Tarrow Sharn walked down the streets
of Kellonville smiling, waving to every townsperson he passed, stopping to
greet and shake the hand of each one that allowed him. All around town the people
seemed to be going about their productive lives- the sound of birds chirping
was easily drowned out by the whining of the saws up at the mill, the pungent
odor wafted from the tannery with each zephyr of wind, and fishermen readied
their boats up at the dock. The bright morning sun had dried up the puddles
remaining from the previous day's storm, and a fine layer of dust had caked the
bottom of the tactician's boots. He greeted priestess Jael with a friendly
embrace, and commended her on the beauty of the tangles of green intertwined in
every brick of deity Azimuth's temple. As he spoke with her, he caught the eye
of Ben Arons, one arm in a sling, the other dragging a broom across the floor. Tarrow
waved a greeting to him as well, and the handyman gingerly gestured in response
with his injured arm.
Tarrow remembered, of course, the
previous few days' events. After ending the murderous lives of the three
witches lying in wait for the villagers to arrive, not to mention their orc
thralls, the Horselords of Eodon, with rescued captive Talarin Needlemaker in
tow, explored the underground complex in search of an exit. Soon finding a cave
opening carved by the nearby river, they hurried to meet Ben and Charles Telstedler
before they got too close to the trap that had awaited them. Rounding the hill,
they came across a massive crowd- close to every man, woman, and child of Kellonville-
scrambling about in a panic. Three appeared dead; one of which- to Tarrow's
great relief- turned out to be the fourth witch that Talarin had spoken of. It
seemed their operation was ended, though he still remembered the cryptic remark
made by a dying orc thrall- the creature spoke of a "Dark One" who
was responsible for the orc scourge returning to the world.
Obviously the ravings of a madman, Tarrow
once again reasoned.
One of the supposed dead was Ben Arons
himself, the self-appointed leader of the mass of villagers, though he was
alive, albeit badly wounded. The other was a blackscale draconian that Jael
referred to as Lorender, who had apparently died in an attempt to save his
fellow townsfolk from being slaughtered by this witch. According to Jael, the
crowd had been moving along, almost to their destination, when suddenly this
woman appeared in front of them. Nobody was quite sure what had happened,
because moments later, Ben was thrown from the path, and Lorender's sword was
drawn, but before he was able to stop her, Lyria struck him dead with some kind
of magic. She appeared ready to continue her attack, but Ben managed to kill
her with Lorender's sword before collapsing himself.
The Horselords helped Telstedler to
get the crowd under control, and despite the mass confusion as to what was
going on, they were able to herd everyone back to their homes- though it was
well into the night before they had returned. Knowing that the last thing he
wanted was for the town to panic further, Tarrow took it upon himself to walk
around to each and every home, knock on each and every door, introduce himself,
assure each townsfolk that everything was under control, and inform them that
there would be a celebration the following evening in the Rusted Drake to
commemorate the safe exodus and return of each citizen of Kellonville. Nobody
seemed to understand what had happened let alone why there was going to be a
celebration for it, but it was all part of his plan- as long as he treated each
person like their personal safety was important to him, and as long as they
each felt like what had happened was somehow a success for their town, then
each person would be less likely to panic and cause a riot. As long as they
thought there was something to celebrate, it didn't matter what they were
celebrating. And besides- nobody was going to turn down a free celebration.
He hadn't finished going round to each
and every house until the morning sun had risen, but it was what he had to do
to prevent unrest. Artemis had asked if any of the Horselords should help, or Telstedler,
but Tarrow had to do it himself- he had to make himself visible to every
citizen of Kellonville. The more citizens that knew him, the more citizens that
would some day be sympathetic to his cause. Exhausted, weary, still nursing
wounds from the previous day's fights, he and the rest of the knights met with Ben
in the morning, and were given the greatest reward he could have asked for: A
house. Not just a house, but a base. A base from which they could, over time,
plan their strike against the false-king Galex.
The lodge gifted to them was, to put
it bluntly, a heap of trash that had somehow not fallen over into the river and
been swept away. But that did not mean that Tarrow didn't love it. Sure, many
things needed to be fixed. Many many. And not just fixed, either. Finished. As
if someone began additions to the building and then quit as soon as he was
finished hammering the first nail. But it was still better than anything he had
expected. Besides- Artemis needed something to keep him busy while they weren't
training.
