Events of 14-9-1266 TGR - House Affairs
Morning Conversations after the Prince's Ball
Events of 14-9-1266 TGR
It was early and Branwyn sat in the salon drinking tea with mixed emotions. Part of her was happy that she could sit here drinking tea, knowing that she had no daggers to sharpen or pouches to fill with spell components. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean that she had nothing to do. Phillipe was going to arrive at any moment with probably yet another batch of scrolls. She had a pile of letters to write and the worry that perhaps the late Mistress Waverlyn was indeed protecting Drillian against a very real threat instead of an imagined one. So at the same time, the thought of jumping on an airship or hunting for werewolves seemed an almost pleasant alternative. The door to the salon opened. Branwyn didn’t turn around but heard the sound of packs being tossed in the corner and people coming in for some breakfast before their respective journeys.
Indigo crept into the salon moving stealthily behind the sofa, keeping his head low. Pleased that no one had yet seen him, he crawled beneath the breakfast table for what he thought would be a prime strategic position to endure the morning meeting. Crouching under the table, he slowly reached his hand up over the top, his fingers feeling around the surface for some breakfast. Making contact with what he thought could only be a muffin, his hand closed around the warm baked good.
WHACK! A large spoon came crashing down on Indigo’s knuckles.
THUMP! Came the sound of Indigo’s head hitting the underside of the table.
“OUCH!” Indigo yelped, dropping his prize and pulling his hand back so he could rub his smarting hand.
Jilly’s face appeared inches away from his own, a spoon waving in her hand. “Come out from under this table this minute, Indigo! You are not going to sit under the table eating muffins, leaving crumbs all over the floor for someone else to clean up.” Jilly took Indigo’s arm with her spoon-free hand and pulled him out from under the table. “Now you sit here in a chair like a proper person and eat your breakfast from a plate.”
Red-faced, Indigo sheepishly pulled himself up onto a chair and waited while Jilly made him a heaping plate of food. All eyes had turned towards the disturbance and looked on in mild amusement. Branwyn smiled and asked, “Did you have a good time last night? Anything you want to share?”
Indigo took a large bite and shook his head violently. Thinking as he chewed, he swallowed and then burst out with, “Oh! You owe taxes. You have to pay for selling Artiark’s feathers. The Council lady said to tell you.”
Taken slightly aback, Branwyn took a moment to digest this unexpected bit of news. She rolled her head towards the back of the room, “Phillipe, bring Joseph in after the morning meeting. We need to talk.”
She decided to let Indigo enjoy his breakfast with a bit of peace and turned towards the others. “Phillipe will probably begin planning the first party while you are away. You should let him know who you would personally like to attend this first one so he can begin making preparations. Also, the Feast of Broodhoy is on the 22nd. Please come home soon and don’t make me go with Jennevive all by myself!” Branwyn said in a pleading voice.
Tristan settles in and readies himself for the fallout from missing the ball... "Good morning Branwyn. I hope all went well at the ball? I hope you can forgive my absence. Ever since I have been given the news that I have been played as a pawn in some greater game, I have not been able to take my focus away from discovering the truth. I spent the evening speaking with a number of priests from various orders. I chose mid-level priests so I would not attract too much attention."
Looking rather pale with sunken in eyes, obviously stressed and sleep deprived, he adds, "I didn't find anything new. None of the other orders seems to have any information as to why the previous ambassador would intercept and change the orders given to me by Father Mortin. Obviously she meant for me to be an ally in her scheme to start a crusade, but why?"
Picking at the food on his plate but not eating he adds, "Some have heard rumors that some in my order question my loyalty. They speak as though I can not be trusted...I...I can't have this stain my honor. I haven't done anything wrong!"
“Oh, Tristan, of course you haven’t! We all know that. It’s just these foolish priests. They don’t know you and they’re gossiping like silly little girls,” Branwyn said. Her anger started to flash, but seeing how drained Tristan seemed to be, she pulled herself back. Sighing, she rose and poured herself some more tea along with some for Tristan.
“Here, drink this. And try to eat some of that food. You look terrible. After breakfast you should try and get some rest. Mistress Erindale has waited long for this. She can wait a couple hours more,” she said placing the cups down and returning to her seat. “Unfortunately, some of your answers were to be found at the ball with Father Mortin. I do so wish you would have joined us.”
