Below is the Winter Break write-up from the Second Year. Valmont, Beletan, and some NPCs went to stay with their fellow student Cerise and her strange Shaddai Elf household. Lucy and Sergei went home to their own families, while Sokka stayed on campus.
I'm torn about this kind of campaign material. I don't do it as much anymore. While there's some fun and lovely stuff here, it took a lot of solitary time and effort to put together. If I'd applied that energy to creating a cool session covering the same territory at the table, would it have been better? That's the eternal conundrum of the over-prepping GM.
LEAVING FOR WINTER BREAK
Everyone gathers their things together-- instructed to pack
lightly, still many have larger bundles with them-- gifts perhaps or perhaps
some of them plan to remain at home. It is unclear. Osric sets the wagons up
and splits, organizing students together into apparent deliveries. The fifth
years are first; beginning early in the morning and through the day, the number
of students thins out. However instructors and house masters remain in copious
number. You suspect that they're watching for any mischief that might occur
during this time. Perhaps that's standard or perhaps this semester has put them
on caution.
You hear the sounds of the second years of House Darsksoul
heading out. They run past Saberhagen as he arrives in the First Year's Common
Room. He looks around, doing a quick head count. Then he gestures to gather all
of you close at hand.
“Now everyone should have their schedules for returning. If
you miss a pick up you'll have to wait a day or two before we can come back
again. That's also a demerit against you.” He checks out the window and then
looks back to all of you. “I'd guess you have about an hour before you leave.
Sokka, come see me when that's all done and we'll get things set up for you and
the others who are staying. Madame Rosencradle will be seeing to the ladies
remaining and we'll meet up with her.”
Dentina makes a face. She's had to do a detention with
Rosencradle, an older woman who manages, as many people put it, “the bits and
pieces.” She keeps pins, ties, bobbins, tape, lids, string and every other
various sundry and notion for the school. Dentina spent a full week cleaning
ancient scissors.
Saberhagen stops and tries to assume his most authoritative
pose before addressing the group again. “Now, I want to warn you of something.
You know that Libri Vidicos is bound by a number of powerful and complex elder
enchantments. It helps to maintain some of the secrecy of the school. Those
spells are...capricious...or rather they take some time to settle in
correctly.”
“That means that you may have some strange encounters when
you return. Even those who you chose as persons you could inform may not
remember where you went-- or they may and then forget again. They and others
may mishear what you say, or you may find yourself saying something different
from what you'd intended. This is especially true for those of you going to a
place that it not your home-- there's some location elements woven in there I
expect. Now don't worry about that too much-- it gets better and by the time
summer break rolls around it should be sorted out. I suggest you don't dwell on
that too much and try to avoid talking about Libri Vidicos around anyone who
isn't in the circle...as it were.” Saberhagen looks to make sure everyone take
sin the implications.
“Now...” The Elvish master turns to Cerise, Sergei and Lucy.
“This is especially true in families where there is strong magic. The spells
are potent and subtle and work their efforts strongest where they might be
detected. Don't be surprised by such incidents.”
“In any case, have a good break and make sure to gather
anything you realize you'd forgotten this semester. But don't bring too much
back or Osric will be irritated and Sternehof will have to spend hours going
through your things.”
Sergei makes a point to stop Saberhagen before he leaves and
ask if there's anything he can bring him back. The Elf pauses for a moment and
seems about to ask, then stops.
“No...nothing that you can bring back.” He says glumly.
Later...
Hefting his knapsack over his shoulder Sergei pushes wide
the main doors and walks down the step toward the main entry to await his ride
home. Light snowflakes have begun to gently fall reminding him of home. His
gaze traces the outline of the Vidicos wall and eventually to the main stair
where he sees Julianna Vergaxis sitting awaiting the same carriage. He will
walk his way over to her and gently set his bag down awaiting her eye contact.
He will smile at her admiring her gently features and long hair. " You
were great you know... the other day at the dueling finals. You are very good.
I've seen Lucy duel many times she is deceptively adept. To score a hit you've
done better than many others."
Vergeaxis looks carefully at Sergei.
“But it is not enough. A test must be passed and not failed.