The first evening after Kellonville's
exodus, the Horselords met at the Rusted Drake, as Tarrow had told everyone to
do. He was expecting a few dozen people, assuming the rest would be too shaken
from the experience to want to leave their homes. Instead, to his surprise,
close to three hundred people- almost the entire town's population- arrived at
the inn to try and cast off the previous few days' fears. Tarrow made a few
speeches, played his lute for the crowds, and did his best to help everyone
relax. Primm had to dip into the town's winter supply of ale in order to keep
the festivities going, but afterwards, people could be heard saying that it was
the best celebration they'd had in years.
The next morning, the Horselords
awoke before dawn, got their gear together, and slipped out of town as quietly
as possible. Once they had reached the forest to the east, they waited. The sun
broke over the horizon, just barely visible through the trees, and they waited
more. Artemis was afraid that something had gone wrong, but Tarrow silenced
him.
Just when it seemed the boy's fears
might be realized, the knights heard the thunderous sound of far-off hooves.
Off in the distance, five horses could be seen, weaving through the trees,
their breath creating clouds of mist in the morning chill. The steeds came to
an abrupt stop and bowed down before their masters, each still carrying the
gear they were entrusted with two days previous. Grash and Fru’al were
certainly pleased to have their holy symbols and weapons back, and even Sanna
seemed in better spirits knowing that her four-legged companion was safe. Tarrow
noted that his gelding, Firebrand, had a wound on its right flank- a remnant of
a run-in with something unwelcome in the forest. But these steeds were the
strongest in all the world, and could take care of themselves.
After making arrangements with the
town's stables to house their horses until the knights could build a stable of
their own, Tarrow began once again making rounds to each homestead, greeting
the townspeople and making sure they were safe. He did the same the following
day, despite a torrential downpour. Each time, more people smiled. More people
greeted him. The ones that greeted him previously were a bit warmer this time.
A little attention surely goes a long way.
This morning wasn't any different.
After finishing up at the temple of Azimuth, he continued around, greeting
everyone he could. Every so often, he'd make notes in his journal- keeping
track of who the movers and shakers were in town, how many family members they
had, the general size of their property, and so on. All the while, as he
greeted everyone to make them feel appreciated, he was learning who the
important people were. He was learning just how much pull each person had, just
in case he ever needed a favor. Just like a game, he was figuring out how all
of the pieces moved and how he could use that to his advantage.
After finishing his rounds, Tarrow
had one main goal on his agenda today. He wasn't looking forward to it, but it
had to be done. He arrived at the Rusted Drake, still early in the day, and
rapped on the bar. After a short while, Primm hobbled out, tying an apron
around his waist.
"Greetings, my good man,"
began Tarrow. "Wonderful morning to you. I trust business is doing
well?"
Primm smiled, nodding. "Indeed
it is. Meat won't be ready for a short while, but can I get you some of
yesterday's bread until then?"
Tarrow held up a hand. "I'm
here on business, actually. Is Mr. Telstedler in his office?"
The barkeep nodded again. "Yes
he is. Up the stairs, first door on the right. Knock if it's locked."
Tarrow tapped on the counter once
more, and began up the stairs. Reaching the mayor's office, he knocked on the
door. Hearing the half-elf's voice welcome him from inside, the trystborn
entered, seeing the familiar office appointed as usual.
"Tarrow," said Telstedler,
a bit surprised. "I wasn't expecting you. Can I help you?"
Tarrow nodded. "I hope you can.
May I have a seat?"
"By all means."
The knight took a seat in front of Charles's
desk. He paused, trying to gather his words, an unusual action for the
fast-spoken trystborn. Once his inner monologue was sufficient, he placed a
hand on the desk.
"Mister mayor- Charles, if I
may- I wish to make myself completely plain to you. It has undoubtedly been on
your mind where we came from, and what our business is here in Kellonville. I
wish to dispel any doubt as to our intention by being honest with you."
Telstedler raised his head a bit,
his eyes fixed on Tarrow. "Go on," he said in reply.
"As I have told you, my name is
Sir Tarrow Sharn. I am a knight in the service of King Lainen Tarithal the second
of Eodon, as are my companions Sir Fru’al Ronan, Sir Grash Vesuvix, and Lady Sanna.
