Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate

[RollinsCat]

It's not real yet.  Maybe not real at all.  He reads it again, although he doesn't have to.


Tyr'riel,

By order of the Queen, secure all other activities and proceed immediately to Eastern Gate. Befriend and collect intelligence on Marcus Blandorf, who is believed to be involved with transferring materials to an agent of the Dragonsong kingdom. Upon obtaining sufficient proof of these activities, use all means at your disposal to eliminate the threat to the Kingdom.

Report the results to the Keep upon completion. Destroy this letter after reading and understanding its contents.

K. C.


A wrist flick toward his campfire and the creamy yellow parchment withers black, then grey.  A burp of ash and it's gone.

He has no idea what's going on.  He quit...didn't he?  Refused to swear fealty?  Or did they think it is his ploy against walls with ears?  Is it?  If so, he owes his subconscious a talking to.  Eastern Gate is within sight.  This puts a crimp in some of the leisure activities he is failing to work up the courage to engage in, but it does provide a more specific reason to be dilettanting around...and yet...

Two things.  One, the families in Dragonsong who would like Dririan back under the Dominus's thumb number many, his research laid those tensions out loud and clear, so this could be a real mission - except - two, Chiamoto, Katherine should have reversed her initials.  He'd have got it.  He was raised by a Huangjinite, after all.

So what is he being set up for, and by who?

[RollinsCat]

Two ox carts almost run him over.  His fault.  He's standing half in the street gawking.  Partly at the unusual cleanliness of...everything, partly at the richly appointed manses that adorn the long road sloping up and away from the sprawling Eastern Gate docks, and partly at the women.  Well...a lot at the women.  There are a frelling bunch of them, some in glass windows fanning themselves, some strolling the cobbled sidewalks, all of them bedecked in jewels, scented with oils, powdered and kohled.  Hard to tell who's being friendly and who's being real friendly, but he's not here for that.  

Man's gotta look, though.

Alright, enough.  A sudden bluster yanks his hood back, a bluster that promises more where that came from, and he heads for shelter.  The nearest tavern has a wolf with neck carved in a graceful upward arch under the words on the shingle.  Howl at the Moon.  Weird name but whatever, it's a start.  The wind tugs the edges of his new brown poncho before the oaken doors shut with a softer thump than their heft would indicate.  Heads turn but look away almost immediately.  Nothing interesting to see.  Just another customer.

The bar itself runs center, long and darkly varnished wood and brass.  The room is painted midnight blue with a big orpiment moon on the far wall.  The bartender glances up, takes a look at the latest arrival, and returns to his business.  The burly hands tap and pour and mix even as the man's flat brown eyes scan the room.  He's good, this one.  Probably not much mischief goes on in here.  The patrons are better dressed, quieter.  Yeah, this is a good place to begin.

He slips onto a stool at the bar and orders an ale; all the high tables out in the room have at least one person seated.  That's cool, he wants to overhear and this spot is better for that purpose anyway.  Setting his pack between his legs and dropping low-denomination coins on the bartop, he sits and sips and listens.  For news, for rumors, but mostly for one name.  Marcus Blandorf.

[RollinsCat]

"We know Katherine sent you here with us, at first as a decoy, but she knows that Marcus doesn't know you.  I was made.  He has someone on the inside, someone important.  Someone sold us out, coin outweighed loyalty to the crown."

"Let's just say I am in the process of getting together a small organization that is going to add another  to the pile we stared."

"These are real threats, Ty, you will be disavowed if things do not work in your favor, this is extremely dangerous.  Katherine didn't ask you here, the Regina did.  We can't trust anyone now."

[RollinsCat]

Lot to think about.  Some stuff immediately at hand and he's headed to Bydell again to bone up on things he's only looked at in passing, but waaaay more than just that.  Equality.  The point was made, and he had his first epiphany standing there listening.  

She values you.  She needs your approval.

Click.

Yeah, okay.  So that makes him think - first about himself.  Whose approval does he need?  His father's?  Nope.  He loves his dad but doesn't really want him know what he's doing, just wants to enjoy the old man's company once and a while and the fact that someone cares about him for him.  That's cool, he likes that.  So, his mother?  That's answered before he can finish thinking it.  No, he doubly doesn't want his mother to know what he's doing because she might try to butt in or worse, protect him.  Viper ain't wrong.  She's not.

