KOHKOL: Session 02 -- Causes & Kosses Report
General Summary
The small, soot-wooden cask of Avery Houseland vintage spouted its last. The three people in the bedchamber looked solemnly at each other.
‘Gruffness’ said, “Barring incident we may never taste this drop again.”
‘Stoicism’ said, “That’s as may be but the metal cask I gave you to safeguard would be deposited elsewhere?”
“I had all but forgotten... Without resorting to my records, it rests at the foot of a particular bridge in Rodoshe. Good squire Pido placed it there so it will be well-cared for. Come to ponder it, that same place has not only the cask but half a set of armour.”
“Well it is that I remind you of the cask then. My current armour is in need of some replacements. This left vambrace has seen too much action after today’s duel. ‘A smith can only work wonders not miracles’ it was once said, eh? ”
“Tarabond was an able smith but not so much a wordsmith, my liege.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to lay eyes on him once more -- or pay my respects to his children.”
The third occupant of the room had heard such conversations for most of the last year. She was not bored of them but she knew that it was her role to change the flow of conversation to anything current. Her voice sounded a contrast to the two others’ mature tones, “Portals come and portals go and so do people at them’. That’s a saying too... Some day one will appear as if by lucky caste and you two will see your beloved lands again. Let’s talk about the Valon arrivals instead. I think they’re going to make a play for the ducal throne. Soghn’s nobility will have this Zi to answer to in short courses.”
Sir Wallone looked at the young girl. He was tempted to be fond of her. That would not do as she served him as his squire. She would be near enough the age of any grandchild he might have but never have met. As a squire she still had a lot to learn. Her skill at preparing his armour was complete. Ashonay had grown up in a knight’s household so armour was a thing known to her. Wallone considered her skill at arms to be lacking. Lagging would be more accurate. He blamed himself. His knees troubled him more than he cared to admit. Practice was not something he looked forward to as a result. He had meant to hire a suitable trainer. Suitable trainers of fighters were about but none had been right to teach a girl of her size how to fight. Those few that had been, Wallone hadn’t trusted to be alone with Ashonay. He glanced at his page, Candlemass. His old companion of a hundred duels and a hundred more adventures, would remind him that if Wallone hadn’t been such a large framed man, his knees would be the better for it. Wallone smiled to think that he might be able to lose any height or breadth from his frame. His parents had both been large... The girl had been coming along in other aspects of her duties. It was too bad he couldn't train her well-enough himself. She was still a long ways from being a proper squire. Wallone knew the girl could manage it. He hoped she’d have the time granted her to take the last couple of steps. Ashonay, for all her faults as a squire, might be on to something with her words. The new arrivals were certainly more interesting than most.
Both of these men bore the carriage of knights. Both these men were unlike the knights of Logresse. That they had come from another of the mainstay worlds one freely admitted, the other made this fact clear by what he left unsaid. The first was Tuan Zi. He was less a knight and more a courtly noble, garbed as a traveling ruffian. Wallone had seen enough knights, either down on their fortune or purposely acting as though they were not trained, to not hold Zi’s appearance against him. The man said he was from Zomb. A world Wallone was glad not to have seen. The tales of the undyne had chilled his heart. Almost worse than the stories of dead men rising and attacking the living was the mention that even creatures were affected. Wallone could grant that some men might deserve such a horrible fate but creatures were innocent things. That horses might rise to be ridden by an undyne rider or that this befouled animal would eat flesh... Wallone’s shoulders shuddered. “Candle, what do you make of Ashonay’s opinion?”
Candlemass was an old man. As a page of Acery his opinion mattered. It was his primary task despite appearances. His daily work of recording a squire’s activities barely occupied his mind. This was never more true than recently. With Ashonay being new to her task of being his master’s squire, she had lessons to learn before giving him anything to manage. It really wasn’t ideal. Wallone had things to do but had had to delay them. A squire as decent at his duties as Pidorian wasn’t replaced overnight. Candlemass missed his companion-in-service. ‘Pido’ had been good company through the years. Canlemass’s overgrown brows threatened to blindfold him as he remembered the event of Pidorian’s death. Murder, more like. Pidorian hadn’t had chance to shield himself before the bowmen had loosed their bolts at him. Candlemass has been the first to Pidorian’s side. There had been no cure powerful enough to reverse the massive wounds the squire had received. Four bolts had hit his chest. Three of these, vital strikes to the heart. Pidorian’s last words were of home. Candlemass had his own wistful thoughts of home as well. His wife had been the smartest girl of Acery-town. He’d been the lucky fool who’d managed to get her attention —
“Candle, are you with us? I need your thoughts about the strangers.”
Candlemass opened his eyes, “Forgive me, I was lost in thought. I have no idea where Ashonay’s idea came from but it is like a sheep separated from the flock. It may find good grazing but it puts itself beyond the safety of the rest.
“A sheep? If anyone’s fleece needs shearing it’s you. Look at that hair.” Ashonay said.
Candlemass smiled at her, “Only your thought is like a sheep not you. Why would you think that Zi would rule a place like Soghn? His bearing is not as they would take to. Nor did he suggest anything by his words that he wished this. It was the other man, Renaissance, who mentioned interest in the ducal seat. It is he that might have a desire to see it seat someone.”
