As Raven and Jerod approach the keep, a large wooden motte-and-bailey castle, they see a group of men approaching the keep from the direction of the forest. It is likely the returning hunting party, with the Count and his retainers. The ship at the dock is visible from their approach, so they know that Jerod has returned. They seem excited but not agitated.
[OOC: You can meet them on the road or meet them at the gates. Up to you. Wherever it is...]
Jerod prefers gates...not sure why...
The Count is dark and hairy and looks the part of a marcher lord -- a wartime leader of violent men. "Prince Jerod! I see you've kept your promise! I have the troops as we agreed. Shall I gather them for your inspection?"
Raven lets Jerod take the lead again.
"Not yet, Count." Jerod replies. "There are a few things to go over first, planning to be sure everyone's on the same page, as it were."
"Of course," he replies, looking positively predatory. "I shall call a Council of War." He looks at Raven, then snorts and looks more closely. "Forgive me, Prince Jerod, I have not been introduced to your companion."
"Lord Raven, a member of the Family." Jerod says, motioning to Raven. "Responsible for handling the ship and our voyage to Gateway, as well as any impromptu departures should they be necessary."
Raven nods, and greets the Count with whatever politenesses are appropriate.
"I am Count Valis, and this fine knight is Seeker of Men's Hearts, who came to me from Amber." He grins. "He may become 'Seeker of Mages' Hearts' if all goes well."
The knight bows. "Captain, I was pleased to see a ship flying the Unicorn Banner in port again. Some of my fellows had friends in the city. I hope all is well with our allies?"
"As far as I know," Raven answers politely. "I haven't been in ports as long as I might like recently."
He seems vaguely disappointed, but hides it well.
The gates open, and some men come out to take the game from the hunting party. "Do we have an idea of the tactical situation at our objective? Maps, reports, scryings, that kind of thing?"
Inside the gates, the keep is bustling with warriors. It is much fuller than when Jerod inspected it on his last visit. People, both normal and Weir, seem quite excited. Jerod draws a certain amount of attention from everyone.
"Come, your highness, we shall await the coming Council in my quarters."
He leads Jerod (and presumably Raven) into the keep.
"We have no tactical reports as yet Count." Jerod says, speaking quietly but conversationally. "I'd recommend holding off on the Council of War until we've had a chance to explain the King's intentions concerning Gateway."
"I was there recently," Raven offers. "Happy to discuss what I saw when we get there, but it ain't a tactical report."
"No matter, we would need to gather information anew in any case. And our patron's objectives would be helpful to know.
"If you would all join me in my chambers, you can tell me more."
The Count and Seeker lead the way to a small private chamber inside the keep. There are a number of weapons and a sand table nearby and a large pitcher of fresh water for anyone who is thirsty.
He looks at Raven and Jerod expectantly.
"His majesty's preference for Gateway is for a political solution, one which brings them back to a stance that is more suitable to our tastes." Jerod says. "Gateway engaged in behaviours that are not allowed to go unanswered, specifically with regards to an assault on one of the Family as well as aiding an enemy of the realm.
"That enemy has since been neutralized and our Family member recovered. But the ruling cabal that took over Gateway from the previous rulers need to be shown to be in error. The primary objective is to restore the original rulers and remove the new ones, in a manner that make them more agreeable to our desires. Should the ruling cabal either not be removed, or the old government chooses to follow the current path that Gateway is on, then the objective in that case is, as my uncle Prince Bleys would say, would be to salt the ground. I would take care of that.
"Conquest and occupation is not an option we are considering.
"Lord Raven was on the ground during the incident with our Family and may wish to provide additional details." and Jerod looks over at Raven.
Raven nods. "They were mighty quick to arrest me and mine when they realized we came from Amber, so saying that too loud ain't going to be the best idea. Most of what I saw was dockside, but we did leave the port with both the Family and a mage of Gateway that wanted nothing more to do with those who were in charge. She was pretty clear that she was not the only one that didn't agree with what they'd done; seems like we might have allies, if we can figure out who they are."
The Count nods. "Of course, that's exactly what we need to ascertain." He turns to Jerod. "Highness, we are not looking for new lands to conquer even further from our home. We are looking to help our allies to strengthen them in order to later to assault our common foe in The Land of Eternal Youth. When we take back what is ours and break the curse, then the people can settle down.
"So, the forces need to seem to be a credible threat to conquer and occupy, or else the opposition will know we don't intend to stay and know they merely need to wait us out. That should be possible, especially if we keep good discipline in what we allow the troops to say and to whom.
