Ch: 155 Straight Through The Heart
Duke Belen was in his own home, in his own chair, being confronted by an assortment of his peers, across a lovely breakfast spread.
“My ‘mad wizard’ is just that, mine. If you want something from him, I will relay your requests… I will not unleash you on him en masse.” Leopold said blandly. Enjoying every moment of the morning so far.
“He would be very upset if a parade of notables and nobles interrupted his work unannounced. Please pass the grenadier pear jam… these scones are delightful.”
Julius gasped in pretended affront and mumbled something incoherent. He was terrible actor by any measure, but offense and muttered comments were roaming over the long breakfast table freely.
Duchess Grace Sheng, of the duchy of Lemur snorted with displeasure. “First this ridiculous lawsuit, then chocolate, now tales of demonic cults and outsider gods…” She trailed off as another peer weighed in.
“Crates of the most unusual books and musical instruments keep appearing in my orphanage… is all this some plot or prank of yours? They are marked as coming from Wheatford!” Countess Lakshmi Habibi demanded, with a dollop of marmalade on her lips.
“These events and items are none of my doing, nor any plot of my house or officers.” Belen kept up his facade of bland interest with difficulty, as his peers squirmed with curiosity and frustration.
“The books and items are the work of an independent organization, working in concert with the Orphan’s League and other interested powers…” He smiled cheerfully.
“I have no insight into, nor control over the activities of the Ginger Dreadnought Company.”
They swooped on that bread crumb as he gleefully watched them whisper for a while...
“Is that not the group responsible for this new healing unguent? My warriors have only just received samples of it and are demanding more…” Baron Kelvin of Fort Pasture grumbled.
“The price is fair… if it does what my men claim it can…”
“Oh it can and more.” Celeste chimed with uncommon enthusiasm. “You will not regret the investment, nor will you regret taking seriously the ‘wild claims’ and ‘ridiculous plots’ detailed in my husband’s reports…” She said nice and loud, waving a scone for emphasis.
“...reports which bear my seal, as well as those of Otho of Joy and Naiomi of Healer.”
“Lords, ladies...” Duke Belen said firmly to the assembled nobles. “This is a wedding, but perhaps we should take this opportunity to assemble in council… once the full quorum arrives.” Nods and murmurs of agreement roamed the table freely.
“Yes, an excellent idea…” Abed agreed with a smile. “May we call this a preliminary meeting and make some preparations?” Once more, nods circulated, gleeful and excited nods.
“I have no objections.” Belen murmured quietly, looking panicked, while his wife glared at him…
“In that case…” Abed said with a predatory smile. “We shall subpoena this… ladyboy wizard of yours before this council, to answer our questions and plead his case… to the assembled court of nobles.”
Abed’s triumphant smile faded a little when Belen’s look of distress fell away. “That would be a pleasure to arrange… once the full council is assembled.” Leo smiled with genuine excitement and licked his lips.
“Naturally, you will all be prohibited from approaching or questioning the witness until that time. His name and location will be withheld as is the law and tradition.”
“Very well,” Baron Kelvin of Fort Pasture said firmly. “Let us take on this silly chocolate suit as well, since Duke Belen seems unable to adjudicate the matter.”
More murmurs of agreement sealed the deal, as Belen’s grin got even wider.
“This has been the most productive breakfast of my career… Do we have any further issues to address, before I devour this lovely omelet?” He asked sweetly, as the gathered nobles began to suspect they had been suckered.
“Yes! I have a request from my brother, baron Timarch…” Duke Holloman chimed in, much more confident now that he’d had his haircut.
“Timarch wonders why your orphanage is closed to visitors… even noble visitors.”
“The Orphan’s League and Adventure Guild are in charge there. A request with Otho or Master Khan may bear fruit.” He replied happily.
“Traditionally, visiting lords and clergy are allowed to view the stock in any orphanage… what cause has Wheatford to deny this right?” Timarch huffed from his position far down the table. In defiance of protocol and tradition.
