Let's Party!

Following the discussion between Winnacer and Bennett, things goes quiet for a short while. It is Boris that breaks the silence:

"So yer still plannin' on tryin' to crack Kutna Hora, are yer?" the old rogue asks. "Any ideas as to 'ow yer gonna get in?"

Winnacer chimes in here:

"I heard Konan mention something about a map of the sewers. Perhaps that can be our initial means of entry and our primary means of moving undetected. With a prohibition on weapons in the town proper and a thousand suspicious eyes on us, we will really need an avenue to travel in. And the mines will need ready access to water. Would you mind if I took a look at the map, Bennett?"

"Sure," Bennett replies. "Sadly I cannot make heads or tails of it, as it doesn't have a reference to what's above ground. I am going to need some points of reference to be able to tell what any of this leads to."

"I guess we could go through the front door," Winnacer continues, "if somebody came through first invisibly with our gear. But the problem of Kutna Hora is going to be a tough one to tackle."

"Well," responds Bennett, "as dangerous as it is, I think Fae's scouting should be done before we follow her in, as we don't know anybody or any place to reconnoiter once inside, and that's paramount. Trust me, the guards inside are absolutely paranoid about spies as well as assault and we won't be able to sneak through there like we have in the other towns so far. It's a whole different scenario in there. Sadly, I will be somewhat of a liability in there as well, as I made somewhat of a ruckus last time I was here. Also, some of the orcs within know me very well."

Bennett's voice takes a strange twist, and his knuckles go Faewen'il white on the hilt of Retribution.

"Well, yer've still got quite a while before yer needs to make any more plans," says Boris. "I thought we were goin' to 'ave a bit of a party tonight. Let's save the plannin' for some other time an' jus' 'ave a bit of a crack this evenin'."

They all nod and more wine starts to circulate, and they start to relax a little. When the meal ends, they split into smaller groups and carry on with their discussions between each other. Yaz, who has looked bored throughout the whole debate between Bennett and Winnacer immediately leaves the rooms and heads down to the stables. Having become quite conversant in barn owl now, he starts to spend some time with the horses, trying to make some sense of their subtle body language and whinnying.

Sylva approaches Will:

"Would it be possible to read what you have chronicled to date? I am interested in your exploits and if your written word is as magical as your spoken word then my eyes will know the joy which my ears found as we strolled through the woods."

"Absolutely," Will replies. "It is just this reason that I am recording the events, that those who were not personal witnesses to the events may know the truth of the matter."

Sylva takes a seat near Will and begins to read. As she does so, they can see her emotions as she reads. Sometimes near tears, other times quietly laughing, most of the time with a hint of a smile on her face and an occasional nod of her head.

When she finishes reading, she stands, gently cradling the chronicles as she returns them to Will:

"You truly are a master wordsmith. Few authors have I read which could bring to the story such life and emotion. Well done William."

"You are very gracious and free with your compliments," Will responds. "Thank you."

As she hands the chronicles back to Will, their hands touch, and she allows her hand to linger before turning towards her room. She emerges from her room a few minutes later, the leather clothes they have become accustomed to while travelling replaced with a loose-fitting tan silk blouse and a long, straight skirt. Her hair is no longer in a braid, it now flows loose reaching half way down her back. It is obvious that she is going to enjoy some time of resting in comfortable surroundings.

The bard's eyes are drawn to the feminine form, subtly catching glimpses of the woman and her beauty. He attempts to keep his attentions under restraint and not put the lady in discomfort, however.

Xavier is less subtle in his appreciation. Armorless for the first time in weeks and having but recently completed his bath, he is barely recognizable from he who they have know the past months.

He approaches Will and says:

"Der fraulein is most becoming is she not, Herr William. Too wrapped have I been in mein own troubles dat one does not see the beauty in the vorld"

"Indeed she is Xavier," Will responds. "Indeed she is."

