Ch: 225 The Sweet And Bitter Fool
“No.” Otho said firmly, lounging back in his plant-strewn jungle of an office.
“Really?” She demanded sharply. “I’ll take any or all on this list…” She shoved a sheet of parchment across his desk, again. He slid it back with a disappointed frown.
“I will not entertain any offers of fosterage for any of my orphans to anyone, save close kin of good local reputation.” He slid her list back with a single slim brown finger and a wry smile. “This is a refuge for lost children, not a market stall, none of my treasures are for sale.”
“Do you know who I am?” Her voice dripped venom and frost in turns, as she spoke.
“Acolyte Masters said you were baroness Something… of Somewhere Important…” He murmured. “I’m hazy on the details… but do go on.”
“Baroness Phyllicia Dunham of Centre Port…” She hissed, her eyes narrowed in fury.
“Ah, splendid! Lovely place, I do so love the islands, Centre Port’s home to the Mariners Guild…. you must be awash in local orphans! Lucky you, to have a solution to your needs so close to home… pity you sailed all this way…” He smiled blandly for an awkwardly long time.
#
Back aboard her flagship, Wild Coast, the baroness slouched in her quarters and grumbled to herself. “Bloody priests…”
Foul weather, bad luck and a chance met kraken had cost her any number of opportunities at a ducal wedding… Ever since they’d brought their passenger aboard, misfortune and troubled sleep had been constant companions.
Now in Wheatford at last, after the celebrations had ended and most of her peers had fled away to their scattered homes and domains, only the cursed Oddsman’s demands remained.
So far the response had been tepid. She’d been met cordially by an elder Belen daughter… the boring priestess of Order, whatever her name was and shown to very nice quarters in the palace guest wing. Neither the duke nor duchess greeted her, so she and her standard guard of three marched to the orphanage to conduct her business.
Summarily denied entry at the orphanage, she and her guards had marched to the temple of Joy to confront the administrator… the near legendary Otho, Beloved of Joy.
Now she was back aboard her vessel, suitably chastened and licking her wounds.
A knock at her door brought her back around, as a figure in unrelieved pale blue drifted in, swathed from head to toe in robes and a veil.
“I take it you were unsuccessful?” Oddsman Juno asked coldly.
“As you knew I would be.” She snapped “You and your guild have cost me much, promised much and delivered only warm air.”
“I assure you, any of those orphans will erase your entire debt… once we have possession.” He answered with an unpleasant and eerily calm voice. It had been soothing before… now his voice grated and scraped at her nerves.
“Possession?” She snapped, eyes wide. “That was no part of your offer… if you meant to steal Belen’s secrets that’s one thing…”
“We will take possession… you will facilitate this and remain silent. Otherwise, your debts will come due.” The Oddsman sneered. “We have no desire to own your barony, This is a fine bargain for you.”
His voice was really grinding at her spine, as were his demands. “A child you’ve never met for a barony.” He crooned.
“I could have such empty promises and unrewarding propositions in any wharfside tavern.” She snapped. “I’ll not be whoring for you, Oddsman. Keep your filthy demands and get off my ship. I’m shamed to have even entertained your offer, let alone tried it.” She waved at him irritably.
“Begone. Tell your guild if they come calling on my uncle’s chits, they must first find his grave, somewhere below the waves.”
“You are making a decision your entire house may come to regret.” Juno muttered from behind his all concealing robe and veil.
“You must also decide… down the gangway now… or over the rail, when I command.”
Her three armored guards, ‘The Fisherman’s Daughters’, tensed like hunting hounds at the scent of game, quietly rattling in anticipation.
“I’ve nothing for you Oddsman. I say begone, don’t make me say it the third time… The girls are feisty tonight.”
#
Tony was having a peaceful evening, Adele served pork pies for dinner and he was enjoying a smoke with her on the back porch, when the bell rang.
It was just the two of them, so he rose to answer it with a sigh. At least Gary was out of town… nothing too weird could happen. He sighed softly on the short walk to the front door, he kept a modest townhouse for his own use, while the family ran the estates, on the west end of the valley.
