Merle did indeed have booze. A table's worth of bottles of the stuff on a table against the wall beside the entrance. Different bottles with a variety of contents. We sampled something that was bottled in a tall fluted decanter. It was labelled as Writer’s Block. It was green, slightly effervescent on the tongue, and had a fruity taste with a slightly vegetable aftertaste, like you’d taken a bite of melon and gotten a bit of the rind. It was also potent stuff. One small metal chalice with the volume slightly larger than a shot glass was enough for my face to flush. I probably shouldn’t have had the second. Amanda identified the metal as Kuty, a material analogous to pewter, and used to similar ends. Conventional wisdom for Lusfell said it was non-toxic. The small sized chalices were Gilvs, which was to say a eighth of a Jarkin. Jarkins being the standard size for a drinking vessel on Lusfell.
Gilvs, Quhom, Ril, Jarkin and Quoj were the scale. Each being roughly twice the size of the prior. [[Personal] Lore] confirmed this.
So we found some comfy chairs and sipped on our gilvs of Writer’s Block while we planned out the future of Skipingham, Manchwark, and perhaps beyond.
“Firstly, “I said, “We need a census. We need to learn who we have, who they were and who they are. Down to classes and levels at least. Where they are is close behind. People are going to have been separated from family and friends. Reuniting them will be important. Second, and I hate myself for suggesting it, we need to re-establish the rule of some sort of law. There are going to be opportunists trying to carpe diem, and as we’ve seen those who carpe first carpe hardest.”
“That means were looking at banditry at least. Probably worse.” Murdo said. I nodded.
“Thirdly we need to find some sort of new normality. We can’t go back to how things were before on Earth because all of that’s back on Earth. How things were here are as alien to us as our own middle ages. So we’re going to be needing to learn how to do things from these new bodies of ours. And when that’s not enough, invent new ways of doing things for ourselves.”
“We’re going to need a calendar. Hopefully between [[Personal] Lore] and any records left around we can get a good grasp.” Leslie said. “Couriers and messengers to make contact with the wider world.”
“With the right application of magic and innovation I think we can bootstrap ourselves back up into some sort of advanced civilisation, fairly quickly.” Amanda said, “But I’m a chemist, Jim, not an engineer. I wish Duncan had come home to visit this weekend. Lucia too, of course.” She added, mentioning both our children. Our Earth-born children.
“It’d be good if we had them both close by when this happened.” I agreed.
Duncan scared me. Not because he’d once broken two ribs and the nose of a teacher who had been idiot enough to try and restrain the boy during an autistic meltdown. Back when he was 15. No. He scared me because I suspected that one day he could be spoken of in the same breath as Stephen Hawkins and Isaac Newton. The responsibility to raise a genius polymath child without fucking them up so much that they can never realise that potential, was my greatest fear. At the age of four he taught himself to read and then taught Lucia, his elder sibling, how to overcome its dyslexia. All because he wanted to recognise the manufacturers of his favourite cars. Now fourteen years later he was a fresher at Keble College, Oxford, reading something technology related. I couldn’t even begin to grasp what was going on in his head. Of course that put him 454 miles from home. Who knows how far he was now.
Lucia was in many ways the polar opposite. So focused on its little brother we may have let it slip under the bus. Artistic where Duncan was academic. It was a people person like their mother, but still carrying the family burden of autism. Of course when it was finally diagnosed they were already set back. Not that its grades were bad; they excelled in every subject that Duncan fell short at. He knew he could attain anything he focused upon. Just not everything was worth his attention. So these were the subjects his doting big sibling pushed themself to conquer. It taught itself guitar after getting its granny Hughina to buy them a broken hot pink electric guitar from the Sally Army. Duncan 'borrowed’ my soldering iron to make repairs. We only discovered this after he nearly set fire to the curtains . He also converted some old PC speakers into a makeshift amplifier. He was eight and Lucia ten. Turns out it has perfect pitch. They nearly lost interest when Duncan made himself, under supervision this time, a bass out of scrap wood and electrics provided by the ever hovering Hughina. But he came to Lucia for help with learning how to play and they provided it. Now it could play more instruments than we could afford or store. Including some so old fashioned to be almost laughable. Like the lute and hurdy-gurdy. They also painted, drew, wrote and had a higher in drama. We tried to get them in to the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland but that was too academic for them. Glasgow School of Art likewise. But it ended up in Duncan of Jordanstone, in Dundee, anyway. Just for the experience, it said, but I suspected they wanted to remain close to home.
“Drake?” Amanda repeated. I blinked away unexpected tears. “You sort of zoned out there.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I was thinking about the kids.” I swallowed the hollowness in my throat, washing it down with the last of the Writer’s Block. “Where were we?”
“I was just volunteering to organise the census,” Leslie said. “The labourers guild has extensive records of its members which we can use. That should hopefully give us half the information we need. Once people realise we’re trying to help…”
“…At least half of them will clam up and refuse to assist us at all.” Murdo finished for her.
