InterSession #8.2: Denouement & Decampment – Bleys’ Day & a Half (part 1 of 2)
Osilem, the 3rd of Ter – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Bleys Winter shook his head in confusion when the glowing amber shell about him dissipated and he found himself propped up in a bed in the Vanderboren manse.
Telémahkos and Vicoria were there to explain all that had happened since he had opened the folio and had been afflicted by the
sepia snake sigil, while Tim interjected some humorous comment now and again. No one knew where Markos was at that moment, but Laarus was in town seeing his distant cousin, Lucian of the Spear, who was the high militant of the temple at Quillton and a member of the watch-mage’s council. Bleys the Aubergine’s normal calm and cold demeanor was momentarily cracked with disappointment in himself, but then he straightened his shoulders and got down to asking the questions he needed to better understand the events that had transpired.
After a meal, and greeting their host to give her proper thanks and offer her his service, as guest must, he wandered about the grounds looking for
Maeve the Mauve. He found her sitting on a stone bench on a patio built along the path up from the dock. She was looking out on the water, where a naval crew was preparing
the Sea Wyvern for a journey to Quillton, where it would be held until an investigation was complete regarding its original theft.
The others had informed Bleys the Aubergine that the sloop would be given to the group as a reward and gift, and they would have access to it as soon as the authorities were done with it, but it might not be for months. (1)
“Hello, Maeve.” Bleys greeted his ex-lover in a flat but cordial manner. He kissed her cheek and hugged her loosely.
“Bleys. . . You have recovered. . “ Maeve flashed a weak smile. “I have gone to see you a few times, but each time…the amber field… Whoever warded that book, it certainly wasn't a
Vandermok, or else you wouldn't be here to talk to me… That is, if you plan to actually talk for a change. . “ She gave him a weary smirk.
Accustomed to being treated as if everything he said or did was contemptible ever since their relationship had ended at the Academy of Wizardry, Bleys resumed the conversation casually, giving no hint of his surprise to see her. “Well, I consider myself fortunate. Though I must admit, my plan to elude the warding had obviously gone awry.” He offered a slight wince. “I am surprised to find our paths crossing. I had not expected the pleasure so soon after our assignments. How come you to be in league with these
Jade Ravens? You never mentioned them to Oliver or me at the Academy.”
“My mother and Lavinia's mother hate…
hated each other, so as a form of revenge, Lavinia and I have been friendly whenever our paths crossed growing up… So when I received word from her that she needed help… Well, I was bored as hell in
Vijand and avoiding Omerren the Mad - so I went to
Azure and she had hired the Jade Ravens. . .”
She signed, and straightened her pale bluish-purple robes, and smoothed down her short hair on one side, and shifted her weight to her left hip. “The funny thing is, I really can't stand Lavinia. . . She's just so damn sincere… Actually, she reminds me of you… And look, I nearly die fighting to help someone I don't like just so I can make my mother angry… Ha! Reminds me of why I went out with you…”
Maeve the Mauve turned back to look at the water. “After helping Lavina safely move her things and sell it off to cover the debt, she was going to finance a trip to
Fort Thunder to look after some of her interests there…Where money can be made. . . The Hellish Islands should be fun, and as about as far as I can get from my family…”
She stopped and sat back down. “But now with Tolvin dead…I doubt we'll go. . .At least not until we find someone else who knows the area. . . Not exactly common…”
Bleys watched her antics. “Now that's the Maeve I know: Never afraid to let your true emotions known. And I hope the time we spent together wasn't an entire waste, like your bannermen, I was always proud to serve.” (2) Bleys allowed himself a wistful look, but then quickly changed the subject. “So, you’d decided to join the Jade Ravens more permanently then? The Hellish Isles is indeed a long way. And the sojourn is as dangerous as the lands themselves, as I understand it. Who was going to finance the trip? Surely that's a costly endeavor. And while I know how you like to keep your own counsel, I am only inquiring as a friend, fellow Academy Alumni, and 'Devenpeck Winter...',” Bleys lifted an eyebrow. “…concerned for your safety.“ He sat beside her and looked her in the eye, having perfected the stare past the raven sheet of hair she habitually used as a means of masking her glare.
“Yes…I am sure it’s all about being
friendly…” She sighed. “I said already, Lavinia was going to pay for it with some of the proceeds of the sale of this manse. She can tell you her own business best . . . but from my understanding, she was going to pay off the worst of the debt and then use what was left to fund some attempts to make more money in order to pay the rest and re-stabilize the business. . .”
“You always wielded the word better than the sword… But be careful, should you run all the way to Oolam to escape Magrite (3), the dangers that lie there may be more perilous.” Bleys replied in a flat, but commanding tone.
Maeve sighed again, never able, it seemed, to shake off her weariness. “But tell me, how is this Charter treating you? Is it fun being the Margrave's pet?”
