All times are UTC [ DST ]




Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 39 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2, 3, 4  Next
Author Message
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: July 30th, 2015, 11:13 pm 
User avatar
King

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 10:17 am
Posts: 3862
Location: Stirling - Scotland
Dark times indeed. I wonder what will become of him?

_________________
Petra Ravnikaar of The Veil


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: July 30th, 2015, 11:50 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
Yeah...apparently Felandris is a nutter...I didn't think he would be but looks like I was wrong...let's just hope the kids turn out a bit better

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 5th, 2015, 2:10 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
So. Seeing as the current date is actually much later than this, I'm speeding up the lore:

Year 433 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 3rd year.

The clear blue waters glistened in the calm afternoon air, interrupted only by the smooth sailing of one of the small trade ships coming from one of the smaller towns around the coast. As with almost every ship in this inland sea, it only had one berth in mind, the city of Tremaine. The wealth of the port city had grown with the completion of the dockyard and it's influence was now felt across Loche Aberdeene. High above the smooth surface of the water, the great castle stood upon grey cliffs where the boys, Gildos and Ferris, played in the soft grass of the castle gardens. Gildos, three years older than his brother, stood a full head taller, and even had some hairs stubbed across his chin. At fourteen he was loud, boisterous, and every part the mischievous prankster, and for him playing tag with his little brother was more irksome than fun, but Mother had her way every time. Although that didn't mean they had to play fair.

As he tagged his little brother, Ferris gave chase and Gildos ducked behind a tree branch, leaving his brother to flail into a flower bed, before running for the door to the castle.

"You can't catch me!" He taunt, wagging his butt at his younger brother. Getting frustrated, Ferris ran after him, but Gildos was too fast. Soon, Gildos had ran the length of the glass corridor and disappeared down a flight of stairs. In the lower levels of the castle he was too far away to hear his brother calling his name, but he didn't care. He was rid of his irksome brother at long last, and it was time to get some sneaking done. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he ducked behind a pillar as two guards walked by, making their way to the mess hall for their dinner. Although the son of the Count, Gildos was not allowed in this part of the castle, for it was reserved for his father and the courtiers who tended the affairs of state. Not that his father ever attended such meetings. In four years he had become a social recluse. Even Gildos had almost forgotten what he looked like. As the guards disappeared further down the hall, Gildos moved quietly around the pillar and hurried down the corridors toward the state rooms. These corridors had no pillars or decoration, so it was more difficult to hide. However, Gildos remained undetected as few people ever wandered these corridors. As he walked through the halls, he heard raised voices and paused to listen.

"The road to Strathcierd is taking major hits from zombies and creepers, we need more guards to patrol the road."

"We don't have enough guards. The road is too long to patrol it efficiently. Besides, most of it's length is outwith Carrickshire and, as such, outwith our jurisdiction."

"Are you an imbecile, Garmen? If the road is under too much strain trade with the main cities will suffer. We need to maintain that road to ensure Tremaine remains in contact with the northern merchants." He recognized his mother's voice.

"We have the entire Loche Aberdeene to trade with, and the southern settlements as well. We should concentrate on the road to Mount Foliantos."

"That backwater town is a perversion of the faith. I'll not have our men guarding it's roads."

"It's closer, and trades heavily in food stuffs. Tremaine's population is growing and we need to expand our farms. This trade route benefits us more." Just then there was a loud thump that made Gildos jump.

"Sorry, dropped the...what was that?" The room went quiet as those inside listened. Gildos held his breath. He could hear muffled whispering and the creak of a floorboard. Looking around wildly, he panicked and dived for a nearby room. He closed the door and fell back on it, as if hoping his weight would somehow stop them from finding him. For a moment there was silence, only the sound of his heart beating, then the heard calmer voices and the door to the room beside him closed again. He let out a soft breath and pushed himself off the door before looking around.

The room he was in was one he'd never seen before. There were tables stacked high with parchments and books, and a corner filled with empty bottles. A stench lingered in the air that made Gildos raise his sleeve to his mouth to stop from gagging. Wrinkling his nose, he made his way forward and lifted one of the scrolls and looked it over. It was a blueprint for a castle. It took him a moment to recognize the landscape as Glas Claddach. The plans were grand in scale, even more so than the castle here at Tremaine, and would require vast quantities of stone and skilled stonemasons to complete. He lifted another paper, with detailed illustrations of a pillar design, when a hand grabbed his. He looked up to see a ragged man, with a wild beard and long grey hair obscuring his face. In the dying sunlight from the windows he looked crazed, his eyes sunken and his skin almost yellowing. As he opened his mouth the acrid stench filled Gildos' nose. His heart raced as he looked up at his father, who let out a yell like a strangled animal. Suddenly pain shot across Gildos' face as he was thrown from the desk. He lifted his hand, but the mark on his cheek stung to touch. There was a scraping of wood and then a clatter and he turned to see Felandris stumble on his cane and fall to the ground with a loud thump. He let out a yell and threw his cane, which struck Gildos across the legs, then a horrible voice emanated from his lips.