“Father Mortin," she continued, "who I am starting to dislike intensely, by the way, told me what his plans were for you once you got to Vilmar. You, my friend, were supposed to be tasked with defeating the Mist of Drillian. And that, I believe, was what Mistress Waverlyn was trying to prevent by her diversion.”
Tristan looks at Branwyn in shock. "I was supposed to do what!? Defeat the Mists? How..." Trailing off and shaking his head in disbelief he takes a bite of his breakfast and seems to relax after hearing that Branwyn still has faith in him. "So Father Mortin thought that I was capable of removing the cursed mists that plague Drillian? Clearly he believes the mists are not a natural phenomenon. He knows as well as I do that Cahus does not grant his followers any control over nature... That adds a new piece to the puzzle doesn't it."
Sighing deeply he adds "But you are right Branwyn. I should try and rest. I will be no use to you, or Mistress Erindale in this condition. Forgive me for my current state, but I am deeply troubled by my current situation. I will table that issue until I am complete with Mistress Erindale's treaty. Should you hear any further news please let me know. I will retire to my room for a few hours rest, a hot bath, and a shave. I must make myself presentable. Thank you for your belief in me."
Branwyn smiled, “You will always have that, Tristan. Just focus on the task at hand and I’ll try to find out more here. If you are in a place where you can speak safely on your trip, Marisu can tell you more of what happened with Father Mortin and she is also well versed in the local history of the Mist. What he expected you to do is … is insanity at best. But there is nothing any of us can really do right at this moment, so do try to put it out of your head and enjoy your airship adventure. I think you will enjoy at least that part of it.”
Indigo sat at the table listening with his mouth hanging open, completely forgetting his breakfast. He wanted to say something, but if Branwyn wasn’t going to say it, he thought maybe he should be quiet too. Pictures of hordes of vampires and zombies and ghouls and necromancers and Red Cloak and, and, and … started dancing through his head. He pushed his plate away.
Tristan finishes his breakfast. "I think a brief distraction is just what I need Branwyn. We should talk more when I return. We haven't done much to further the investigation into Mistress Waverlyn's death. We need to get to the bottom of that soon in case the killer's motive was political rather than personal. However, the more we unveil the plots that she was orchestrating, the more I believe it wasn't her position that was targeted but rather she messed with the wrong person. We should use care in our investigation. Obviously, this person wants their identity kept secret and eliminating a competent mage, such as Mistress Waverlyn was, is no easy task..."
As if summoned, Marisu sweeps into the dining room, looking as bright and cheerful as always. "Good morning, everyone! How are we this morning?" She helps herself to a small plate and a few items of food and sits down. She casts a critical eye over Tristan's pallid appearance. "Tristan, you don't look like you've slept at all. Are you ill?"
Upon being told of the conversation she just missed, she frowns in sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tristan! I didn't realize this was so hard on you, although I see it now." She puts down her fork and thinks for a moment. "Well, Father Mortin is concerned that you didn't wind up in 'the right place'. The Right Place is of course where he sent you, but that's normal, I'd say. Since he sent you there to fight for Law, I think maybe he's worried that your being relocated was done by an enemy of the Church."
Phillipe enters the room. "Mistress Erindale is here, I have her in the eastern meeting room as I did not know if you wanted her to come up to the salon right away. I was unsure if Lady Shurkural would want to have horses ready for you at the Kings Gate or if you would prefer to hire a ship to take her group up to Northam. "
He pauses and pulls out the basket of scrolls from his side and shows it to Branwyn. There are many scrolls with various color ribbons on them. "We also have some particular responses to make as well. I have taken it upon my self to send out thank you replies to all of them."
He reaches over and hands Indigo another muffin, "They are quite good this morning."
Ilero looks up from his food from the corner where he'd been silently eating. "Shur was t'inking boat. Faster, easier. She t'ink we can walk and hunt it fine. Hopefully town has horses if we need."
Slightly startled, Branwyn turned towards Ilero and then smiled. “Glad to see you at long last! I’m glad you’re here. I hope you can speak with Joseph about the feathers and what other kinds of side businesses he may be running. It seems to be more along your line of … things.”