That is the rule of Math. One cannot hope to be Emperor if one fails such
tests.” She looks on with more animation than she's shown before. Then she
carefully returns to her former quiet demeanor.
“If you'll excuse me, I must to be with my housemates.”
Arrival at the Shaddai lands is a strange affair-- all of
you expect an alien landscape, but it is the same rolling meadows you might
find in Miremal, Atlantae or elsewhere. Osric kept a wary eye out as he dropped
the four off. He looks carefully Valmont, then Leather, then Beletan before
finally looking at Cerise.
“You're all sure you wants this place then...” He trails
off. “I won't be coming back early for any of ye...” Before any of you can say
anything there's a quick whip to the horses and he vanishes with the winds.
[I'm actually going to leave some of the description of NPCs
and such here to Sharon should she wish to indulge.]
Once at the estate, Cerise herself is a little surprised by
the seriousness of her arrival-- a certain degree of formality she hadn't
expected, a laying out of the finest pieces on the table, extra servants
brought in, the sounds of a joungleur from the Lesser Pegasi houses practicing
out by the pond. Kieran, Cerise's apparently human brother, jostles through and
informs Cerise that the family has gone full out for this season, especially
once they heard she would would be bringing guests along.
Cerise's parents are tall, handsome Shaddai. Malakiim
Antigrym especially stares each of Cerise's guests down-- with Valmont managing
to hold his glance the longest. Cerise's mother, Epiphany of the Lilies, on the
other hand immediately engages her daughter in conversation and only gives a passing
glance to her guests. Both seem incredibly proud of her and make much of
discussing her rivalry with Harbinger Whitened-Wave. They nod seriously at the
injustice of the second test and encourage her to destroy her rival utterly in
all ways and forms. There are various gifts and presents for Cerise, but most
proudly her father hands her a box filled with assorted ribbons, buttons and
silks seemingly taken from around the continent. He explains that he drew some
from across the family line as a first coming of age gift for Cerise-- hence
the diversity of pieces.
On the fourth day, Cerise's mother arrives and presents each
of Cerise's guests with a new outfit of formal wear modeled on the Shaddai
fashions. Valmont's is quite classic, Leather's is simple and straight-lined,
and Beletan's is tasseled with hundreds of silk leaves running along the arms
and back. They rustle when he walks.
Speaking to Cerise's father proved an experience. A master
tradesman, his mind seemed to be occupied with negotiations through the Orb
constantly. However a few days in, he saw his daughter and her companions
speaking and deliberately cut off distant conversations. His manner was
pleasant, towering over Valmont and Beletan, as did most people here. Even
Leather had become sensitive to the height issue and found himself stooping a
little. As he put it, "I knew they were tall...but all of them are
tall." You can tell he's a little worried as to how his Orcish heritage
would measure up.
“So I take it you're finding everything to your liking?”
Malakiim glanced around at the group and took in their nods. The rustling of
Beletan's jacket drew his attention and he looked a little warily at him before
continuing on.
“I was hoping we might be able to travel out to Vendimos
where they've carved the cliffs...” He broke off. An ornate glass bowl one of
the servants had just placed on the buffet had drawn his attention.
“Um...what is that?” He asked now turning his full
perceptions to the bowl. It contained a strange dish, like a melted cheese
block covered in marmalade and balsamic vinegar.
“Geniose, milord,” answered the servant simply. By now all
of them had moved over to stare at the bizarre item.
“And...you eat that?” Lord Antigrym said trying to puzzle
the thing out.
“Likely not sir. This is a favorite dish of the Halscu
Region...from the Wyvern lands.”
“And...?”
“As you may recall, Lady Glassong's former husband came from
there. Your wife thought it would be an excellent and subtle insult to place it
on the table.”
At this Lord Antigrym nodded. “Excellent. Well, then, that
seems in order.”
That evening the four Darsksoul students watched carefully
the mixed expression of dismay and disgust upon Lady Glassong's face as she
surveyed the dishes. Epiphany of the Lilies made careful and quiet comments
about obtaining dishes carefully suited to her guests' tastes.
Still later that evening Leather pronounced the dish
disgusting and explained that it tasted exactly as it appeared, marmalade and
all.
