Tag: A Beauclair Delegation

Previously, Neamhan had flown to the Seat of Friendship for help and upon her return had found that Quentin had written a letter which he wanted delivered to the delegation which was travelling from Beauclair to Kingsport. Neamhan volunteered to deliver it, though that took some persuading.

Second Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waning)

After having taken off from the balcony of the church room at the Careless Wanderer, Neamhan flew west, along the Beauclair boulevard, in search of the delegation. She had taken the shape of a peregrine falcon. In her talons she carried Quentin’s message, bound in a ring of steel, which she knew to hold a special significance to the Beauclairois.

It did not take Neamhan long to distinguish between the different type of light along the road; the torchlight of night-time riders, the lanterns outside of farm houses, the braziers of small settlements and eventually the bonfires of the delegation. Neamhan could not believe how many tents, fires, and banners she saw stretched out across a field to the south of the road. She circled above the camp and saw tents in reds, blues, and golds, with many of them flying flags and banners carrying different heralds.

Having been shown what the banner of House Morvrayne looked like, Neamhan found a cluster of burgundy tents, edged in blue, which flew the banners she was looking for. The became clear to Neamhan that every house, every order, every group had their own section of the camp, which could be identified by the colours and banners that they erected.

After Neamhan had found a copse of trees away from the camp where she could discretely transform back to her elven form, she walked through the camp towards the largest tent of the Morvrayne cluster. Neamhan estimated that House Morvrayne had twenty people in their retinue, if the size and number of tents was anything to go by. There were carts stacked with provisions, horses and beasts of burden, knights, armsmen, squires and servants, all in service of House Morvrayne.

In front of the main tent’s canopy stood two guards, a moustachioed man and a young woman. The man turned out to speak little to no Lyrian, and the woman was hard to convince that Neamhan brought news from Quentin. Eventually Neamhan managed to convince the guard, Dame Pauline, that she was to be taken seriously by showing the letter, bound by the steel ring. Actually, it was after Neamhan angrily tossed the letter at Dame Pauline, but it had the desired effect.

The young knight left her shield, took up a banner and instructed Neamhan to follow her. Dame Pauline marched through the camp, passing armsmen who saluted her. She brought Neamhan to the very centre of camp where the largest tent was erected. It flew the lily banner of House Lys. Dame Pauline handed Neamhan back the steel-bound letter after planting the banner into the ground in front of the tent, besides a row of other banners belonging to other houses.

The interior of the enormous tent was lavishly decorated with furniture, carpets, and banners. The centre piece was a heavy table that could set a dozen people. At the head of the table stood a wooden throne with elaborately carved back and arm-rests. The table was littered with papers, maps, plates of food and cups of wine. Servants were walking off and on delivering food, pouring wine, while soldiers delivered missives and reports.

A middle-aged man with square shoulders and thick limbs sat on the throne. His hair was blonde, and he wore a colourful, silk doublet of blue and gold over a white, ruffled shirt. A short, blue cape was asymmetrically draped across his shoulders, revealing a white, silk interior. Had the clothing not been immaculately tailored for his otherwise loutish frame, it might have looked misplaced, but as it stood, the man wore it very well. Neamhan would soon learn that the man at the head of the table was Highlord Gaulthier Lys.

At the table to the Highlord’s right sat a young, golden-haired woman, wearing a light blue skirt of many layers of sheer material. She wore a headscarf of white and blue which covered her head and neck, made from the same material as her skirt. A billowing white shirt, adorned with lace flowed from a tight corset, and a comforter made of fox fur lay around her shoulders. This was Highlord Gauthier’s daughter, Lady Gwenaëlle.

Next to Lady Gwenaëlle sat a soberly dressed man with dark brown hair, wearing black tunic over simple breeches and a grey cloak around his shoulders. He had a neatly trimmed moustache and beard, and wore a simple, square black hat. His name was Monsieur Beauregard, and he seemed to be one of the highlord’s advisors.

On the highlord’s left, opposite to Lady Gwenaëlle sat an older knight with pale blonde hair, wearing an exquisitely decorated suit of armour. A beautiful filigree design was carved into his breastplate, and it was adorned with silver. While decorated, his armour was more than ceremonial, indicated by a strong gorget which reached to the man’s chin, and asymmetrically sized pauldrons. He wore a scarlet cloak, fastened to smaller of the two pauldrons by a silver brooch. This was Ser Uthred Locke, knight captain to the Order of the Lance.