And Viper?  Nope.  If anything he kind of likes annoying her, which is childish but there it is.  He'll settle on not being her enemy and that's that.

Steel?  Okay, kinda, maybe.  Yeah, a little.  He's responding as a student, and although he was never teacher's pet, it's nice to really learn something.  Work on that.  See it for what it is, not for what you want it to be.  Give it time.

The Regina.  Hm.  Yeah, that's sticky.  In the end, they'll both die, though, and her crown won't save her.  It makes him think about power and what it really is, and what fealty means.  It's more than a death sentence for treason.  It means you value something enough to put it first among all things.

So...is he lying?

[RollinsCat]

"We know Katherine sent you here with us, at first as a decoy, but she knows that Marcus doesn't know you. I was made. He has someone on the inside, someone important. Someone sold us out, coin outweighed loyalty to the crown."

Frakking hells.  

It goes down nothing like what he thought.  He's been haunting bars all over Eastern Gate, just another guy in a backdrop of mercenaries, travelers, and down-on-their-lucks.  Weeks, weeks to find the place his quarry prefers.  Another few days of scoping it out - the Flaming Phoenix - until today, finally, Deliar flashes him a grin and his prey saunters in.  The bartender confirms, takes a little coin for that, risky but he's on the clock.  Has to make a move to find his mark.  

Marcus Blandorf is an elf.  Can't be his real name.  Cocky, cold, calculating - maybe a little crazed, remains to be seen.  Ty sets himself up, drinking at the end of the bar nearest the elf's table, reading job fliers while the bar crier's off getting sozzeled.  Hey, look at me.  I can read and I'm for hire.

Works, at least it gets Marcus's attention.  He's invited to the table.  Chatting, what brings you here, you lived here long.  He plays mercenary but keeps it close to home; an embellishment here, a little lie there.  He's here to find work because the famine's gotten too bad on Mistone and Alindor.  

Bad planning on the part of the hungry, says Marcus.  The rich won't starve.

Food's tight enough that even money won't get you fed like before, he says.  He's a working man, there any work here in Eastern Gate?  

Mercenary work, guard work -

- he isn't interested.  He's a finesse guy.  

That catches Marcus's attention.  He puts up a little test.  "I'm going to go to my room.  Let me know if anyone takes an interest in my movements."

A confident stride to a room past the bar and oh, yeah, someone stands up.  He nearly chokes on his ale.  The kimono, the golden hair, the curves...Juliana.  She's at a table with a dark-haired woman who has her back to him.  Juliana glides along, down the hall past the room and back.  He's gonna have to throw her under a wagon.

Marcus returns. "Did anyone take an interest?"

Yep.  He describes Juliana in detail, the dress, the hair, the...well, all of it.  Which he could have seen a lot more of if he wasn't such a noble son of a bard when it came to snogging and the lot.  

Marcus isn't privy to his internal dialogue and comes right out with an offer.  "Charm her, woo her, and take care of her.  Bring me something to prove it's done, a finger, a toe, maybe one of those beautiful eyes..."  Well, he's paraphrasing a bit.  Bloody hells...and sure as blue on a Toranite here she comes, to the bar, to the table, he's tugging his hood down and slouching in a casual affect.  Does she know it's him?  He's got the poncho on but his pants are still a mottled blue and black...she's hitting on Marcus.  He plays drunk, nudges the elf and excuses himself so they can have "private time".  He figures they'll head out, but they don't, she leads him to a room in the inn, what does he do now - yeah, that'll work - puts the ale down and does a little pee dance, that gives him an excuse to look for the loo.  Back to the inn, she's in a room with Marcus now, too many people around, need a distraction...back hall...woven flax rugs...fire lamps on the walls...yeah.

He doesn't want to burn the place down so he loosens the lamp, lets it fall on the rug, hoping it looks like an accident.  Enough fire to draw the patrons away.  Sneaks back out, drops a hint to some people nearby - "anyone else smell smoke?" and then the cries of "FIRE!" ring out.  His cue, but Marcus is already back at the table, what the hells?  He slips into the room Juliana led Marcus to and there she is, beaten half to the pits, bleeding all over her kimono.  

He locks the door from the inside to give himself time to think, she won't die in the next minute anyway.  She's a good agent, he doesn't want to let her die, and that's a problem for him.  Not much good as a Dread Blade if he can't handle watching someone die.