At Libri Vidocos the next day, things grew quiet. A number
of the staff and scholars left via Osric's carriage, some heading out the front
gates, while still others just simply weren't anywhere to be found.
Saberhagen ushered the various students into House Darsksoul, dividing them out
among the floors. Several of the staff also came to settle in here. The first
year chaperon turned out to be a very stiff and formal caretaker from House
Malbrect. His sniffs and nose turnings up at everything belied his hawk-like
gaze. Clearly he intended there be no accusations of impropriety. Thopugh Sokka
looked for them, neither Rahella Lancar or her bodyguard were to be seen.
Those who stay can be broken into two broad classes: those
who have nowhere good to go and those who really don't want to leave. The
former includes a number of glum fellows, including Eagleton Vonard and
Axel Riftmaw; however both spent most of their time away from the dormitory.
The latter includes a couple handfuls of upper classmen who seem to be devoted
to research and practicing. They're barely to be seen-- most of their time
seems spent in the library or else working in the labs of the research
buildings. There's an unlucky supervisor who has to watch them and you have the
impression the headmaster comes down personally to give them each a warning
about keeping with they do within reasonable limits. Clearly there have been
abuses in the past...
It remained fairly quiet over the days, with most students
trying to come up with clever games or puzzles, doodling in notebooks, and
round after round of Struthos. The food was-- as had been forewarned-- less
than stellar, but what it lacked in quality it made up for in abundance. Crick
don-Crickens, the assistant head chef had clearly been tasked to clear out
certain portions of the stores. So a meal might be made up over various
sausages done in a number of different ways, with all the cabbage one could hope
to eat set off to the side.
So it was strange on the night of Yearturn, when all of the
students were called down to the Great Hall, to find the tables heavily laden
with most excellent fare-- savory main dishes, lovely fruits, heavily glazed
desserts. Most the the staff came through to eat at the buffet, but left
quickly. Sokka noticed some of the older students who had chosen to stay over
the break eyed the doors carefully and left when they'd finished their meal.
But some stayed and eventually, filled with delicious food, everyone leaned
back in deepest pleasure.
Then the Headmaster called to a few of the staff. They
quickly pulled chairs and a few tables over close by one of the great walk-in
fireplaces in the hall. Gravast Direlond spoke briefly with his politely
vampiric wife and then came down off the stage and sat in a great backed chair
positioned centrally by the fire. He called over the remaining students
and gestured for them to sit in the arrayed chairs. The dwarf spoke conversationally,
asking each about his or her semester, inquiring by name about their classmates
and so on. Smallish cups of a candied brandy heavily mixed with sweetmilk were
brought to the students. The taste was delicious. It was then that Sokka
noticed how the lights in the Hall had been slowly dimmed, the doors shut, and
the rest of the staff gone away. The only light now came from the dwindling
fire behind the Grandmaster, illuminating and outlining his great chair. It
grew hushed in the room and Sokka felt incomparably small in mammoth space of
the stone hall.
Then the grandmaster reached up and carefully took off his
tall black hat and set it down on the floor beside him. Strangely his hair
remained perfectly cofuuried, apparently cut to manage the hatband well. But it
was the first time Sokka, or any of them, had seen him without a hat. A shiver
ran through the group.
He spoke slowly now. "Ah, children...students...here we
are on the eve of Yearturn. Tomorrow is a day outside the calendar. A strange
day...I mean each month governs itself with twenty-eight days, from new moon to
full moon to back to new anon. Yet--the darkness holds for one extra day here
at the end of the year-- think on that-- else the calendar should grow askew
rather rapidly." He nodded sagely at this comment and paused to run his
fingers through his raven-black long braided beard.
"So a strange day-- one where spirits come out and find
full play, a carnival for the darkest of the fey, a time where rules are turned
upside down...a time that requires caution lest something truly terrible be
bargained with..." He paused to stare directly into Sokka's eyes (or so it
seemed). The darkness around the students grew-- if it were possible-- even
more dense. The Grandmaster continued, "Now when I was a lad we took this
time very seriously, and this hour even more so. You see it grows close to
midnight...and soon we will hear the peeling of the bell. Where I come from
this was the time when our fathers and grandfathers and uncles would sit down
and tell us stories."