"Do we know what strongpoints we need to take to hold the symbolic and actual apparatus of government? Officers, Nobles, Officials, Symbolic Buildings, things like that? Are there religious officials who can call our attack a restoration and thus either gain us support or confuse the issue adequately?
"How long do we intend to stay?"
For all that the Count seems to be a rural marcher lord, he's got a keen grasp of the detail and practice of conquest. An army of men like him, led by Benedict, would be unstoppable.
Unstoppable perhaps, but Jerod thinks that this Count isn't getting the picture that he's painting, so he'll need to try again he thinks.
"The forces I intend to take do not need to credible, they need to work for the task at hand." Jerod says. "We are not invading or occupying, nor are we appearing to do so. Marching an army in there will not give me what I need from Gateway, which is information.
"I need a small contingent, suitable for commando operations within the city itself. They need to be able to attack in sufficient strength to destroy a small force and vanish before a counter occurs. They need to be able to infiltrate, to spy, to monitor and report back. Their function, if they are used, will to be support actions to keep any opposition off our backs." motioning to himself and Raven.
"There is one individual who still remains to be...collected, who will provide more details concerning individuals in question who are suitable to approach for support, or to either avoid as enemies or to neutralize as needed. The mage that Lord Raven brought on during their original departure. She is related to previous Chancellor and will be able to provide information that should be useful. Plus, she is a mage and that will have certain uses in my plans.
"We are remaining only as long as is needed to get the original rulers back in place, and then to find out what I want to know.
"Which means we are not going to be needing siege engines." Jerod finishes, collecting a glass of water. "If we do, then we're already too late."
The Count doesn't look crestfallen, probably through effort and discipline. It is clear that he has had diplomatic training. He takes a moment to switch gears and nods. "As you wish, Prince Jerod. We will have plenty of volunteers to choose from. A number of fine Weir will be turned away because there are not enough places for them. How do you wish to pick your team?
"Also, may I suggest we also bring a reserve team for both ship defense and in case something unexpected occurs?"
"Can't say I would turn down a few extra for ship defense," Raven says, "but not many or it's going to be clear that we've got marines on board."
Jerod nods an agreement. "Count, I would ask that you personally select the reserve contingent. I will trust your judgement on this. You may work with Lord Raven concerning how to best accommodate the personnel to ensure they fit seamlessly."
The Count nods toward Raven, and makes a mental note to discuss the marine reserves.
Raven nods in return, making a similar mental note.
"As for selecting the main commando force, I'd recommend a contest." and he smiles. "I have no doubt of their fighting skills. But they need to be able to blend in, infiltrate and get out, without being detected. Since we are going to be here a couple of days with preparations, I'd suggest that you have your best try to sneak onto our ship, find something and withdraw. We'll set a prize daily, a different object to be found, in a different location on the ship. We can track progress and see who gets furthest."
"And I think I'll be aboard as well. It should be...fun."
The Count grins, more in excitement than pleasure. "An excellent plan, Your Grace! Perhaps by tomorrow we can also have at least some of the reserves protecting the boat to increase the challenge."
He turns to Raven. "As long as your guards do not have silvered weapons, my infiltrators should be safe. They will have instructions not to kill, on pain of disqualification."
He stands. "I will announce our plans at the feast!"
"Don't think anyone brought any, but it never hurts to check," Raven says. "If you can ask your men to take the lads down without too much harm, I'd rather that to just 'no killing.' Not that we can't stitch them up if someone gets hurt, but less damage is better."
He nods absentmindedly. "We will score it based on how few people detect them. And instruct them to do no permanent harm. A Sailor can't climb aloft if his leg's been ripped off." The Count smiles again. He is not a subtle man. He may not be a man, of course.
"Are we in agreement?", he asks.
"Agreed." Jerod says.
"Aye," Raven says.
“Excellent!,” says the count. He leads the two of them into a feasting-room, where they are met with raucous cheers. The table is spread with a feast of rich game and exotic foodstuffs, although they mostly consist of meats.
The count announces the contest to the Weir, and sets the rules as agreed. Starting at Midnight, the prospective raiders must retrieve one of a score of tokens to be hidden individually about the ship. Anyone spotted will be required to leave the ship and start over. No one is to be hurt, and the sailors are likely to defend themselves. There are a few questions, easily resolved. Teamwork is encouraged, but only one person will be taken per token found.
The warriors of the Weir gather in small groups to plan their various assaults.
"That should keep them busy, Prince Jerod." He turns to Raven. "Do you wish to warn your crew?" "It would be highly recommended." Jerod says drily, in between bites of food, making note of the behaviours of the various Weir around them.