“Stock?” Belen let out a growl that rumbled the dishes on the table. “You mean my brothers and sisters, who will risk their lives in service of mankind?” He asked in a more moderate tone as he rubbed a sore ankle for some reason.
“I’m certain that is what baron Timarch meant to say.” Celeste agreed, rubbing a bruised toe, rather indelicately at the table.
“I’m certain you understand our interest, you have this… Liam, listed at S rank… surely you understand our desire to examine such a potential…” Baron Flavius Hreth grumbled.
“We can’t bid sight unseen… this prospectus is madness, you have three other A and B ranks listed as well, just for this year. Next year’s projections are even more insane… What is going on with this Gary Ward? How does he warrant an SS rating, what even is that?” He fumed.
“I checked the prior catalogs and records, he does not even appear in your inventory before last midsummer…”
“Worry about next year another day, baron, this council has decreed that one off limits until the full quorum is present.” Belen replied smugly, with a wink at Julius Rummel.
“You will all discover what an SS rating is when you meet him.”
The dissatisfied grumbling and general pissyness of his peers made Leopold feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He shot another very obvious wink at Julius and rose.
“Duty calls, I leave you in the capable hands of my daughter heir Trelawny. She may answer your questions… or not.” He said, with an airy and frivolous wave.
Celeste giggled as she strolled off with Leo, the giggle that usually signaled her particular delight at his latest antics. Those two were incorrigible, her mother’s rebellious streak and papa’s general contrariness when facing his noble peers were flammable together.
Perhaps that explained why she had so many brothers and sisters already.
“My lords, my ladies, I will answer no questions, nor will I reveal the identities or locations of the individuals involved.” Tawny’s voice rang out clear and golden. She also stood, taking the arm of her devilishly handsome escort.
“If you wish to make your own inquiries so be it, but house Belen discourages any such course of action... Any repercussions will be your own to bear.”
“In that case… I have some information to share with this august assembly.” Abed announced with a superior grin.
His escort handed him a rolled sheet of vellum with a flourish. “I have found an image of this individual… I will share it with you all; that we might investigate these matters.”
His smug smile said he expected a reaction from the golden girl, standing so still beside her handsome companion.
The duke smiled with genuine pleasure, at confounding Belen’s schemes, as the scroll unfurled across the hastily cleared table.
The corners were weighted down with saltcellars and tableware, revealing the charcoal sketch of a young muscular man being devoured by a plant monster.
The lad wore the most unusual, feminine armor, while being a lad, as evidenced by the carefully depicted bulge in his skimpy panties.
“The pantsu work is extraordinary…” Lucius Holloman whispered.
“Oh! Nightsoil Terrors!” Juius cheered happily. “I have the whole series in my collection!” He turned to the smiling heiress and bowed. “Might we arrange an exhibition? The artist is in town I believe.”
“It will be an absolute pleasure, Duke Rummel. I shall leave the details in your hands…” She bowed to the assembly and swept away as well, leaving a very pleased Julius sitting in the catbird’s seat, watching his peers with satisfaction.
Mubarak looked as though he had smelled a trapdoor spider, or might spontaneously combust. “I will be excited to see the collection…” He growled at the young upstart.
“Your invitation will be the first I send out, since you are such an art enthusiast… How ever did you acquire this sketch… since the original has yet to be exhibited publicly.” Julius asked with a sweet and gullible smile, that hid a steely edge just for Abed’s eyes.
“We can discuss that while my squire makes some arrangements for the showing…” Kermal Singh dipped a bow to his liege and slipped from the crowd.
#
His pursuers were skilled, but Kermal was a slippery lad, with a gift that was showing incredible promise. He faded from their perceptions as soon as he hit the craft ward’s bustling crowds.
“Kid’s aura just vanished… He’s good for an unranked tyro.” Wilkes grumbled good naturedly to Killian. “Duchess Sheng suspected this would be a waste of time…”
“My lord is less perceptive, brother. Baron Hreth fancies himself a subtle and clever statesman… He handles such setbacks poorly.” Killian complained.