Xavier then steps forward to greet the girl he has as yet not spoken to due to his inner turmoil since the raid upon the fur farm/arena. Exhibiting all the rarely used courtly graces of a Saxon gentlemen, he walks over to her:

"Gutten abend, fraulein, Ve have not as yet become acquainted. If I may introduce myself, I am Sir Xavier Von Trauloft"

Stepping forward and clicking his heels with a gentle bow, the man who stands before her is very Germanic in appearance. Without the suit of chain and the helm which has been his constant attire for the entire time she have known him, he is hard to recognize. Of medium build, his blond hair, now streaked with gray, lays neatly tied in a warrior's knot in the middle of his back. His clothes, once of fine cloth, are now worn but still reveal their tailored beginnings. A silver broach in the shape of a diving hawk with a sword in its talons holds his cloak upon his shoulders. The cloak, obviously recently cleaned, is made of a finely tailored bearskin. Upon his feet is a fine pair of riding boots, shone to brightness. His martial background only given away by the obvious scars of his profession and the belted sword at his hip.

" I am Sylva Prochazkova," she responds. "I knew that there must be a fine gentleman hiding underneath that suit of armor. Not even a breastplate and helmet can hide the countenance of a true gentleman. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Xavier."

"Fraulein, dat name is familiar," Xavier replies. "Did by chance any of your kin serve in Rus? I vas once honored to fight beside a knight who carried dat surname of honor. His first name vas, Michael, I think. It vas over 10 years ago."

"He is not familiar to me, but it could be possible we are related," replies Sylva.

Later in the evening, Xavier looks at the book. He spends quite a while studying it before he responds to Will:

"Der penmanship is most fine Herr Willheim. It is a good read. Time to sit by the fire with a good book is a pleasure I had nearly forgotten. I read much in my youth and for some indiscretions of youth I may have become a scholar at the University of St Omer. I vas studying for such at the seminary. The teachers there praising me for my gift of languages. Ah.... but dat is in the past, but I vill always thank dat kindly Padre who taught me my letters as a child. My father, despite the bloodshed dat shaped his entire life, vas also a vell read man. His library vas quite extensive."

Once his conversation with Sylva is over, Will walks over to speak with Winnacer and Bennett:

"There is no hurry to contact Yiri," the bard begins. „I agree that other tasks should be completed before we concern ourselves with this. However, we cannot deny that such a popular figure among the people would be of great aid to the cause."

"As for Yiri preaching and dictating, do not worry about that. He has always been the most humble man that I know. Meek to a fault as a matter of fact. In all our time together, I never heard a single command from the man, he simply did what he thought was right, and did not concern himself with whether or not others followed. Many did follow him, but I fear that his lack of will to command others led to the fall. It is one thing to follow the example set by men such as Yiri, but it is completely another to follow a leader into battle. There are some situations where the individual must yield to the whole, for the good of all. Leaders and followers are what turn a mob or rabble into an effective army. We all must take our position for the greater good. The pride of the individual must sometimes give way for a more noble sense of pride in the accomplishment of a group. There is synergism to be harnessed here if we can each understand those critical moments when we must lead, follow or stand aside. Someone must lead at times. A leader must have followers. All cannot be leaders, yet to not have a leader can bring defeat as well."

While this conversation is continuing, Faewen'il, who has returned to the main room, chats with Sonya:

"It be a shame that tha others canna be as well mannered as tha squires," she says, looking towards where Milan, looking similar to an Arab prince, is laughing and joking with a merry Tadeus. „Not once have Milan or Tadeus said a bad word me way or tried ta force thar opinions on me or done other than respect me magecraft."

"Ye be a site better than them though; ye know what it be like ta live with a mage and what it takes ta weild tha magic without harmin anyone. In witnessin Corrow's progression, I be about two ta three times more powerful now... I have begun ta worry about what tha power be doin ta me though."

"I be capable o handlin it... but more an more time must be spent in readin me spellbooks and looking far tha weird thins to focus tha magic on. I have na time ta be social or ta spend in tha company o others. When I not be studyin me spells, I be readin books on healin an tha like, or I be practicin both tha healin arts an magic ta help out in all tha scrapes we seem ta attract."