Raven snorts and shoots Jerod an amused look. "What, you mean it ain't a good idea to skip giving both sides the rules of the game when we need them to be on the same side?" she asks dryly. "Aye, Count, I'll need to warn them - and I'm guessing sooner than later, in case anyone gets any bright ideas. Didn't want to seem rude by running off to do that before your feast, though."
He smiles. "Yes, we shouldn't give your sailors cause to resent the Weir. By all means, do what is needful. Would you like to take the tokens to your ship and have your team hide them? They must be on the ship, but otherwise, I have no specific suggestions to offer you."
"You know the ship so I'd suggest you do the hiding. Some might be easy to find but we should get one or two in places that would not be considered 'hiding spots' and see just how much our infiltrators can think on their feet." Jerod says to Raven. "We can do it now or later. I'll be staying here just to get acquainted."
"I'll go now," Raven answers. "If you already have the tokens, I can take them with me and start hiding them."
The Count orders a functionary to rip up a tapestry on the wall into a score of fist-sized pieces. It must not be a very durable tapestry, because he shreds it with his hands, and turns over the strips of cloth. The Count holds them up and tells his men that these are the tokens.
The Count's idea of post-prandial entertainment involves a fencing tournament. The main rules are "don't hurt anyone else, stay in the circle, and don't become inhuman."
This is something that Jerod would appreciate. He uses the opportunity to study in more detail, asking questions at appropriate intervals and continuing to consume large quantities of food and drink without adverse effect as befits a Prince of Amber. If the opportunity to take part presents itself, then he'll also use that though since he's mostly observing he won't force the issue to obtain it.
The Count organizes a miniature elimination tournament, for the right to spar with the noble Prince Jerod. The winners are neither strictly the strongest not the most knowledgable, but those who are not weak at anything. They post no challenge for Jerod, since his skill and experience overcome the disadvantages of reach, size, and force. In the end, Jerod has been pleasantly exercised, and is reminded that even he can get out of top fighting shape when traveling by ship.
A situation which will be rectified by sparring practice, especially with individuals who are tougher than average...
We skip past the toothbrushing wherein Caine promises to hand [Thalia] over just as soon as Random signs off on it, and Random says "Sure, just don’t tell Marius until you've got something bigger to distract him with, like his captors heads on pikes or something. Her parole is whatever you say it is, and if she becomes a danger to Xanadu, well, then we’ll burn that bridge when we reach it."
Jerod promises to keep her on parole and to return her in as close to her original operating condition as when he received her as he can, subject to tactical considerations and strategic objectives of course.
Agreed. You can pull her in here, in a private room in the castle, or on the ship...
Jerod will pull her through in a private room. There is a benefit to appearing to have powers that others don't recognize or understand...keeps your allies on their toes...
She'd like to know about your plans. [OOC: She's happier with the 'threaten heavily' part compared with the 'salt the earth' plan, but expects you'll need to 'restore the old order' to get what you want. She is, of course, part of the old order, and intends to help with that plan...]
He will bring her up to speed with regards to his general intentions which are to make contact secretively with the "old order", determine who the current leaders are of the "new order" and figure out how to remove enough to have a convenient palace coup. He does not provide details on his plan concerning total nuclear "salt the earth" obliteration should it come to that.
The Weir are to be his commando force...suitable for off-balancing the enemy. If he needs to take on Gateway entirely, then the cause is lost and he'll cut his losses.
She'd recommend her aunt and the University as the best bet. She's suitably impressed with the Weir, but is concerned that they may not be ready for underwater action. Gateway is both a land and water empire.
Jerod makes a nod at her comment concerning the underwater action that maybe possible, but it would seem he has already considered this. He mentions off-handedly that he has that portion of the action covered, should it come to that. He does not articulate specifically what that might be, though his expression might lead one to believe that it his preferred course of action might include significant enemy casualties, along a "boil the sea" type scenario (as opposed to scorching the earth).
Raven heads back to her ship and rounds up her officers. When she has them pulled off to the side where the rest of the crew is unlikely to overhear, she explains about the contest; she's very clear that the set rules include that the Weir should try not to hurt the sailors, and that she expects the same of her crew. And about the making sure no one has anything silvered they could try to stab or hit any of the invaders with.
When she's done, she looks around. "Questions that ain't, 'what were you thinking?' Suggestions on where to hide these that isn't crew quarters, or how to put this to the lads that ain't going to be a headache?"
The second mate looks puzzled. "Even if they was normal lubbers and not giant werewolves, sailors can hide things a thousand places that no one would think of. It's our home. Captain, you once hid a working still from me for six weeks, between Bellum and Antioch. Working, sir. With fire and alcohol, and bottles with labels on them."