He opened the door and was startled to see mistress Shenko, the duke’s head maid… out of uniform, out of her natural habitat and on his porch.
“Forgive me lord Dunham… a relative of yours called at the palace… Baroness Phyllicia Dunham of Centre Port. Duchess Belen asked me to inform you of her arrival… I gather she is staying on her… boat.”
Mistress Shenko shuddered at the mention of boats. Even the clean streets of Wheatford town were too chaotic and filthy for her tastes.
“Baroness Phyllicia…? Centre Port…?” Tony muttered in confusion. “Filly? Cousin Filly is like… six seats from the barony…” He muttered, confused and lost, until he remembered his manners.
“Thank you Mistress… And thank her grace for me please, with my best wishes…” He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small white box tied with a red ribbon. “For you, Freda… thank you.”
The scent of chocolate and cherry cordial wafted faintly from the box, sparking a fierce glint in the good woman’s eye.
“Lady Trelawny says that the liquor in those trifles is unfit for a woman with child… so mind you the duchess isn’t exposed to them.” Tony said firmly, with a wink.
“Della, we’re going visiting in the dock ward!” He called to the back of the house, while buckling on a shortsword, as the tradition and law demanded… even when visiting his sweet cheerful younger cousin.
“Oh! Are the kids back?” She asked happily, while tossing a cloak over her shoulders.
“My cousin Phyllicia seems to have come to town… I haven’t seen her in… she was just a little girl!” He smiled a childish grin that made his scars crinkle and shattered her resistance to a surprise meeting with an oft mentioned relative.
“Curse yer rotten bones, man o mine… I’ll crack yer pate an I bollocks up this meeting…fie wi nae warning a’tall…”
Adele chewed him out in her impenetrable brogue for the whole walk, while holding his hand, so things were working out well…
The ring of steel and shouts of battle coming from the dock ward confused Tony for a moment. He paused to remember that yes… Gary was out of town…
“Drat!” He shouted while drawing his shortsword. “Call the gate guards and run somewhere safe!” He shouted at his tiny wife, as he bolted for the sound of conflict.
Three armored warriors and a woman in court dress were battling desperately across the deck of a sleek courser, tied at the public dock. A sailor lay crumpled and bleeding at the foot of the gangway and another sprawled low in the rigging, staining the white sail red, shading pink as the stain climbed her canvas.
Three more sailors in the red and tan of Centre Port struck at the foe with boat hooks and thrown belaying pins.
The three armored warriors pressed hard, forcing a tall, blue robed and veiled figure back, step by step. The woman in red and tan noble finery held a long, slender harpoon, barbed for a foot of its considerable length. She stabbed and poked viciously, handling her weapon with skill. Her warriors were no less able, their falchions and shortspear struck and defended well…
The blue veiled figure spun and whirled in terrifying, effortless, gliding motions… unpredictable and strange. They wielded a pair of short golden scythes, slashing anything that came close, releasing showers of golden sparks.
No clue of stance, body language or glance could be gleaned, almost as though the being inside had no human anatomy.
“Hold, in the name of Order and the duke!” Tony shouted, wishing for his helm and a proper sword. The sailors and two warriors faltered at his call, breaking their attacks off… Blue robe did not falter. The warrior with a short spear slid too close, catching a scythe across his torso, with a rending shriek of armor, a cry of pain and far too much blood.
The stricken warrior fell back clutching at a terrible wound, as the others renewed their assault desperately. The tide turned, as the robed figure pressed the advantage. A sailor fell overboard, rather than be slit open, as Tony charged up the gangway.
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‘A wise choice…’ The big knight thought, as he dove into the fray.
Steel clashed and sparks flew for what seemed like hours… a healer arrived, stealing away the fallen to whatever fate awaited them, while Tony and his new allies battled whatever was in those robes across the ship and back around again. Swords rang against scythes and that harpoon was everywhere at once, driving the foe… and being driven back by those flying golden blades.
Exhausted and bleeding, with the moons rising over the waterside, Tony and his allies had fallen into a kind of silent communication. Left falchion nodded at a bit of rope and stuff, while the girl with the jagged harpoon kept the robed foe moving.