"It's like they seem ta thin I can do all me studyin an thins in tha blink o an eye an have tha rest o tha time ta be friendly like."

"At one time I even cared deeply far Jihan; yet all he has done is snub me an run from me like I was a monster. I donna know how many nights I spent layin in me tent cryin or tryin ta figure thins out... but I have gotten over that now. Even iffen he came ta me on bended knee I would turn him away. I donna have time far thins like that anymore... an it not be fair ta have ta submit someone to me lifestyle."

"Konan have been tellin us o a powerful group a mages an how they all be irritable all tha time an how they all want ta be left alone. I am beginnin ta understand why. I know I would be... and well.. I am at times a very cross parson ta be around when I get constantly interrupted when studyin an tha like. I can only imagine what time they be devotin to thar studies ta weild tha power that they do."

While the two young women are talking, Will speaks with Winnacer on the other side of the room:

"Do not tire in your continued efforts with Fae," the bard starts. "I believe her to be no less nor yet more important than any other in this group, and it would be a shame to lose her talents. Who knows, she may yet open up and let someone into her heart's graces. People continually amaze me, and I pray that she will come to trust all of us more."

"I would not be overly concerned with her mind reading abilities. She has implied the intent to constrain her talents unbidden in your mind, and we should take her as honest to her word unless she proves otherwise."

Winnacer nods in agreement and then he leaves Will and walks over to Sylva:

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" the young Lord asks.

"Please, sit," Sonya replies, patting the chair next to her.

Winnacer sits and continues:

"I hope that we have made you comfortable in our midst. Sometimes we all tend to argue so much that we tend to forget who's around and how uncomfortable that can make them. I hope that we haven't made you uncomfortable."

"Not at all," Sylva replies. "On the contrary, I hope that I haven't caused you any inconvenience. When I spoke to Faewen'il I wasn't aware of the .. um .. dynamics of your group."

"If I'm not being too nosy," Winnacer continues, "do you mind me asking you a couple of questions? I'm just curious in how you managed to get involved in all of this. It's not like rebellion is an overly popular occupation these days. What do you wish to happen, if things were to work out according to your hopes? What exactly do you do, besides sneak around with daggers and cook wonderfully? Is there anything that you would like to learn, for the lot you've met have an unbelievable array of skills? I apologize for all the questions, but I can't help but be curious to get to know the newest person that has seemed to join our group."

"Well," Sylva starts. "To be honest, my main concern has not been true rebellion. To this point it has been revenge. Let me go back about a year and maybe you will understand. I was born to a minor noble outside of Brunn. My mother died in childbirth and I have no brothers or sisters. As a result, I grew up in a house full of men, other than a few of the servants. Much of my younger years were spent with the servants, especially in the kitchen, I loved to eat. It is there that I learned my cooking skills. As I reached adolescence, my father involved me more in his matters. This time allowed me to enjoy many of the benefits of being a noble's daughter. I regularly mingled with some of the important figures in Brunn. It was also during this time that I rebelled to a certain extent. I convinced my father that since I was his only child I should be afforded some of what would rightfully belong to the oldest son in the family. I was provided a good education as well as basic training with a couple weapons. I also found myself drawn to the company of Ivan, one of my father's guards. We developed a close friendship, something I had lacked until this point. While Ivan was very loyal to my father, he also pursued some other, less appreciated, sources of income. Again, being very persuasive, Ivan agreed to let me join in on some of his excursions. Hence I learned a few things that my father would not have dreamed of for his little girl. As my teens passed and I made my way through my twenties I got more involved with my father's business while still enjoying the thrill of my adventures with Ivan and his friends."

To this point Sylva has been looking and talking directly to Winnacer. Now, however, it appears that she is looking right through him, her eyes focused on nothing. As she continues, tears start to flow from her eyes, slowly at first. One drop rolls down her cheek, then another, and another until it is a steady stream. Her voice, though, does not change. Although her mind is in control, the tears are simply a reaction that cannot be suppressed.