The first mate leans in. "That's enough, Heron. Captain, you tell us how hard to make it, and we'll make it that hard. Heron's not wrong, but who knows what the Weir will do. As for the crew? Tell 'em to get used to Weir. To my mind, this isn't about them, it's a test to see if we can outsmart 'em and if we can put up with 'em all in our kit."
Raven shakes her head and laughs. "Thought we weren't talking about that again, Heron, on account of me knowing exactly what happened to what got made? Besides, if I hide 'em all myself, I still have to show or tell you lot where they are." She doesn't say that that means she'd have to give up any of her own ideas for hiding spots. Even if she's smirking slightly. "The way it was put to the Count was that it's a test to see who the best Weir are for backing us up, so let's test them. And let's make it interesting for us, aye? You lot each take one to hide, spread the rest out to the crew to do the same. I'll see if I can't come up with something for whoever has the least stolen."
The officers agree, and further decide to number them, giving the odd numbers to the port watch and the even to the starboard. "No eating or destroying them, right? They have to be findable without gutting a sailor."
Raven snorts. "If someone's damn fool enough to swallow it," she answers dryly, "I ain't going to stop him, but I also ain't going to promise I won't laugh when he ends up sick from it. So aye - no eating, no destroying, don't feed it to anyone or anything else, and keep it in or on the ship. Other than that? Have fun."
The crew gets to work. Heron offers to set a standard watch, but allows that none of the crew will actually sleep tonight, what with the excitement of an invasion of giant werewolves planned for the dog watch. The first mate, Blasting, suggests that the watch be set anyway, just for formalities sake.
Standard watch is fine.
He also tells you that Snake, the cook, doesn't like werewolves much and is likely to fight. Should he be given leave or left aboard?
Left aboard, but even more thoroughly frisked for silver than anyone else and someone should be down there with him at all times to make sure nothing gets out of hand. Given a choice between "on board with invading werewolves" or "at leisure in a port full of werewolves"... the controlled environment is the lesser evil.
Raven can see a few obvious spots that have been disturbed, but can't actually see any of the ribbons. She's satisfied that it will be an effort.
The return of Captain Raven and her re-introduction to Thalia is the signal to allow the Weir to start hunting for the tokens. Of those who are not competing, several have been sparring with Jerod, who seems to have enjoyed the exercise.
The evening passes uneventfully. Anyone who wishes may watch from the battlements of the castle, although at this distance, not much can be seen clearly. The ship does not sink, nor does it burn.
Weir begin returning in small groups over the course of the night, with the last returning shortly before sunrise. While there were twenty tokens stashed aboard the Vale, there are 21 Weir in the grand hall when Jerod, Thalia and Raven enter in the morning.
Some of the Weir look as if they want to kill each other on the spot. The Count is not present.
Jerod sniffs at the air, looking to see who amongst the group is looking to contest a result. That there are more Weir than tokens tends to make him think there is an issue of "arbitration" at hand.
He will wait long enough to see if the Count is going to attend, or if the Weir are waiting on him. Since he is expecting the latter, he will collect an empty bowl from a side table and walk over to a larger table more to the center area of the hall. He places the bowl on the table before focusing his gaze on the Weir. He motions with a single movement of his hand towards the bowl, his expression straight and to the point.
"For those with tokens, step forward."
If Raven is taking the fact that some of the Weir want to kill each other as a good sign that there aren't nearly as many tokens as it looks like there might be, she doesn't say so. She does, however, take a good look at them to see if she can guess how much of a fight her sailors put up.
Fifteen Weir step forward. Most seem unharmed, although one seems to have a burn of some sort on his right arm. [OOC: They regenerate wounds from non-silvered weapons...]
Three more are blocked by another trio. "They stole our ribbons!", says the biggest of the blocking three, who looks like he's about to scream and leap on the nearest of the other set.
"It was not prohibited. You didn't get here with a ribbon!"
Jerod glances at Raven for just a second, enough to make it clear he'll take it but watch his back.
Raven nods slightly in response.
He then turns back, raising his fist and driving it in the table before him with a single sharp, hard crack that echoes through the room as the wood splinters.
"ENOUGH!"
The word will thunder through out the room, as Jerod knows it will, as he forces it to happen, as people seem to feel it echo in their bones.
For her part, Raven straightens a little, but otherwise simply remains watchful. If it weren't a room full of warriors, she might try to look intimidating; here, she figures, that might just make things worse. So, watchful it is.
OOC: if this doesn't stop them, then Jerod intervenes physically and we're in combat. If it does, then the remainder is how he will proceed.
