Ch: 214 Old Fools Are Babes Again

“I’m so shaken, I couldn’t possibly…” Angie whispered, as Rolf checked her for injuries with the utmost in professionalism and clinical precision; he never even tried for a fondle of anything!

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll signal for Gary to bring his weird hand cart thing…” Rolf said as he raised a hand to the silver cuff at his earlobe.

“No…! I mean, I could just ride back with you… so I don’t fall again…” She murmured shyly. Even Petunia nodded and tossed her mane in agreement, while Annie knelt down to make things easier.

“Ahh, well if you don’t think it would be too forward…” He blushed golden bronze and stammered in a way that made Angie want to drag him off into the bushes.

Rolf and Khan were of a size, though Rolf was far more broad. Since it fit, he’d ridden out on Annie with Khan’s strangely shaped saddle… His pommel was offset on the right, and strangely widened.

Now it made sense, the saddle was designed for Luna to ride in Khan’s lap, as he’d seen them do on occasion. It made sense, with a horse so large and such sensibly sized riders.

‘Luna is a very wise woman…’ Angie decided silently, once she was encircled in Rolf’s arms and seated on his lap sidesaddle. She hooked a calf around the saddle horn and was instantly secure and comfy… better yet, she was in charge of how close they became and what brushed him where… That was almost too much fun.

#

‘Toilet Troop’ marched out at half past third bell, heading up the road, relaxed and way, way better smelling than they had any right to be. This was a day they would remember fondly.

Gary and Shai waved them off with smiles, then he turned on Shai. “I’m starting to get worried…”

“Angie an Rolf be a year or so younger than we…nae wee bairns. Nor be Rolf some rapacious scoundrel…” Shai complained. “However she may try…” She whispered softly.

“What was that Shai?” He asked, distracted and worried despite her assurances.

“It nae matter. An ye be so worried, use yer comms device an call them, they do both wear them at Becky’s wise urging.” She grumbled. “Dinnae cry tae me an they snap yer nose off, fer poking it betwixt them.”

“Wait… are those two… on a date?” He asked, as it began to soak through the less permeable layers of his skull. Slowly, it began sloshing around and pooling in some of the many empty places up there.

“Rolf… and Angie? Huh… Never saw that coming!” A grumpy look crossed his face, erasing his smile. “How would that work? She’s an orphan, he’s a duke’s son and a knight…”

“Technically, Angie is fostered into duchess Sheng’s household… Her indenture to the Adventure guild already belongs to the duchess.” Becky offered from the stage. “My harp feels weird Gary.”

“That’s normal love, keep playing; you’re right there in the pocket.” He answered with a careless wave.

Becky took a deeper dive into the melody she had been playing with, elaborating on the hopeful springtime themes with a run up the scale… if only she had a little more range. With a shrug she got back to gossiping, while her fingers did their thing.

“Angie’s been working in the duchess’ logistics and procurement office since she was thirteen… once she’s fully contracted, her indenture is all but done.” Becky reported with glee.

“And since she has been seconded to Tawny, through Adventure, under the aegis of Healer’s cult… She’s not even in Rolf’s chain of command…” Becky giggled a mad little laugh. “I did the research!”

“Scary Becks, super scary.” Her mad younger, older brother mumbled as he settled down with his guitar.

#

It was a long, slow, delicious ride back. Annie refused to go faster than a slow walk, mincing ever so carefully down the road. Poor Rolf was sweating, flushed, wild eyed and just a little fevered when they finally reached the gates of the inn.

The young ginger artist was in the stables and took their mounts with a smile. He handed the familiars’ completely unnecessary reins off to Gary and grabbed the young knight by the shoulder, leaving the musician to tend the horsies.

“Why am I still the horsies’ butler?” He asked as they left him alone with his curry brush, hoof knife and strigil.

“Come along sir Rolf, you need a bath!” Dannyl cheerfully dragged him off, while Becky and the girls debriefed Angie.

“Hello? Anybody?” Gary called forlornly.

Annie snuffled in his ear, while Petunia nudged her face under his idle brush hand insistently. “Yeah, I get it…” He sounded aggrieved, but he smiled and started brushing his big, warm friends and chatting with them.

“Yeah, so I guess Angie and Rolf are an item… crazy huh?”