"Then everything changed. After a gathering at one of my father's colleague's estates, his son decided that he should be the subject of my affection. I made it clear that I did not agree. He persisted, forced me into a room and explained how he thought the course of the evening should proceed. To make my point perfectly clear I relieved him of his ability to carry on his family name. While I knew there would be ramifications to my actions, I could not image what would happen of the next couple of weeks. The boy's father convinced several other of the nobles in the area to frame my father. They planted evidence that implicated him and some of his workers in anti-Nyemetz activities. Now, while my father certainly had no love for the Nyemetz, he did not conspire against them. When the troops from the local garrison arrived, Ivan found me and was able to help me escape. My father was not so lucky. He was arrested, his land and other assets seized by the Nyemetz."

Sylva pauses and takes a deep breath. While the tears have not stopped, they have slowed somewhat at this point.

"I spent the next few months with Ivan and his friends. We raided a few Nyemetz groups, nothing major though, and I began plotting. With Ivan's help I was able to bring to justice two of the four nobles who plotted against my father. The other two were at the games the other night. When I slipped out the door of the VIP box with you I had just added a little something extra to one of their wines glasses that would make sure they would not see the end of the games. I had seen Bennett and Xavier moving suspiciously around the room and figured that something was up and that if you were all leaving it would probably be best for me to leave as well. What happened next I never could have hoped for. When Flint lit up the VIP box, the last two targets of my vengeance were removed. I was only happy to lend a hand in return."

Again, the tears begin to flow in a steady stream.

"Although the information I have gathered indicates that my father may have been taken to Kutna Hora, I fear that it is more likely that he has already been killed. That is why I would eventually like to make my way to Kutna Hora. Part of me is reluctant to go, however. For if my father is not there, then surely he is dead."

Only now does Sylva wipe the tears from her face. Her eyes once again focused on Winnacer.

"At this point I cannot commit myself to the rebellion. I would be happy to stay with you for a while, giving you whatever aid I can, until I work through what I need to do. I hope that different motivation will not be a problem. As I said before, I have spent the last few months either alone or with a group of brigands which did not appreciate the finer aspects of life. Your company and courtesy is very much appreciated."

When she has finished speaking, she excuses herself to fill her glass of wine.

While Winnacer is listening to Sylva, Bennett is speaking with Boris:

"I hate to be self-centered, but how much help could you give an overthrow of the Nyemetz in Hradetz if you were in control of its underworld? It would seem to me that if we were to organize an assault from the outside, then you could dissolve the strength of the interior if you had no rivals to stop you. I am starting to think that Hradetz and Dvur might be really good targets to be our first major conquests. Now I know that such a takeover would bring the whole Nyemetz down on us, but I think that this might be the eventual place to start from the inside. We could potentially take both before the Nyemetz could organize a re-conquest. I think with some support from allies with some military skill, we could use this to drain off quite a bit of the Nyemetz at the Eastern Front. All we have to do is make sure that we give them a reason not to want to do that. Perhaps Hrust could make them regret such an action by keying in the Slovene army to our actions. If the Front starts to fall apart, then Dvur and Hradetz might not seem so important."

Boris is silent for a moment as he considers Bennett's words. Then replies:

"I don't really know whether we'd be able to pull off a rebellion 'ere or not," Boris says, shaking his head. "We certainly couldn't at the moment, not after so many of us got slaughtered at the Games. It's gonna take us a while to get some new recruits all trained up. 'Owever, I think that we made a good start today in taking over some o' the Diamonds into our ranks. If we carries on like this, then p'raps we could completely get rid o' the Diamonds from 'ere. Until we gets to a stage where we're the only gang in Hradetz, then we won't 'ave a chance to turn on the Nyemetz."

"Even so, 'owever, it would take more than us alone to do much damage to the Nyemetz. As was made painfully obvious at the Games, me lads are no competition for well armed an' well-trained warriors. No, the only chance we would 'ave would be if we could get most of the citizens on our side so that we could topple the Nyemetz through numbers. It ain't gonna 'appen too soon, but we 'ave a lot o' influence with the Guilds, an' the Guilds 'ave a lot o' support from their members an' the other citizens."