His gaze is focused on the six that are at odds, but his words are for all when he speaks.
"The rules were clear. Bring the tokens, kill no one. How you obtained them was not relevant. And in case any of you missed it, obtaining them was a test. It was to reveal things. To show me whether you understood what we are going to do in Gateway.
"And to show whether I was right to choose the Weir, in the war to come against the Queen who will not be named here."
He pauses for just a moment. "Do you understood what you are going to do in Gateway? Do you see beyond this test of chasing a prize and capturing glory, to the needs of the mission? Because if you cannot do so, if you are interested only in the chase, then I chose wrong."
He waits to see if there is any response to his words before he would proceed further.
The leader of the thieves bows. He's a redhead and more vocal than many of the Weir. "My Prince, I put forward that we showed our flexibility and dedication to achieving the task without needing additional supervision, and without even alerting the crew to our presence by not boarding the ship at all.
"Our way, I assert, takes unorthodox paths to achieve victory, while the Weir who we robbed turned their victory into a defeat, which is perhaps a lesson for us all."
The Weir with no token turns very red at the laughter all around him.
"I will kill you, Rey--"
"You will not!" bellows the Count, from an inner doorway. "Ysengrimus, you and your brothers are dismissed. If you have no token you did not pass the test. It is up to the Prince to determine if Raynart meets his criteria."
Raynart smiles, and clears the way for Ysengrimus to leave. The large Weir turns swiftly and exits. He doesn't look the type to let it go.
Jerod watches as Ysengrimus leaves, noting to himself the mood of the group. He motions to Raynart, holding his hand out for the token.
"Those who obtained tokens by...unorthodox means...are accepted." he says simply. "Let me be clear. This was a test to see how you operate. There will be more."
He tosses the token into the bowl, motions Raynart back.
"Let me also be clear. Raynart was victorious...but he burned a bridge. How he resolves that is up to him....so long as it doesn't affect the mission. That is also a lesson to be learned, to consider the consequences of your actions. If you win your battle but lose your war, then you have still failed. If you can fix an issue after the fact without losses, that is acceptable...but do not ignore it."
Reynart nods, but does not interrupt.
He lets that sink in for a second, then motions all of them a little closer, bringing them into his "sphere", an implied acceptance that they are now part of the group, that it is no longer the chase or the game, now it's real.
"Our mission is to bring Gateway back to the side of his majesty King Random, and to deal with the insult they have perpetrated upon our Family. If we succeed at avenging the insult, but cause harm to his majesty's kingdom, then we have failed. And if that happens, pursuing your goals with regards to She who will not be named, will fail. It is important now that every element here be able to work together, both the unorthodox and those for whom conventional battle are their strengths. There is a place for deception and for honour, for strength of arms and for sorcery on this path. For those who recognize this, you are welcome.
"Your own goals require allies...and those goals remain distant on a long path. Travelling that path will require friends in many places, it will require planning and patience, open minds and strong hearts. It will not be won today or tomorrow, and it may take many more years. It may finished by force of arms the like you have never seen...or it could be won with a single word. But it will be won."
He looks at each of the Weir, mindful of Raven and Thalia standing close but unconcerned whether there is any apprehension from that quarter. Jerod's war for the future is not their war.
"Count. It's time we begin."
There's no apprehension from Raven's quarter, for sure. She's watching for reactions.
Other than Reynart, Jerod's new commando squad has been stationary while Jerod was speaking. Raven has only seen people like that at religious ceremonies. It's somewhat uncanny.
The count turns to the Weir and howls, his voice echoing through the room, the castle and the port. Before the first echo returns, the near-score of heavily armed dangerous shapeshifters join him.
There is little that one could imagine this army not accomplishing, even before King Eric of Amber's son takes his role leading them.
Second Mate Heron arrives as the echoes die, and indicates to the Captain that the crew is all well and the ship is ready to take on cargo and crew.
The trip outward from Weirmonken is both welcome and solemn for the crew of the Vale of Garnath. The crew knows that this is the leg of the journey that lands them in a place with real enemies and danger, and they have taken the toughest of Amber's allies with them, but not in overwhelming force.
The Weir seem to divide into two groups of around nine each. They aren't hostile, but it's clear that each group looks to a different leader. A group of the more traditional minor nobility of the Weir rally behind Sir Marrok, of an ancient noble line, and a cousin to the Count. The rest, including all the Weir from Amber, rally behind Reynart.
A light snow is falling intermittently from the dull grey sky when the lookouts call out that they've sighted land. The day looks as if it is going to stay cold, even though the sun is barely up. The seas don't freeze the far south, but the Weir are the only ones comfortable in the weather.
