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[Deep Waters]

The bandages wrapped around his face do a great job of hiding any flush or expression, but he scratches under them anyway, not looking at Kylila, his fingers picking up speed in their tapping.

"Sorry, it's busy here...and the rooms'll cost more if we didn't get one together."

He's obvouisly searching for words in the next pause, before he offers, "I'll let you have the bed? When was the last time you slept in a bed?"

"It would be inappropriate for I, as your loyal servant and vassal, to have a bed when you do not, Rust." Kylila replies stiffly after she recovers from her shock, taking a long swig from her cup before continuing. "It is enough that we must share rooms due to financial concerns; please do not dishonor me by suggesting such things."

The former knightess drains her cup then, before standing and changing the subject, adjusting her cloak as she rises,  "Let us go and whore our swords out to the masses, hm? Get the whole humiliating thing over with."

[filiusenox]

Rusty rolls his good eye, pushing himself up from the table and stepping away, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his eyes flitting over people, making sure his pocket doesn't get picked.

Search for work from PC's. Or just wander the town, picking out the sights.

[Shootandrun]

Search for work from PC's. Or just wander the town, picking out the sights.

[1] While you were going out to pick out the sights of the city, you bang your head against the door, knocking yourself unconscious. The innkeeper, who is used to see that happen, puts you in your chamber and leaves you there to sleep for the night.

[Skyrunner]

"My duc? I have heard that the king has rewarded you with a naval command. To be sure, I see no better person for the task, after all you and yoru family have administered Dechire for many a year. I trust in the king and you in your abilities and I don't doubt the kingdom is safer with your help. But may I put this bluntly; the Haegar think differently from" *ahem* "Adranics such as you, my lord. Where they see a village, they see opportunity and a chance for honour. The raid is but a way to prove themselves in the eyes of the gods; to be worthy of being called a warrior. The loot and slaves are just the...acknowledgement of their skills. Of course, that means that quite a few people are going to be dead and much poorer, which is not at all good or satisfactory. Now, being Haegar I know this clearly and I know how  they act. I know how to fight them and keep away the raids...all I need is a chance to prove my worth. I don't believe myself worthy of command myself, but surely I can help you in your task, my duc."

Rasgar stopped as some unknown voice, probably one of the landless nobles, started talking to him. He didn't turn towards him until he finished speaking, and then said,

"I am sure you could help much more if you informed me of your name and title."

[micelus]

He's not bloody listening and I forgot to mention my name. Well at least I tried.

"I am Osir Revechig, Comte of Osport, my duc."

[Skyrunner]

"Well, if there is a better way to kill them than sticking long, oft-sharp bits of metal into them, each and every time they come, I am all ears, Comte Osir."

Rasgar crossed his arms and waited for Osir to elaborate.

[micelus]

"My duc, we cannot simply allow the Haegar to attack us; they've already won if their feet touch the soil. To touch enemy soil is considered prestigious. However, if we were to burn down their villages, ransack their homes we too would be considered...honourble. Right now, they consider us cowards and good for only raiding or as trading associates. We need to organise our own raids to counteract their own. If we can prove ourselves worthy, they may tire of raiding us and leave our homes alone."

Osir waited with anticipation.

[Skyrunner]

Rasgar smiled widely, more to unnerve Osir than because of any personal feeling.

"Capital. I trust you will pay for the raiding parties, as Dechire has no funds to spare for, at best, large numbers of land troops geared towards attacking that are of minimal utility here. I also trust you to be able to handle the various political repercussions that may entail, but Dechire will willingly provide the ships after all of that active support."

[micelus]

((How I do so very much love you right now.))

That smiling was not helping.

"B-of course my duc, I would not expect you to pay for my suggestipn. I shall take full responsibility for anything that goes wrong, as long as I can acquire some ships, my duc."

Thrifty bastard, ain't he? We'll see how he's smiling in a few years...

[Iituem]

After the festivities were done the royal steward showed Fust to the official chambers of the Royal Fool, an old repurposed larder that had itself previously been repurposed from a guardpost; the only light came from a thin arrow slit in the castle walls.  Ancient bits of sacking still covered the broken stool and decrepit bedframe.  Instead of a mattress, the previous occupant had covered the bedframe with empty sacks until they formed a soft bedding.  The only other piece of furniture was a crude wooden desk covered in books.  On closer inspection, the 'books' were actually blocks of wood painted to look like books.  A true Fool's chambers.

After the steward had bid him a good night, Fust left the chambers and rescued the small bag of belongings he had hidden in the scullery, along with a handful of wolves and hounds* thrown to him by the nobles.  He stowed them away in the chambers and changed out of his gaudy Fool's garb into a conservative tunic, cap and breeches as a common trader or citizen might wear, then snuck back out into the palace and joined the throng of servants and well-wishers as they flooded out into the streets and to the few inns still open for revellers and those ready to rest.