"Get...out!" Gildos was paralyzed with fear. "Get out!" Sense gripped him and Gildos grabbed the handle to the door. Just then it flew open and Morganna strode in, a torch in hand. The sudden light illuminated the scene before her and she instantly grabbed her son, who buried his face in the folds of her dress.

"Get out!" Felandris yelled again. Morganna pulled Gildos from the room and closed the door behind her, before handing the torch to one of the dignitaries beside her and looking at her son. Her hands caressed his skin, but he flinched as she touch the red welt across his left cheek.

"What has he done to you?" She asked, tears in her eyes. She pulled him to her, but he struggled free, before running from the scene. She watched him go before straightening up and addressing the others. "You are dismissed. We shall continue this discussion tomorrow." Bowing, they left her. After she was sure they were all gone she threw open the door and marched in. Felandris was still on the floor, struggling to get to his feet.

"Get out!" He growled again. This time Morganna stood her ground.

"You struck him."

"Get out!"

"You struck your own son!" She yelled, raising her voice over his. "How could you do this? Have you taken leave of all your senses that you would raise a hand to your own flesh and blood?"

"He's not...my son..." He managed, sitting up against the desk.

"No...you're not his father." Morganna corrected him. "He's fourteen years old and you've not been his father in four years! Did you know he's an artist? He can paint unlike anyone I've ever seen. And Ula, Ula's got a tongue quicker than a snake's! Ferris..." She faltered, she could not bring to mention Ferris to her husband again, he was too pure, too innocent to soil in this wretched room. "Murtagh is strong. So strong, he's made a life for himself. A real life away from you!" Tears sprung in her eyes as she looked away from the cur before her. "I'm leaving Felandris." She said at last. Her voice was calm and clear, and betrayed no emotion nor hesitation. "I'm taking the children with me. We're going to Glas Claddach to be with Murtagh. To be with family. If you ever come to your senses...then you may send me a letter." With that she opened the door and left, leaving Felandris on the ground, clutching a half-empty bottle to his chest.


Year 435 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 5th year.

"The farmer will give what he is owed to the blacksmith for his services. The blacksmith shall also be examined to discern if he is skilled enough to apply his trade in Glas Claddach. I cannot afford to allow poor craftsmen to work in my city." Murtagh commanded.

"This is an insult!" The smith yelled, throwing his cap to the floor. "Thirty years I've been a smith!"

"And in those thirty years how many ploughs have you made using ill-suited materials?" Murtagh asked. The smith fumed silently, before turning and storming from the hall. A boy rushed forward to grab his hat and chase after him. The farmer bowed to the boy, grudgingly so, before following the smith from the hall. Murtagh let out a soft sigh as the next citizen of Glas Claddach stepped forward; a woman with a tear streaked face. Silence fell as no one spoke.

"My lady, is there a request you would have of me?" Murtagh asked. The woman did not move, but spoke softly.

"My name is Eshar, my husband was Gorma, a trader in the lower city. Two moons ago he was found dead in a room in the Dancing Dragon. 'Told me he drunk himself to death. My lord, I know my husband. He was a good man, honest. He did not drink, and the Dancing Dragon...it's a house of debauchery. He would never go to such a place. My lord. I know he was murdered."

"Murdered?" Murtagh asked, frowning deeply. "That is a serious charge. Have you not raised this matter with the City Garda?"

"My Lord, I have, but they have found nothing. They have closed their investigation and refuse to speak with me. I know he was murdered, and I have no other option. Please, help me find my husband's killer." Silence fell as Murtagh looked at Ernam, his vassal, who stood off to the side. Ernam, who was a good ten years older than Murtagh, stepped forward then.

"We shall look into this matter further to decide if it warrants our attention." Ernam replied. His voice was smooth, like a eel in a river. The woman nodded once, before turning and walking away quietly. "The Governor shall see no one else this day," Ernam announced. The guards formed a line before the throne where Ernam and Murtagh stood and slowly guided the rest of the citizens from the pillared hall. Murtagh rose from his seat to the left of the King's throne, and stepped down to Ernam.

"Thank you," he sighed.

"Not at all, my lord. It was a silly request, you are a governor, after all, not a detective. This is a matter for the Garda, and if they have closed the case there is no case to be looked at." He smiled, his face betraying no sense of guilt or empathy for the woman. Murtagh struggled with this side of politics; he found it difficult to not empathize with his citizens, to separate himself from them and to look at their matters objectively. He thanked the gods every day for Ernam by his side. The courtier was invaluable to the young Governor and had helped him since he had arrived in Glas Claddach all those years ago. At the age of nineteen, he was by no means a boy anymore, but he was still young, and he knew that made him inexperienced. Just then the door to the side of the hall opened and his mother strode into the hall.

"Is the governor available for a visit from his mother?" she asked, smiling. Murtagh smiled back as Ernam bowed to her.