“Join me for a snack, you can tell the baron I waylaid you.” Wilkes reached out a foot and tripped his brother and rival into the flowerbed of a lovely private home they happened to be walking past.
“Wilkes… you are buying… and paying to have my uniform cleaned, or we will be having a further discussion, in the Adventure compound.” The bigger man growled dangerously, as he extracted himself from the furious householder’s marigolds and geraniums.
“Forgiveness, good master… pardon my brother’s clumsiness…” Wilkes sang cheerfully, as he pressed a few coins on the man. Killian followed his glib and lithe brother into the market, looking for a meal.
“Little sister…” Wilkes called to a girl scooting by, wearing the red sash of the local messengers and guides. “Where can we find a meal and perhaps a place for my clumsy brother to clean up?” He proffered a copper bit, which vanished so quickly it seemed magical.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Follow me elder brothers… I know just the place for a meal, a bath and even a laundry.” She chirped happily.
#
All the nobles were away, attending some fancy meeting at the palace, the sailors and guards were likewise at their duties. Gary and Shai took the quiet time to bathe together and rearrange things while no one was looking.
The common room and inn door vanished, replaced by the storefront and sales floor. His hedges and walls grew thorny briars at the top, while the gates narrowed or closed off entirely.
It was still a welcoming and cheery place, but now had that definite aura of a home and shop, rather than a public house.
The sign read:
‘Shai’s Forge and Foundry’
In bold brassy letters, along with a giant blunted coil spring, her token in the local business community.
A far smaller sign spelled out:
‘Ward Instrument co. Sales, Repair, Consignment, Custom. By appointment, barter only.’
The baths were concealed behind even higher hedges, as all signs of hostelry vanished away.
When they were done, a patio, set with outdoor furniture stood beside the inviting shopfront, looking out onto the bridge and riverfront. Works of craft hung in the broad windows: instruments, tools, household goods and smallwares stood side by side with sample armor suits and gleaming weapons.
The garden wall enclosed the meadow, with Khan and Luna’s carriage house beside the wide gate on the roadside frontage.
Becky and Tawny had seen to the Adventure party they ‘met on the road’. They were lodged in Shai’s house on the Adventure compound, so they could stay together and their injured could continue soaking in the bath there, in relative peace and quiet.
Victor was off with Maple, touring her forbidden grove, the kids were napping with Nara, Becky was off at the orphanage, on cult business…
“Hey, sexy lady… ya wanna?” Gary asked with a wink. “Iron rank has me feeling… frisky.”
“Oh, Aye.” Shai answered with a grin and wink of her own. “I hae the itch as well, boy of mine…” Their bodies met as they kissed, feeling the tingle of their auras commingling and swirling together with their newly heightened senses.
#
Maria led them to the door of a shop of some kind… not a tavern or inn at all. “Little sister, is this a jest?” Killian asked the tiny girl gently.
Her only answer was to swing the door open and hold it for the two warriors with a knowing smile.
Inside, the brightly lit sales floor was occupied by a pair of very large people, dancing together among the instruments.
A portly fellow with a pencil mustache, strange clothes and a silly, round hat played a piano of some kind for the dancers and sang.
Don't buy sugar,
You just have to touch my cup…
You're my sugar,
It's sweeter when you stir it up!
When I'm taking sips from your tasty lips,
Seems the honey fairly drips.
Goodness knows,
You're my honeysuckle rose!
They ignored their guests for just a moment longer, swaying and spinning to the end of the sweet, simple song. As the music faded, the strange musician ducked away somewhere… somehow.
“Welcome Brothers, sister Maria, What needs hae thee, this afternoon?” Shai sang, flushed and shining with happiness.
#
“Ahhhh…” Killian remarked, as he sank low in the swirling waters.
“Mmmm” Wilkes replied.