Or get tortured.

Not there yet Ty, back up.  Juliana.  What's the big picture?  Marcus went into the room for a while, came back out - then he goes in and she's beaten and bleeding.  Either one of them will be blamed if anyone finds them.  If he's going to get Marcus's trust though he needs to show he's a clean-up guy.  So, let the elf see him getting her out of here.  He gives her just enough potion that she won't bleed out, just enough to repair the deep tissues, nothing more.  "I'm going to have to carry you and it's going to cost you a finger or a toe."  

She's recognized him.  She takes it in stride.  "Whatever you have to do."

How to get her out...murmurs from outside that the fire is out - pits - he wraps her in a blanket and throws her fireman's carry style over his shoulder, racing out of the room without letting himself think about what he's doing, yelling "FIRE" and "SAVE THE DRUNKS"...he's a hero, see?  Saving the nice lady.  Not his fault he doesn't know the danger is over.  Runs straight out of the building, doesn't stop until he has some cover.  A minute later, pretty sure he's not been followed, he kneels by her.  And then she tells him what has his stomach in knots now.  ""...Katherine sent you here with us...I was made. He has someone on the inside, someone important. Someone sold us out..."

In the end he cuts off her pinkie.  Himself, with a dagger.  She merely winces.  Whatever it takes to protect the crown.  He wraps it in a piece of the blanket he brought her out in, gets blood from the blanket all over his shirt but changes - if he needs more proof, the shirt will do.  He tells her to vanish and she does while he heads back.  His stomach is knotted.  He doesn't show it.

Marcus is still at the table sipping wine.  He settles.

Did he take care of it?

Yeah, he did.  She was mostly gone anyway.  Here's your present, don't unwrap it in here.  He passes the bit of blanket over to the elf.

What did he do with the corpse?

Compost wagon.  Figure by the time they find her, she'll just be one more dead hooker.  Marcus laughs, a nasty laugh, his smile follows suit.  "We're going to get along just fine."

What do they call you?

"Marcus."

He's Bill.  Marcus nods.  Bill - yeah, Bill.  Bill...Hart.  He doesn't speak the last name yet but it's there.  He's feeling it.

Then he starts probing, the elf does.  What does think about politics, how would he like to be rich.  There's going to be another hooker on the pile before they're done, and Bill could a right-hand man to a king...guy's callous but fervent.  Makes his arm hair stand up.  Guy values a concept, an idea or ideal - that's a magnitude or more harder than someone who values another person.  Marcus asks him if he wants another job - yeah.  Go to the castle and get hired, a guard, a servant...get on the inside. Let him know when he's in and wait.

He can do that, but he's been burned before and coin is the voice that gives life to "you need to trust me".  A bag of True is kicked near his feet.  He reaches down to scratch his ankle and scoops it up.  

Marcus leaves.  He hangs out a while.

He's expecting to sip a little more ale and leave himself except for Juliana's partner who now takes an interest in him.  She comes over, grace incarnate, oh cra....

"How much did he pay you?"

It's Silk.

"How much did he pay you?  Did you kill her?"

Right here, in the bar?  Really?  He plays dumb, tries to get away, she's having none of it.  Orders the bar emptied and by the gods it empties.  Turns out the bartender and patrons were hired for that day - the setup on Marcus is huge.  He fell right into it with no idea.

"Did you kill her?"

He did what had to be done.  He doesn't elaborate.  She doesn't ask what 'had to be' actually is, but is satisfied.  She does take out the writ of fealty, however.  He must sign.  He gets another lecture on how important it is, he listens for a lie.  She knows about being made.  She claims she wrote the letter from "K.C.", which is odd but her logic is mostly sound.  She tells him they can trust no one at the castle now.  

He signs.

"All contact can be considered from the Regina directly; don't trust anyone at the castle...."...you will be disavowed if things do not work in your favor..."

He'd better not screw up then.  He's headed toward the castle - jogging - he, Bill Hart.  A guy in need of a job who works hard.  Silk tells him to do whatever Marcus says.  He doesn't trust her.  He doesn't trust Juliana.  He absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt doesn't trust Marcus.  And he has no place to turn.

Welcome to politics, Ty.

[RollinsCat]

Mort Tallytee. Mortissar Bale. Man, Dad is not gonna be happy about this. 

Poor Lola. He's gotta tell her.