"Of course. I shall see to the matters at hand." He excused himself as Murtagh strode to his mother and offered her his arm. Grateful, she took it and they walked back through the door and out onto the cliffs. This area was supposed to become the castle courtyard, however after construction at Tremaine began the designs for the castle were put on hold. For the past two years, since Morganna had arrived with the rest of her children, Murtagh had decided to finish building the castle, and had spent this time gathering all the resources required, as well as putting together what remained of his father's blueprints and filling in the blanks. Although sour at first at the prospect of using Felandris' designs, Murtagh had won his mother over by insisting he wanted his mark on Glas Claddach to be just as grand, if not grander, than his father's. Having not spoken to his father in over six years, Murtagh still remembered him as the grand architect he once was, and was determined to best him. Even now, several geologists were investigating the rock to find if the current plans for construction would be placed on suitable stone. They strode to the castle gardens which overlooked the city and rested beneath the oak tree. Morganna smiled as she looked at her eldest son. He was the jewel of her life; tall, strong, handsome. He had long, flowing brown hair, like his father had when he was young, and a strong, clean shaven jaw. He was the very definition of regal, and the best role model for his younger brothers she could have hoped for. Since coming to Glas Claddach, Ferris had taken to his older brother and had followed his every word, particularly when it came to designing the castle. Ferris seemed as entranced with architecture as Murtagh. Ula, although distant at first, had warmed to her brother once more. As far as Morganna was aware, Ula loved being in Glas Claddach again. Here, she was regarded as one of the fairest maidens in the city, and young men were constantly courting her, and though she seemed to enjoy the attention, Morganna was glad to see her quick-wit was not blinded by it and she was still capable of protecting herself, though Murtagh was always close by and ready to step in. She sighed as her thoughts turned to Gildos. He was a troubled child. Ever since they had left Tremaine he had been quieter than he once was. His pranks and games had stopped and she was concerned for she never knew where he was most of the time.

"Do you know anything about Gildos? I have not spoken to him in a while," Morganna asked. Murtagh shrugged as he continued to enjoy the view.

"From what I hear he spends most of his time in the city. I think he is friends with Klam and Eros, the tavern boys." Morganna nodded slowly.

"Emeris' sons?" she asked.

"No, that's Marn and Ember, they tend the stables," Murtagh gestured to the opposite cliff across the water where the stables stood next to the sheep farm. "Their parents are Parg and Heidi, they own the Parked Pegasus." Morganna smiled as she shook her head.

"Two years here and I still don't remember who's who."

"Six years here I don't know why they called it the Parked Pegasus." Morganna laughed.

"Did they never tell you?" Murtagh shook his head. "When your father fist founded Glas Claddach, he build the wooden bridge across the water and old man Cheevers moved into the shack on the edge. He was the one who first built the inn, but back then it was the Floating Flaggen. Your father and he were the best of friends, and he would ride his horse there in the evenings and then walk back across the bridge to his house beside the smith."

"The old farmhouse?"

"Yes, that used to be his. But anyway, he would always leave his horse at the Inn. So when you saw the horse there you knew Felandris was nearby. People used to call him Pegasus because somehow, every morning, he still wound up back at the stable at the top of the cliffs. So, naturally, we all assumed he flew."

"But if Father left him there, who took him back?" Morganna shrugged.

"I have no idea. Anyway, Pegasus was always parked outside the inn, so when old man Cheever's died and they took it over, they changed the name to the Parked Pegasus." Murtagh laughed and slapped his knee.

"Brilliant." He continued to smile as he gazed out across the city. "So if Father lived in the old farmhouse, where did you live?"

"I rented a bed in the Box-holes. That's what we used to call them. You know the houses next to the Cobble Cafe? They used to be the Box-holes. It was horrible back then, there wasn't enough houses for all the people, so new comers who couldn't build one, or camp outside, had to live in there. I remember I used to sleep beside a pregnant woman named...Eshar. She gave birth one night, right at my feet! After that, she and her husband moved out as Felandris had finished building the houses round the back of the Parked Pegasus."

"Eshar?" Murtagh asked. "I met her today. Her husband had been killed." Morganna straightened up and looked at her son.

"What?"

"Her husband was found dead in the Dancing Dragon. She thinks he was murdered." he remembered her conviction and shuddered.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, The Garda already looked into it and found nothing. Ernam said there was nothing we could do." Morganna shook her head, then pointed a finger at his chest.

"You are the governor. This is exactly the kind of thing you can help with."

"But...if the Garda didn't find anything..."

"Then maybe you can."

"Okay...I'll have to speak with Ernam first..."

"Is Ernam the Governor of Glas Claddach?" Mroganna asked.

"No,"

"Then why do you need to speak to him? I know he's your friend, but I don't trust him. Promise me you won't let him tell you what you can and cannot do." Murtagh looked at his mother and saw concern in her eyes. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I promise, mother."

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Last edited by Flanders on August 8th, 2015, 9:20 am, edited 1 time in total.

Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 5th, 2015, 3:48 pm 
User avatar
King

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 10:17 am
Posts: 3862
Location: Stirling - Scotland
It is with great sadness that I hear of my once Grand Count Felandris has become estranged from his family, and a recluse. This turn of events is most regrettable,

Having two children myself, I know exactly what its like when they start growing up and ignoring you on their own. I could not fathom ignoring them.

As for matters at the County level, I trust your governess will manage to get to the bottom of that mystery.

_________________
Petra Ravnikaar of The Veil


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 5th, 2015, 7:33 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
Year 435 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 5th year.

Murtagh knocked on the oak door and Eshar answered. She blinked in surprise before inviting him inside. It was a modest home, with a large living space and an extra two floors for the bedrooms. Ushering him into a seat, she offered a cup of tea, which Murtagh declined, before sitting by the carpet opposite him.

"I must be honest, my lord, I did not expect this visit." she admitted.

"I must admit, nor did I. But I think this matter could use a looking into," he said, interlocking his fingers before him. He inspected Eshar for a moment. She looked in ehr fifties, though from what his mother had told he he knew she was younger, probably late forties. She had graying hair which was tied back in a tight bun and bags under her eyes which betrayed her lack of sleep.

"Tell me, what did your husband do?"

"He was a trader. He had a ship which he sailed to the Valyrian Shipyards." She explained.

"Tell me about his business."

"I don't know much myself." She admitted, then continued. "He dealt mostly in wool. The Valyrian shipyards have there own sheep farms, but our wool is coarser and better for sails. In contrast, their wool is pretty good for clothing and decoration. Then there is lumber, he ships...shipped... a lot of that. Though he only had a small ship, couldn't manage more than a couple o' logs." She smiled and looked into the middle distance for a moment.

"So he was a way a lot?"

"Yes, mostly in the summer. In the winter the sheep are not sheered, though he does do some trips for food, fish, wheat and so forth."

"Did he have a ship and a crew?"

"He had two ships, technically. His first ship isn't used much, he gave it to his best friend Eberma to run journeys on. He kept the Red Hawk for himself. It has a crew of three I think, I'll get his books for you, there's much more detail in those." She stood up then and hurried up the stairs for a moment. As she returned she handed Murtagh several leather bound journals filled with details of each transactions, the buyers and sellers, journey times, and crew on each ship. Murtagh thanked her and placed them to one side.

"Now, you said he was found in the Dancing Dragon. What do you remember of that night?"

"I was here that night. He'd just come back from a long trip up to Kaltdvann. Normally he and the others 'ben the pub for a wee drink. As first I didn't worry, I knew he'd slip in at some point in the night, but when he never turned up..." She trailed off.

"So his crew, they were with him?" Murtagh asked, opening the journals to the last trip, a shipment of blue and white wool to Kaltdvann. "Gregory, Edwin, and Mark?"

"I believe so. I saw them when they reached the port, I always head down to see them, but then I left them to unload and I didn't see them since." Murtagh nodded.

"And the body..." he paused, hating himself for bringing it up as she saw the pain across her face. "The Garda said they examined it and found no trace of foul play. They said you collected it a week later?" Eshar blanched.

"I did not! They wouldn't let me!" She yelled. Murtagh's stomach rolled over on itself. "Where is my husband's body?"


***


Morganna strode through the cobbled streets of Glas Claddach, her travelling cloak wrapped tight about her as a cold wind bit at her face. She turned off Count Road and found herself looking at the door to the Parked Pegasus. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. It felt as if she'd gone back in time. The place had not changed, from the stained bar which stood along one wall, to the tables at the other end, to the smell of pipe smoke and tobacco. Even the familiar laugh of old, fat men enjoying a good drink filled the air. She stepped up to the bar and was greeted with a smiling face.

"Morganna!" Heidi grinned, grabbing her from across the bar and pulling ehr into an awkward hug. Morganna laughed as she pulled away. "How have you been?"

"Well, you know, I've been good. Got married, had some kids," Morganna smiled.

"I hear ya," Heidi smiled, nodding down the bar to where a tall ginger boy of sixteen poured a bottle of whiskey into a glass. "Klam, my eldest."

"A handsome lad," Morganna nodded.

"And a good 'un, not like his brother Eros. He's a wee rascal!"

"Reminds me of my lad, Gildos."

"Aye, I thought that was your lad," Heidi nodded.

"Have you met him?"

"No, not properly, but I know Eros knows him. Klam!" The ginger boy looked up from the glass he was wiping before walking over from behind the cramped bar. "Klam, the lad Eros' been hanging out with, what's his name?"

"Ergan?" Klam asked.

"No, the other one, Gildos?"

"Aye, Gildos, Governor Murtagh's brother," Klam nodded.

"Told ye," Heidi said, smiling at Morganna.

"Do you know they go?" Morganna asked.

"The docks I think," Klam shrugged. "They hang out with Ergan and his lot. Mum doesn't think much of it, but I don't like 'em."

"Why?"

"Ergan's not from perth, he's from Valtaros. And he's older, he's twenty-one."

"But Gildos is only sixteen!" Morganna gasped. Klam nodded.

"Eros too," By now Heidi had left to serve another customer.