"And now, I am going to tell you some stories..."
Which he then did...a slowly litany of tales, ghost stories,
tales of revenge, horror tales dragged from the crypts, each one more terrible
than the last, and-- as he carefully assured you they were all the absolute and
literal truth-- with each one he found a new detail to fix upon and leaned
closer and closer still. And then,
GONG!
He reached the summit of his tale when the clock finally
struck and then from the darkness emerged down Ms. Darkbough eyes flashing
darkly with a thirst for blood (or so it seemed) and everyone let out great
screams and there was running and fleeing as the staff threw open the doors
letting in light and everyone ran, ran, ran for their dearest lives...
And found themselves rushing down the steps out the Great
Hall and out into the courtyard, a courtyard transformed filled with pure
unblemished snow perhaps a foot or two deep. Everyone stopped when they hit the
cold and the crispness of it. There had been no snow when they'd entered. Now
terror transformed to wonder as they stared upwards at the great cascades of
lights that glowed and flickered among the stars. The snow itself reflected the
lights, from red to blue to green. Sokka barely noticed when Saberhagen came
forward and wrapped a cloak around him. He saw the rest of the staff standing
by to distribute cloaks to the other children who likewise merely found
themselves staring up at the dance of constellations, the light show of
fantastic elements battling across the sky.
"Now, you'll be feeling tired," the Grandmaster
said gently as he came up on Sokka's elbow. And it was true, but at the same
time the beauty of the moment held him transfixed. "You should wrap
yourself up and head back to bed..." Sokka nodded and followed the
procession heading back to House Darsksoul. Each student found beside his or
her bed a box of treats-- chocolates, cookies, and other triffles, as well as a
larger present resting on the pillow. Sokka opened his to find two new pairs of
fine shoes: one of lovely suede decorated with thread and the other more like
boots and eminently practical for playing Wickets and Imps.
Sokka was overwhelmed, and like the others found himself
turning to sleep. But he found none. Each time he closed his eyes monsters from
the Grandmaster's stories popped up inside his mind nearly immediately. Sokka
was not the first to make his way over to the lamp to turn the light up. He
looked over at Riftmaw who had a grave look on his face, and the others as well
were sitting up in their beds. None of them said anything, but sat there in
silence the rest of the night.
At this point Sokka decided he would never sleep again.
Yearturn among the Shaddai was a less important event.
However over the years the Aperkitas had conspired to make it more and more
entertaining. As a result, though no Shaddai officially celebrated, it had
become an unofficial gathering time and a three-day truce. During these days
old enmities and hatreds could be put aside...mostly. It remained dangerous to
court fate too much, for fear that a host might enact some careful plan to keep
his guest beyond the three days and therefore achieve a time of reckoning.
So the young members of House Darsksoul found themselves at
a gathering of Shaddai from across the lands, hosted by Lord Antigrym. Cerise
had become used to this, her father carefully bartering deals to quell disputes
and making arrangements that would be mutually beneficial to both parties...as
well as the Chimera. Where the Dragons settled disputes with a finality and the
Unicorn could be counted on to call up years of rules and precedents, the
Chimera presented a more relaxed attitude which often drew those who wished to
have their settlements kept with some secrecy.
But Cerise hadn't seen her family put on quite the show they
had this year and felt mildly embarrassed for a moment-- a moment which passed
quickly. In fact, the situation had played more into their hands. Through
careful consultation of the volumes, they had managed to track down three
Shaddai who might have been at Libri Vidicos close to the years that the
Explorers Club would have been at its apex...the last years before it vanished.
The first was easiest to eliminate from consideration, Vain
Talons Setwright, was a Manticore and hardly likely to be within the circles
that the Antigryms traveled in. And one usually did not ask about associating
with their kind. They were a blood-thirsty folk-- easy to take a slight,
difficult to calm from a grievance, and filled with a strange view of humans.
Their slavery and indenture policies, often carried out by the last of the Drow
among them, made right-thinking Shaddai give them a clear berth. Still they
were useful and could be considered masters of certain kinds of conventional
warfare.
The second choice had required careful and delicate work on
Cerise's part. Garsemetha was a Basilisk whose name she'd heard once before.
