Black Hart

To Kill A King

Chapter 17 - In Search of Lominstrall

Aranon had been shattered from the day’s affairs, and could barely find it in himself to argue when he found out he was bunked up with Eloi. He tried several excuses - snoring, smelly feet, sleepwalking, a bad habit of killing bunkmates, but Eloi cared about none of them. He lay in the bed across from Aranon, munching some goodies from Mordekei's pantry, so Aranon ignored him and tried to pretend he was asleep.
Next thing he knew he was awakened with a start as Akhan's voice boomed through the wall.
"For the love of money, Jean-Paul," he cried. "Even the birds are fast a-fucking-sleep!"
Aranon saw the early morning light creeping under the thick blue curtains. With a yawn he got to his feet, and after a quick wash, whilst Eloi snored on he knelt at the end of the bed and prayed.

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Aranon stifled a yawn, as Akhan made his way downstairs.
"Gods, I'm tired. Right, I'm not trying to keep anything from the party on purpose here, I'm just a secretive bastard and anyway - Fimuth is a friend. I want to find out a bit more about what happened on that Ship today. What was on it? Anything unusual, funny cargo, guards, anything. I don't need to tell you that someone always sees everything".
Aranon stifled another yawn.
"Mind you, there'll be damn few folk around at this time. I wondered if a bit of a look at the Harbour records might through up anything? Or perhaps a little constructive dialogue with the harbourmaster?"
Aranon jingled a moneypouch.
"Do you know anything about the Thieves Guild hereabouts? Or even better, the beggars’ guild, because these buggers are a better info source than Thoggin’s lot! The only other thing I can think of is the dockers. They must have a good idea what went."
Akhan shook his head.
"I am unfamiliar in this town – we will just have to see what we can turn up at the docks."
They went downstairs where Jean-Paul and Mordekei were already enjoying their breakfast, as Friederikson scuttled about preparing it for them. Everyone seemed to have decided to ignore their plight until the others arrived, but there was an easily sensed atmosphere in the kitchen.