“The Charter…” Bleys exhaled deeply. And paused to compose his thoughts and Maeve rolled her eyes, as familiar with Bleys’ mannerisms, as he was with hers.
“I could think of finer company,” He finally said. “The brightest among them is also the most irksome. Is there such a thing as being too smart? In all honesty I cannot divine why he would join this Charter. He acts as if it is a sentence worse than the dungeons. We also travel with what you would call ‘a baldie’ (4). The two are cousins and could not be more opposite, but at least the priest of Ra is disciplined in social composition, though I suspect him a bit of a zealot. My brother-in-law, Telémahkos is a coward, but I see hope for him, should he ever grow a spine. I believe I am most fond of the Militant, which is not a surprise to you, I am sure.”
Bleys searched her face for emotion, anything. After a brief pause said, “Oh, and there's the bastard Timotheus, I'd forgotten about him…”
“Yes, I met them all already. And yes, the priest of Ra is a bore, and the militant? I always thought female militants are making up for something they wish they had with those spears of theirs. The irony is they are never going to get it wrapped up in all that armor…” She laughed. “Oh, and the way both Telémahkos and his cousin looked at me… Well, I might have struck them if they were not of noble blood. . .” She shuddered. “The one you say is too smart hardly said a word to me. . . Yes, it seems like a bunch of low noble cast-offs… and you…” She had a smug expression as she continued. “As for the Hellish Isles, since the trip will no doubt be delayed and Lavinia seems to have a strong liking for the Briareus, perhaps you might find yourself going there eventually instead of us…? You might think it dangerous for me, but certainly not for the ever-capable Bleys Winter. . .”
Content to stymie further inquisition as to the Charter members, Bleys again changed tact. “Heh, I guess I would rather be ‘ever-capable’ than a low noble cast-off. But I've no desire to sweat through the jungles of the Hellish Isles. I'll cast my vote for 'no' when it comes. We are so diplomatic in our decision-making, but unfortunately, the others often find it folly to vote with me. We are heading to the King Stones though, but not for a few weeks…”
“If I remember correctly you never seemed too worried about sweating before,” Maeve cocked an eyebrow.
“There's a difference between good sweat, and bad sweat,” Bleys brushed the raven fall from her brow, and she leaned away from him.
“But it is just like you to make up your mind about something without knowing anything about it, and then nothing can sway you. . .” She continued. “It is easy to rule out possibilities when you don't know why you might need to follow through with them. . . But the King Stones. . . That should be interesting. . . You always liked
Six Kingdoms stuff. . . That's the same time period, right?”
“Yes, that is correct. They are the same time period thereabouts. Our homeland is rich in history and this place, these King Stones are sure to be rife with it. Thrician history, Thrician culture, and its origins,
that excites me. Why should I care about some trading post across seven oceans? Making such a dangerous journey to benefit an impoverished merchant? I do not mind having made my decision already. But that does not mean I am impossible to sway… Just leery…”
“Too bad, 'leery' isn't a color. 'Bleys the Leery' has a ring to it… Though there is some irony to 'aubergine',” Maeve smiled as if with secret knowledge. She stood up and looked once again out over the water. “Was there something else specific you wanted to ask about, or ask of me…?”
Bleys had stood up as soon as she did, and though her words seemed like she was ready to leave his company, Bleys noted that her body language did not. “Yes, there is. What are your plans for the evening meal?”
“I do not know. I was going to ask Lavinia if she had further need of me, and if not I was thinking of perhaps seeing Malcolm the Bronze, as he has recently arrived back in town, and who knows for how long…”
“Were it not an imposition, I would like to accompany you, for I too wished to see Malcolm the Bronze.” He fell in step with her, back toward the manse, staring ahead into the dusk. “…and I am not the Margrave's pet.” He offered reservedly.
“I don't even have to close my eyes to imagine it,” She replied with a smile. “I see you pressed against her ample bosom like a toy dog.” She laughed aloud. “I'll let Malcolm know you want to meet him when I see him tonight. I am sure you'll be able to catch him around town tomorrow or the day after… He'll be around at least that long; his council is convening.”
“Very well then, Maeve. If you have need of me, I'll be around,” Bleys returned to his usual callous demeanor. “When did you say you were leaving again? I would not forgive myself if I missed the opportunity to see you off with your new friends.” Again he loosely hugged her, attempting to ignore the familiar smell of lavender in her hair. He parted ways from her, hurrying ahead at a quicker pace, making toward the opposite end of the manse, and barely giving pause to await her response.
“You've always known how to find me,” She said quietly, waiting behind to let him enter the house first.
Much later that night, when Bleys knocked on the door of her bedroom and was surprised to find that she had not come back from town.