Both men’s uniforms were clean, pressed and parade ready, hanging in the dressing room. The big, brown haired fellow who delivered them seemed friendly, if odd, but Shai was a treasure. She had bustled them out of their clothes and into this remarkable bath with little resistance.
They had been fed, plied with some very nice beer and left largely alone to chat and soak in peace.
“It feels like we are shirking our duty… but that Kermal kid could be anywhere.” Killian muttered over the ‘Cocoa’ beverage that big fellow brought them. “We’ll never find him.”
“Kermal Sing?” Someone asked from the steamy waterfall.
“I hear he is slippery, clever and dashed good looking too, brothers.” Kermal drifted out into view with a mug of his own and a smile.
“I finished arranging the exhibition before you gentlemen arrived… would you be so kind as to carry your masters’ invitations when you return to report?”
“You are a sneaky little brat, aren’t you, brother Kermal?” Wilkes chided him with a smile. “Good thing you got posted as Duke Rummel’s squire… Our stealthy scouts have really low survival rates.”
“Brother…” Killian grumbled dangerously. “Little brother Kermal does his duty, as do we… A duty we have succeeded at, while enjoying a bath, a meal and good company.”
“Well said, friend.” The big fellow sang, from his seat on the curb of the pool, right between the two startled veterans…
“Now you have to decide how much to tell your ‘employers’ about the people whose hospitality you are currently enjoying…” He chanted his words in time with the tranquil music he played on his strange guitar.
“That, I leave entirely up to you. Journeyman Shai has the invitations for your contract holders, she will give them to you when you are ready to leave…”
The two lads, one dark and small, the other large and pale, rose from the pool, slipped on robes and departed with no further comment, vanishing through the door together.
“We just got smoke blown up our asses… didn’t we?” Wilkes asked.
“Yup” Killian replied, as he dressed himself hurriedly.
#
“A strange shop across the river? Interesting…” Hreth mumbled as Killian made his report and handed over the small, wax sealed scroll. The missive bore an impressed seal, in the image of an apple and horseshoe in golden beeswax, scented with summer lavender.
The note inside was just as interesting.
The bearer is hereby invited and implored to visit the opening of: Dannyl, a bold new artistic vision.
Meet and greet with the artist to follow.
Presented by:
The Ginger Dreadnought Company
The Orphan’s League of Man
Hosted by:
Annie, Princess of ponies.
Location:
Shai’s Forge and Foundry, by the Belen River Bridge, Wheatford.
The script was delicate, feminine and intricate, while the parchment was perfumed with a subtle spice, smoke and a hint of bergamot.
“Someone is playing a complex game…” He murmured softly. “Who is this ‘Annie, princess of ponies’… ask around, be thorough.”
“Yes, my lord… though, I cannot reveal any secret of the Orphan’s League or Adventure Guild… I have also partaken in guest rite with the woman, journeyman Shai and her spouse… I never did get his name… he was tall and… brown?”
“So, you walked up to her door and what? Patronized her brothel?” Hreth demanded harshly. “Whores and catamites are of no concern to me…”
“If my lord will allow some well intentioned advice… Journeyman Shai is a smith of local renown and great skill. She is also my guild sister… My lord.” Killian interrupted his lord calmly and with clear intent, looking him in the eye all the while.
“No Adventurer will stand for you, if she should challenge your lordship for such talk.”
“Get out of my sight Killian… before I notice your insubordination.” Hreth snarled, in a red hot rage.
“Bloody Wheatford…” He grumbled to himself, when his warrior departed.
#
“...and what was your opinion of this house and its occupants?” Duchess Sheng asked eagerly.
Wilkes sipped his tea and contemplated his liege lady’s face for a moment. “This Shai, she is no schemer or provocateur. If anything she is a plain dealing craftswoman of open heart and good nature… and a skilled warrior in her own right unless I am very much mistaken.” He smiled pleasantly.
“I had not thought to enjoy my lady’s private stock this afternoon… is this new?” He asked, sipping the tea with obvious delight.