"So, in short, I reckon that we might 'ave a chance, but it ain't gonna 'appen any time soon. I reckon that yer'd be talkin' many months into the future before we'd be ready."

Bennett considers Boris' words and then continues:

"There now seems to be plenty of reasons for us to go to Dvur. Any rush on that, Boris, or do we have time for Fae and Winn to take care of their business before we go? Seems like our immediate choice has been made, huh?"

Boris takes the letter and scans it over again. He then gives a little shrug and answers Bennett:

"It don't say nothin' on 'ere about when 'e wants yer there. I don't suppose it'd be a problem if yer delayed yer trip by a couple o' days or so, but I don't reckon that yer should leave it much later than that."

Bennett nods and then refills his glass before moving over to where Faewen'il is still sitting with Sonya. He then starts to speak with her:

"Well," he starts. "I see that you have a bit of tactician in you after all! I can't see anything wrong with your plan of scouting Kutna Hora, other than the obvious danger it puts you in. Perhaps we could get some far away scouting from Yaz's little widowed owl and get an idea where you're going to let us in so we can be waiting there. There's a few likely places I can think of, though we may need some magical assistance to get us to the entry, as all of the ground level ways in are guarded too heavily for a simple illusion to keep the guards from seeing us. In any case, you can do some expert scouting with all the magical skill you've shown and then we'll know where the most vulnerable spot is. Just make sure that you don't spend too much time in there or you might not be able to get out as easily as you got in. Even if you change your appearance, the Witchfinders may still detect your amulet or anything else magical that you carry."

Faewen'il nods and then continues talking to Sonya. Bennett moves on around the room and a short while later, Winnacer comes to speak to the lass. As he starts to speak, he takes the Black Diamond ring from his pouch and offers it to her:

"Now that we know precisely what the function of the ring is," he says, "then I think that it should be yours, as you are woefully unprotected compared to the rest of us. In addition, it will serve as a reminder of the great part you played in the success of the assault upon the Diamonds' Building."

Faewen'il slowly takes the ring from him and stares at it a few moments as if examining the quality or lost in thought. With exacting care, she removes the other ring from her hand and places the artifact on the finger recently vacated; marveling at how the ring slowly shrank to fit her tiny digit. Only then did she look up and meet his gaze.

"It will have ta... as it be as powerful as tha magical armor I can cast upon meself. Not even Luud could have dreampt o havin such a thin as this ring. It would take me years o study ta unravel the power weaves that have enchanted it.. an then I would be left wonderin what foc-"

Faewen'il abruptly snaps her mouth shut as she realizes that she was simply babbling.

Her cheeks flushed a bit as she handed the other ring back to Winnacer; mumbling a thank you before hastily leaving his company. A cold chill ran through her at the thought that it had never occurred to her to say thank you in the first place; what would be sacrificed to the stuff of magic next..... and why had Luud not warned her of it.....

Winnacer watches Faewen'il head off and looks down at the ring she left in her wake. With a cheerful flip, he pops it in the air and catches it before turning to find Will.

"I hope you don't mind secondhand jewelry, Will. This really should belong to you. I hope it will provide you a measure of safety in the days to come."

Will takes the ring from him and studies it carefully and responds to the young Lord:

"A ring on the hand is like........ Well, I don't know quite what it's like, but my thanks nonetheless, Winnacer.

"Don't mention it," Winnacer replies. "Mind you, there is a favor that I would ask from you in return. The air hear hands heavy after our earlier debate and it was supposed to have been a party atmosphere here tonight. The night is yet young, and so I would ask you whether it may be possible to lighten the atmosphere with a tune or two."

The bard is more than happy to oblige. He mans his harp and sets to singing.

The tune begins, but it is far from cheery, it is somewhat mysterious and foreboding, leaving an air of uneasiness hanging about while the words begin to fall from the bard's lips.

 

"The Tale of the Tower"

 

"Ancient evil from centuries past;

Accumulated knowledge of magic vast.

 

The lair a Tower;

The seat of Power;

From which the spell was cast.