Tholem, the 4th of Ter – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Quillton had two broad streets that divided the town into quarters, but all throughout were many narrow streets made narrower by many small flowering trees. The southern side of town was a warren built upon a steep hill, scored with even narrower and winding streets. Bleys the Aubergine stood looking up at it in the mid-day glare, having stopped to take in the town as he made his way to the market and the many shops that surrounded it.
Most of the people here were gnomes, and most greeted him happily as he walked by.
“Howdy Mister Watch-Mage!” They’d say with a wave or a nod.
Bleys nodded back with the occasional awkward smile, unused to the treatment. He decided it must be residual goodwill from that they had for Malcolm the Bronze, the famously absent and adventurous watch-mage of Quillton. There were a good number of humans living here as well, though he did not notice any large number until he reached the market. The mid-day crowd was loud and boisterous, and not wanting to navigate it right away he ducked into a shop with many weapons on display, and was surprised to see that Timotheus was already here, making desultory small talk with the gnomish proprietor.
“Hello, Timotheus…” Bleys announced his approach in his usual flat tone. He did not look at the broad warrior, but instead lay his well-worn heavy crossbow on the counter, next to a half-full box of bolts. The proprietor came over to look at it, immediately remarking the poor quality of its craftsmanship with sharp tsking. However, before the accustomed back and forth expected from such dealings could really commence, the gnome was called to the rear of the shop. He excused himself, twisting the ends of his long white mustache in his fingers.
“Hello, Bleys…” Timotheus finally replied.
“Listen, about Markos. Can you not speak with him?” Bleys turned and leaned back carefully on the low counter, only half-looking at Timotheus. “He seems to have more regard for the words from your mouth than any of us. If we cannot reach some accord, then we may be forced to reach dissolution.” A blade hanging on a wall nearby caught the watch-mage’s eye and he took it up. He tested the weight of the bastard sword in one awkward hand, and then tried two. Still not enjoying the heft, he set it back on the wall. “And I fear that should he and I come to a head, we will cross more than words…” Bleys looked over the merchant’s bows.
“Sure, I'll talk to him,” Tim shrugged, as if thinking it was hardly necessary, or perhaps dubious of its effectiveness. “What's he done this time?”
“To my knowledge, nothing, yet. That is the point. But now that I think on it, I do recall something about him threatening to punch you in the face…”
“Oh yeah, he did say that, didn't he?” Tim stretched lazily. With a smirk, he said, “Ah, don't worry about Markos. If he gets out of line again, I'll give him a good reason to watch his mouth. But I wouldn't take him so seriously, if I were you. He's all talk and no walk.”
Bleys picked up a longbow and eyed its length, comparing it to his height. His eyebrows flinched, as if Tim’s casual demeanor might have irked him, but as usual, it was hard to read the mage’s emotions.
“Look, Timotheus, he, you, and, I all know that you could put a bruising of some magnitude into him, but this is aside the point. It is his talk I take issue with; his walk is what prevents me from calling for him to be ousted outright…”
“Now hold on there…” Timotheus interrupted, but the watch-mage continued.
“While his actions have only aided us time and again, we pay a dear price for them. He sows discontent in the group and more often than not he is at odds with one or more of us. His own cousin, a priest of Ra, does not earn his respect. No matter what god you hold dear, surely it’s unwise to besmirch the king of the gods; no? And I do not think a tithe satiates atonement, (5) but I digress…” Bleys took a deep breath when he was done.
“Look, I didn't say anything about beating the kid up. I'm just gonna... persuade him. I got a little brother and two little sisters, I can handle this just fine,” Timotheus flashed his broad easy smile.
“My request is not about resorting to violence,” Bleys continued. “It is simply this: Talk to him, hear him, show him the contempt he harbors for nobility is misdirected. We are lower nobilities… Cast-offs. I’m not even nobility, and you, by but a piece of paper. His resentment may have merit, but not in our group. This is our opportunity to prove ourselves better, prove ourselves something more. And he should be glad for the opportunity to be a part of that.” Bleys wiped his brow, sweat suddenly beading there, as if his cool demeanor belied some inward fire.
Giving Bleys a searching look, Tim asked, “You got any brothers or sisters, Watch-Mage? Or are you an only child? I bet you're an only child, am I right?”
“No, I am my father's second son,” Bleys responded coolly. “My older sister married Jason Briareus, thus how Telémahkos is my brother-in-law. I believe you may see her soon. I also have a younger brother and a younger sister. But I don't know what any of that has to do with the subject at hand. Your body language led me to infer you meant some physical persuasion. I prefer you do not; so might I ask, Timotheus, what that approach is?”
Bleys the Aubergine brought the longbow to the proprietor, seeing that the gnome was at the low counter once again. “I was hoping to trade the heavy crossbow in towards one of these…” They began to haggle over the price.
