[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[LCP]

It wasn't far to the Heartless Man. Pieter split off at the crossroads, heading for the river and Mother Yilese's cottage. The other three went back into the inn.

---

1

Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

The inside of the Heartless Man was no longer quite as deserted as before. People could be heard moving around at the back of the building – the woman Illiiya had told to spread the word must have done her job.

A man of advanced years was the only figure moving in the common hall, dumping a few more bundles of wood into the hearth. He looked up when the door opened, and did not look away. Illiiya found it hard to tell whether his stare was hostile, or just simple-mannered.

Before long, the sounds of a familiar voice drifted to their ears. A continuous stream of words issuing from his mouth as he walked, Aloysius Faulebrand entered through the kitchen door. He had Leopold in tow, the young man shadowing his father like a drover behind a noisy ox.

“...'re not like you and me, Leopold. They're accustomed to their rest.” Leopold shut the kitchen door behind them, the handle rattling a little. “Give him some credit, he was up in the tower all night.”

“He wasn't the only one,” answered Leopold, sullenly. He stopped as he caught sight of Ithelus and the others, but his father kept burbling on.

“It's not like he even knows the Hofstaders, Leopold. Why should he come? Now where young miss Verloren has got to, that I'd like to know. If she's going to say this is still her village, the least she could do is...” Catching sight of the elves at last, Aloysius stopped too. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh.”

“Excuse me,” said the miller, vanishing abruptly towards the Hofstadter's room. Half apologetic, half not, Leopold trailed after him.

A few other villagers filtered out into the common hall before the Faulebrands reappeared. Leopold lingered near the back wall, not seeming to want to confront Ithelus at this time: Aloysius had no such reservations, coming forward to the centre of the room and sitting down with the other Hohlesbruckers. He looked sombre; his relentless flow of words had stopped.

For a while, Aloysius looked at the table. Then at his hands. Looking up, he hesitated for a few moments more before he spoke.
“How many others are ill?” he asked, in a quiet voice.
A woman with greying hair pulled up in a bun behind her head began to count off names on her fingers. The old man who had been re-stocking the fireplace chipped in here and there.

“That makes... nineteen, by my count.”
“Twenty-one,” said Aloysius. The woman looked confused and started counting again, but Aloysius shook his head in a weary fashion. “Mrs Hofstadter... and my wife.” He looked down at the table again. “Johanna started coughing this morning.”
The old man gave a kind of skew-faced frown.
“A cough could be anything...”
“She's been looking after Alexa,” said the miller, sharply. “Just as Hanna was looking after her husband.” He looked up at the old man speaking to him. “You think I should just... hope that it's not?”

A short silence reigned. Faulebrand seemed strangely lost.

“Wulli was a healthy man,” he said. “Never seemed sickly to me. How'd it carry him off so fast?” He paused. “Alexa hasn't...”

The words wouldn't seem to come, so he changed them.
“Alexa's stayed with us so far. And she fell ill before he did.”

“We should bury Wulli,” said the old man. “Poor Hanna oughtn't have that thing in the inn any longer than she must.”
“We should burn him,” said Leo, from the back of the room. He looked like he regretted it as soon as attention turned to him. “...The pestilence might still be in him,” he explained, apologetically. “We ought to make sure it doesn't spread.”

---

1

Pieter

The path to Yilese's hovel seemed to Pieter more overgrown than before. It was as if the trees of the forest were closing ranks, trying to squeeze the little cottage and its contents back to the civilised side of the river.

Reaching the clearing where the building stood, Pieter stopped, looking it over. An oblong mound of disturbed earth lay just in front of the garden, marking where Yilese had been buried. A crude wooden marker had been hammered down into the loam, marked with an illiterate man's approximation of a “Y”.

The garden itself was in a dreadful state. Slugs or snails had been at the plants growing there, and every leaf was a ragged patchwork of holes. Pieter could see the silvery trails twisting in spirals around the weathered old fenceposts. As he walked towards the door, he heard a woodlouse go crunch underfoot.

The door was unlocked. Wiping the remains of the crawling thing off the underside of his boot, Pieter let himself in.