Through her brother she'd managed to arrange an invitation to their house to
this Basilisk. It required some convoluted lies trying to pass off who exactly
had invited them, but her parents seemed more concerned about handling a
particularly grumpy member of House Lamia whose youth apparently made him take
most comments as subtle insults. Not that they weren't but generally one did
not rise to such challenges.
Garsemetha turned out, however, to be a dead end. Loud and
boisterous, she tried to make herself the center of attention for each event
she attended-- discoursing on swords, swords, and more swords. The well trained
Chimera staff eventually managed to prise her from the rest of her group,
effectively isolating her from the others and giving Cerise and company a chance.
However, when asked indirectly and then directly (after it seemed Garsemetha
might not be that good at picking up subtle hints), she claimed to have never
heard of Libri Vidicos or anything else related to it. They left just as the
Basilisk began to suspect they were playing an elaborate joke on her. Cerise's
intuition seemed to confirm Garsemetha's lack of knowledge which was as
troubling as anything else.
It was as they discussed the final possible Shaddai that
their first break appeared. They'd retired to a quiet drawing room to talk
about possibilities. Cerise had been unable find out anything about Obrodorus
Rising. The name was barely spoken when suddenly a figure seemed to appear out
of nowhere. He was of medium height, just below seven foot, an adjunct of House
Dragon, dressed modestly in his family's yellows and reds. Cerise cursed
herself inwardly-- it was a long-standing rule to exert extra caution when
speaking in a house where Dragon were staying. Inevitably, they would find out.
There were elaborate ciphers and code words among her household in case of such
a thing. But now they'd attracted the attention of this one.
"Excuse me" he said in the long drawl of his
house. "Did you say Obrodorus Rising...I couldn't help but overhear you
say that name..." Valmont looked at the door to the room. He was certain
it had been shut and locked the moment before.
"Yes we did, we heard of him..." Cerise let that
trail off not wanting to give away any more.
"Really?" This seemed to strike him as odd. "I
would ask what context you heard it in, but I'm dubious about my chances of
obtaining a verifiable answer."
He looked around at the group, seemingly taking in the
diversity among them for the first time. "Yes, well then. I should
exercise a little, in my case, or a lot, in your case, of caution when speaking
of that one. Among certain circles his name is...was...one to call anger and
consternation. You see for a brief period, what...perhaps a blink ago, he was
regarded as the greatest thief among the Shaddai. But a bold one-- rising from
nowhere, pulling off daring burglaries, and then vanishing-- half a blink
ago."
Beletan quickly ran that in his head. Cerise had said that a
blink was what, five years...but wait, the Dragon counted them as ten years...which
meant that this could fit.
"And what became of him?" Cerise asked.
"Ah, that's a real question. Some think he retired,
some think a guard managed to kill him and then covered it up in the hopes of
finding Rising's treasure. There was rumor that he'd been caught by the Unicorn
who have a distinct sense of justice and many reasons to wish Rising more ill
than most." He stopped there and looked around at them.
"Still others believe that it came out that Obrodorus
Rising was in fact a member of House Dragon and when that news came out, the
Cabal Who Sit Watching decided it was time to remove Rising before he could do
serious damage to the family's name. That or use him as a pawn. In any case he
hasn't been seen in what would be a long time for all of you." His gesture
included Cerise in this, but she deliberately ignored it.
The Dragon excused himself and departed. No one spoke for a
moment. Then Leather finally broke the silence, "Um, that guy made me feel
like I was edible."
Lucy watched as her mother set the starter thread on the
Silk Spider Loom. The first spider, marked a proud gold, ran down the line.
When it reached the bottom of the frame, the signal was passed and dozens more
crawled out from the wooden frame and began to spin and weave the sheet. They
moved a little sluggishly, having been poisoned just enough so that their
threads came out a rich green. Lucy's mother turned back to her again,
"Your sister seems upset but I can't for the life of me say why...I was
going to ask you about it but..." she trailed off. "Perhaps you
should go play with your bolts...and pins...and whatnot..." she smiled at
her daughter.