"They go to teh docks?"

"As far as I know," Morganna nodded, before placing a gold coin on the bar.

"Look after yer Mum," Morganna said, before pushing herway back to the door. Outside she made her way down the stone steps to the docks. Night was beginning to fall and the wind was picking up so she pulled her cloak tighter about herself and hurried across the decking, keeping her eyes peeled for Gildos. As she passed the tunnel to the outer docks she heard a shout which made her pause.

"Mother!" Murtagh strode toward her from the tunnel. "Mother, you must be freezing," He removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders, warming her considerably.

"What are you doing here?" Morganna asked.

"Chasing up a lead. I'm trying to find Gorma's old shipmates."

"Who?"

"The man who was killed. He had a ship with three crewmen who were with him the night he died. Apparently they're all on other ships now and away at sea."

"Where was he trading?"

"According to his journals, The Valyrian Shipyards and Kaltdvann," Murtagh said, holding up a parchment with his notes on it. "But something doesn't add up. The books note the tradings, but from what I can see his income is much higher than it should be. I feel like I'm missing something."

"Well, let's check with the port authorities, confirm where he was going?" Murtagh nodded and together they made their way up to the upper level where the customs offices were built overlooking the harbour. They entered the main office to find a large man sitting by a table covered in papers.

"The port is closed for the night, any shipments will have to wait 'til tomorrow to be processed," He said without looking up.

"We're not processing a shipment," Murtagh said, stepped forward. "We're looking to track some shipments,"

"The port is closed, any business of any kind will have to wait 'til tomorrow." The man said, again without looking up. Murtagh placed his gloved hands on the table and the man finally looked up. "Are you deaf?" He paused as he saw Murtagh and Morganna. "Governor? What are you doin' 'ere?"

"Attempting to track some shipments." he said simply. He placed the parchment on the desk. "I need to verify these shipments and the goods they were carrying." The man nodded, picking up the parchment before standing up and hurrying through the various piles of books and scrolls. After a pause he brought over several large books and set them down.

"These are all the shipments from this week," he said, pointing at the first line on Murtagh's parchment. "Yours will be in there somewhere. If you give me three months I can track down the rest of these,"

"A month?" Murtagh asked.

"We still need to manage incoming shipments and manage the docks. We don't have time to dedicate to tracking these shipments immediately." The man shrugged.

"Let me back there, I'll find them."

"I'm afraid I can't let you sir, these records contain sensitive information and we can't let just anyone lookat them. I can trace these shipments, but it'll take a month at the earliest." Morganna stepped forward then.

"We are investigating a possible murder. Is there any way we can get this moving faster?"

"The Garda could gain authority to view the documents if it's a murder investigation, but if you're investigating it with them I'd think you'd know that," The man pointed out.

"We'll get the relevant paperwork. In the meantime, can you please get digging," Morganna promised. The man nodded.

"Anything for the Governor and the Countess. We owe this city to your family." He promised. They stepped outside again. By now the sun was setting low over the hills and the torches were being lit.

"I'll contact the Garda tomorrow to reopen the investigation officially." Murtagh decided.

"That would be best," Morganna nodded.

"Why were you hear anyway?"

"I was looking for your brother, Gildos. I heard he comes here sometimes."

"I should hope not, the docks can be a dangerous place. Come on, we'd better get out of here, it's getting late." Morganna nodded and they made their way toward the stone steps, taking a longer route than normal in order to have a quick look for Gildos. When they could find no trace of him, they made their way up the steps and across the bridge back toward the castle.

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 6th, 2015, 7:13 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
Year 435 of the Emperor - Phoenix 00/00, 5th year.

The emerald shore glistened as a soft sea wind swept over the flowing grass. At the stables, Hermoch dismounted his horse and left it to be tended before marching across the stone bridge. He had ridden for two weeks from Tremaine and he was travel weary, but he could not waste any more time. As swiftly as he could, he navigated to the castle where he entered the pillared hall to find Governor Murtagh holding counsel with some of the citizens. As he strode through the doors two of the guards made to stop him, but Morganna quickly arrived to his aid.

"He's with me," she said. The guards let him pass and he thanked her.

"May we speak in private?" he asked. Morganna nodded and led him through the door at the back of the hall and up the stairs to the vast council chambers above the throne room. There, they settled into chairs beside the long oak table and Hermoch paused to catch his breath.

"I bring word from Tremaine," he said at last. "Felandris has risen from his quarters and taken charge of the city again." From his tone, Morganna understood not all was well. She waited for him to continue. "His madness has not passed. Taxes are being raised, subscriptions are being forced. He's pushing production efforts which do not benefit the people. He's adding a new wing to the castle and an extension to the barracks, as if he's preparing for war more than anything. I am concerned for his sanity."

"He would not declare war, sure? He's only a count, he has not enough power to do any real damage," Morganna scoffed.

"I fear he will make a move on your sons." Hermoch continued. "He speaks constantly of having an heir to his legacy. I overheard his plans to ride north with some of his men to see you. It was then I knew I must come to warn you myself." Morganna looked shocked.

