, attentive and to all appearances sharing in the man's concern. His brows lift at mention of a letter, and he holds off from giving his answer until that missive has been retrieved, and he has had a chance to skim its contents.

"Lady Egris' role is to follow her uncle's interests. To further them, if possible, by whatever means she deems appropriate. It is a charge she takes quite seriously, as you can probably tell." A tap of his fingernail against the crisp paper. "This is a little more... ah, emphatic than might have been liked, but in general she is not incorrect in what she says here."

Another read-through in case there's any point he might have missed, but a moment later the Baron folds the letter closed and returns it to the Councilor's hand.

"Her meeting with Governor Burnie did not go as well as could be desired. Suffice to say I shall be paying him a visit in the very near future to correct a few misapprehensions he seems to hold."

"The Crown's wish, above all, is that Myrken Wood should be well-governed in His Majesty's name. Despite your best efforts, sir, this has demonstrably not been the case in recent years, and the Crown's subjects have suffered as a result. His Majesty requires that this be resolved with all haste. A reformation, top to bottom. There will, of course, be positions for those who prove themselves to be loyal and useful."

Where the Lady Verreaux had used the threat of royal wrath, Surdemer instead offers the possibility of favour. Each approach being of use in the correct context, of course. In any case the Baron moves to his feet, straightening his tunic and glancing to the soldiers at the door.

"As an aside: if you find the opportunity, you might make certain that the records under your purview - land ownership and tax-paying households in particular - are current, accurate and on-hand. That would be very useful."

A smile for the toymaker, then, and a hand offered to conclude their unofficial business.

"You've been very generous with your time, Councilor. I'll let you get on with your day."

[Treadwell]

A reformation, top to bottom.

Councilor Treadwell nods his head as he retakes the letter, carefully ensuring the fold is sealed again along the same crease as before. The note, though, is soon tucked under an arm as a hand is extended, soon to be taken in the toymaker's slick, sweaty own.

"All that's already taken care of, mmph mmph. I see to all of that in the last few days of every month, so everything is current as of the moment. I'll be starting the usual rounds of collecting the taxes, mmph, and making any necessary adjustments or additions to the books, hm hm, here in the next few days. In fact, I'll be spending most of my evenings through the last of the month at the meetinghouse, should you need me, starting tonight."

Another nod as Treadwell eases his offered hand back to his gut, and a slow twist of his body follows that as he makes for the door, there to raise the bar, set it aside, and unlock the door before waddling backward and aside, staying clear of the guards as well as he might and instead squooshing rump-first into the pointy edge of a table of stuffed soldier dolls. No squeak is made, no yip of pain or surprise, though.

"Good day, Colonel, mmph mmph. Should you have time, come visit me at my office this evening. The meetinghouse has a reasonable kitchen attached, and I usually have a bit of supper while I work, mmph. You're more than welcome to join me, should you like."