Jerod watches from the bow, a place he has occupied for the last several days as the journey has progressed, leaving the ship and its operations to Raven, rarely even approaching the quarterdeck as he fits himself more and more into the role that he will play while here, the merchant seeking his fortune.
He squints and nods to himself at the sound from the lookouts but says nothing. Indeed there have been few words spoken by him when not needed. His focus has been to the plan, to the tests of Shadow to prepare for what he hopes will not come, the worst that he can do.
For days, each morning after rising, he comes to the bow and looks to the horizon, though after a time it might seem as though he is looking...elsewhere....though what he might see the crew and the Weir would not know. He himself has spent his time sifting the Shadow as they approached Gateway, searching for the tendrils, the strands that make Gateway unique. The path the ship travelled was a natural one, an essential part of their journey if they are to appear mundane to the outside world. Upon that path would be the feel of Gateway, the energy and "realism" that made it what it is.
Then, finally, a hint, then a tug. Then he knew they were close.
It was then that he began to work. The days before had been for planning, building the model in his mind of how Gateway worked, and how he would change it, a tweak here, a nudge there. This thread tied off, another cut. Not enough to break the mesh that binds the reality of a place, but enough that with just the right trigger...the right word, the right action, the right thought...
"No snowflake ever feels responsible in an avalanche".
The words come to his mind and he smiles momentarily, remembering the man who spoke them. Brilliant, forceful, proud. And right.
Except now, when the snowflake that is set in motion will be Jerod's.
He pulls a thread, setting the trigger to turn off Gateway's magic for an instant should he so need. Another thread he ties and thickens, so he can turn it back on. He notes the nexus of threads that would need to be broken should he decide to tear magic from Gateway permanently. He decides it is somewhat difficult, but not impossible. That he will attend to directly should he need to.
Another thread for the shower of meteors, a light show of immense beauty, and terrifying directness. Then a nudge to the Shadow to settle a piece of it into place should he need one of those meteors to smash down upon the land, another for the water. Tidal waves have their uses.
The second to last of his traps he prepares while thinking of Ossian, remembering his fondness for volcanoes. One might be useful here Jerod thinks, though further offshore is better than closer and he adjusts the threads accordingly. A pity his cousin is not here to see it, he muses, though he finds the idea of the musing to be...amusing.
The final one, the most complex of all...half a day watching and sifting and staring, bringing forth the Pattern to enhance, to degrade, to set in stone or to make friable, ignoring the crew, not eating, barely breathing, his body unconsciously moving to the motion of the ship...while he spins the web of threads of shadow and reality, tying and cutting and pruning...finding the center of Gateway, finding its strengths of Order and its flaws for Chaos, balancing a strength with a weakness, pushing here, drawing back there, until the center of everything that is Gateway hangs above an open pit. Only a single snowflake is needed to push Gateway into it, to tear asunder everything that was this place. To salt the ground as Bleys would say, and leave nothing but void and death in its place.
One snowflake, and Jerod is responsible.
He closes his eyes, breathing deeply for the moment before opening them and turning, his eyes finding Raven.
"Show time, Captain. Take us in."
Raven is a steady presence on the deck. She keeps a close eye on the factions among the Weir and whether any of that is affecting her crew, but she spends more of her time watching out for all the little things that mark a ship as a Navy ship aren't obvious on the Vale.
The Vale was never a ship of the line, so it's not too hard to convince the easily convinced that she's an armed merchanter, trading far from peaceful lands. As long as the cargo of marines stays out of sight, she'll seem as expected.
Raven feels as if somehow, something is helping her blend it, but it doesn't seem to be anything she's doing. Perhaps Lir is aiding them from his watery grave. The story is that he is a relative, after all.
[Whose flag are you flying, if anyones? It will affect how the Thulians react.]
No flag is flown.
Agreed. No flag means being able to answer the question correctly when asked instead of having to backtrack.
Thalia will also be on deck, unless she's asked not to be.
Raven leaves that decision to Jerod and Thalia.
Thalia is on deck. Jerod's role as merchant is one that requires he have advisors and such. And a mage to act as a guide for Gateway's "bureaucracy" would be most useful...and would fit into character. A suitable alternate identity for Thalia would have been arranged, assuming she doesn't have one available to choose from. Jerod would guess as a diplomat she would have been prepared for such..."contingencies".
Thalia appears on deck, looking like a minor hedge-wizard, the kind that might hire her way on with merchants, rather than a major magician and a member of government for many years.
She's willing to disguise the Weir as well, but is concerned that it will go poorly if the deception is discovered.