Besides the knight, opposite to Monsieur Beauregard, sat Lord Dorian Morvrayne, a handsome, middle-aged man with dark brown hair and a beautifully groomed, full moustache and beard. He wore an embroidered doublet of blue and red, with simple breeches and a warm, fur-lined cloak.

Next to Lord Dorian sat Ser Croy du Menezioù, the master-at-arms of House Morvrayne. He was probably the eldest person to sit the table, with thinning white hair and icy-blue eyes, but radiated endurance. He was wearing half-plate armour and a black cloak, and was stiffly leaning towards Lord Dorian to whisper council into his ear.

The rest of the people in the tent were a mixture of Lys guards, advisors and servants.

At the foot of the table, nearest to the entrance, and with their backs to Neamhan and Dame Pauline, two guards flanked a common man with a big belly, a balding head and a thick moustache. Patiently waiting for a moment to present themselves, Dame Pauline, moved Neamhan to stand away from the entrance and away from the foot of the table. Neamhan noticed that Dame Pauline was a strong and beautiful woman, with a thick auburn braid, striking green eyes, and a kind face.

The highlord scolded the man at the foot of the table, a quartermaster and Lyrian in the highlord’s service, for having given out wine to people outside of camp, against the direct orders of the highlord. The man stammered a response about there being a wine shortage and he being able to sell at a premium price, but the highlord ignored him, claiming that the shortage was the exact reason for the order. Highlord Gauthier consulted with Monsieur Beauregard on a fitting punishment, and the soberly dressed man suggested cutting off the man’s thumbs to set an example to other quartermasters who might disobey. The highlord thought it fitting and the dismemberment, and demoted him to the kitchens to see whether the man could peel potatoes without his thumbs.

When Highlord Gauthier sensed that Ser Uthred did not approve of the decision to take the man’s thumbs, he addressed the knight. Ser Uthred said that he could not pretend to understand why such a harsh punishment was necessary, but also did not seem inclined to argue the matter. Highlord Gauthier firmly reiterated his prohibition again.

Neamhan suddenly realised that there was something bigger going on, and that this somehow had something to do with Céleste’s visits to the Careless Wanderer, but before she knew it, Dame Pauline moved her to the foot of the table, front and centre of all attention. After an inelegant introduction, where Neamhan may or may not have tripped, cursed and failed to execute a proper bow, she held out the letter to Lord Dorian.

Silence fell across the tent as everyone looked at the steel ring binding the letter. The only exception seemed to be Ser Uthred, who may not have understood the significance of the ring. Lord Dorian read the letter and then suggested to the highlord that some privacy would be advisable, and the highlord dismissed almost everyone from the tent. Only the people at the table, the odd guard and advisor, and Dame Pauline and Neamhan remained.

The letter was passed down the table and everyone read it carefully. When it returned to Lord Dorian, who said that the situation was quite unusual. Highlord Gauthier concurred, but explained that Lord Dorian was an unusual son, having succeeded in what was considered impossible; recovering the Fleur de Lys. At that point the highlord shot his daughter an disapproving look. Highlord Gauthier suggested to take the letter seriously, and asked how many men Lord Dorian could send in aid. Lord Dorian believed he could send a dozen riders, and the highlord concurred.

Ser Uthred asked whether he would be permitted to know what the letter said. Lord Dorian read the letter aloud. The Lyrian knight was troubled and became pensive. When Lord Dorian asked the highlord if he would be willing to commit knights to the cause, the highlord declined, saying that it would be inappropriate. The highlord’s daughter concurred that it would be inappropriate before the marriage had taken place. It was clear to Neamhan that Lady Gwenaëlle had nothing but disdain for House Morvrayne.

Ser Uthred could not contain his derision, stood up, and proclaimed that he and the eight companies of knights he had under his command would ride for Kingsport to protect his queen. Any conversations about finance could be conducted later, a comment that Neamhan did not immediately understand. The Lyrian knight then left the tent in order to make preparations for the Lyrian knights to depart camp.

The meeting was concluded and Neamhan was excused. Lord Dorian, Ser Croy and Dame Pauline lead Neamhan back to the Morvrayne part of the camp. Neamhan joined Lord Dorian in his tent while Ser Croy and Dame Pauline readied the Morvrayne riders for departure.