Tony lunged with his shortsword as right side warrior with a falchion slashed the mainstay, sending a heavy wooden beam swinging around from behind the foe.
Caught with nowhere to go, the spar bashed through the tall figure, hurling it onto Tony’s sword with a sickening gurgle.
Tony wrenched his blade free and watched in wonder and horror, as the robe slowly deflated onto a spreading puddle of undulating black ooze. It slowly ran off the deck, down the scuppers and plopped noisomely into the river with a slow, bubbling hiss.
“What was that? Is it escaping? Bollocks on that!” The noblewoman gasped, her voice still sweetly, saltily familiar. She hurled her harpoon into the water after, whatever it was and struck nothing. They could see it, barely… a darker blot in the moonlit water, slowly struggling for shore and… boiling?
The water a few yards out began to churn and bubble, until a huge geyser of steam erupted with a wail that echoed on and on wordlessly, screaming out into the starry void and the two moons above.
“Wondered why the sorry shit didn’t jump overboard…” The richly dressed woman in torn, sweaty and ruined finery spat over the side after her foe.
“Filly?” Tony gasped in wonder. “Is that really you?”
“Boney Tony? You found a woman able to fatten you up a little I guess.” The tall, striking blonde woman said, shaking her short hair out of her eyes. “I hope she’s one of those hilltribe giantesses, or you’ll split her like kindling!”
“Filly! That’s my wife you’re maligning in the dock ward, in an active crime scene. Oh, thank the gods she is safely…”
A cold wind blew down Tony’s spine and he knew. She was not ‘safely…’ Adele was near, and listening… he could feel her teeth grinding as though she were gnawing at his very bones.
“Filly, I love you, you are my dear cousin, but if you anger my wife, I will leave you to her tender mercies with a song in my heart and an untroubled brow…”
“Only fair Boney.” She leaned on his enormous shoulder and limped down the gangway to where her sailors and remaining guard were mustering on the dock side.
He gently handed her off to the healer stationed there and went to address the civic guard.
Guard captain Olan stepped up with a quick report, delivered briskly.
“Warship Wild Coast docked at approximately fourth bell, the baroness was escorted to the palace, visited the orphanage, the temple of Joy and returned here.” He licked his thumb nervously and turned the page.
“At some point around sixth bell an altercation belowdecks emerged into the public dock. Two indentured sailors have been injured and a third slain. One of the baroness’ indentured guards is currently under the care of Healer’s temple. Their prognosis is unknown.”
“Thank you captain Olan… please send for the duke… this is going to be an awkward entanglement.” Tony mumbled.
#
That willow lumber needed to finish drying before he could really dig into the project, but he had plenty of other work to keep him busy in the shop. Tallum had his own thing going on, something small and intricate, so Gary kept re-working his armor.
He had big plans for the lobster armor and a few other odds and ends he had floating around the shop. But for now it was time to get into the groove…
Miggs, Nick’s cat familiar, was curled up at the fireside, watching over the front room; while the sailor took his ease, toying with one of the guitars from the wall. He strummed a few times, enjoying the sound and wondering at the craft of it.
He jumped in his seat when the door slid open and a brown bear walked in, calling cheerfully into the home in roughly accented common. “Gary, what have you let loose in these hills?”
“He is in the basement… sir bear… are you allowed in here?” Nicolai asked lamely, the damn cat was still snoozing; he’d peeped one eye open for a moment and drifted right back off.
The bear ambled over to the bar and flopped down on a stool with a sigh. “Where does he keep that mead?” Maer wondered, while the rest of the explorers came tumbling into the home.
#
Gary came staggering up, looking exhausted shortly after everyone else stumbled in. He slouched down on a chair near the bar and nearly wept with gratitude when Shai sat down with a huge mug of tea for each of them.
Once he had a few slugs of tea down him he sighed and looked at his ursine buddy. “Just lay it out, Maer.” He yawned his words, unable to restrain the urge. “I’m really tired and I doubt you came to sing me to sleep.”
“Yes, indeed.” The bear grumbled. “Something new is in these hills, near here… something dark and wicked.”
“Hilltop cave? Guarded by a unicorn with a limited vocabulary?” Gary asked, with a sour feeling in his guts.