She turned towards Marisu, “Would you mind terribly greeting Mistress Erindale and buying Tristan some time to get cleaned up a bit? The servants can prepare a tray of refreshments or something.”
Ilero raises an eyebrow. "Hokay." He takes the last bite of food from his bowl, then sets the bowl down and stands up. "Hye do now, 'fore we leave." He strides quietly out of the room and turns to go look for Joseph.
Marisu watches him leave then murmurs to Branwyn. "Was he always like that, or has it gotten worse lately?" She stands up and straightens out her dress to make sure it's all in place. "Tristan, come join us whenever you're ready. If we're not in the eastern meeting room, I may be showing her Artiark in the stable." She smiles at everyone and departs for the eastern meeting room.
Imari finishes her breakfast and stands to follow Branwyn. "So, you do not know anything of the mist?" She smiles at Tristan as she leaves the room.
After saying the last of the goodbyes to the group, Branwyn sank into the sofa next to Jennevive. The two sat in silence. After a bit and still staring ahead, Branwyn started. “You know everything. About the crusade. About what Father Mortin actually wanted Tristan to do. What he may still ask him to do once Tristan returns. We can’t let this happen. You know what it would do to Drillian. The Queen’s counting on us to protect her. I don’t know if Father Mortin is simply delusional or if he has support for his plan from others in the church. But I’m going to need your help. Do you think you can do that?”
Jennevive took a small drink and turned to Branwyn.
"I hope you do understand that I like you. You have gathered a good group of friends around you. I do hope you succeed as the Ambassador here for Drillian." she says with a slight smile.
Then in a slightly firmer tone, "However my first loyalty is to my Queen. I look out for her interests above all others. Your job is to look out for the good of the Kingdom. Mistress Waverlyn took that to heart. She schemed her way into this far too involved crusade idea to deflect the attention of the military in a different direction that Drillian. I would have been much more direct, perhaps an assassination or two." She sips her drink with a slight smile on her face.
"For your other notion of Father Mortin's grand scheme, quest, suicide charge, what ever you want to call it. If there is ever some actual plan I cannot imagine Tristan attempting anything without asking for your and my help. We will know if they are serious when that happens."
Jennevive takes an extra cake. "We should tell the cook that they will be gone a week or there will be far too many of these to eat over the next few days."
“I do believe that I have more than proven my loyalty to our Queen. We are not of any difference there. Jennevive, I made Drake a vampire for her, and now have to bear the moniker of ‘friend to the undead.’ You would have thought she’d have called in your husband for that unsavory task! But I did it without question. I left my home and my life to come here. I’ve bowed, curtsied and smiled until I think my head will explode and we’re just getting started.’
‘Mistress Waverlyn may or may not have had the best of intentions, but she was a fool who most likely got what she deserved. Fools usually do. No one gets poisoned, stabbed and set on fire simultaneously by one assailant. My working theory at this point is that two people tried to kill her and they got lucky as to the timing. Someone probably poisoned her and that day someone else stabbed her and set the fire to cover and make their escape. She was working so many against each other that it was only a matter of time before people started discovering that they were being used. Or she was standing in the way of their own plans and schemes. I will not be making her mistakes. You might have appreciated the whole crusade idea, but I do not plan on protecting Drillian through elaborate schemes. I also prefer a more ... direct approach to things.'
'It would be most appreciated if you can keep those priests of yours at bay, while I try to figure out what is happening politically. I have to spend a day or two learning how to teleport, but after that I do believe it is time I visited a new friend and played a game of chess.'
'Oh, and as far as Tristan is concerned, I do not like the idea of telling people what they can and cannot do, but obviously he will get no support from me if he feels that this is his duty. If he should come to us, we must make him see fully what it means to do this thing. Through Count Drake, the Queen has forged an alliance with the vampires. To try to defeat the Mist is not only travelling to the epicenter of the Great Swamp and unleashing the forces of the undead like no one has ever seen in our lifetimes, but to betray the Queen and Drillian. He would be alone and acting as an enemy of Drillian to pursue it. And he would be crushed. I do not want that to happen, and neither do you I suspect.”