The conversation between Neamhan and Lord Dorian mostly concerned Quentin and his well-being as well as the Fleur de Lys and its wonders. Lord Dorian admitted that he long thought his son lost to him because of the foolish quest Lady Gwenaëlle sent him on. Lord Dorian had food served for Neamhan as they spoke, allowing Neamhan to recover some of the strength she would need for the return journey.

Ser Croy joined them once he was done readying the riders. House Morvrayne would send ten riders under the command of Dame Pauline. Ser Croy and one guard would stay behind as Lord Dorian’s personal guard. Ser Croy was obviously proud of Quentin and said that he was happy to hear that Quentin succeeded in retrieving the sword. Lord Dorian shot a laugh at Ser Croy and said that the predictions of the Ladies of the Woods was nothing but superstition!

Neamhan almost choked on her food and immediately questioned what Lord Dorian had just said. He dismissed her questions but she persisted, to the point where she crossed a line and Lord Dorian ran out of patience. This time Lord Dorian dismissed Neamhan from his presence and she left the tent. She spoke to Ser Croy outside and he begged her forgiveness for his Lord’s behaviour.

Ser Croy explained that Lord Dorian was a modern man who did not believe in the superstitions of the woodland and mountain folk of Monts d’Arée. Three wise women who lived in the woods outside of Albancourt had counselled House Morvrayne for generations. Lord Armand, Quentin’s grandfather, had only once disregarded the advice from the ladies, and tragedy struck, leading to the death of his oldest son, Quentin’s uncle, for which he was named.

When Lord Dorian had made the match with the second daughter of House Lys, the ladies protested, saying that the Blood of Alban needed to be protected, but Lord Dorian’s ambition would not allow him to listen. Lord Dorian never cared for the old ways, Ser Croy said, believing that clinging to those traditions had impoverished the house. The Blood of Alban, he continued, was the ability to trace an unbroken ancestral line all the way back to the progenitor of House Morvrayne; Prince Alban.

Eventually, Neamhan said her goodbyes to Ser Croy and walked out of the camp to find a secluded spot where she could transform back into the peregrine falcon. She flew east along the coast, quickly catching up with the companies of Lyrian knights, their lances gleaming silver in the moonlight, quickly followed by a company of riders from House Morvrayne. She would beat them to Kingsport by several hours.

Previously, the heroes visited Father Devon in order to ask Kasia some questions about Epidemius, only to find that the young girl had been reunited with House Brightmantle, to whom she was a servant. The kindly priest gave them directions to the Brightmantle manse in Kingsport and they went to meet the young and traumatised girl.

First Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waning)

The heroes spent the morning talking with Kasia, the Silesian handmaid to Lady Grace Brightmantle. She had been the only known witness to the Epidemius incursion from start to finish. She described where the portal formed on the square, the skaven that emerged and how Epidemius rode out on a grotesque mount, the way the custodians and crownsguard had engaged, how Lord Jerod Brightmantle had emerged from the cathedral flanked by houseguards and clerics, and how they had fallen too. She spoke of an incessant buzzing noise in her head as Epidemius spoke his demands and of his departure through a newly formed portal he had created by reading from a scroll. She also admitted having heard the voice of her mother in her head encouraging to help Epidemius, and that she had been too frightened to act.

Picking up on something Kasia had said, Emrys asked her to elaborate more on why she had urged Lady Grace to bury the dead deep and put heavy rocks on their graves. She explained that she and her father, along with many other Silesians, had recently fled across the border to escape “the blood rain,” which made the dead rise from their graves. When asked whether she had seen any of the skaven in Silesia, she said she had not, but that she heard there were “goat men”, rather than “rat men.” Something wicked was rising in the east…

When it seemed that the young girl had no more information to give, Lady Grace concluded the audience, but promised that should new information come to light, or if Kasia would remember new information, a page would be sent to inform the heroes. The heroes departed while Kasia readied herself for a lesson in swordsmanship with Ser William the Crippled in the courtyard.