"Do you know when?"

"I do not. He is still overseeing the completion of the barracks and I believe he intends to complete the city walls within the year. After that, there are suspicions he intends to build trebuchets to defend the city."

"He's ensuring I cannot stop him. If he takes my sons, I'll never get them back." Morganna breathed. "I must stop him. I shall petition the King to have him demoted."

"Demoted? Your sons will lose their title!" Hermoch objected. "No, there is too much at stake. I have warned you, that is what I intended to do. I shall ride now to Dunn and use what power I have to speak with the King. This matter must be handled delicately." Morganna nodded.

"I trust you. But if he turns up here, I'll kill him before I let him take them." Hermoch stared at her for a moment. Just then, the door opened and Murtagh strode into the room.

"Mother, I just received word. The Garda have found a lead on the sheep trader case." He walked up to the table as Morganna composed herself.

"At last, what do they say?" She asked. The Garda had been investigating the trader's books for the last two weeks with little success.

"They received word from the Garda at the Valyrian Shipyards, they too have been tracking potential illicit activity with some of the traders in his books. I intend to sail there tomorrow to investigate this matter further." Morganna nodded.

"Be careful there, you're not Governor of that settlement, you have no more authority than anyone else. Take your trusted guards with you." Murtagh nodded. "What of the body?"

"I took Eshar to the Garda headquarters and the man who released the body could only say the woman who took it looked similar to her. I believe she's in on this scheme, trying to prevent us from finding anything on the body." Morganna nodded.

"I shall investigate that while you're away. Be swift, and be safe." Murtagh nodded, then strode out of the room.

"Is it wise to let him leave here?" He asked.

"Felandris knows Glas Claddach. I have three sons and I cannot keep track of them all. If Murtagh goes away, I only need to keep track of two of them, and Felandris wouldn't dare try anything up at the shipyards; Duchess Samaia would not allow it. I think he will be safe enough from Felandris there. I must investigate these smugglers. But thank you for your help." Hermoch bowed his head and rose to his feet.


***


Murtagh boarded the ship with the other customs officers and Garda soldiers to inspect the cargo. It was late in the day, and this was the third shipment they had searched. After arriving at the Valyrian Shipyards, Murtagh had met with the local Garda and agreed to join them on multiple snap inspections on some of the goods being shipped to the suspect traders. The last two had yielded few results, just a cargo of wheat and grains, and another shipment of foul smelling fish. Murtagh could still smell the fish on his sleeves as he took the captain's log and perused his papers.

"We should have fourteen crates of wool, sixteen barrels of ale and two dozen chickens in the hold." He listed off to the Garda, who hurried to inspect the cargo.

"Matches our records," The customs officer nodded. "A'righ' Steve," he nodded to the captain.

"'ere, wha's all this abou'?" The captain asked.

"Doing some inspections, simply routine Steve, nothin' to worry abou'" the Captain did not look comforted. Murtagh waited as the Garda inspected the cargo. Finally they called up the stairs and two Garda soldiers appeared carrying a crate of wool. They dropped it on the deck and Murtagh hurried to inspect it, frowning.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Found somethin'" One of the soldiers said. Upon the crate was emblazoned the crest of Floggen. With a crowbar, the soldiers pulled off the lid to reveal a dense thicket of light grey wool. plunging his hand into it, he drew out several bottles of greenish-white liquid. He unstopped one and sniffed it.

"Cactus juice. Contraband in some areas of the world, highly taxed in others," the soldier announced.

"And not on the list of goods," Murtagh said, looking up at the captain. "Seize the ship." Suddenly swords were drawn around them as the sailors and soldiers both readied for a fight. The Captain shouted over them.

"Please, sirs, I 'ave no mean to quarrel with you! I did no' know there were any o' those bottles in there!" He called.

"Nonetheless, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us, and your men to lower their weapons." Murtagh said, who had not responded to the show of force.

"Well, in that case," the captain said, walking down the steps. In one deft movement he drew his sword and swung it at Murtagh's throat. Anticipating it, Murtagh simply grabbed his hand with the sword in it and pulled the captain past him, twisting his arm around his back and forcing him to drop the blade. The captain yelled and there was a roar from behind Murtagh. A clash of steel on steel and one of the Garda was behind him, blocking the blow from one of the sailors.