“That’s why I’m putting you in charge of policing,” I said. Murdo blinked at me.
“You’re putting me in charge, huh?” He said. I almost missed the emphasis he put on the first and third words.
“You’re the highest ranked police officer we’ve met so far.”
“Was that a royal we?” Murdo said and then chuckled.
“No, the royal wee is what happens in the royal bathroom” Amanda said.
“Of the people I’ve met in Lusfell, you’re the highest ranking police officer.” I said, “I literally don’t know who else to entrust this to.”
“I’m a detective sergeant,” Murdo began, “I don’t have the skill set to organise a police force. There are better qualified people than me.”
“Well when you find them, bring them to me and I’ll give them the job.” I said. Murdo laughed again.
“I don’t…” he began.
“You don’t think I have the authority.”
“No. It’s not that. Look Drake I’ve known you almost a day, and I know you’ve lied to me. But I trust you. You’re a good bloke at heart. It’s just…” He combed back his hair as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s just that this is kind of too big for me.” It was my turn to laugh.
“This is too big for any of us,” I said. “Which is why I’m making you the…” It was my turn to gather my thoughts. My first instinct was to make him a sheriff, but under Scots law a sheriff was a type of judge. The word marshal came to mind, but then I remembered that a marshal was the highest rank in the British armed forces. Then it struck me and I stood and walked over to a nice rug that looked like it might be comfortable. “Murdo come over here please.”
Murdo stood and followed me over. I realised that I need a sword and I’d left mine hanging on my chair, like an idiot. Then I remembered that I was never actually unarmed. I mean I could just use my hand, but let’s be honest here, we’re Scots, not Dutch.
“One moment” I said and dropped back into my own shadow.
There on the racks of my shadow inventory was a sword suitable for my purpose. It was overly decorated; curved and twisted quillons decorated with gilded wire and ending in flowers carved from large gems. I couldn’t identify the type. The blade was wide and sharp on both sides; a true broadsword. But it was made from something that looked like green bottle glass that became more opaque the closer to the hilt it got. The pommel was more of the glass-like stuff and shone with an inner light. Rune-like shapes that I couldn’t identify at that point seemed to float within the blade. A word came to me unbidden. A name? Assurance.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Jeebus Crust!” Murdo exclaimed as I popped back up. “Where did you come from?”
“Well my parents did a bad thing…” I began, then caught myself. “I just popped to the armoury for a sword.” I explained, showing him the sword. “Now if you just kneel”
“Drake, wait!” Leslie was on her feet. She’d figured out what I was going to do. “You don’t know what...”
“I think I have a pretty good idea, thanks Leslie.” In hindsight I was probably a little merry from the Writers Block.
“Now what?” Murdo asked as he knelt. I asked him if he had any middle names and he admitted it was Elliott.
Without any further ado I raised the sword and placed the flat of the blade upon his right shoulder. Lifting it over his head and twisting it so the same side of the blade landed upon his left shoulder.
“Arise Sir Murdo Elliott Ness, first of his name. Knight of the Order of Manchwark.”
Murdo was wide eyed as he stood.
“What did you just do?” He asked me with a fervour that surprised me.
“I just knighted you.” I said. “Into the order of Manchwark. Whatever that means. I suspect I just invented it.”
“I just dinged.” He said. “My class has changed from guardian sergeant to guardian knight-hyphen-sergeant and I got a bunch of experience from being knighted. I’ve just hit tenth level. I’ve the choice to replace my guardian class with the knight class.”
We all had questions.
Yes he had attributes. He had a single solitary point to put into one of them and the list he had was agility, endurance, might, reflexes, empathy, intuition, reason, and willpower.
“Agility 18, endurance 16, might 16, reflexes 16; empathy 16, intuition 28, reason 16, willpower 16.” He reported. His intuition was so high due to his seagel of the Saz. Which was beginning to sound like a corvid of some sort. Curious, perceptive and mischievous.
“Why so many 16s?” I wondered aloud. We had no answer at that point.
Murdo was able to reveal that he’d boosted agility and empathy each once; might, reflexes, and reason twice; endurance and intuition thrice. It didn’t take us long to realise that totalled fourteen bonuses. Murdo dug deeper and discovered that prior to becoming a guardian Alluin Balvalur, the name of Murdo’s body, had gained five levels as a [Hunter].
“Okay, so does that mean that a person’s level is just the level of their current class, or the level of the class they have the highest level in? Amanda said. “Given that Murdo is level ten , not level fifteen.” The only way to find out now would be for Murdo to take the offer of the [Knight] class. But he refused, the sweet lure of an [Aura] being dangled in front of him too tantalising to waste.
“We can ask for volunteers,” I said, “train them into another class and see how levels work then.”
“You could just knight them.” Murdo snapped.
“I could,” I agreed, “But I don’t want to knight people undeserving of the honour.”