The heroes said goodbye to Emma after she reiterated that a promise had been made thrice, referring to their promise to help rid her of Muirgheal by the ride’s end, and they headed to the docks to visit Caius of Lynnecombe, the trading representative for House Sheridan that operated from a small office at the docks. When they arrived the neatly groomed, modestly dressed, middle-aged man welcomed the heroes in after reluctantly accepting that Quentin had taken to carrying stray cats around like a common pellar. Little did he know that this was Neamhan, who had shifted into the form of a tabby cat for the better part of the morning.

The conversation with Caius was a short and pleasant one, before going into the reason why the heroes had come; possibly investing some of their hard earned wealth in an establishment which could serve as a more permanent base of operations. Several options on several locations were discussed, as well as a brief overview of the available assets to finance the acquisition. Caius promised to look into some options.

After Caius gave a brief update on the members of House Sheridan, the heroes returned to the Careless Wanderer. They found Lauryn sitting at the table the heroes often occupied, eating breakfast. They joined her and Lauryn explained that Falka had finished the translation of the draconic letter before taking Luca up on his offer and was taking a nap on his bed. Neamhan shifted back to her elven form and joined the company at the table.

The heroes read the translation Falka had left for them:

One of our own has been taken. Kalauranthalasis, the Feywalker, is no more. As is customary, a call to conclave went out. Some woke from their slumber. Some emerged from their lairs. And some, like myself, left their positions among mortals to make their way to the Feywalker’s lair. We danced in mourning, waiting for late arrivals. Wrathion, Berazus, Morphaz, Sindragosa, Grakkarond… they were all there.

We were all surprised that his mate did not show, but we knew that the call would not reach everyone in time. Then the catastrophe. The noxious brood had been taken from the vault. The most prized of all the Feywalker’s riches had been taken.

The mourning dance ended, the cries of our brethren rang far, the ground trembled and the sky shook. This will not go unpunished. We must inform Azsharastrasza of this defilement, this insolence, this heresy.

The heroes were confused; this spoke about events they were direct contributors to, and they knew for a fact that Azsharastrasza had died in their encounter with Kalauranthalasis and Xamael at the Sunken Vault. By this letter it appeared as if her body was never discovered at the vault, and moreover, the eggs they had found and left untouched had been taken. The heroes pondered who might have been responsible for that, and quickly arrived at the Sisters of the Grove.

The conversation sparked some questions in Neamhan; she asked how many vaults there were, and how many the heroes knew about, and what it was that made them special. When the heroes explained more about them, Neamhan had a thought; there was an underground structure which was part of a holy site that Oisín emerged from. Could that have been a vault, too?

When the heroes queried Neamhan about Oisín, she explained that his return was prophesised. During that conversation she made some indelicate comments about the gods; she acknowledged that the gods existed, but found them to be less than helpful. It was at that point a man who was seated at another table said; “I have heard enough. I believe we have all heard enough.”

The man turned out to be a custodian, accompanied by three others; a female custodian and two armed men. They all wore red robes beneath their cloaks, and the armed men wore chainmail.

“Under Paladine’s watchful eye, I charge you with heresy,” the custodian said. “Witnessed,” the other custodian said sharply. “Bind her,” the man said and the two armed men approached, one clearing manacles from his belt. Before they reached the table, Emrys stealthily let a veil of invisibility fall over Neamhan.

Previously, the heroes were interrupted by James while they were attending the closing ceremony of the fishing competition. He asked them to escort a young girl named Luciana from the orphanage in Grimsdown to the docks. Luciana was the daughter of the late night master and an outlaw captain, who promised to share some information on a supposed “vault.” The heroes managed to get Luciana out of the hands of some guards, and escort her to the docks, and were given a mysterious journal page, written in a strange language.

Tenth Day, First Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is in high sanction, Night of Cerulean Eyes)

After an eventful day, the heroes retired to the Careless Wanderer. The tavern was quiet, having previously been the home of teams of fisherfolk who had competed in the fishing competition under the banner of Lord Peregrine Blackwell. The sun het set, darkness had fallen, and the city was being covered in a gentle sprinkling of snow.

While Magda made a rare appearance in the tavern, instructing Lauryn to replace all of the cutlery with silverware she produced from a rosewood box, Emrys spoke quietly about his expectation that James would show up to address the letter Neamhan had returned with from the Calypso’s Song. Quentin was quiet, and Luca was contemplating the letter. Everyone was wounded, and Luca and Neamhan felt a general malaise on top of that which proved hard to shake.