#

The man sat in the cell and obstinately refused to leave. Sir Tony, just as obstinately, refused to close the door; or allow the distraught lord to, either.

“You are not under arrest, lord Fargnahagn. If you ask nicely, perhaps the temple of Healer will lock you up for the night, but regulations do not allow me to keep you in our cells.” The man’s enormous hand clamped down on the lord’s shoulder and hauled him up.

“My friend’s house is mostly empty for the next few days… A bath and some rest in new surroundings will help.”

“Can I stay at your house, Tony?” He asked in a tremulous voice.

“I will stay with you tonight… but my friend, my wife hates your guts.” Tony gave a soft laugh, one that warmed the older knight’s heart, just a little. “Come on, off to the Adventure compound with you.”

When they arrived, all three of Tony’s squires were there, soaking in the public bath. He led the befuddled lord to the far corner, away from the young people for a good long soak.

“Ohhh, gods and spirits…” Fargnahagn moaned in the swirling hot water. “It feels like this all started in that mad boy’s bath… but it didn’t, did it, Tony?”

“No Jasper, it did not… you seem to have been under malign influence and spiritual attack for years… perhaps decades. We are going to have to take an official review of your records and actions.” Tony said with an apologetic tone.

“I understand… I’ll help as best I may. What were they doing with…” He gasped a little sob. “With my people?”

“We don’t know yet, we need a specialist… I’m sorry, again.” Tony rumbled softly. “He really is the only person who seems to understand this strange witchcraft and whatever dark deeds are unfolding.”

“That mad witch again?” He sighed and sank lower in the water.

“Lady Trelawny’s team has handled complex matters like this before, they are not the wild lunatics and savages you imagine…"

#

“Lunatics! Savages!” The captain of ‘Spray’ shouted, as Seahorse shot by, throwing a rooster-tail behind her, showering the wide river with rainbows in the afternoon sun.

Becky was at the tiller, smiling and laughing, with all three little ones in the bow, giggling with Angie and Rolf. Tawny and Liam held on for dear life amidships, as the little boat shot upstream as fast as a galloping horse.

The mounted party thundered up the road, passing the cult of War’s column and the nobles, while those worthies were paused for lunch. In blatant violation of tradition… but not regulations. No one had really considered the possibility of fast moving Adventurers before. They passed in a storm of music and birdsong… and bells.

Come evening, the inn was situated on a little rise, overlooking the only remaining site suitable for the encampment… looking down on the wide meadow where the noble pavilions began springing up for the night.

This time it was a fanciful, fantastical castle, completely impractical and childishly silly… Yet so inviting that it hurt to look at. Especially when the hidden lights came up at sundown.

Lord Argent Duchea looked up at the castle and his insides roiled in protest. Instructions had come at dawn, brought by a fast boat, he was; pursuant to his duties as Marshal of Port Fallon, to escort the ducal parties back to Wheatford… At duke Belen’s request.

It felt like being ordered to march to his own summary castration… Really, who lets their daughter heir run around with common orphan Adventurers?

He kept being told that the man in the shining chainmail was Rolf Belen, the duke’s son… if true, he should probably just jump in the river with rocks in his pockets.

“Message, my lord.” His valet announced at the tent flap… without his usual greasy and obsequious tone, Thomas was no doubt seeking other employment even now.

The neatly folded square of golden parchment was sealed with golden wax and the visage of a cougar in profile. An unfamiliar seal, but the golden parchment and wax suggested house Belen. A snap of the wax seal confirmed it; he held an invitation to an early dinner… at fifth bell. From Trelawny Belen, to dine in the madhouse on the hill with her mad crew of common orphans and, rumor had it, some foreign witch with dark powers.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Dear gods, why me?”

#

“Why me? Dear gods no!” Gary stammered.

“I just want you to put on a performance, like you did that time, with my bath full of pregnant ladies…” Tawny pouted and sulked prettily, but that was only effective on Liam now.

“I don’t wanna buttle and make nice with your noble knobhead… miss me with that.” Gary stuck out his chin and glared at his golden friend.

A warm, scarred, slender fingered hand slid over his jaw and collarbone from behind, as Shai breathed in his ear. “Ye were such a good boy that night… I were mightily pleased…” Shai cooed into his throat, her breath warm in the cool afternoon.

