Josdah's Prologue: Shade more than Man

[truemane]

The Taiko Road
Jarkut Highlands
Border State of Haarn
High Mid-Summer
Late Evening

The rain was warm. There was that, at least. But as warm as it was it was relentless. And seemingly endless. Two days now had been spent creeping along the outer extension of the Taiko Road, moving from the Interior toward the Borderlands. Always the endless monotony of field and stream and rock and tree. Always the inane banter of soldiers and merchants. Always the guarded looks and careful talk of people who might not know exactly who Josdah was, but were certain he was no one to trifle with.

When the rain began, with the caravan three months out and only two days to Orlandaar, it was almost a relief to have something to look at besides the ill-favoured faces all around him and the steady march of trees and huts along the Taiko. But then it had gone from rain to a downpour. And from that to a torrent. And then from that to a curtain of water that was like walking across the bottom of a lake.

The Taiko might be a wide and level and ingeniously engineered road in the Interior but here in the outskirts it was little more than a path. A dirt-and-gravel strewn path that was uneven and pockmarked and difficult all the time. After a few hours of the rain it became a river of mud and silt and their progress had slowed to a crawl.

And so, two days later, Josdah found himself soaked to the very bones and on the edges of exhaustion from slogging through shin-deep mud and helping pull heavily-laden carts through mud so thick and viscous it almost seemed alive and hungry.

They rounded a wide bend and found the road climbing up the steepest hill Josdah had ever seen. One of their guides, yelling over the noise of the rain, said that this was the Jarkut Highlands, and the final leg of the journey. Once over the hill the land flattened out and was an easy walk to Orlandaar.

Easy enough to say. For now, though, it meant a long hard climb up a steep and slippery slope in the pouring, driving rain. As they climbed, Josdah found his thoughts returning to the conversation that had set him on this mad errand to begin with.

----

He'd been resting. The last job had gone well. The way you hoped they all went. In. out. Quick. Easy. There'd been a sticky moment or two with the Earl's Spymaster and her men, but nothing Josdah hadn't been able to handle. And then a short trip to the pre-arranged safe-house in the garrison-town of Jaarl and now resting. Both the mind and the body. Alone. Bathed in darkness. In absolute quiet.

And then the heavy thud of knocks on his apartment door. Here where no one knew him. Here where the only people who could find him knew better than to interrupt his meditations. Someone was intruding on his silence and his repose.

Here...

Spoiler

Show

Welcome to End of Days! Thanks for putting up with my endless rounds of notes and workshops. I hope you find the results worth the wait.

We're starting you all in media res here. On the way to Orlandaar, in the rain, and then we'll play through the initial assignment in a flashback. And then we'll get you into the town after that. Cool?

Any questions, you know where to find me.

[theterran]

Sighing inwardly, Josdah slowly stands and soaks-in the darkness one last time. So much for peace of mind he thinks.

Stretching, Josdah fumbles slightly while lighting a candle, burning the tip of his finger slightly in the process. With the flame lit, the gleam of his weapon presents an eerie effect across the walls, which draws his attention to the weapon. Considering it briefly, he thinks better and leaves it where it lay, reasoning, Only a handful of people know I'm here, and I doubt they would appreciate a weapon being brandished in their face, nor would I like the way they show their disapproval... Josdah reaches back to touch his shoulder blade, running his burnt finger over the thin scar and getting caught in a thought, if just for a moment.

Come back to reality, he finishes the thought, ...if it's anyone else, they'll feel the force of my 'disapproval'. A sly smile drifts across Josdah's face, if only for a moment before he composes himself and finishes closing the gap between himself and the door.

Pulling the door open, he glares menacingly out of it.

[truemane]

The door swings open and, in the flickering shadowy torch-light in the hallway he sees a short, slight figure dressed in ornate leather armour covered in a fine-fur line cloak and well-made boots and gloves. His face and features are is sharp but his eyes are round and wide, giving his expression a somewhat childlike, innocent air.

This man was familiar. His name was Kurlin and he was the chamberlain and front-man for Josdah's patron. Although Josdah hadn't seen that much of him, and heard of him only by rumour and speculation, by all accounts his eyes were the only innocent thing about him.

"Young Master Josdah," he said, his voice light and easy but with a slick-smooth undertone that made it feel like a conspiratorial hiss, "I apologize for interrupting your repose. I have come at the bid of Lord Ja'We. He wishes to see you this evening before the moon is full-risen."

[theterran]

Josdah holds his glare while the man talks. Inwardly contemplating how much pain Ja'We would bring if he "silenced" this one.

Sighing outwardly as Kurlin finished, deciding not to let his mood and lack of rest govern his actions, Josdah turns and walks back into the house, wanting to sit down.

"Kurlin, you are far more cunning than I give you credit for." Josdah says over his shoulder, in a very flat, but as pleasant a tone as he can muster.

Reaching his chair, Josdah turns and sits, facing Kurlin, then continues, if somewhat mockingly.

"Ja'We tires of his lapdogs quickly, yet you have managed to stay around long enough for me to actually learn your name."