Quentin and Luca decided to put their healing abilities to good use, but neither more so than Neamhan, who uttered an ancient, elven blessing and used it to command the wind to gentle and sooth the wounds of everyone around the table. She also provided several handfuls of berries which also refreshed the group. A well-to-do family of four who were staying at the inn and had been in the middle of a meal observed the display with open-mouthed wonder.

Neamhan found some solitude and transfigured into a cat, which curled up on Quentin’s lap as he enjoyed the warmth of the hearth, mesmerised by the flames. Luca eventually creates a copy of the letter and hands the original to Emrys. Emrys muses that Luciana seemed possessed, not unlike Lady Maya Ironwood, and wonders whether there is something about children which makes them especially susceptible to possession.

Emrys says he’d like to ask Toruviel more about the topic, but the sword has only barely been awoken. Luca says that his connection to Blackstar has not been the same as Emrys’ connection to Toruviel. Luca says that he does not understand Blackstar’s motives and goals, and he feels he’s on course to clash with the staff. Until then, Luca suspected not to have any meaningful conversations with Blackstar, sharing that the sheer potential is what keeps him dealing with the troubling and wilful nature of crystal atop the staff.

At the end of his ability to stay awake, Luca retires for the night. Tired and frustrated with the feeling of powerlessness, Quentin also decided to retire soon after Luca’s departure. Neamhan, who was still in the form of a cat, snuck upstairs and into Quentin’s room to continue to keep him company. When she eventually grew tired and headed for her own room, she could hear the soft sound of windchimes he knew to mean that Wynn was close by.

Emrys and Astrid continued their conversation. Emrys wanted to know more about the man in the white robes who attacked the heroes outside of the orphanage. Astrid described him as fast and deadly, much like the way Kalina had fought in the Reaverhaunt caverns. She showed a wound she had received from a dagger the man had wielded, and it looked painful and corrupted, with tendrils of darkness spreading underneath her skin around the wound, and felt hot to the touch.

When the last of the heroes went to sleep, they did so while the Silvermoon and Darkmoon stood at high sanction for the Night of Cerulean Eyes.

First Day, Second Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waning)

Neamhan was the first to wake early in the morning. The inn was quiet and she crept downstairs after preparing her druidic connections. She found Ramsey in the kitchen, hard at work kneading dough and baking loafs of bread in his stone oven. Shortly after Lauryn came down, and went about her morning routine of preparing the inn.

Just before the sixth bell there was a knock on the front door, and Lauryn hurried to open it to find a young woman, dressed in modest travelling clothes, carrying a suitcase and a travelling satchel, covered in snow and lips as blue as ice. Lauryn rushed her inside and put her near the fire to warm her up.

Once she had warmed up, she asked after Luca, and said that her name was Falka of Dunagore, a young scholar from Bournemouth. She had arrived early in the morning on the Old Queen. She intended to stay over the winter to help the heroes in their endeavours, explaining that she was well versed in natural sciences and ancient history.

Falka was eager to arrive in Kingsport and took the first available ship. This was not as easy as it was a few months ago, since travel his slowed down due to the weather, but also due to the continue blockade of the Eastray harbour by the Lyrian navy, as disease still ravaged the city.

When Quentin came downstairs it took a moment for him to introduce himself to Falka. When he eventually did so, Falka felt flustered, apologised and curtsied to “Lord Quentin.” Satisfied that his station was recognised, he bade Falka to call him Quentin. When Emrys came down, Falka greeted him warmly. She seemed genuinely delighted to be in Kingsport with them.

The topic of the crusaders came up and Neamhan had a hard time understanding why their return was so important. Falka said that they had first hand accounts of the Age of Fear, explaining that for humans it is countless generations ago, whereas for elves it has only been a few generations. Falka expects that the return of the crusaders will have a significant impact; the return of Dame Josephine La Valette being a good example of it.

It is clear that Falka wants to be useful to the heroes and she offers to put her time and effort at their disposal. “Move me about the board like a chess piece,” she offers. “Whatever it is you need, I’m happy to do it. I will arrange for my own protection and safety. Give me the means, and I will travel to the farthest corners of the kingdom to serve the cause.”

Emrys asked Falka to take a look at the letter the heroes had received from Ramona, and she instantly recognised it to be written in the draconic language. She said she needed no more than a day to translate it, and to leave it to her.