Chaos erupted around them. Another sailor ran at Murtagh, and he was forced to throw the captain away and draw his own blade. He caught the downward blow easily, before jumping back from a slice and hitting away a third strike. Then another sailor joined them and both blades dove for Murtagh's chest. Sidestepping them, Murtagh brought his blade up to hit theirs, before spinning around them and slicing at one sailor's back. Crimson flashed across the man's back as his blade slipped easily through the flesh. The other sailor attempted another downward attack, but Murtagh caught the blade again, and this time grabbed the man's hand as well, before pulling his closer and kicking him in the stomach. The sailor crumpled to the ground, winded as Murtagh turned to see the captain, sword in hand, rushing him. He caught the blow and deflected it before a fist cracked his jaw and Murtagh fell back, feeling dazed. He struck the railing and turned back in time to roll over the wood to avoid the captain's strike. Turning back to him, he deflected another blow, and a second, before turning and kicking at the Captain's midriff. The Captain stepped back and dived again, this time with an upward slash. just then, a chicken flew past them and feather blocked Murtagh's view. There was a distance slash as the chicken landed in the water and he faced the Captain again. The distraction was enough; the captain turned to see who had thrown the chicken and Murtagh struck at his wand. With one twist of his wrist, the captain's sword clattered to the floor again and Murtagh's blade was pressed against his throat. As the captain bent to his knees the last of the fighting around them died down and Murtagh looked around.

Three soldiers were either dead or wounded, and another four sailors, but the rest of the sailors were on their knees, swords at their throats as the Garda apprehended them. Panting, Murtagh grabbed the captain's hands and bound them roughly, then stood him up and pushed him against the railings, then pressed his sword to his throat again.

"Who were these contained from?"

"Grash, a trader in Floggen,"

"And where were they going?"

"To Glas Claddach."

"To whom?"

"I don' know their name! I deal with other traders who take it there."

"Gorma, was he one of them?"

"Aye, he was. But he wanted out. You don' get out o' this business, we all know tha'."

"So they killed him?"

"What do you think?" The captain roared. The blade pressed harder against his throat.

"Tell me what you know of the smugglers in Glas Claddach?"

"They deal out of a pub, something about dragons. It's a front for the black market. I also heard they did other things too..."

"Like what?"

"Milk of the poppy, nightshade, other poisons and such. It's a fucking black market, they deal in whatever you want!"

"Nightshade...it stops the heart, no signs...that's what they used to kill him..." Murtagh muttered.

"Probably. That's all I know, I swear. I deal more with the traders here and in Floggen." Murtagh nodded, then drew his sword back before grabbing the captain roughly and handing him to one of the Garda soldiers.

"I need to return to Glas Claddach."


***


The cool night air was still as moonlight reflected in the puddles of the cobbled streets. The many traders and salesmen had packed up their stalls in the Wheat Market and gone home. The many shops and cafes of Glas Claddach were locked up and the shutters on the windows were closed on every building except those still running a business in the wee hours of the morning. The Parked Pegasus was the most respectable establishment in Glas Claddach, and had closed several hours previously. Now, only the Dancing Dragon was still open, and it's customers were all either passed out or near enough. The staff were either asleep or closing up, and Murtagh had been watching everything from the safety of a parked, covered wagon at the street corner, stuffed with four other Garda soldiers and a runner boy. It was time.

Murtagh nodded to the runner boy, who hurried across the street on silent feet to the next corner where he slipped into a door on oiled hinged. After a few moment, another dozen soldiers, fully armed, left the same house and gathered at the cart as Murtagh and the others readied themselves. Murtagh pulled on his iron helm and drew his swords as they approached the Dancing Dragon as silently as possible. They reached the door and Murtagh leaned against the wall, his heart pounding as he listened inside.

"You are bootiful, you know tha'? You are a gorgeous..."

"Aye, and you're a dir'y slob Mucker! Gerr'off me, you go' a wife and kids to fink about!"

"How can I fink of 'em when I can' even remember me own name!" The waitress let out a laugh and Murtagh nodded tot eh soldier opposite him. the soldier stood in front of the door, lifted his foot and battered it down. Noise erupted around them as the soldiers flooded in through the door, Murtagh with them. Three archers remained outside, but the rest moving into the building. The woman screamed and the man struggled to his feet, but one soldiers grabbed his tattered shirt collar and forced him down, holding a knife to his chest. The woman tried to run but Murtagh grabbed her and threw her down.

"Stay down and you won't get hurt!" He yelled. Another soldiers took her from him and bound her hands and legs, then Murtagh and three others made their way into the back of the inn while another team cleared the upstairs. In the back, Murtagh found three boys, probably around seven or eight. Two of them shrank back from them, but the third grabbed a knife and ran at them. Murtagh hesitated, but then one of the soldiers deftly knocked the knife from the boy's hand, before striking him across the face. The boy fell and the soldiers grabbed him, tying his hand as the other two apprehended the other boys.

Murtagh investigated the room further and found no one else in there, but did find a latch. Once the boys were bound and gagged, the other soldiers joined him and they opened it. it was too dark, so Murtagh grabbed a torch in his left hand and they dropped quickly down the ladder to find three men and a women in an unlit room. After a brief struggle in the near darkness, the soldiers had all four bound in the center of the room and Murtagh was inspecting the room. It had several beds on one wall, and a desk covered in scrolls and books, but the rest of the room was filled with barrels, chests, shelves and drawers full of bottles, vials, small boxes, clothes, foodstuffs, blankets, tools, and weapons. The sheer mass of objects was astounding. Murtagh quickly cleared the room to ensure there were no more smugglers, then he and the three soldiers helped the smugglers up the ladders and then the boys out of the building.