“It is new, a gift from lady Trelawny Belen. Some local blend that an herbalist of her acquaintance prepares… delightful, is it not?” Grace answered while nibbling a small brown cake. “Do try the ‘brownies’, they are a local delicacy I plan to steal shamelessly. What of the man you mentioned in passing?”
“Young Kermal? He is interesting, but as duke Rummel’s squire he is of little import currently.” The adventurer answered happily, washing his ‘brownie’ down with more of the exquisite tea.
“No, the other man. ‘Big and brown’ you said… tell me more about him.” She leaned forward with interest. “You are usually so observant and glib, dear Wilkes… why has this person escaped your notice?”
His eyes widened behind his teacup, as he sputtered indelicately. “Gods above and below… he snookered me… sneaky bastard. I can’t remember a thing about him, just a vague impression of a big man in brown. My apologies duchess.”
“This will be a blot on your record, Wilkes… but a small one. Rumors of a mad wizard have been circulating, but so too have tales of a stealthy and dangerous monster slayer.” She said softly, leaning close over the tea service.
“Duke Leopold has found a few very dangerous youngsters, Lemur needs such people as well. We will be watching Belen’s indenture auction with even more care than usual.”
“My lady duchess is as wise as she is beautiful.” Wilkes bowed and kissed her ring before departing. “Shall I send Cameron to you? This is his hometown after all… he may discover more than I.”
“Please and thank you, clever boy, take tonight and tomorrow at your liberty. Enjoy the town, Cameron will be my escort this evening.” Grace shooed him out with a gentle wave and a smile.
“Fucking Wheatford…” She complained when she was once more alone. “I’ll have this recipe… Gods blind me if I won’t…” She murmured with a mouth full of brownie.
#
Leticia and Emma spent most of their time at the inn, cooking, chatting and generally lording… or ladying, their unique lodgings over their peers. When rumors began circulating among the visiting nobles’ servants and attendants, they percolated up to the primaries quickly, in most cases.
The baroness Leticia and lady Emma were serving tea to countess Habibi on the patio, while the silly boy played guitar in the shop. His music drifted through open doors and windows, setting a very pleasant scene.
“It's such a pity there were no lodgings for you at the palace…” Lakshmi sighed. “It’s dreadful without you. Timarch Holloman has been pestering all the female servants with his foul attentions.” She gasped in shock and gossipy delight.
“Now only male servants may attend the guest wing, a terrible situation. My poor Cindy has to lodge at the orphanage and I must dress myself…”
The gentle guitar became aggressive and driving, sounding angry for just a moment, before resuming the soft music.
“Oh that is awful… Journeyman Shai…” Emma turned to the open windows and called out to her hostess. When she appeared, smiling and wiping her hands on a towel, Emma jumped right in.
“Poor Lakshmi is lodging at the palace, do you think we could squeeze her in with us? She and her maid are experiencing some distress from another guest of the duke…”
“Aye, though yer ladyship should know, tis a private home, this, nae a public inn. Me boy an I will make thee comfortable as we can, but we be simple folk, wi nae airs tae put on.”
“I find Journeyman Shai’s hospitality more than excellent, countess.” Leticia cooed over her cocoa. “I find it fitting that Jaspreet’s wedding party all stay together, in this lovely home… we shall all become such good friends!”
“In that case, Journeyman Shai, I accept your gracious invitation…” She frowned slightly. “Save for the delicate matter of changing my lodgings without insulting the Belen family…”
“I shall attend tae that wi Tawny, worry not.” Shai announced happily. “Gary, prepare rooms fer the countess an her maid. We shall hae a full house an the art exhibit in all.”
“Art exhibit?” All three ladies asked in chorus.
#
The taproom had moved to the back of the house, where only those in the know could find it… Now, among the housewares, armor, weapons and instruments, a number of paintings hung.