Valsche Namen, a pearl trader from Dechire, wandered from tavern to tavern buying drinks and listening to gossip.  He plied his true trade to earn his keep, spending hounds on flat beer and stale bread, wolves on better wine and cheese and soaking up the hum-drum details of the town.  Not until noon the next day would Fust, the Court Jester, awaken and begin to establish a reputation as a late riser with a canny knowledge of the world beyond the castle walls.

In a loose disguise, Fust gathers rumours in the town about events, newcomers and opportunities.

*Small copper coins of the realm.  In increasing seniority, the coinage of Windheath runs from hounds (smallest, brass) to wolves (billon**), to drakes (silver), to crowns (largest, gold).  100 crowns make a ducat, but ducats tend to be delivered in bars of gold or silver or promissory notes; there is no 1 ducat coin.

**Billon is an alloy of silver and copper, mostly copper.

[Ardas]

Edgard stayed behind till late hour and managed to strike up some small talk with other nobles. The party was slowly dying down, but there were few lone or drunk souls around. Among them was the unlucky scion of the Blackshield family.

"Ah, Comte, I never had the pleasure of speaking with you. I'm Duc de Arborvent. No doubt you've heard of me. I've noted that you spoke with His Majesty earlier, and you seem rather troubled by something. Strange sight among all the festivities."

Edgard sat next to the man.

"Share your thoughts with me, friend. And do not worry about watching your words, I will not condemn a man for speaking his word."

[micelus]

"Now that's settled my duc, I shall do as needed to prepare. Just make sure there are ships ready in a year's time. Goodbye."

With a bow, Osir left the audience of the duc of no desire, and headed back to his own seat, to drink a bit more and think.

Let's see where I've gotten myself to. I've gotten a duc, who very much seems not to like me, and a navy to aid me. Perhaps I can get the assistence of others? The king would of course want to secure his borders with the Haegar and protect his people...Perhaps the lord of Northwatch? He is close to my own hearth and to the borders...Surely he had has to deal with my kin as well?

But that still left the matter of an army. He would have to pay for an army himself. Sure his hearth could support it, the land was good enough for some farming and the ocean had always brought bountiful catches...and he could probably get a good band of raiders there. They were Haegar as after all.

Great. I'll have to return home...Its been forever...At least Queen can't lock me up here and the king probably doesn't know. In fact, he probably wouldn't even mind me going off for a little 'walk' right about now.

And with that, Osir most subtly left the court to its devices and went off for a night in the town...Well taverns...Ok maybe that was an overstatement. A tavern. The 'Iron Hound' it was called. A little place four streets away from the castle and quite often filled with non-honourble patrons and broken dreams. Osir had gotten a liking for the tavern when he discovered they sold Boggiv Mead, some of the finest Haegar mead in the world and none of that southerner muck. And he didn't have to pay as much either, since he was all 'noble and stuff'.

And so, he got the bartender to prepare the usual ("four bloody good jugs of mead!") and strutted off to his usual table at the corner...which he soon discovered to be occupied by a golden-haired fool and a dusky bladeswoman. Osir sighed, seems like people always forgot about his special seat.

He tapped the shoulder of the honey-hair and said politely, "Ahem. If you would please...vacate this table. This table has been reserved for me and my partners for...well a long time. So if you would...?"

[Dragor23]

"Of course I know you..." Theor replied with a tad of disgrace in his voice "Edgard de Arbovent, the only son of Dekkard de Arbovent, am I right? I hear about your outstanding duelist skills..." Also that he was an opportunist and that he had a very sharp tongue... No wonder by his blood.  "My stomach is just a little bit upset. The fatty boar is troubling my digestion. I should known better." Not quite a lie, but also not the full truth. "Excuse me to ask this bold question, Your Highness... How good you really are with a blade?" he asked in a interested tone, just to change the topic. Every smile could hide a blade...

[Ardas]

Upset stomach... more like royally upset by the looks of it....

"I'm not half bad, I can probably match any man in the court if I wished so. Save for the "Blauritter" prehaps, but I'm rather fine with my arms and legs firmly attached to my corpse.
Are you perhaps interested in seeing me in action? There will be plenty to see once we start a tournament, I can tell you that.
Any particular plans for tomorrow, Comte? His Majesty will deliver his proclamation for the kingdom and will collect information. Luckily, I have been appointed a treasurer, so I have that side secured...."

All of a sudden Edgard started speaking with a hint of mischeviousness in his voice.

"You know, its not exactly a state secret about what happened to your family. But perhaps there are ways to fix it. I do have the connections after all..."

[Dragor23]

Theor suppressed a chuckle. Hah! As proud as a peacock, one of these strange birds from the south. But now Edgard made him a... offer. Interesting. But could trust the Blackshield the Arbovent? He didn't know. So he gave him a more or less sarcastic reply "Do you want to give me one of your sisters?" Not that he would refuse such an offer... Wives were always good and he would have a blood bond with the Arbovents. But he doubted that Edgard wanted a marriage.