The boy, Artemis Redsleeves is simply a straggler we picked up along the way
that I have taken as my squire."
He paused once again, this time
waiting for the hammer that, eventually, did not fall. He hadn't meant to throw
on all of that rhetoric at the end- he had meant to simply state his country of
origin and leave it at that, but in his haste to get it over with he subconsciously
added the rest to try and get his listener to gloss over the uncomfortable
details.
"Go on," repeated Telstedler.
Tarrow blinked. Not at all the
reaction he had expected. "Allow me to ask… are you… familiar with the
nation of Eodon?"
Telstedler shook his head gently.
"The name sounds familiar, but I am afraid I cannot place it. I… take it
that is important to understand this story?"
Tarrow swallowed silently, taking
another moment to gather his thoughts. "Very well. I'll take this back
just a bit further. We come from Eodon, a land very far east. Considered by
many to be the most powerful nation in the world. Our king, Lainen Tarithal the
second, is responsible for the extermination of the orc race over thirty years
ago." He waited once again for recognition to dawn on the half-elf's face,
but none occurred.
"You will have to forgive
me," said Telstedler, "but we receive very little contact with any
other nations. Or even towns, for that matter. We have records of orcs dating
back before this extermination you speak of, and none in any recent years, so I
suppose your story adds up. However, did I not hear that you and your kinsmen
killed a group of orcs just a few days ago?"
Tarrow took a deep breath. This was
not going as easily as he had planned at all, and the mayor's confusion was
justified. He had hoped to simply be in and out, but it seemed this was going
to take a while. He cleared his throat, and spoke quickly to keep from boring
the confused half-elf.
"Yes, well, that's… sort of
what I wanted to talk to you about. Alright, I'm starting over again. Over
thirty years ago, our king traveled across the land, exterminating the orc race
as we know it. About three years ago, word reached Eodon Castle that somehow, orcs
were alive, attacking our nation. The king sent his elite guard, the famed
Horselords of Eodon, to investigate and end this threat to royal lands. After a
long search, we discovered that, in fact, the orc scourge had returned, and
they were responsible for the attacks."
Telstedler nodded to show he was
following.
"However," continued Tarrow,
"while the Horselords were away from the castle, a traitor to the throne
named Galex, the true king's foremost adviser, took the opportunity to stage a
coup. He killed the king, took his place, and declared the faithful Horselords
to be heretics and conspirators against the throne. Upon hearing this, half of
our number made an attempt on the traitor-king's life. Although we do not know
the details, we know that this attempt was unsuccessful. After this, the
remaining of us were exiled, and our families brutally murdered."
"My gods," said the mayor,
his eyes growing wide. "I… I am so sorry to hear of this. I had no
idea."
Tarrow nodded solemnly, continuing.
"The rest of us accepted our exile, but for many, many months we found
ourselves constantly on the run from squads of Galex's men, hunting us like
dogs through the land. We traveled, for the better part of three years, looking
for somewhere we could live in peace. Every settlement in which we sought refuge,
at best, chased us away. Our only option was to leave the nation, traveling as
far into previously uncharted territories as we could. It was that search that
led us here to your town."
"And so you came here, seeking
refuge from a nation- using your own words, believed to be the most powerful
nation in the world," said Telstedler. His eyes were narrowing on the trystborn,
and he was leaning forward. "Tell me, Tarrow. Where does this put my town?
Where do we stand? Do we need fear an army of knights coming to kill me and
burn down every building in my town looking for you? You said yourself that
every other town chased you away, or worse. Why should I not do the same?"
Tarrow's expression was grim. He had
nothing to say in his defense. "I decided it would be better to tell you
now than to be a drain on your town's resources first. I apologize. It was
never our intent to hurt anyone from this town."
Telstedler balled one of his hands
into a fist, held it, and then relaxed it, exhaling deeply. "No. No, you did
not. I know that you did not. When you first arrived here, you saved us from a
threat that would have come whether you were here to stop it or not. And, even
then, you refused payment for our defense. I've been watching you, Tarrow. I
can see how much you're trying to help raise morale among my people. Even if
you have put my town in danger, you have already saved it from a fate just as
bad."