Outside the other soldiers had finished clearing the rest of the building and all the arrested parties were kneeling outside, the three archers with knocked arrows trained on them. Murtagh removed his helm as one of the Garda approached him.

"Sir, we've cleared the upper levels with one casualty."

"One of ours?"

"No, I believe they were dead when we got here." Murtagh frowned and followed the soldier back inside and up the stairs. The rooms upstairs were in a state, with several door knocked off their hinges and furniture thrown around. There was even a whole chest of drawers which had been pushed out a door to block the corridor. Two soldiers were currently pushing it back into the room to clear the corridor better. As Murtagh passed them the soldier led him to a room with a small writing desk and a wardrobe flung open, several ripped and torn dressed scattered around the bed as well as wigs. On the chair before the writing desk was slumped a body; a woman wearing a golden dress, filth-stricken and stained. Her face was painted white with makeup and from her back protruded an iron dagger in her heart. Murtagh approached her cautiously and lifted her head. Her hair fell away and he realized she was bald. He placed a hand over her scalp to cover the skin and tried to picture her with Eshar's graying hair.

"This could be the woman who retrieved the trader's body," Murtagh concluded. He looked at the bed and saw a grey wig and nodded to himself.

"If so, then who killed her? None of our men use daggers like that," the soldier noted. Murtagh nodded.

"Was anyone else in here?"

"One drunk, but he was passed out when we hit the place. Possible he killed her, but why sleep in the same room?"

"You think she was killed while he slept?"

"Possible," Murtagh looked back at the body and noticed one of the drawers slightly ajar. He pulled it open and found a hair brush, some makeup, a few coins, but the bottom of the drawer was not level. He felt around the edge and found the base lifted to reveal a hidden compartment beneath.

"We'll need to search every piece of furniture on this place," He commented. Under the drawer, he found a plain black box, which he lifted out and opened. Inside where several glass vials with cork stoppers. Upon each one was a white label with the word nightshade written upon it."

"Uh-oh," he said, showing the other soldier the box.

"We found the poison," he nodded.

"Yeah, but look, two vials are missing. We know one was used to kill the trader..." The soldier looked up at him.

"You think the killer stole another vial? Why not take the whole box?"

"I don't think they needed the whole box..." Murtagh trailed off. As he turned to leave, his foot struck something and he looked down to see a small silver comb, the kind women used to keep their hair up. He bent down and lifted it, then returned to the body and held it against her wig.

"It doesn't match..."

"Perhaps the killer left it?" the soldier suggested.

"If so, our killer may be a woman..." He said, before pocketing the comb. "Let's go. I want this whole room searched, and then the rest of the place. I want to know everything that happened in here." He stepped out of the room and was met by another soldier.

"Sir, all the suspects have been apprehended and we're awaiting your orders."

"Good. Send the signal for the carts, we'll ship them all to the dungeons and interrogate them following a search of this building." Murtagh ordered, striding past the soldier and leading the way out. As he emerged he could see the faint light of dawn emerging from over the cliffs. "Once we get this lot into the dungeons, you are all dismissed. Sergeant, get a fresh security detail on this building and keep it secured while it's searched. Well done people, we did good tonight." There was a small cheer as Murtagh walked past them all and drew the comb from his pocket, frowning as he pondered his thoughts.

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 6th, 2015, 11:31 pm 
User avatar
King

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 934
Absolutely captivating, my good sir! Lore aside for a sec, I really admire and appreciate the effort you've gone to here; both as a great tale for its own sake and as an exemplary example of lore that serves to showcase some elements of the every-day life of Hermertians. So often, our lore is seen through the lens of the nobility; works like yours and Biakko's are awesome in providing some different aspects.

Nice work!

_________________
Wysterian Labourer's Council
Currently Holding Stewardship of Wysteria

Minister for Applications and Settlement
Forums Administrator


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 6th, 2015, 11:54 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
Thank you. The pride I take in my builds tends to come from the small nooks and crannies that fill my cities and I like to highlight them in the lore. Everything that is discussed in the lore is there if you visit the city...or at least will be... as soon as I built it...

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 6th, 2015, 11:55 pm 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 5:52 pm
Posts: 522
Location: Stirling, Scotland
Also this lore was never meant to get this complicated. I just kept writing and stuff happened...

_________________
Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
  Offline
 Post subject: Re: Felandris of Innean
PostPosted: August 7th, 2015, 6:13 am 
User avatar
Duke

Joined: May 30th, 2015, 6:33 pm
Posts: 723
Ahhhhhh I love it. This stuff makes me so happy and makes me wish I could write :D

_________________
Duchess Celestine of Reinen
-Marshall of the Scrubby Scrubby task force.


"Music in the soul can be heard by the universe" ~Lao Tzu


Top
 Profile  
Reply with quote  
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 39 posts ]  Go to page Previous  1, 2, 3, 4  Next

All times are UTC [ DST ]


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 6 guests


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  
cron
Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB Group
Imperium - Modified by Rey phpbbmodrey