Josdah politely smiles, and gently pulls his sword off of the nearby table, pretending to examine the blade.

"Tell me, Kurlin, do you enjoy playing fetch for your master?"

[truemane]

Kurlin smiles, once, twice, three times in quick succession, as though he were trying them on to see if they fit and deciding one by one they did not. Instead he settles for the wary, flittering, sideways look of man who always has one eye on someone's purse and the other on the nearest exit.

"I serve my Master as I must, as do we all," he says, most of the smooth bluster gone from his tone, "And Lord Ja'We has more lapdogs than I and he tires of them all just as easily." As he speaks he locks Jasdah with a gaze than leaves little doubt as which 'lapdog' he is referring to.

[theterran]

Josdah rises out of his chair, coldly staring back at Kurlin.

With a flash of steel, the point of Josdah's blade is at the throat of Kurlin.

"You would do well to remember that some lapdogs have teeth," Josdah says in a sardonic tone.

Holding his cold gaze for a moment in silence, an unnatural smile comes to Josdah's face, and he lets the blade fall from Kurlin's throat.

After an audible sigh, Josdah continues.

"Tell me one thing though Kurlin, how does it feel to be religated to fetching things, knowing that you'll never be entrusted with anything more than being a messenger? Or do you yet still have delusions of adequacy?"

[truemane]

Kurlin's face grows dark and sullen. His mouth pulls down in a frown that is almost, but not quite, a pout. His eyes dart to the floor and stay there. His shoulders slump even as he freezes in place at the touch of Josdah's sword.

"This is unjust," he says, his voice as low as his face, "I've done nothing to earn your hostility, young Master. I've been sent on an errand by my Lord and yours. Obey or not. Go or not. Stay or not. As you will. But leave me perform my duty in peace."

[theterran]

Josdah grin manically. Obviously pleased that he was able to rattle Kurlin so quickly.

"So quick to cry 'foul'...

a shame...really...

I was hoping that you wouldn't tire of our little 'game' so quickly."

Grin fading, Josdah sighs.

"And as far as doing 'nothing' to earn my hostility, you interrupted my peace and quiet, but, so as to not bring you to tears, I will acknowledge that it wasn't your fault."

Josdah sighs again, shaking his head at the situation.

Quickly gathering his positions from around the house, a thought enters his head. Ja'We should really find lackeys with more of a backbone...

The thought made him smile again as he came back again to the center of the room, things in their pack, sword within reach at a moments notice.

"Lead on..."

[truemane]

The town of Jaarl is old. In this part of the Nation they say such a place is 'deep,' that the history and the lives of those that have come before lie on the ground like invisible ash and to walk its streets is to wade through the years that have come and gone.

The streets are wide and level and laid out in the near grid-like pattern that older towns in the Nation almost always seem to acquire, as planned districts and mapped-out neighbourhoods replace the haphazard growth that characterizes new urban areas. Older towns have a decidedly different feel than newer: they seem quieter and more muted no matter how busy they are. There's a palpable sense that everything you could say has been already said and everything you can do has already been done and your every word and deed is nothing but the shadow of the one who's done it first.

But for all that, Jaarl is still a busy town. It lies on the edges of the coastal highlands, nestled against the foothills of the steep ground that rises from the northern coast. It is the seat of both the Provincial Government and of the Regional Duke, and so there is a sizeable military presence to go along with all of the necessities of such a massive political apparatus.

Kurlin leads the way in silence, turning this way and that without a word or even a glance behind him to ensure his charge is even following him. After a time he enters a narrow staircase that leads up and into the wall surrounding one of the Estate Districts that cluster around the Ducal castle and shows a document to the grim-looking guards at the stout iron gate. Josdah figures he could take either man in a straight-up fight. Maybe even both together, depending on how well they fought as a team.

The gate leads to a cobblestone path that winds up a slight hill to a large palatial homestead surrounded by orchards. Into the home they went, past more grim-looking guards and into room at the rear of the building. Two men stand on either side of the door, each with a long, slim curved sword at their hip. Josdah finds them harder to read, but he suspects that he would find either one a challenge in a one-on-one confrontation and he further suspects that the two in tandem would be beyond him.

Kurlin leads the way into the room, where Lord Ja'We sits behind a desk made of some kind of ornately carved stone. The desk is neatly laid out with papers, most of which are covered in close, neat writing and the remainder appear to be maps.

Ja'We looks up as the pair enters. Behind him stands a tall, lithe man with close-cropped hair wearing robes so shockingly white they almost seem to glow in the low light. The man stands and says nothing as Kurlin walks to the centre of the room and bows.

"Lord, I present to you Josdah, as is your will."

Ja'We nods and makes an absent gesture. Kurlin offers the man in the white robes an evil look and slinks from the room in silence. Ja'We stands and walks around the desk toward Josdah.

"I'm afraid I must apologize for the abruptness of my summons," he says, his voice as soft as liquid silk, "But the need was great, and my stable of operatives sadly bereft of sufficient men with your skills."