“Suren, ye hae the will an fortitude tae do this simple thing fer a few short hours… fer me?”

“White tie and tails? I’ll set up a private dining room…” Gary bustled off to get prepared for table service with a wide smile of anticipation on his face.

#

Lord Argent Duchea was greeted at the door by a tall, dark haired man in strange clothes of a very severe cut. Dressed in unrelieved black and white, the man seemed intensely focused and coiled like a spring, wound far too tight.

“Lady Trelawny is awaiting you in the private dining room, my lord. Please follow me.”

The man walked nearly silently and with a strange kind of grace, as though music were playing somewhere only he could hear and dance in time. He slid the door open with economical and understated style, ushering the lord into the lady’s presence.

The room was simple, rustic even, but everything was exquisitely crafted, from the wooden and bronze tableware, to the clay cups and pitchers of rather nice wine.

“Welcome to my home, lord Duchea.” Lady Trelawny Belen said, through her golden smile.

#

Waiting at table was oddly satisfying… and it gave him the chance to really observe the man he’d intended to toss into the river.

Lord Argent was an unlanded minor noble, with no great house or extensive holdings; he was just a guy in early middle age, going prematurely bald from stress and getting doughy around the middle.

Gary felt him watching as he worked, the man was evaluating him unconsciously, passively observing his movements.

On a lark, he let some of his sneakier tricks out to play, making himself less and less obvious. Most folks, certainly most nobles would have lost track of him with just a little nudge in that direction, not this dude. The lord’s eyes picked him up as soon as he moved, every time.

Feeling experimental, he dialed up the sneaky and added in a little sprinkle of Brigid’s mark, The Fool. it added a tinge of unserious whimsy to his aura, enhancing the effects of Familiar Stranger, to make himself even less interesting.

That backfired, as the man’s eyes sought him even more swiftly… the fellow had some uncanny perception power at least. He also lacked the general look of disdain most nobles showed openly to servants, orphans and Adventurers, that was interesting too.

#

At the end of a superb meal, over warm sweet honey cakes topped with wild forest berries, lord Argent couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Lady Trelawny… I was unforgivably rude when we first met, followed by a humiliating comeuppance from your younger brother.” He waved to indicate the remnants of a splendid meal, being neatly handled by lady Trelawny’s near supernaturally stealthy butler.

“The fine meal, the exceptional service and utter courtesy and hospitality I have received are a little intimidating, under the circumstances. I must ask, what is all this in aid of?”

Tawny sat back and smiled at the lord. “Lord Duchea, you were unforgivably rude… My father plans to see you relieved of your position in a humiliating manner, for it.” She said with a smile. “Those plans are for his own amusement… I have other plans.”

The lord swallowed hard on a suddenly very dry throat, as her strange, menacing butler appeared at his shoulder, holding a sheaf of papers.

“I would like to offer you a position, as Marshal of county Kinnis, newly recovered from the fringe.” She said softly, and slid a quill and inkpot over to him.

“You will find the compensation more generous than your former… excuse me, your current position. It will come with fewer perks until the city is restored, however.”

“This is very generous, particularly in light of my indiscretions…” He murmured, his eyes lighting up like a drowning man who’s just been tossed a rope.

“The city is in near ruins, some few minor creatures still roam about and there are no people for seventy miles in any direction you travel.” Tawny said firmly. “This is a posting for a competent, ambitious and motivated administrator, not a dilettante looking for a cushy billet to ride into retirement.”

“Will I have access to Belen’s much rumored new devices and methods?” He asked eagerly. “This ‘comms’ thing alone is more than I could have dreamed of…”

“Ahhh, that will be another challenge. The very large man you have taken for my butler is in fact, the master of this house and the creator of those devices…” She said cheerfully.

“It is his woman and children you accused of being… What was it? Camp followers? Catamites, bawds and whores?” She asked sweetly, as the man appeared again accompanied by a chill wind and profound sense of unease that shivered down his spine like icy fingers.

“Don’t torture him Tawny… I think he got the message.” The huge butler said in a strange sing-song accent. He didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about the not torturing thing.

“Tawny said I should play servant and get a sense of whether you really are as big an asshole as you seemed… color me surprised.”

The big man stuck out a hand for lord Duchea to shake. It was calloused and hard, with short clipped nails, a workman’s hand. Argent was pleasantly surprised when the fellow didn’t play any macho hand squeezie games with the smaller lord.