“Huh?” Tim shook his head and followed Bleys to the counter, ignoring the mage's rudeness by bargaining with the merchant mid-conversation. “You're a real cold fish, Bleys,” He said as the mage was counting out silver coins. “I hate to think what your family life was like. But no, I'm not gonna beat him up. I'm just going to explain that if he wants to get treated like an adult, he'd better start acting like one. And that's the problem, everyone's treating him like he's grown up when he's not. He's just looking for attention, and arguing and fighting and even kicking him out of the group is just giving him that attention. There's much better ways to handle it.”
Satisfied with his deal, Bleys turned to lock his black eyes with Timotheus. “You are right. I am glad we had this talk. And would you be sure to explain to him that self-loathing is also unbecoming. As I understand it, he is as noble of blood as any or all the rest of us. More so than I, anyway… (6) and you perhaps.” He picked up his bow, quiver, and arrows, and headed away. He stopped and looked back. “I took a liking to your bow and was inspired to get one of my own. Have you ever used one of those bastard swords?” He gestured to the sword he had been handling before.
Tim snorted with laughter. “Noble blood and bastard swords? Come on, Bleys, if you're trying to insult me, you'll have to try harder than that. I've heard it before, believe me.”
Bleys eyes opened widely. “You think I mean to insult you? I only meant that it seems like a fine piece of steel, and one that requires dedication and commitment in its mastery. I thought perhaps you had the tenacity to do so. Maybe I am wrong. I apologize for I never mean to offend. I could not care less if you were the Margrave's father, or a whore's son. We have duties and I expect us to do them regardless, to the best of our capabilities.”
“Are you for honest, Bleys?” Tim shook his head in disbelief again, but kept smiling, though the expression took a sour tinge. “I can never tell when you're being sarcastic, what with that big stone face of yours. Do I have the tenacity? Sure, I have the tenacity to master the bastard sword, or whatever it's a f*cking metaphor for. But I like my saber just fine, and I'd rather learn new tricks with that than pick up the basics of some other sword that just isn't my style.”
As they headed out into the mid-day glare, Tim gestured to the freshly painted sign of a nearby tavern. “You're a weird one, Bleys, and you're really kind of a pain in the ass, but I think you're starting to grow on me. Care to hash things out over a drink?”
“Thank you, no, as you already know I do not imbibe alcohol, and I do not know what there is to…hash out,” Bleys stumbled over the colloquialism. “I have told you my intentions and concerns. When have I ever been dishonest with you? Have you known me to be sarcastic? I was only querying that with the extent of your martial background you may have had time to develop the skills required to wield such a different weapon. For it is anything but basic. It intrigues me, that is all.”
Tim shrugged. “I guess… Thing is, I don't know if you've ever been sarcastic, because I can't tell what you're thinking half the time. You don't smile, you don't laugh… It's downright unnatural. But I figure, Marjorie (7) used to say they had a sarcasm class out at the
Academy...” He paused for a beat, and then continued, “But I figure she was being sarcastic.”
The pair approached the tavern beneath the sign of the Hawk and Gull. “Anyway, this looks like a nice place. I'm sure you can get some milk or juice or something. And we can talk about, I don't know, the group, ourselves, where we're going. And at least try and get along a little better. If you're going into battle, you should at least try to get to know your brothers in arms.”
Bleys lifted an eyebrow. “Is that not what we have been doing? Combat makes comrades I've heard said. Again, I thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. I must see the armorsmith while I am here. It is a long trek from the manse and I would like to make as few trips as possible. Besides, you know how it is with armorers, their egos need stroking and you are always at the mercy of their schedules.” Bleys' delivery was as flat as ever.
“Suit yourself,” Timotheus shrugged, his attention already drifting. “Have fun with the armorer. I'll see you around.” There was a buzz of carousing in the air as he entered the tavern; the door closed on his call for a drink.
“‘Suit yourself’, I get it.” Bleys muttered to himself as he walked off to visit the Rare Earth Armoury. (8) “But. . .cold fish…? And do I really have a big face?”
…to be continued…
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Notes:
(1) This was actually a favor for the group, as they could not afford to keep it maintained and docked while they were away, they would be able to avoid fees while it was impounded by the navy.
(2) “
Proud to Serve” are the House words of
House Devenpeck, bannermen to
House Vandermok.
(3) Magrite Vandermok is Maeve’s mother.
(4) ‘Baldie’ is slang among rogues and those contemptuous of authority for priests of Ra, who upon attaining a certain status in the church must shave their heads, whether male or female.
(5) Markos gave Laarus and Victoria ten silver pieces each to donate in his name to their churches.
(6) Not all members of the Winter family are nobility, only those who have married into some noble house or another. Many more, however, serve various noble houses.
(7)
Marjorie the Iron is the
watch-mage of
Chalkour.
(8) The Rare Earth Armory is owned and operated by Harvel Hammeral, a gnome of some repute. The place was recommended by
Lavinia Vanderboren.