Jerod would decline that. He has an option for the Weir if they are "found out", one that doesn't involve sending them on a rampage but which will fit with the "rough and tumble" armed merchantmen look of the group.
At Jerod's words, she nods. "All right, lads," she calls, and she starts calling the orders to her officers.
The ship comes in to a clean, well-maintained deep-water harbor in what might be a fair-sized city in other places. There is evidence of shipbuilding capabilities, most likely tied to the nearby forest. This is an outpost of civilization: The roads going outward are small, there's not a great deal of farming, and the people stay close to the city.
Some of the latter is probably due to the winter weather.
Despite the weather, there's a port-captain on the jetty, and the flags on it signal an adequate clearance for the Vale to dock.
Jerod waits patiently, Thalia close by. His garb is well fitted and comfortable and of excellent, though not garish, quality. The mark of a merchant who knows the value of something is more than its appearance, and that gold (or the currency of choice) is the most important thing of all.
[OOC: Docking puts the Vale more in control of the Gatwegans, and makes getaways slower, but makes it easier to get men and Weir on and off the ship. Raven can put the ship where she wants.]
[If the Vale docks, the port-captain will be at the rail, asking for permission to come aboard. If the Vale anchors, she will be rowed out to the ship and the same will happen at anchor.]
Jerod's preference is to get close and make for ease of access. Control, if enforced by Gateway would be quickly responded to and if the cards are played right, the merchant act should go over without a hitch.
Raven will dock. Ease of access is definitely better, and certainly not unexpected. Also, docks can be burned after they get back to the ship if need be, where having to take a boat back would be more of... an adventure... if they have to get out of there quickly.
If the port-captain is someone Raven recognizes as someone she met last time, she will give Jerod a signal to warn him. She's dressed for the part of a merchant ship's captain, in clothes carefully chosen to be comfortable, durable, and presentable - in generally that order - and whether she recognizes the port-captain or not, she greets the man cheerfully.
Of course, if nothing untoward happens, she also tries to get the business done as briskly and efficiently as possible without drawing attention. The sooner he's gone...
The dock and the Port-Captain don't seem familiar to Raven, except in that they are here. The Captain has a squad of pikemen with him. Not enough that it can't be overwhelmed by the Vale's crew, but too many to silence noiselessly. That's probably intentional.
As the Vale comes in towards the deepwater dock, the Port-Captain calls out. "Ahoy, the ship! State your name, your Master, and your business in Thule!"
Jerod waits and watches, occasionally lightly tapping the pouch of gold on his belt.
"Ahoy, Port-Captain," Raven calls back. "Captain Beam, sir, and here on trade for Master Cambric here." She waves broadly in Jerod's direction. "Is the port safe, sir, that you've got those lads at your back, or would we be better served elsewhere?"
"'Tis safe beau' o' the lads at my back, captain! We are a trading town, and we don't want trouble, so we don't allow it in.
"We like to know who we're trading wi', and that they're not sea-reavers. What's your cargo, Master Cambric, and why d' ye bring it to Thule instead of the Gate?"
The ship hits the bumpers against the dock and the sailors throw lines to the waiting longshoremen, who tie up the ship.
The Port-Captain is still suspicious, but he follows the custom of the ports of the Golden Circle precisely. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"
Master Cambric watches as the ship docks and the Port-Captain prepares to come abroad, bored at the vague pleasantries and the interminable delays because of bureaucracy and regulations, trivial matters that interfere with the pursuit of wealth. He makes his way back to where Captain Beam is positioned, knowing that the matter of trade will need to be explained properly.
"Permission granted, sir, and welcome aboard," Captain Beam answers, waving the Port-Captain to come on. "Been a while since I've been this way - any special paperwork, or is it still the standard? If there's aught else you need, I can get it while you discuss our cargo with Master Cambric."
"The standard, and the names of your crew. You'll be responsible for them in case they break the Council's Peace. Give the list to my man Moth over there." Moth is an unassuming man, and Raven thinks that even at their most desperate, the press-gangs would've avoided him as unlikely to survive at sea.
"Now, Master Cambric, tell me of your cargo. Goods sold to the Council are, naturally, not charged subject to custom duties."
The Captain disappears into the cabin and returns with paper and the appropriate means to write out her list - a list that will account for all the appropriate individuals on the ship's actual crew. Not so much the rest of the beings on board...
The assistant to the Port-Captain scans the list, looking for known criminals. He doesn't find any, and files the list away.