“Your future employer and I decided to let Gary decide whether we offered you this opportunity… I expected him to reject you at the least.” Tawny said, with a wide golden smile.

“We were prepared for him to throw you in the river!” Her girlish giggle did not suggest that she was jesting with him.

#

Tawny’s early dinner with lord Duchea ended with a tentative agreement, so Gary felt dissatisfied and grumpy… He needed to take it out on someone, or better yet a whole bunch of someones.

The kids were in that, ‘after dinner, too early for bedtime and too worked up to sit still’ kinda state… Bouncing off the walls. “Hey, guys…” He sank down onto the rug by the fire, where they were mauling Otho the dog. “I wanna mess with the camp tonight.”

All three kids huddled together for a moment, nodded as one and turned to face him. “You haven’t let the ghosts out to play in a long time…” Amy said sadly. “Becky and Rio can only call a few.”

He leaned back among his kids and smiled. “Look at that sunset… this is going to be sweet.” A small frown crossed his face.

“Wish I’d had time to repair more of my instruments… that burglar did a number on my collection.” He glanced at the pianoforte, still showing obvious signs of incomplete repairs. The long, slender leg had been snapped off and repaired with a mismatched, octagonal rod of alder. “Need some paint, varnish and lacquer… and glue. Lots of glue.”

He looked out the open, wide doorway into the garden with Wheatford’s walls only just visible in the distance, as sunset painted the valley gold and red. “We’re close to home, I guess we could cut loose a little… I might have to sun my buns tomorrow.”

Becky picked up on their discussion as she walked by and pounced on them like a hawk on a bunny picnic. “None of your weird music, Gary!” She scolded. “I’m pulling rank on you... we need a sober, clear thinking person in charge tonight.”

“But, I kinda wanna throw a big production number, all singing all dancing mayhem.” Shai’s giant baby whined.

“Gary… Angie needs our help.” Becky said firmly. “We need a romantic, positive mood. None of your…” She waved her hands wildly, indicating… something.

“Compromise… How about one of my ghost friends takes center stage? Do you remember Deano?” He asked with a wide, happy grin. “He really wants to come out to play.”

“Isn’t he the one who’s always drunk?” Becky seemed pretty down on the idea.

“He’s a spirit, a fractional ghost… I’m pretty sure they can’t get drunk or high. He’s pretending, for his act.” Gary said confidently. “It’s all just schtick… I’m like sixty percent sure of that.”

Becky shot a glance at Waller, over at the pianoforte. He was puffing on something and grinning foolishly as he played. “Uh huh… Just a few days ago you were complaining about Fats and his ghostweed…”

“That’s different…” He grumbled, but never got around to explaining how it was different.

Becky shot him a glare. “I’m trusting you.”

#

Sergeant Vane and her ‘Refuse Rangers’ marched into the already developing camp feeling pretty positive… The fanciful castle overlooking camp was weird as hell, but there were a line of actual privies on the perimeter of the field, clustered like a tiny village of outhouses. Super weird.

Vane ducked into one for a peek and found a simple structure over a common bog hole, with a patch of grayish white fungus at the bottom. The seat seemed oddly complicated, but the room smelt of fresh dug earth and not much else. “Ok, that’s crazy…” She muttered, glancing up at the silly castle.

“Sarge…” Gillits, their greenest trooper raised his hand for a question, like he was back in the orphanage. “Should we like, just not mention all this? To the officers, I mean?”

“How would you fill out that report, son?” She asked gently. “What would they do about it? If that pack of goofballs want to handle it for us…” She shrugged again. “I’m wearing clean, dry gear on the march and there’s no dirt, blood or shit on me. That’s a victory on any campaign.”

A murmur of agreement ran through her veterans.

“Let’s get set up and hit the mess before anyone asks questions.” Every veteran trooper nodded sagely and fell to work.

Vane was settling in for an early night, after a fine dinner, when corporal Benjamin came scampering back from the latrine with a weird grin on his face. “That shithouse… it sprayed warm water up my ass! My butthole is cleaner than it’s ever been!” He gasped in amazed, amused, wonder.

“Thanks for the briefing on the state of your pucker, Benny.” Vane grumbled, as she got up to try it for herself… The night just got stranger from there.