 

Down through the ages, across the years;

Expeditions embarked, only to end in tears.

 

Valor is not prejudiced by names or faces,

Or gender or race or tongue;

The heroes hailed from many places;

For each this song is sung.

 

Jihan the elf, blessed at birth;

Child of water, sky and earth.

 

Yaz to the charnal works scowled;

To lupine friends for assistance howled.

 

Bennett the man, full of spirit and rage;

unleashed his fury on the evil mage.

 

Sir Xavier von Trauloft, a Teutonic Saxon Knight;

From his blade tower denizens quickly took flight.

 

The Stradhiem name was to battle borne;

Bohavia's crest by Winnacer worn.

 

Fair Fae the lass, fought fire with fire;

Casting spells much to Bosco's ire.

 

The bugbear shaman to Blesk named Hrust;

Striking down undead and healing their touch;

a Slovene worthy of trust.

 

Last and least, this humble young bard;

whose name will retard.

 

Other brave men paid the great price;

A debt is owed for their noble sacrifice.

 

Zsolt the Pannon, a heart of pure gold;

Steadfast and trusty, valiant and bold.

 

Kesryk's shoulders carried Justice's heavy load;

He fought for Spravedelna, and law's righteous code.

 

The battle was long, and the cost was hight;

Yet the end saw defeat of undeath's lie."

 

The dirge plays out a few more notes, with Will hanging his head and breathing a sigh.

"I didn't say this one was a happy one."

Bennett listened intently to the song, hefting the mug he refilled after Will left the bar.

"Quite impressive, Will. You are indeed a fine chronicler of our deeds. Maybe our children and their children will hear this song and be proud. It's all we could hope for, and perhaps it can bring strength to the hearts of all those repressed by such evil."

Bennett motions to the bar:

"Another one for my friend, whose throat seems never to go dry."

Will accepts Bennett's offer of a drink, takes a slug of it and, with that, he launches into some more upbeat songs, beginning with the ballad of Yiri.

The classic ballad is much more lifting to their spirits, but then, calling for the floor again, Will starts a chilling, dreary tune which changes as the story progresses and ends in a stirring, strong upbeat song of victory. He then proceeds to sing the song that celebrates the party's victory over the worgriders in the Battle of Sezemitze.

The party continues for several hours, with Boris urging Will on to come up with more and more songs, until he has gone through his entire repertoire. The two squires, forgotten by the rest of them, have got themselves into a merry old state. When Tadeus signals the fact that he has imbibed rather too much spirits be depositing the banquet on the floor, Xavier decides that the two squires have had more than enough and leads then down to the stales, admonishing them severely on the way.

Faewen'il and Sonya disappear from the scene quite early and then the rest of them start to make their way to their rooms as the night continues.

Winnacer goes upstairs to take a bath, folding up his magical clothes and packing them tightly into his bag, bringing a dagger upstairs with him. He asks Boris whether he has a nicer set of clothes that would fit him, offering to pay a few gold for a new set of threads. Boris tells him that he still has several items from the chest of 'liberated' clothing left, and at least one of the garments will surely fit him. He refuses to accept payment for the clothing, explaining that the clothing was not exactly costly for him to acquire!

A hot bath does the young lord good, as Winnacer fusses over himself to make sure he is squeaky clean. He then sits in front of a mirror with the dagger cutting away at his hair and shaving himself clean. With a small brush, Winnacer then gets to work on his teeth, making sure they remain as white as they have been. He then looks down at his old clothes, stained with sweat and blood and wearing thin in the places not pierced by arrows or cut by swords. His eyes linger on the small emblem embroidered upon it, the Stradheim Coat of Arms, for a short time. Then, with swift decision Winnacer balls up his old clothes and tosses them into the wastebasket. A smile begins to cross his face as he dresses in his new clothes, his thoughts focused on a different time.

Winnacer looks out the window, noting the low hanging moon and the majestic fall darkness. With a look of maniacal glee, Winnacer runs up the stairs and climbs into his bed, falling asleep even before he hits the covers.