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Eloi sat at his breakfast place tucking into a very large leg of ham, the joint was quite succulent and the juices ran down his chin and stained his already filthy shirt. He stopped stuffing his face for a moment and turned to Aranon.
"If I am to go and find information at this Lendskurt place today, then I suggest that you come with me Aranon. You know more about this nobility thing than I think I would ever do, and anyways I think you may add somewhat to my rather slight credibility as a noble."
He paused and ripped a huge piece of meat from the ham with his teeth and turned to Bermen.
"I think our first port of call today Bermen should be to retrieve our possessions from The Painted Man, I hope that either they have not discovered Wakes untimely death or they realise that it was at the hands of Olven assassins and not us!"
He turned to the party with a sullen and sad look across his face.
"I think we can now assume that Ariall and whatever information that she had to offer is dead at the hands of the Olven. If our fate lies at Fim-Sular then we should go there, but how do we get there?"
Jean-Paul sat with a lightly toasted scone with some honey on it nibbling gently.
"I think the sooner that we establish which location Lominstrall intends to go to, his estate in Gradsul or Fim-Sular, the better? The other thing we have to establish is, are the Olven assassins with him or not? How far are Gradsul and Fim-Sular, and are they only reachable by sea? If so, then I suggest one of us finds out if there are any other fast ships heading to these locations upon which we can obtain passage."
He spoke to Mordekei.
"Is that tea? Would you mind if I had a cup?"
He turned back to the party.
"It is perhaps best we split up again, half of us should investigate the Gradsul and Fim-Sular connection whilst the other half investigate Lominstrall's estate in Rivermeet."
Akhan found himself having to restrain Ash throughout most of breakfast, the big War Dog showing every sign of wanting to join Eloi at his trough. He had a fairly high regard for Ash's ability to look after himself but didn't fancy risking the dog's life so close to the half-orc's gnashing maw. A leftover bone from the kitchen eventually quietened Ash.
"Mordekei, you mentioned last night that a fast horse would see us ahead of the ship Lominstrall's on. I second that for our plan. Let's grab our stuff and our horses, sort out where this estate of his is and ride hell for leather down to Gradsul. Any objections anyone?"
Akhan deftly filched the remainder of Jean-Paul's scone while he got him to pass the jug of ale.
Bermen felt slightly more refreshed and prepared in the morning having memorised his spells again. While Eloi provided the rather alarming spectacle of eating what seemed to be a large slice of pig whilst simultaneously talking away, Bermen watched the quick succession of stains accumulating on the already variously stained shirt. Tearing his attention away from the apocalypse of table manners he replied to Eloi's suggestion of going to the Painted Man.
"Yes, we should pick our things up quickly but I suggest we all go along. The others can wait outside while we collect our stuff - no sense in getting separated at this stage, just before we leave. Then we can move on to the Lendskurt. Oh, and though they may have been Olven of a sort Eloi, you'd do well to remember that it was Drow who shot you last night. You should not forget the distinction however offhand you are speaking."
"Well," Aranon said. "Heading down the coast seems fine. But before we do, I think it might be worth checking out the happenings at the harbour prior to the sailing a bit more. No sense in blindly indulging in another wild goose chase, or following this fellow endlessly around Oerth as if he were a one-armed man. Akhan - we could have another "word" with the harbour master. And somebody down there must have seen something - dockers, pilot, beggars - or pillow talk to the young ladies of negotiable affection. Was there anything unusual about the ship, contents, or passengers? Did anyone see our man? It would only take a couple of hours to check, and I'd wager well worth it"
Eloi continued to slaver away at the joint of ham, his semmit getting filthier and filthier as the grease dripped down his chin.
"I somehow don't think that Bray would be up to a hot pursuit of a tall ship, he can't swim for one thing! However I do believe Bermen, Friederikson and my own business this morning involves retrieving our equipment from the Painted Man. I then have to convince the fools at the Lendskurt that I am indeed a Baron and try to obtain whatever information you deem appropriate. I do however not wish to turn up at the Painted Man alone or as a small group after last night’s events. The patrons of the inn may no doubt be looking for a scapegoat for the death of Wakes, and I think Bermen and me would do as good as any. I reckon we should all go and put on a brave show of force. We can then reconnoitre the situation at the harbour."
Eloi grinned impishly at Bermen, as though his trawling had achieved the desired effect. There was a large and unseemly chunk of half-chewed pig-meat stuck in the gap between his two front teeth.
"I agree," Hamman said. "We must stick together, Eloi - that's twice last night at least one of us was almost done for, principally because we were outnumbered or surprised. Perhaps it is about time we took heed to these omens and went about our business in the same numbers as our opponents seem to, before one or more of us ultimately pays the price."
Tumbry began playing a soft, strumming tune on his lute as the others ate and talked, a soft, melodic tune that blended into the background.
"Gradsul is on the southern coast of Keoland, Eloi," Mordekei informed him. "I'm sorry, I am being ignorant and forget not all of you know my country so well. Here is your tea, Jean-Paul."
Mordekei pushed the china cup towards the paladin. He put it to his lips and almost immediately pulled the scalding brew away, sitting it on the table while it cooled.
"It was once the Keoish capital," Mordekei continued. "A bustling sea port and home to the Keoish fleet, it lies at the mouth of the Sheldomar river, the one which Fimuth's ship will be sailing down as we speak. As for Rivermeet, it is about two hundred miles Southeast of here, west of the Sheldomar just past the Silverwood. From its southern edge it is a hundred miles south to Gradsul. We could go to either by road, using the Caisteallweg, or by river, on the Sheldomar
"Fim-Sular, on the other hand, is a totally different matter," Tumbry mentioned casually, not even looking up from his playing. "Thirty miles north of the Amedio jungle, hardly the most cosmopolitan of towns in one sense, but the variety of people and goods there is unsurpassed, except perhaps in the Suqs of Lopolla."
"It would take at least two weeks at sea to reach Fim-Sular," Hamman said. "And passing dangerously close to Flotsom Isle and Jetsom Isle, through Sea Princes, or should I say Brotherhood, waters. If Fimuth's men are still plying those route they are better protected or more foolhardy than I would have thought."
Jean-Paul casually sipped at his tea and added, "Whilst I agree that we should be pursuing Lominstrall, I would ask 'what type of horses are we referring too here? Seahorses? Would our best option not be to obtain passage on a fast ship bound for Gradsul and Fim-Sular, in the hope that we can catch his ship up or perhaps overtake it?"
Hamman gurned his face at Jean-Paul's comments.
"A faster ship down the Sheldomar? Unlikely! Most down-river traffic moves about the same speed, give or take a few knots. The Moonlight Rose has three masts, which gives it considerable sail power, and on a river the size of the Sheldomar she can use it. The Caisteallweg is an excellent road my friend, and should allow us to check Lominstrall's residence in Rivermeet with ease. And as for finding a ship to Fim-Sular, unless its one of Fimuth's, I'd forget about it - nobody is likely to be going there, if even Fimuth's fleet are - too dangerous!"
"I'd agree with you about the docks, Aranon - it should be one of our stops. Perhaps I could use my nautical knowledge to worm some information from the old salts there while Akhan deals with the more nefarious characters there."
Aranon nodded as Hamman finished speaking.
"Great. Let’s get a move on then. I'd prefer to split up to speed the whole process along, but lets stick together - it might be wisest in the light of recent events."
Eloi chomped on his joint and added matter-of-factly, "Has anyone considered the option that we could use one of Mordekei's chums to transport us to Gradsul in plenty of time to intercept Fimuth's boat? If the boat takes us two weeks to get there it would also give us the opportunity to visit this estate that Lareng mentioned before being transported there."
Akhan listened and decided he was bored of sitting around. Putting on a look of excitement he turned to Ash and pointed imperiously at the leftovers of Eloi's breakfast.
"Fetch!"
"Good, let's get moving. Although, Mord - Eloi's right. Isn't there some way one of the mages could, you know!" Bermen waggled his hands and arms in a fair impersonation of a mage. "Zap us over there?"
Bermen felt a bit embarrassed about not knowing the right way to describe the translocation stunt.
Mordekei shook his head and chuckled before continuing.
"Much as I would like to teleport, I fear that it is completely impractical. For such to work, one must have an good knowledge of the proposed locale - many a poor teleportee has been found sticking half out of a stone, or languishing in a locked cellar. And personally, I find this a trifle undesirable. I am also worried that to find an arch mage willing to transport us, even with my contacts, would be difficult."
He finished off his tea and sat the cup back onto the table.
"I once knew a fellow with a magic carpet, the great mage Lohg Anair, however he is dead long since and I know not what happened to the device. This leaves us but the one good option - good, fast horses. I can only hope I do not fall off too much! And we still have to get the horses - good ones will not, unfortunately, come cheaply. Moreover we will have to change them at least once."
Eloi quickly whacked Ash on the snib as soon as he sniffed at his leftovers.
"Get to fuck, pup!" he growled. "Never interfere with a man and his ham."
Tumbry strummed a final chord, then sat down his lute.
"Shall we off to this 'Painted Man' then, and after that the Lendskurt to find this Lominstrall?" the bard suggested.
Friederikson scurried off to fetch Jean-Paul's belongings as all except Eloi stood to their feet. They paused and Eloi glanced at them as he picked the final bits of flesh from the ham bone. He was about to crack it open and start on the marrow when he realised they were all waiting for him.
"All right, all right, can't get peace to eat, but never mind, I'll starve...."