“Yes, and that could be Zi.”
“Unlikely as he might be?”
Wallone interjected, “A thing we might as well ask. They seem forthright enough to answer. I will put the question to them when we see them next. It is good that they have agreed to let us lead them to the duke’s lands. The regency has no reason to overstay its welcome. It cannot be that the Soghnish nobles will be pleased to leave it as is for long.”
“Well reasoned, my liege. It is also true that the regent, being still able to bear offspring, is a suitable candidate for marriage. A strong bond for a dukedom to have the former with the next leader. I can see several matches that would be sensible. No doubt there might be one or two less obvious suitors that might appear?”
Ashonay said with victory, “Like Zi!”
Candlemass looked at the squire with some superiority, “He is an arrival – they would term him an ‘arrivalon’, a wording that indicates the usual place that travelers to this world first appear. I doubt greatly the chance of him finding favour as a match for the duchess. If your glances at this Zi are anything to add to this consideration, then I imagine you would prefer his odds to be slim.”
“My ‘glances’ were only of interest in his shield. It was marked with a twin-headed device. I could not tell if it was a single animal or a pair. Actually, I couldn’t really make out what animal it was. A snake or snakes? Maybe a wyvern pair? It was tough to make out.”
“If that’s your story, I will allow myself to believe it.”
“How’s that?”
Wallone knew he’d heard enough. “I think we must desist from this and recall other more important details of this morning’s events. Candle, what have you put in the record regarding these?”
“I shall read aloud, sire.” With that, Candlemass took out a scroll that unrolled easily in his practiced hands. It was clear that it had been opened recently.
“While at first meal, Sir Bako, Master of Goieval Keep, Sire Wallone, Squire Ashionay and myself sat with two traveling knights singular. These were Sir Renaissance of Ranthurm and Sir Zi of Zomb. While these titles are attributed them, they are mere descriptors and not heraldically sanctioned titles. Talk was about their coming to Logresse and their newly made plans. Zi laid out his desire to represent the race of Man as the ‘Imperator’. A title I have not heard used. The heralds may know of it. I will remember to ask this of one when I next see one. Both men seem well-confident. They speak with a calm demeanour about rulership and responsibility without much doubt that they are deserving of such rank.
We are joined by Sir Geir of the Order of the Feather. He is not long out of bed to look at him. He appears without arms or mail, more a servant’s look than a knight of the land. None seem offended. His interest is only in breakfasting and the squire. This interest is not returned. Before much else can be spoken about, alarum bells ring and Sir Bako directs myself and other less martial-types to the battlements. The rest follow his words to head from the keep to confront whoever has brought strife to its gate.
From the heights of the keep, the contest below is easy to see. Details were easy to discern as the weather was fine and the individuals remarkable. Across from our party stood some twenty eight knights of the Order of the Stag.
Their commander was a bare-chested fellow with an unsheathed sword. A lack of breastplate is a sign of one most given to a reckless nature. This knight rested the tip of his sword against the stones that paved the causeway to the keep. He demanded the keep give forth its stocks and wealth for the knights to take from. He indicated that they had followed them and had learned that the wounded Sir Orves had survived the arrow's strike. They felt they had been cheated in the price they had set for a 'dead man'. Before our host could answer these charged words, my master spoke most forcefully in the negative. Sire Wallone is a man not to take lightly such unwarranted commands. In short, it was soon agreed that the bare-chested knight of the Stag and the Most Orderly Sire Wallone would combat with one another on the causeway. Even as the stag knight watched my master's hasty strides to meet him upon the causeway, the other knights of the stag moved to interfere. The knights, Sir Zi and Sir Renaissance took it on themselves to act to deter this advance.
Ashonay moved to her master's right side, while Sir Renaissance held upon Sir Wallone's left. I am well-used to my master's skill-at-arms. His strokes were as usual the kind that might miss occasionally but should they find purchase, would surely do great harm. So it was on this occasion. His sword slashed out three times before making contact with the foolhardy knight's stomach. His muscles there were badly scored and he spent the rest of the contest favouring the wound. As this transpired, the fighting displayed by Sir Renaissance was on a level I have rarely had the good fortune to see. His was a two-weaponed style of combat, these being two-handed axe and sword. The man would throw the sword as a thief might toss a throwing knife, while offering up severity with the axe. Some of the blows of this axe were as dangerously delivered as can be managed. Several Knights of the Stag were felled not as great trees might be but rather like mere saplings before a mighty, storming gale. The vanquished knights who could still feebly move were of no mind that they might still win this day. They made movements only to gain as much distance between themselves and this Orange knight as they could manage.