Master Cambric wanders over, idly, in fact very absently, tapping the pouch on his belt, the clink of gold a subtle chime, barely noticeable unless one tries to hear for it against the sounds of the waves and the ship and the crew. "Our cargo is simple Port-Captain. We have none. We're here to buy, not sell. More importantly we are here to arrange for trade connections. It is my understanding, through some friendly ears, that there have been some changes in how business is conducted by the Council and those in charge.
"As someone constantly in touch with ebb and flow of business that comes to your land, I'm sure you recognize that opportunities come most frequently during times of change. Those who risk a little can gain much under such conditions. Opportunities to make new routes, make friends, garner information...those are what advance fortunes and help make individuals... wealthy."
He looks out landward and seems to nod to himself, as one might do if they were satisfied by a decision they had made. "Very wealthy." he says, turning back to the Port-Captain.
"What do you think Port-Captain? Do you think there is opportunity here...to make friends, to advance fortunes?" Master Cambric asks, tapping idly, all the while reading the man, and his men.
The Port-Captain nods. "Opportunity, aye, for those who see it and take a chance. It's why we're out here, man.
"The thing is, few men become wealthy on one cargo, Master Cambric. And those who do succeed wildcatting tend to want to spend it all as fast as they can."
Master Cambric nods at this, a slight twitch on his face betraying his thoughts concerning wildcatting, or the idea that he would even think to gamble on a single cargo.
"This was a quiet port, a navigational station at the north end of the archipelago. Now we are a boom town, sir. If I had a wish, it'd be that you had arrived with a hold full of foodstuffs for sale. You'll have nae trouble finding miners who have cargo to transport to the Gate, but with not a penny to their name to pay for it."
The Port-Captain sighs. "If you've nothing to declare, you've the freedom of the city. But if you wish to discuss the practicalities of making us all rich, we can discuss matters out of the sun in my office."
"Of course Port-Captain." Master Cambric says with a smile. "I look forward to our discussions, at your convenience of course."
Captain Beam gives her officer a nod at the Port-Captain's words, letting them know there's no trouble.
The mate acknowledges, and starts giving the cook and the purser instructions on what to look to buy in town. He assigns the crew liberty in small shifts, with an officer with each. The men don't seem inclined to argue. They are aware they're in enemy territory.
In a slightly louder voice, the Port-Captain says, "Well, all seems to be in order. Come by the office and I'll have the entry papers for you to sign. We'll get that cleared up then, and I can offer you fine visitors a drink."
His men disembark and the Port-Captain follows them. The soldiers guarding the dock march sharply back to the obvious barracks across from the wharfs.
[OOC: Up to you what you do next. Port-Captain, explore the town, carouse? A bit of good? A bit of bad? A little of both?]
OOC: a basic exploration of the town, under the guise of "carousel" is in order. Arrangements are made for elements of the crew to do so, with orders to get the lay, determine numbers of guards and locations, plus rumors and current "goings-on", especially concerning the Port-Captain's comments about the mining. When officials have something on their minds, it's not a bad idea to dig a bit and see what's causing it. It can be a problems perhaps, or an opportunity.
A quick review of additional details on Thule from Thalia is also prudent to be sure people are aware of how to act and what to watch for so they are not stepping on any toes.
After that, Jerod will be looking to follow up on the Port-Captain, officially to see about trade, but actually see what's going on and how best to arrange the approach to the Gate. To do that, he needs to know whose been doing what, how much of the government has changed, etc. He will take Thalia with him unless Raven has a plan that requires her presence there.
Raven is going to see what she can do about getting information from any captains - current or former - in the area, and see where what they can tell her leads.
While there are no ships in port of the size and statue of the Vale, there are plenty of sailors in the port and in the taverns. Most ships come here from the capitol, carrying supplies, soldiers, and orders and leaving with raw materials for the capital: anything that isn't important enough to come by magic, comes by ship. It's a week's walk to the gate, and twice that with a loaded wagon. Thesea is best, especially if you have a weather wizard to drive the wind into your sails. The garrison buys most of the supplies, but the town doesn't suffer by that.
If they are lucky, some cargoes are magical, and a piece of the action is worth any price the magi offer.
The merchants of the bazaar and the sailors staying under the cover of their awnings seem to all notice the old man crossing the square at about the same time. He dresses the part of a Wizard of the Gate, and he seems larger than life. Next to him is Raven's (and Jerod's) cousin, Brita, her coppery-red hair up in braids. It is entirely possible that she has seen Raven. Or smelled Raven.
Being smelled is still bizarre to Raven. Still, curious to find someone else in the area. She'll drift in an intercepting kind of direction, keeping an eye on Brita to see if she should get lost instead.
Last modified: 17 June 2015