The enchantment was, as Saberhagen warned, somewhat odd in
operation. When they'd first returned back Elenore had rushed to her mother's
side and then dragged her off to tell her, half sobbing, about her semester at
Libri Vidicos. However, since Lucy had not included her mother in the secret of
her attended the school, apparently every time Elenore mentioned Lucy, her
mother lost track of the story. Lucy decided that something must have upset Elenore
deeply and that she'd devote more time to her sister next semester in an effort
to make things better.
Her father chatted with her, reservedly at first but then
with more animation as Lucy described her developments in the art of
spell-casting. "Ah, well that's a relief. I thought you might not move
beyond the Third Principatic Maxim..." He watched her cast a few spells
and corrected her on some matters of form, pleased to be able to give some
direction. He then explained that he'd hinted to people that Lucy had been sent
to a boarding school-- perhaps one in Ierendi. Since the awful d'Aubaines had
split from d'Ambreville, their names had become mud generally (though some
respected their ability) which meant that few people would pry into Lucy's business.
As an added bonus other members of her own extended family had apparently sent
gifts to Lucy when they found out she would not be attending the great school
of magic at Glaantri City.
The best perhaps was Yearturn itself, a day that always
brought the family and everyone together. It would be this day that the wards
would have to be renewed, the traps cleaned, the bindings reset and the threats
clearly delineated on the grounds. Lucy waited as her father divided out the
tasks and areas. She hoped she wouldn't be paired with Selezarnau as he
constantly munched on herbals to control his skin condition. He spat when he
spoke as well making for a fragrant and sticky spray in front of him. To her
surprise her father walked over and handed a brass needle and a box.
"These are for you-- you'll need them to handle your
section." This year she would have her own!
Lucy opened the box to find a wand made of a dark black
wood, twisted and polished to a sheen. The handle had been carefully carved to
settle gently into her hand. The d'Aubaines, like all right-thinkng Aoniaens
had lifelike duplicate homonculi so they could take measurements even if one of
the family members was away.
"It is the heart wood from a Raventree, killed by
lightning. Very rare. They were able to get only three from this one before the
tree corpse escaped." Lucy shook the wand gently and tiny black feather
blossomed in the air. He father continued, "Now I've had it reinforced in
case you should drop it...or fall on it...or something of that sort."
He looked down at his daughter fairly proudly now.
"Well you should get to your section. If you're good I'll let you sit in
on the chaining of the ancestral transgressors later this evening..."
The exertions of Yearturn had finally gotten to Sergei. He
managed to extricate himself from the last of the celebrants-- young women of
favorable houses who were desperately vying for his attention. The depths of
the winter meant that the holiday could not be spent in Ursus easily. He'd done
that three times in his life, twice with his parents and once by himself. Once
the Lock Snow fell, then everything quieted down and they would tell stories,
do crafts and generally try to keep themselves from growing wroth with one
another. Sergei had loved it-- sneaking outside, finding the old paths in the
ruined portion of the keep, the careful management of food and resources to
make sure that no one starved. Holidays in Math were both more open and more
regimented. There was a schedule for everything and though it was all
entertaining, it was wearing and restrictive at the same time.
On the other hand, holidays in Atlantae like this one, were
never the same twice. This year they'd managed to keep their arrival back in
the country a secret until the last minute. Still word eventually spread and so
began the great series of visitations and invitations from nobility of Atlantae
wishing to ingratiate themselves with the head of House Rosznar. Not that
Gallina had formally called herself that for some time, having turned the reins
over to others, but it was well known she had influence in many areas
including-- at times-- the ear of the Emperor. And not that some of the people
who arrived weren't true friends-- people Sergei had known for years, some whom
he'd gone to school with. But there were enough who had a desperation to them
to make it an effort to remain entertaining and civil.
Beyond that there had been the question of his friends.
They'd mostly gone off to a school together, though a few had taken
apprenticeships. Sergei could tell them nothing of where he'd been and evaded
the questions. This didn't seem a surprise to them and that struck him. They'd
expected no answers from him. The more he thought about it, the more he
realized he'd always been kind of an outsider here. Not that he didn't like
them or they, he. But instead he'd always kept himself a little apart from
things. Libri Vidicos had been the first time, he thought, that he'd been
willing to connect with people beyond his family.