Contents of Yilese's cottage

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• A narrow old bed with a straw mattress, hard as rocks, and a huge pile of moth-eaten blankets.
• A broad selection of black iron cooking utensils, including a dented kettle.
• Bundles of dried herbs, hanging on hooks in a splintered old cupboard. Pieter is no herbalist but he can see that no two bundles are the same.
• Underneath the herbs, two rows of mismatched bottles full of ointments and medicines. All are dark glass, and most aren't particularly clean. There are eight of them in total, with quite a few conspicuous gaps where some have been removed. Almost all the bottles are unlabelled; only one bears a yellowing parchment tag with “A Cure For Toothaches” written on it in a crabbed hand.
• Four or five small cloth bags of seeds, and a selection of grubby tubers.
• A single loaf of black bread, with a single bite taken out of it. It is rock-hard and stale; mould is beginning to grow on the crust.
• A set of fearsome implements that Pieter recognises as tools of the midwife's trade.
• A hammer and a small chisel.
• A broom, a rake and a spade.
• An iron horseshoe hanging upside-down from a nail over the lintel in the kitchen, and a withered bundle of witchbane suspended over the back door.
• A pair of hobnailed boots, crusted with old mud.
• A box of candles, and a little Shallyan charm hung in a niche in the wall. It looks like it is carved from an antler, and shows the design of the bleeding heart, wrapped in thorns.
• A number of indoor plant-pots. Many of the plants look sad and wilted; almost all of them look strange to Pieter. The pots have been improvised from all manner of objects; one by the front door is the open-topped skull of an Ungor.
• A bundle of curled horns, suspended from a nail in the wall by a leather strap. They could belong to farm animals or Beastmen.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter

The initiate did not like to be alone on this side of the bridge. How could people live with the forest besieging them from so close? They should have put their fields all around the village so that no house was less than fifty yards from the woods. No, make that a hundred. The wilds were the great enemy that civilization had to vanquish. Were humans smart, they would have built one big city that expanded as their numbers grew, not hundreds of tiny villages connected by dirt roads.

Pieter grumbled under his breath at the sight of Yilese's unlabeled bottles. He opened them one by one and sniffed them, trying to recognize some of the plants he had seen used as medicine in the past; he would not be taking anything he did not know. He did the same with the dried plants and even the potted plants.

That done, he searched for whatever Yilese had been using as bandages. After a brief hesitation, he 'borrowed' Yilese's Shallyan charm, reasoning that the living needed it more than the dead. Almost as an afterthought, he also took the box of candles. He left quietly, as if afraid of waking up Yilese's spirit on the way out.

He made a brief stop at the Shallyan shrine and left the box of candles on the ground for the benefit of anyone who came here to pray; there would be many. He lit a candle of his own to thank Shallya for Her mercy on Lothar.

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50% chance of lighting each of my matches. 2 means success.

(d2)[2]
(d2)[2]
(d2)[1]
(d2)[1]
(d2)[2]

He turned back towards the inn.

[Exeson]

Ithelus spoke up, 'I'm sick as well, although not with the same sickness as the rest. The demon spewed over me with pestilence. Lucky I'm not dead yet.'

'As for our late innkeeper, If his wife has no objections i agree the body should be burned.'

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar rubbed at the skin below his eye. He looked grey and tired, but he wasn't sick. When Ithelus spoke, despite their closeness and friendship, it took a great effort not to flinch away from the elf. He stepped forward, hesitantly.

"Herr Faulebrand - it might be that your wife and Wulli," he nodded to the woman who had counted the names, "these others - um - they might not have the same sickness as Alexa. No-one else seems to have what Alexa has - I saw Wulli at th' end, and, uh - he... Um, he doesn't - didn't - look... as bad... in the same way. As Alexa."

The soldier looked around the room, the survivors of a dying village looking at him - a man back from the dead, in the company of a diseased elf and a mad one, and his voice died in his throat.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya tried. She tried her hardest to bite her tongue, but it came free regardless.

It is NOT the same. The sick bride has something entirely different. Her illness is a curse brought down on her to disfigure and torture. Out of jealousy! Illiiya said aloud, her fists clenched tightly at her side, I would wager that this sickness? The one rending this town and all in it? This is the price paid for calling on the lord of flies! Every soul will be taken as payment for one act of spite! She may even regret it now... but it changes NOTHING!

The elven woman shook slightly as she struggled to reign in her anger. Her fists relaxed, leaving small marks where he nails had dug into her palm. She took a short breath before continuing, barely maintained restraint in her voice.

The longer this is dragged out, the more who will die. It may even be too late to stop it now.

[LCP]

Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

The villagers shrank from Ithelus' confession of sickness. Aloysius was the only one who didn't flinch away from the elf, as if he were a leper - it seemed odd to see the self-important miller so unmoved by concern for his own health.

If Ithelus' clammy face frightened them, Illiiya's words frightened them still further. At the words "lord of flies", most of the villagers started making religious signs across their hearts, half a dozen voices launching into superstitious benedictions with each out of step with the next.

"Mother an' daughter preserve me."

"Ulric's blessin's."

"Hammer guard"

"On the holy horns"

Aloysius looked like he was listening, but Leo's face was dark. When the muttering came to a stop, he stepped forwards.