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The rain had mostly died out from the previous day's storms, but there were still threatening clouds overhead. Eloi led the way he knew so well by now, and they were soon past the infamous ferry where the fracas had occurred the previous day.
Bermen, Eloi and Aranon seemed to withdraw inside their cloaks as they were ferried across, but hoping not to draw any unwanted attention. A short walk and they were just around the corner from the Painted Man.
"So what's the plan?" Tumbry asked Eloi, worryingly fingering his sword. "You know the place best, tell us how you want to do this."
"Hmmm," Eloi muttered. "A show of strength might do best. I'd reckon they won't want a pitched battle with a bunch of mad adventurers, and that'll give us the best chance of getting out without a fight. All the same, leave the talking to me guys."

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Everything was much as before when Eloi entered the inn, save Wakes was absent from his position at the card table. The barman Dastin was behind the bar, and Eloi noticed him rattle twice on the back door, presumably to the kitchens, as they entered.
Dastin nodded to Eloi.
"Master Wakes never came back from his meeting with you last night," he said, matter-of-factly.
Eloi nodded, saying, "And neither will he my friend."
The barman looked somewhat surprised.
"He was killed by a doppelganger before we got there," he explained. "There were two Drow lying in wait for us also, and I would not be here either were it not for my good man Bermen here."
Eloi nodded at the ranger.
"As for Ariall, I have no idea what became of her - whether they have her, or whether she managed to flee."
Dastin mused over Eloi's words.
"Where is Wakes now?"
"We had to leave him and flee, he is still in the park in the bushes to the right just as you go in."
Dastin glanced over at the card table, and the others saw a man seated there nod to the barman. As he reached down behind the bar the party anxiously fingered their undrawn weapons. Dastin placed a box on the bar, which held Eloi, Bermen and Friederikson's belongings.

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As they walked back towards the Keisling, with their mounts in tow, everyone had a sense of relief that they had gotten away so lightly at the Painted Man. Still, Eloi was cautious - Wakes' death would no doubt have repercussions, and whom they affected depended very much on whether they believed his side of the story.
"There it is," said Mordekei, pointing to the dull grey stone building before them. Its gargoyles hung menacingly from above, leering at the party as they stood before its steps.
The Lendskurt is the Court of our nobles in Keoland. The King would have all believe that he rules the country as monarch, but those in the know understand the power our nobles have. They have their say in the ruling of our country, and there are many compromises within this building which prevent discord, and even outright civil war."
Tumbry gathered the reins of their horses together.
"I'll wait here for you," he said.