In the time of all this occurring, Sir Zi of Zomb at first stood atop the stair of the keep, then departed it through the air. As to how he achieved this feat I cannot well-say. It may have been some aspect of his belongings or it might have been related to the several mystic movements he made. Whichever, the knight walked upon the air as easily as I might upon a road. He took himself toward the fight while remaining some yards above the fighting. Then upon his right hand there appeared a ball of Orange fire. It was a fire unlike that of campfire or lantern. Sir Zi was a wizard. I wonder if his name is some kind of play on spelling that hides in plain view the arts he has learned. Sir Zi launched his fiery mortar at the knights who were advancing from the other end of the causeway. It struck three and pushed back some of the others. The three were unable to take part in much of what followed so busy were they with dousing the flames upon their clothing and struggling to subdue their pain. Sir Zi then moved closer to the fighting below him. He alighted next to a knight who had thought to take up a hand axe dropped by one of his companions. This knight, Zi struck with another casting; a series of seven small bolts of colour which easily ranged the short distance between them. Such artful use of combative magick is a pleasure to witness. I have seen lockmartials before this but rarely any that had such rapid recourse to castings as this Sir Zi displayed.
Sir Wallone then dealt another fearsome blow to the leader of the stags. His health was left truly in question. At the same time Sir Renaissance threw his sword and the blade took the stag knight in his shoulder from the side. These two incidents following shortly one upon the other, proved the knight's undoing and he fell. Others of the Order of the Stag knew that their fight was a foolish one in the face of such a display of dominance and skill at arms. Knowing their betters were before them, the most senior of the stags listened well to the words of peacefulness from Sir Zi. The stag knights were soon to depart having been resoundingly defeated by numbers ten in one in their favour... It might be thought that this was all one morning might provide in the way of notable occurrences. This would not be proved true this morning, however."
Wallone said, “ Your prose is as colourful as ever, Candlemass. I note you have applied a liberal smattering of license to these events. No mention of my grappling with the bastard. Probably as well, seeing as I came close to breaking the man when he was without fight left in him... You plan to continue with the strangeness in the solar courtyard?”
“As weakly as I can recollect it, yes my liege.”
“I’d prefer it if you left it out of your record. Too odd and perhaps important to be scribbled down in the Acery tomes. Some things aren’t meant for casual reading. Things of the Races and immortal Profane should well-qualify.”
Candlemass pulled his upper lip between his teeth thoughtfully. Ashonay offered, “I can’t really remember much after the woman’s arrival. That strange boat and the noble...man that steered it?”
Wallone replied softly, “I recall a bit more after that. Age might have some weight in this memory, squire. An older mind may be able to view things of an alternate secret-kind for longer. The aged have less time left to them and could be considered closer to being forever quieted.”
“I won’t be forgetting his face, nor his blue crown.” Ashonay said.
“That is probably intended to be remembered. This Profane could well have hidden his features from us if he’d wished. Both he and his two servants were not at all shy.”
Candlemass spoke, “Profane are not shy ever, my liege. Only the laws of the realm keep them at pike’s length from the worlds of the living. In Sir Renaissance’s consideration of the Thale Profane’s suggested opening of a portal, there lies a certain risk.”
“Ah, it is so but also the opposite is equally true. This knightly man may have the ability within to look at the Profane as equals not as superiors. If his skills are of that level, it might be that the risks are taken by the Profane.”
Candlemass bowed to his master. Wallone was no fool. He had lived longer than most by more than his strength of arms. Even in this foreign world, the man’s name had become known as one of thoughtfulness and real meaning. Acery sorely must miss Wallone’s wisdom...
“No, we will leave this happening out of your record. Let it continue with the arrival of the leader of the Thrown. This is a ready place to begin the record again. Let us let the Heralds do the writing down of pacts between Races and Profane.”
“As you wish, Sire. Do I include then the details this Colonel Chiaflitt told of this artifact’s theft?”
“For certain, as I might involve us in this."
The man known as Dractyl is a feature of the draconic saga that unfolds. He has made his place on Logresse very clear. This will bring him to the fore I warrant it. I will see that one again as the last time he bettered me. It was not fairly done but that does not matter in history as much as it does in the present. Dractyl is a sourceror-of-largesse. I cannot be viewed as one that shirks for this reason. His will be a role in the acts that follow at the heels of this Chromean Jaw relic’s progress.
We need to be there. I cannot think that these arrivals will not turn their mercy to this force of the emperor. Dractyl will not likely know of their interest despite the Tempest’s. I do not think he will know of our having met with these people either. It will be at least a merry meeting and I will laugh loudly At Dractyl’s displeasure.”
“I will record it, Sire.”
“Good. Now squire ready my things and yours. Whether these strangers make to follow after the train of Br’Tagne or carry out their progress to the Duchy of Symbal, we must be ready to depart.”
“I’m already set. Rutger is saddled and awaits. Your things are packed, rolled and quartered.”
“Squire, you will be queen yet... Candle, gather your outers, we ride as soon as these knights call for it!”
Character(s) interacted with
Sir Bako, Count of Goieval
Sir Wallone, Sire of Unarmed Puissance & Count of Dremissal
Candlemass, Page of Sir Wallone
Ashonay, Sqquire of Sir Wallone
Sir Geir, Knight of the Order of the Feather
Sarijosse, Thale Profane
Duon, Thale Profane
Digitalis, Thale Profane
Yseth, the Speaker
Chiaflitt, Thrown Tempest
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