“You are aware? My auguries say this is some work of human craft and undeath… Have you come to resolve this issue?” The hairy fellow asked hopefully.
“It’s on the list… but damn, the list is long and sucks.” he sighed weakly. “That damn thing is my fault… it wound up here because… Aww hell, I dunno.” He shrugged.
“Something must be done about it…” Maer grumbled softly.
“There’s a problem, she’s big, silver and white and wants to shove her horn into anyone that tries to get near that thing.” He said firmly. “Fighting a unicorn to the death for possession of a cursed magic weapon is too evil overlord for me… Hard pass.”
“Something must be done…” He grumbled.
“Can you get past the lady in white? I can’t, because one poke with her horn, one kick of her hoof and I’m done.” He mumbled.
“Unicorns and Gary are a bad matchup, her magic will shred me into the next life like a broom sweeps away cobwebs. If I fight her, you will probably need to find a new pawn for Beast’s game.”
“Well, then… we will have to wait for her rider to come along and take her away then…” Maer complained sourly. “That could take years.”
“Nahh, she’s all horney for Rolf, we just need him to accept her.” He chucked stupidly. “See what I did there? Horney? I need a nap.” He stumbled off for his bedroom with an exhausted wave.
Rolf sat stunned, doing the math in his head and recalling what that horsie goddess had said about ‘Unicorn Knights’, on that strange and confusing night.
“Wait…what?” But he was already gone.
#
Gary had a restless night and woke alone, sweating and shaken. He staggered down to the common room and bumped into Otho, frowning in disappointment and looking cross. Before he could speak, duke Belen stepped into view along with Amicus, Tony, Muktar the alchemist and several other notables of the town.
“The game is up boy, we’ve come to collect. Where’s our money you wretched impostor?” He barked, his voice filled with commanding presence and anger.
“I don’t have the money… it’s in the skate park… and the chocolate factory… and… wait a minute… I’m having a nightmare? A George Bailey, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ nightmare?”
He stopped in place, looking over the unhappy and unwelcoming faces. “All right… I don’t really dream anymore… who’s fucking around with me?”
He went all the way downstairs, past the dream citizens who were still mumbling about ‘getting their money back’, or something. He turned the corner, headed for the kitchen and suddenly remembered that oral report he had to give in class… in his underwear…
“Damn it!” He grumbled, stepping out of the ‘naked in school’ hallway and into the kitchen.
“...I’ve hitched me wagon tae a stone, aye. But we’ll be making our own way wi out thee, bumbling lackwit that ye are…” Shai was saying coldly, as she packed her things.
“Ok, impostor syndrome in the kitchen, finances in the common room, anxiety in the hall…” He mumbled, bushing past dream Shai, as she was leaving him with the kids following along, shooting him disdain filled glances all the way.
He headed for the workshop, determined to get this thing over with. He stomped down indecision stairs, each step and tread a different width, height and shoddy craft. Whether it was a split, rough hewn plank step with a ten inch rise, or a shaky, ill fitted stone tread, with gaps and irregularities to turn the walker’s ankle. It wound and twisted madly in a tangle of ill made materials and styles.
When he shimmied down a rope ladder, knotted and twisted into an uncomfortable, spinning pendulum, he dropped into a quiet, empty space. No tools, no lumber or goods, just a wide, empty space.
“Weird.” He grumbled and turned to go back up. There were no stairs, the convoluted and mind breaking construct of hamfisted crafts was gone, replaced by his back door. He gripped the wide, smooth panel and slid it back, flooding the dismal space with light and the scent of his garden.
“Oh! Gary, we didn’t expect you…” Thirp sang in surprise. “I’m sorry, but Ragy and I are in a session right now…”
Thirteen year old Gary peered out from the comfy divan he was laying awkwardly on; while Thirp was perched in an overstuffed wing chair with a notepad in her very confusing lap.
“Oh, that explains… not a lot. I’ll leave you to it.” He mumbled, as he wandered off to go wake himself. “Mid-day naps are fucking weird…”
#
He staggered back downstairs, still feeling like a bag of garbage that had been run over, by a garbage truck. “Mmmhhh!” He muttered eloquently, when he sagged down onto the sofa by the fire.