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"Apparently," the man said in a derisive manner as he ushered them into a large room full of ledgers, "This is the new Baron of Amarr, Lord Eloi Brandt!"
The clerk was speaking across a hundred feet of empty polished floor to a sagacious character who was on his knees, sorting through a pile of these leather-bound tomes that had been flung on the floor.
He looked around, and beckoned them over as the clerk walked back through to his desk.
"My lord, I have been expecting you," he said to Eloi's surprise. "I am Jebbrit, sage-clerk and custodian of the records of the Lendskurt. You will excuse the mess, we were the subject of a break-in last night."
They saw the hole in the roof, and the empty spaces where all the books that lay scattered on the floor had been.
"What was taken?" Aranon asked.
"Some ledgers of our Lendskurt's business," he said. "Mainly in the transaction of lands. As you know, m'Lord, all transfers of land in our kingdom must be approved by the Lendskurt, even your own appointment as the new Baron. I presume that is why you are here?"
Eloi shook his head.
"I am in need of some information, in defence of our country. I would know of any lands our Chamberlain, Lord Lominstrall, possesses."
Jebbrit shook his head.
"I cannot m'Lord. I will find nothing until this mess is sorted."
"How long?" Eloi asked.
"Two days. Maybe three. They will not allow me to hire help for such a deed, in case sensitive information should go 'astray'."
Aranon picked up one of the ledgers there.
"And if you had such help?" he said, smiling.
Jebbrit returned his smile.

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"Missing?!" Eloi spluttered.
Jebbrit nodded.
"The ledgers you seek are of the ones taken last night."
The party looked at each other.
"The men form the ferry, perhaps?" Akhan said.
"So what now?" Aranon asked. "The country's safety might very well rely on this information!"
Jebbrit paused for a second.
"Leave it with me."
He left, and returned to his desk, leafing through a large book thereon. After a half hour walking from book to book, searching through them, he returned to them carrying another of these books.
"There are many ways to skin a cat, m'Lord," he said, placing it before Eloi.
"Torrisz?" Aranon questioned, looking at the page Jebbrit showed them. "Where is this Torrisz?"
"A fortnight's ride away, sir," he replied. "In the Royal County of Rivermeet to the south, towards the Dreadwood forest. It is somewhat of a backwater. According to the accounts there, Lord Lominstrall bought the estate from the King last year. If I recall, the previous Lord died intestate and his estate fell to the Crown."

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It was almost the middle of the afternoon when they finally reached the Weyrkling docks where the Moonlit Rose had been berthed. Eloi was getting that knotted feeling in his stomach which inactivity always gave him, the frustration of not being able to just ride after Lominstrall and hack him into a hundred pieces. To make matters worse, Bray was having a particularly stubborn day and Eloi was having to drag him almost every step of the way.
After a quarter hour with the Harbourmaster, Akhan returned. He seemed dismayed.
"A normal cargo, the Harbourmaster told me. Grain, livestock, cloth and some passengers, but he knows not who they were."
There was a whistle from the doorway of a nearby tavern, and they turned to see Eloi standing above a one-legged beggar, waving them over.
As they approached, he told the man to repeat what he had just said.
"A fine beast, sir, and I know my horses - bred them at the Matreyus estate as a boy, before seeking my fortune in the King's army."
He tapped the stump of his right leg. Aranon, standing nearest, stood back as he caught wind of the beggar's scent.
"Reckon the fortune I got was more than I bargained for!"
"What exactly is he talking about?" Mordekei asked.
"A horse that was taken on board the Moonlit Rose," explained Eloi.
"That's right, sirs. A beaut she was. And her owner, well, as women go, and I known plenty women in me time if you knows what I mean sirs, she was as fine a filly as the horse was."
Hamman pushed forward to him.
"What kind of horse?"
"A grey stallion, sir. Proud and muscular, well-kept and groomed like a show-horse."
"My horse!" Hamman exclaimed.
"And the woman?" Aranon quizzed.
"Tall, strong, with the bearing of a lady but the build of a warrior. Raven-black hair she had."
Aranon nodded.
"Your horse indeed, Hamman. A strange turn of events!"
Hamman's face was turning red with rage.
"And who exactly is this woman, Aranon?" Eloi demanded. "We have allowed you much privacy so far in this matter, but she crosses our paths again and I for one wish to hear the truth now."
The beggar coughed, and Eloi passed him a silver coin. He got up, using his crutch for balance, and hobbled into the inn.
"I am sorry, Eloi," Aranon said. "I really cannot tell you any more, for your own safety. You will just have to trust me for now, that I am certain she has nothing to do with our Chamberlain. This is mere coincidence."
Eloi sighed in despair.
"If you must keep it secret," Bermen said, "Then I will trust you on that. However, it seems to me that while we deliberate irrelevant matters here, Lominstrall is getting further away. Shall we be off? This can be discussed on our way to Torrisz."
They nodded in agreement and, one by one, turned and led their mounts away from the waterfront.

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