"That's not true," he said. "The darkness is out there. We saw it! In the woods." He met Illliiya stare for stare. "Esther's suffered as much as anyone. More than most of us." He trailed off a little weakly. "I don't know why you keep... banging on..."

Aloysius looked sideways at his son. An external thought seemed to be crossing the miller's mind, but he kept it to himself.

"What's your proof, elf?" he asked. There was no attempt at manners there, but neither did he seem as confrontational as he had in their previous clashes. "If Alexa's been poisoned, why's - why isn't it done?" He looked back towards the rear of the inn. "Wulli's dead and she's... not. Only difference I can see is the doctor cared for her and not for him."

---

1

Pieter

Many of the unlabelled bottles smelt of alcohol, although there were other things carried in the scent. Others stank to awfully, and Pieter wondered if it was possible they were spoiled. The dried herbs mostly smelt of dust, and of their identity Pieter hadn't the first clue. Not only was he no herbalist, he was a city boy. The only plants with which he was genuinely familiar were the weeds that grew between the cobbles of Nuln. He recognised a bundle of dock-leaves, and that was it.

In searching for bandages, he had a little more success; he found some in a box with a bronze catch, under where the midwife's tools were laid out. A small roll of coarse linen bandages had been tucked away as if they were a precious thing, along with a bone needle and a spool of what looked like cat-gut thread. There was something else in the box too - a little wooden object, like a ball for a children's game. Turning it over in his hands, Pieter examined the faint traces of colour on its surface, before realising it was a false eye.

The Shallyan icon was meant to be hung on a wall, a little clumsy to wear - but it fit in Pieter's pocket well enough. Secure in his new acquisitions, he started back.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar scratched the back of his head. "Doesn' matter," he muttered, his voice growing louder. "Sod proof. I'm sick of watchin' you good folk die. I'm sick of losin' me eye an' watchin' Lord Verloren get cut down an' being all bleedin' an' not able to stop it. I'm sick of good, hospitable men like Wulli dryin' out, coughin' an' hackin' until there ain't nothin' left."

He set his jaw and the grinding of his teeth was audible.

"We've got at least part of what's causin' it, locked up in that damn cellar up on the hill. We tried to stop the other part, out there - and it took my soddin' eye and your lord." He gestured at his wrecked face, then around the room. "An' half yer kin. I'm prayin' an' prayin' to the Daughter that she can stop the Fly's workin' an' in the meantime we've got His agent, locked up nice an' tight."

The soldier rested his hand on one of his swords and glared at Faulebrand. "I dunno why he was keepin' your daughter alive in misery, but he sure as the North is dark wasn' doin' it outta kindness. The Lord o' the Flies rotted kindness outta that man's heart long ago."

"Only thing to take care o' rot is fire."

[LCP]

"And I suppose you're the man to light the torch?"

Aloysius seemed to have become the spokesman for the villagers. Their lord was dead, and his daughter was up in her tower, but they still had the manor.

"How's he causing it then, Mr Fischer?" asked Aloysius. He sounded tired. "Like you say, he's locked away. Locked away because you and your friends convinced us he should be." He looked towards the door. "Hasn't stopped this sickness from spreading. Hasn't even slowed it down. If we hanged him tomorrow, do you think the sick'd be healed?"

"Reifennen's a physician. He's got books of physick from Altdorf." The miller seemed to have a totemistic regard for the words, as if the name of the capital had a golden aura about it. "That's the kind of doctor who'd see to princes and noblemen. He could save lives."

Aloysius paused. Whether he was convinced by his own words was unclear.

"If they might die with him," chipped in the old Hohlesbrucker with the beard, "they'll surely die without him."

"We've got one dead man already," said the woman, overriding the two men's contemplations. "You ought to deal with him decent first, before you go talking of doctors. Your physician ain't going anywhere."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

A far better question is why you are so determined to claim him innocent. I have never seen humans so hesitant to start a mob and burn someone during a difficult time. Illiiya said coldly, Alexa lingers because she is meant to SUFFER. Who else had reason to curse her? Not a one of you understands the winds or how they work... And the daemons made certain to kill the one human in this village who did. Mr. Waite is gone. Your lord is gone. And now you are fighting to save a man you know nothing about.... why? What is the doctor to you? Were MY loved ones in danger, I would not so quickly discount someone who offered a reason why!

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar's face was red, his teeth ground together - but when Illiiya spoke, he stepped closer to her and put his hand on her arm. "No, Ill. The woman's right." He nodded to her past Faulebrand. "We should send Wulli to the Father before we take up with the doctor."