Lit by artful lanterns and arranged for excellent sightlines and optimal viewing, clusters of chairs and sofas allowed leisurely conversation, without crowding the room.
The three ladies stalked the room, savoring their sneak peek. “Oh, we are so deliciously naughty, thank you Shai, for giving us this gift.” Lakshmi whispered with glee.
“The dukes and major barons have been in a tizzy over these. Duke Mubarak had a sketch of that second one… they all were very excited, even though it did the actual work no justice.”
First in line was a strange dual painting, a small image overlaid in the upper corner of the larger, suggesting a timeline, with the lesser image occurring first.
In the small picture, a plump, naked man with flowers and twigs tangled in his matted hair… even down below, worked some complicated ritual magic. Only the exaggerated, bushy pubes maintained his feeble modesty. The naked man danced before a fire, worshiping at an altar. On the altar sat a huge mound of excrement, drawn in such detail it almost reeked.
In the main picture, the same savage warlock fought a terrible hydra, whose many heads were covered by brazen masks of faces in torment. Closer examination revealed that the beast sprang from the foul offering on the same altar. A brass plate on the frame read: The Glamorous Mage: Nightsoil Terrors, one.
In the next painting, the same bland faced, brown haired man was playing cat’s cradle with a hideous segmented worm creature. He wound the nasty red thing in and among his fingers in a complex web of disgusting filth, above a bowl of broth and an elegant table setting.
Herbs and vegetables were arrayed as though for a meal. This one was titled: The Fools Feast: Nightsoil Terrors, two.
Another painting, another mystery of whimsical allegory and suggestion. In this one a muscular boy dangled over the black, toothy maw of some dreadful tree monster. His armor and gear were all in pastel whites and blues, embellished with frills, lace and bows. The lovely, feminine armor skirts hung down, obscuring his face, while displaying his pretty, pretty panties… and a very interesting bulge whose outlines were almost…
This plaque read: A Warrior’s Dignity: Nightsoil Terrors, three.
Finally, in a disturbing bahroom temple, beneath a radiant stained glass toilet, the same man fought for his life.
With his trousers and shorts bunched at his ankles, only his contorted, struggling body concealed the good bits. He was locked in combat with some ghastly brown and lumpen slug beast, the man’s hands were locked around it, squeezing the life from the unholy thing.
Its putrid, claylike flesh oozed between the man’s fingers as he strangled it. Peanuts and corn showed through here and there, the viewer’s eye was compelled to follow its long, disgusting shape to its origin point.
The tail end of the creature disappeared somewhere near the man’s backside, which was blessedly turned away from the onlookers. The title plate cleared up any ambiguity, as to the monster’s origin and composition: Mortal Soil: Nightsoil Terrors, four.
“Art is subjective…” Lakshmi muttered carefully, while trying to avoid looking any closer. “I’m sure they are very important, artistically.”
“I find them enchanting…” Emma gasped, as she flitted around the room, touching each weapon and armor piece in turn. “Why are these not on your sales floor?” She demanded with a pout on her pink lips.
“The paintings be nae fer sale, tis an exhibition of a private collection…” Shai began gently.
“A fig for your paintings… Tell me about this sword…” She gave the short, bronze blade a flick, setting off a sweet chiming note.
“That be nae for public sale, tis a special working.” Shai answered, awkwardly.
“I see it is a ‘special working’, it draws my attention just sitting there. I would buy it for my man Hubert. How much?”
“I’ll fetch the boy, but dinna blame me an he wil nae sell. Tis a reason is nae on the shop floor, lady Emma.” Shai answered unhappily as she went to go find ‘the boy’.
“Oh, it’s heavy, very heavy…” Emma gasped as she took it down from the display. The slight and small noblewoman staggered under the weight of the massive weapon.
“Be careful with that…” A man’s voice with a soft, singsong accent rang out behind the small cluster of noblewomen.
Emma gasped, stumbled and fell forward with a short shriek of terror, driving her sword to the hilt, into the breast of countess Lakshmi.
#