"I am relieved you see it that
way, mayor," Tarrow replied. "I do apologize for not telling you
sooner. But please understand, we believed that you-"
"Would have you away the moment
you got here. Yes, yes, I know. And it is for that reason that I want you, and
the rest of your comrades, to keep this between us and us alone. I want nobody
else to know about you and your origins unless I give you permission. Do you
understand? I highly doubt the rest of my town would be as understanding."
Tarrow nodded. "I agree
wholeheartedly." He held out his hand, to which Telstedler returned a
blank stare. Tarrow returned his hand to his side, unshaken by the standoffish
exchange. "If I may make some requests, mister mayor."
Telstedler leaned back in his chair.
"Go on."
"It is very important to me, as
well as I'm sure to you, that this town be kept safe. As of right now, this
town has no defenses, natural or otherwise, that I or my people have noticed.
Is there any sort of town militia that can be put into action if the need
be?"
The mayor shook his head.
"There was an attempt to create one many years ago, but I am afraid the
only result of that is the building you are currently inhabiting."
Tarrow nodded. "Very well. With
your permission, I will take it upon myself and my companions to try to
organize one. I would appreciate your cooperation and aid once we are able to
garner enough support."
"Good luck trying. You have my
permission."
Telstedler stood up, and this time
held his hand out to Tarrow, who took it after only a moment's hesitation.
"I am sure you understand my attitude. I do appreciate your coming forth.
I cannot say I would have done the same in your position."
After exiting the Rusted Drake, Tarrow
wiped his brow. It was considerably warmer than when he had entered, and by now
it was already after noon. By now, Artemis and Grash would be well into
repairing the roof. Sanna, ever the self-imposed wallflower, would be
continuing to scout the areas around town for possible threats and defensible
advantages and disadvantages. Fru’al would be off ogling women and… whatever
else he does with his time. Tarrow took out his journal, and, checking some
notes, walked over to Oliver's Provisions, the general store, to pick up some
supplies.
Walking up to the building, Tarrow
noticed the mustachioed halfling owner standing in the door way, broom in hand,
staring off into the distance as if frozen mid-sweep. When Tarrow reached him,
he looked at the still-staring halfling, then turned and looked back towards
where he came, trying to see what it was the short man was staring at. He then
turned towards Oliver again, and cleared his throat softly.
The halfling jumped, dropping the
broom and almost falling back. "Oh!" he said. "Forgive me, sir.
I was just- nothing. Please, come in, come in!"
He gestured Tarrow into the store,
and finished up sweeping the doorway, although occasionally pausing. After
gathering up what he needed, Tarrow set the supplies on the counter, taking out
some silver slugs for payment. Oliver made his way to the counter, and when
counting the total cost, Tarrow could tell he was preoccupied with something.
"Mr. Oakenspring, if I
may," the trystborn began. "Is there something troubling you?"
The halfling paused, and then shook
his head. "No, no. Just a little tired, that's all. Quite a storm last
night, eh?"
Tarrow paid for his merchandise, and
was about to leave, but he leaned back down towards the diminutive shopkeep.
"Please, sir. If there's
anything I can do to help, I would be happy to."
The halfling thought for a moment,
then took a deep breath. "I suppose there is something…"
"Thank you for sharing this with
me, sir," said Tarrow after Oliver had finished. "Allow me to gather
my companions and return tonight. They may have questions of their own."
Stepping back out into the hot
midday sun, Tarrow walked back to the Rusted Drake, where Fru’al had been eating
lunch the last few days. Seeing him seated with a young man, he greeted the
both of them and turned to the mage. "Fru’al, if you may, we need your
help. Someone in town has a job for us, and I think you're going to want to
hear about this."
Leaving with his elder companion,
they followed the path around the mill towards the lodge. Looking up at the
roof still in mid-repair, Tarrow noticed that Artemis was nowhere to be seen,
despite his strict orders that morning.
"Good," he said to
himself. "It's about time he started sneaking out to have fun. I should
probably reprimand him when he gets back. Don't want him doing this all the
time, after all."
Opening the back door to the lodge,
he walked into the common room to find Grash rearranging the furniture.
"Grash," said Tarrow.
"Come with me. We've got some business to attend to."
Grash stopped what he was doing,
dusted his hands off, and followed the trystborn. "Business of what
nature?" he asked as the three of them were walking down the path back
towards town.
"Missing person," said Tarrow.
"Apparently some woman named Sibyla has disappeared."
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