“Honour” Murdo said, and laughed again. Once he’d calmed down he declared that he was putting his point into intuition. After a moment he announced that it had jumped up to 30 and he was being offered a perk. He said he already had three attached to intuition: Curiosity Saved the Saz, which sounded like some sort of danger sense; Hunter’s Eye, which improved accuracy with a bow; and Ring True, which let him know when he was being lied to. Good to know.
He said there was a list of available perks but he already knew what he wanted.
“Just one more thing,” he said. “Helps me know what question to ask to bring me closer to the solution of a mystery. But it has to be my last question of an interview.”
“Which means that whatever game engine is running this crazy arse reality is milking us for ideas.” Amanda said. “Because I’m guessing they didn’t have Columbo here until we arrived with memories of it in our heads.”
“It’d be even more scary if the locals were getting fed references from Earth before we got here.” Leslie observed.
That just left another one more thing, in the form of Murdo’s aura. He had four options to choose from. First was the Arsonist’s aura, that extended his seagel of fire beyond his touch and out into the world. Murdo was not pleased. Least of all with the name.
The second was Guardian’s aura, that could be used to protect others with its influence, aid in seeking out enemies, and assist in their defeat. Just how, wasn’t clear.
The third was the Sergeant’s aura, which seemed to be, at its root, similar to my commanding aura, only less imposing and with different utility, only affecting those under his command. But the question was, would it change if he stopped being a sergeant? We had no way of knowing.
Finally there was the Knight’s aura which was midway between the guardian’s aura and the sergeants.
In the end Murdo picked the Guardian’s aura, saying it better fit his ‘build’.
That done we returned to the matter at hand. The whole knighthood thing.
“You do realise that by giving Murdo a knighthood you’ve also given him a conflict of interest when it comes to his role as a police officer,” Leslie said.
“I can just knight any other police officers that turn up too, if that’s going to be a problem.” I said.
“That would actually make things worse.” Said Leslie. “You can’t bind the police to your service.”
“I’m not binding anyone to my service,” I said, “Otherwise my commanding aura would be active and most people around here would be doing everything I say. I don’t want that. I’m loath to use it at all. It’s mind control and anathema to everything I believe in.” I gestured to Leslie, who possibly out of habit had been taking notes of our discussions thus far. Using paper or vellum, I didn’t really want to know if it was the latter, with a quill and some ink. She had really nice handwriting. I asked her to get a fresh sheet. Then I pontificated.
> The Manchwark Conscientious Order of Knighthood; henceforth the Knights of Manchwark or “the order”, is a social and vigilant order of knights charged with defending the people and territories of Manchwark against threats from within and without. Under the command of its grand knight commander, the marshal-hood of the earl of Manchwark, and a handpicked council of knights.
>
> Foremost all knights are answerable to their own conscience, before all others. No knight shall act or follow a command if it conflicts with that compass. Nor shall action or inaction by a knight be judged, except by their own moral compass. Only if inaction allows harm to befall the people of Manchwark shall it be judged a stain upon their honour.
>
> Secondly. Knights are expected to perform the following:
> Charitable works, within their means, for the benefit of the people of Manchwark, and beyond.
> The protection of travellers upon the highways and byways of Manchwark.
> To defend the people of Manchwark from tyranny both foreign and domestic.
>
> Thirdly. The structure of the knights is thusly:
> The conscientious knights
> The knight sergeants
> The knight commanders
> The grand knight commander
>
> Fourthly. While the earl of Manchwark shall be the marshal of the order, they can not themselves be a member of the order; past, present, or future. As marshal they are responsible for bringing together the order and deciding who is deserving of what rank within the order, but must do so under the guidance of the order. The marshal, is the final arbiter in these matters. The marshal alone can grant membership to the order. The marshal alone can expel a knight from the order. The marshal alone can dissolve the order.
>
> Fifthly. The grand knight commander may choose from the body of knights a council to advise and guide them. They may also choose a member of the council to act as their deputy in all regards, and with the authority of the grand knight commander.
>
> Sixthly. The order may draw upon the resources of the earldom for the maintenance of the order, and while on the business of the order. Individual knights are responsible for their own expenses outside of the business of the order.
>
> Seventhly. Knights of the order may promote and sponsor worthy citizens as squires of the order and do so at their own expense and by their own means. Such squires are the responsibility of their sponsoring knight and their sponsors honour depends upon their behaviour. If such squires are shown to be worthy of the honour then their sponsoring knight may present them to the marshal, who may knight them at their discretion.
>
> Eighthly. The knights of the order are under the jurisdiction of the the grand knight commander. The grand knight commander, and the order at large, is under the jurisdiction of the Manchwark court.
>
> Ninethly. The colours, emblems and uniform of the order are to be decided.
Just as we were getting back to actual business the two people I’d sent to secure Esmond Sergeant burst in to tell us that he’d escaped. Having vanished before their very eyes.