He's made his way to his father's second study, a place he'd
always enjoyed for hiding away. As he shut the door, he noticed the seat
closest to the fire was occupied. He moved to see who else had escaped from the
party. An older gentleman, perhaps his father's age, hair gone half grey and an
Atlantaen by his skin tone. He had seen the man before but it took him a few
minutes to place him, as he had never actually spoken to him.
"Lord Cromnor..." Sergei said somewhat hesitantly.
The man had been smoking his pipe and staring deeply into the fire. He didn't
start, but instead turned and looked at Sergei appraisingly and then smiled.
"Ah, Gallina's son, Sergei. Please come and sit and
join me." He gestured to the chair next to him. "I've stolen a pot of
hot chocolate from the sideboard. Perhaps you'll want a cup as well."
Manners had taught him not to refuse such a gift. He took
the cup in his hands and waited, as the older man seemed to have something he
wanted to say.
"Ah, you truly have taken up your father's grace and
looks. I can see by your hands you have been practicing more heavily with your
sword as well. But not, I think, with the Archers? That's well-- I dare say
you'll do better learning outside of Atlantae, and bringing those ideas back to
us. You'll do well."
"Thank you, Lord Cromnor..."
"No, no...call me Delcat." He stopped. "You
know, my own son would have been about your age."
Sergei thought for a moment trying to place this-- what had
mother told him about Cromnor. Somehow he was related to the late Basho...tied
into that complex geneology of the former and present Imperial line. Wait, that
was it-- he'd married Basho's sister, Lady Cynowae, but he'd never heard her
spoken of in full-- just mentioned in passing.
"I'm sorry...I didn't know him."
Delcat looked up-- startled a little realizing how he'd
drifted off. "No, no-- I'm sorry. The Yearturn always gets me thinking.
And a bad thing. It is best to finish one's business and get things cleared out
before the new year begins. I'm grateful for your mother's invitation, but I'm
less festive than one might wish."
The door opened and Sergei saw a man look in. Sergei leapt
to his feet. "Master Harkvrag..."
The grand Ursan hunter of undead strode into the room.
"Lord Sergei...come here and let me have a look at you." Sergei
walked forward eagerly. Where a women would simply hold you by the shoulders
and beam down a smile upon you, Master Harkvrag meant what he said. He took
Sergei by the shoulders and turned him around checking the line of his
clothing, his hands, his boots.
"You look good-- well cared for and perhaps a little
more carefully attired? You have been in the company of ladies, no? But I can
see by your hands that you have been practicing..." He laughed a little.
"That's what I said..." came Delcat's voice from
the chair. Harkvrag looked past Sergei and saw the other man. "Lord
Cromnor...Delcat..." he moved forward, keeping Sergei with him.
"It is good to see you, Despatir. To have confirmation
that you still live is always a blessing." Cromnor sat himself up straighter.
Harkvrag smiled as he looked down upon him, then he turned
to Sergei. "Sergei, I will be here for a few days, and I have a few books
in my bags for you. We can talk in the morning, but for now I would wish to
have words with Lord Cromnor..." He glanced at the door. Sergei took the
hint and bowed carefully to both of them. He then turned and headed for the
door, at the same time carefully wrapping the shadows around him-- he
concentrated with all his might not to call down heavenly cherubs to cast the
spell and managed to affect it subtlely. Outside he stopped try to hear their
conversation.
Harkvrag had seated himself in the chair Sergei had just
vacated. "Delcat...I am sorry, but there is still no word of her..."
He broke off.
Cromnor paused before speaking. "I had not expected
any. You and the others have been too good to keep this in your attentions for
so long. I am an old man now and must let this go..."
"No older than I," Harkvrag countered. "But
you stay in your house--now come and ride with me, or with Sheridan, or even
Julian...though only the last case if you want to drink more wine than you can
handle."
The two men laughed and suddenly Sergei realized someone was
standing behind him. His mother was watching him patiently. She shook her head.
"Listening at keyholes is an unbecoming trait--
especially if anyone coming along here can see you at it. I raised you better
than that." She swatted him gently on the cheek. "Next time, use a
sound spell, or invisibility or something if you really wish to eavesdrop. Now,
you need to do one more pass through the guests before I let you escape for the
evening..."
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