#

As the evening shadows fell, music began to trickle out of the silly castle above the camp. Meanwhile, lights came up, illuminating its tall slender spires and waving pennants. Stained glass windows depicting scenes of storybook chivalry cast bright colors into the gathering night.

The music continued to swell and spread, with half seen, shadowy musicians wandering the camp, always just out of sight.

More than one patrolling guard jumped in his armor, as a shady, flute or drum wielding spectre resolved into a simple bush or clump of grass… the musicians were always somewhere over… where? They weren’t sneaky or stealthy, they simply weren’t where anyone was looking. Certainly the guitarist was around that tent, or maybe in the next platoon’s camp…

#

It felt good to stretch his gifts out, encompassing the entire warcamp… his shades were out goofing and doing their thing, with instructions to be extra haunty and sly.

Sweet, postwar jazz pop had the whole place gently swaying together, subtly. He wanted to get his hooks in and really get things in hand before setting it off. Miller had things swinging along with ‘String Of Pearls’, that complex but gentle melody was good for hanging around and setting the vibe.

Creating a whole shadow brass section was taking a lot of the jam out of his donut though; the big band was going to have to wind down before long.

He had a good number of real flutes and drums roaming around, along with his personal instruments… but he’d had to help conjure a ton of shadow instruments, that was really draining him.

Dean and his boys were already loose and roaming, waiting for Miller and the band to wrap, Gary could feel them hanging around, haunting the central camp, eager to do a little mischief...

#

Leoplold Belen, Duke of Wheatford was having a very upsetting evening. A rider had come with some very disturbing reports and some even more distressing news from the cult of Order. “Celeste… ask Abed if he can sail us home tonight… Luciuis’ barge is just too slow.”

“Trouble at home?” She asked, with rising concern in her voice.

“More dark fae, they have been rooted out, but it seems Fargnahagn is in dire trouble… He’s been under direct influence of some kind. We’ll need an expert to learn any more.” Leo had a shifty look that Celested did not enjoy.

“Amicus Fawn, perhaps… or Abed’s mage, Glinnitz?” She asked hopefully.

“Tony says it’s a tangled and convoluted nest of alien witchcraft…” Leo wouldn’t look directly at her, so she couldn’t see the ‘I Told You So’ in his face, but she could make some assumptions.

“Pregnancy can make some women moody and easily provoked… Leopold.” She said calmly. “A wise husband would step carefully, lest he find himself sleeping in the stables.”

“Ahhh, trying to lure me back out behind the barn again? If you wanted to try for twins, I don’t think that’s how it works, but I’m game!” His smile was so naughty and filled with childish glee, Celeste had to storm out of the cabin in a furious swirl of golden robes.

“Men, so damnably…” She grumbled, with a smile of her own spreading across her golden features. “...deliciously damnable.” She left him to his papers and wicked insinuations against her virtue, to go see Jaspreet and Abed on Water Lotus.

On the gangway, she felt something stirring all around, diffuse and subtle, but present and certainly not any part of the living world.

A horde of… somethings were moving in the shadows all around the encampment. They weren’t stealthy, their presence could be heard and felt with ease by any sensitive individual, or anyone who had ears to hear the music.

“Duchess Belen, your grace…” A breathless young cleric of Order came hustling up, his gray robes almost disarrayed by his haste. “Some kind of undead entities are infiltrating the camp… so far we haven’t been able to spot them…”

“No, Dominik. Not undead, just unliving… They feel like memories, shadows of the fondly remembered, rather than some malign deathless force.” She murmured quietly.

“This is something you need not trouble yourself with. If you ignore them they will leave you alone.” Tawny said, as she slipped down from her cheerful golden pony.

“They are an expression of one of my team member’s gifts and are completely harmless. He can’t even influence their behavior, beyond the music of course.”

“I’m going to need a more complete assay of that boy’s gifts and Contracts, Trelawny.” The duchess said with a hint of curiosity, behind her reasonable and sensible demand.

“I’m afraid that will be impossible, mother. He contends that he is a free adventurer of iron rank and so, cannot be compelled to submit.” Tawny smiled benignly and turned to the young cleric standing nearby and wishing he was anywhere else.

“Please, do inform the officers of the watch and the patrol guards, Dominick. We wouldn’t want them jumping at shadows.”

#