Shai sat down beside him, running her fingers through his hair and snooping on his condition, by peering at his Interface through her own gifts.
His pools were all ‘jacked up’ as he would say. Stamina was bubbling and three quarters empty, Mana was flat and steady at half full, while Etheric kept rising and falling, just a little. His red Health pool was just a hair below full and lingering there, slowly rising and falling by just a hair’s breadth with each beat of his heart.
“What hae ye done, boy? Summat seems off wi thee.”
“S’ fine… I’m fine… just tired and can’t sleep…” He murmured… and promptly fell asleep. Shai gently wriggled out from under the leaning tower of Gary and held him up, long enough for Otho to hop up and take her place, snuffling with doggie satisfaction, when the boy collapsed over him.
She stomped over to where Nick and Tallum were chatting with the bear and grabbed them both by the ear. “Forgive me Maer, I would hae words wi these two…” She grumbled dangerously.
“…he was just working, I can never really follow what he’s doing, you know how it is…” Tallum mumbled, wilting under his sister’s furious gaze. When that dangerous green stare landed on Nicolai he trembled and tried to back away.
“I don’t understand any of this…” He murmured weakly.
Shai jerked her thumb at the tangled heap of her mate, passed out on the sofa by the fire. “He be wrecked, an I dinnae like that ye failed tae watch him Tallum… Nick… I be nae cross wi thee, fer ye are new…” Her grinding teeth and constantly clenching fists seemed to dispute her words.
“Help me pour him intae the grotto, then we shall see what he hae wrought… troublesome fool that he be.” She grumbled.
#
“A sand demon…?” Tony asked Amicus again, for clarity’s sake.
“More accurately a sand projection of the demon’s will… the construct was no doubt destroyed by the river’s natural magics. These weapons are the key.” He muttered, still pouring over the pair of matched golden war scythes.
Amicus looked up at the duke and Tony with a perplexed expression. “These are enchanted in some mysterious manner… though I have seen their ilk before… as have you. These defy my arts and methods, in much the same way.” He mumbled unhappily. “We will need to ask Gary, I’m afraid.”
“He’s going to be absolutely insufferable.” Tony warned the two men calmly. “Filly… Baroness Phyllicia, claims to be unaware of its nature or intent, beyond its demands for ‘possession’ of the orphans on this list.” He murmured sourly. “Some mental control magic seems to have been in play, clouding the minds of her guards and crew as well.”
Duke Belen read the list again, contemplating what it meant.
Gary Ward, age 18
Becky, age 13
Dannyl, age 16
Liam Kinnis, age 19
Ivy Rhodes, age 17
Collete, age 19
Issac, age 18
Mustafa, age 17
Samuel, age 17
“All of my children’s team members are on this list, Tony. I don’t like this one bit…” Duke Belen grumbled dangerously. “I will be having a chat with your cousin, my friend. You should be present for that discussion.”
“That would probably be best, your grace.” Tony answered calmly, while his insides churned.
#
Gary was floating in the grotto, drifting among the lilies and water weeds and looking at peace… save for the fresh, red and purple scar running six inches up the inside of his left forearm. “Stinking blood magic again…” She grumbled.
The sinking, empty pit in Shai’s belly got a little deeper, when they went down in the workshop to see what he had been up to. His bench was a cluttered but somehow organized scattering of incomplete projects and parts. A half built shamisen, some kind of triangular stringed instrument…
Her eyes were arrested by a wooden hand with iron knuckles and long, taloned fingernails of that same dark, oily looking black iron he loathed so much. Everything about the hand was dark, pointy, thorned and wicked seeming.
Even the palm of the hand was a forest of wicked, hooked thorns… nothing good or wholesome would enjoy being gripped by that evil thing. “Gods an spirits… what be that thing?”
She reached out with one finger and brushed the awful construct.
Delusion’s Unshakable Grip, enchanted gauntlet.
Details: Occult, you are wholly incompatible with this object.
*Warning* Cursed Object *Warning*
“Ohh, shite.”
#