[LCP]

Lothar, Ithelus & Illiiya

Illiiya's barbed words caused an outbreak of mumbling and muttering, each of the Hohlesbruckers doing his half-hearted best to deflect the question.

“...don't want trouble.”

“...ain't fer us to judge learned men.”

“...where else'll we find a doctor...”

“...no sense in just bein' angry all the time.”

Illiiya remembered the angry crowd who had confronted them the night Ithelus had shot the doctor. They had not been afraid to defend their homes from the threat they saw – but then, most of the men who had led them were dead. A malaise seemed to have settled over these peasants who were left, sapping their will. An old part of her felt nothing but contempt for their listless passivity.

Aloysius seemed the only one for whom it had been an improvement. Usually so full of his own self-importance that it seemed he must burst, he seemed to have had enough air let out of him to see and hear what other people had to say.

“I didn't make my fortune here in Hohlesbruck, you know,” said Faulebrand. “I've been places. Been to Delberz, been to Middenheim. I been to Marienburg, once,” he added, subconsciously slipping halfway into the Hohlesbruck burr he tried to hard to suppress. “I came back here because this is where I was born. I've seen a witch hunt. I don't want to see one here.”

He stood up, still seeming tired. “Come on, then. I'll see if I can get some men together to see to poor Wulli.”

---

1

All

By the time Pieter had returned to the village, it was beginning to cloud over. He could feel occasional specks of rain falling tentatively on his face, as if the sky was still making up its mind about whether rain was a good idea.

A sorry-looking gaggle of villagers had gathered up on the common pasture, near the blackened spot where Pieter had burned the body of Berthold the robber. Some of them had spades and shovels; some of them had bundles of firewood.

Approaching closer, he could see Lothar and the elves among them, along with a covered shape that could only be Wulli's body. Hanna was sitting on a tree-stump, looking blankly into space as one of the other village women comforted her. Pieter recognised the second woman's face – it was Lisbeth, the woman whose charm he had returned on their first day in the village. He was fairly certain her husband Kaspar had been among those crushed or strangled by the daemon tree.

Aloysius Faulebrand was standing among the villagers, his short, portly figure seeming a much stranger focal point than Mils' tall, melancholy frame had been. Leopold was standing a little way off, having a heated and somewhat circular discussion with a trio of peasants.

“We need to burn him,” Leopold was saying, a slight edge of exasperation to his voice. “We need to burn him so the corruption doesn't spread.”
One of the peasants sniffed.
“I always heard it was bad smells, spread the plague,” the man said. Another one looked sideways at the covered body and surreptitiously put his hand over his nose and mouth. “Burnin' him'll make smoke. Lookit the wind.” He pointed up at the treetops of the surrounding forest. “That's blowin' right over the village, that is.”
“We should bury 'im face-down,” said a third man with a spade. “Like they do in Stirland.” He was old, his face a craggy mass of wrinkled lines, but his voice was surprisingly gravelly and deep. When the others looked to him for an explanation, it took him a good few seconds to respond. “So if he tries to come back, he'll just dig down into the earth.”
The third villager looked around, possibly enjoying the awkward silence he had created.
“Besides, burnin's no way to send a decent man to Morr.”

OOC:

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In the intervening time that was skipped, Aloysius rounded up more villagers and sent someone to let Esther know. Esther has not yet arrived. Anything the group back at the village want to have said or done in the intervening time is fine, as always.

[-Sentinel-]

“Besides, burnin's no way to send a decent man to Morr.”

"I disagree," said Pieter, joining the low-spirited villagers gathering on the pasture. "I, for one, wouldn't want to rot and decompose down there, in the dark, and especially not face-down. I'd rather turn to ashes, be scattered by the winds and become one with the world. Seems much more dignified to me." He shrugged. "You know Wulli better than I do. But I agree with Leopold, I think burning works better to keep the disease from spreading."

He sighed and watched the ceremony, thoughtful. He would gladly bring comfort to Hanna and all the other wives who had lost a husband; though he was no Morrite, it was still part of his duties as a priest and a human being. But he found it hard to even look at them in the eyes, as he felt partly responsible for all the recent deaths. If he could re-live his time in Hohlesbruck all over again, there were a hundred things he would do differently... Ever since their arrival, he and his friends had only been losing ground to the enemy, inch by inch. Hohlesbruck was unlikely to recover.

What had Illiiya said to him, but a few days ago, after he tried to talk Leopold out of the duel? You're a good man, Pieter, but you can't save everyone. She was right, of course. But that was no reason to stop trying, and certainly no grounds to absolve oneself of mistakes that cost lives.

Gods, he felt so weary.

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Pieter recognised the second woman's face – it was Lisbeth, the woman whose charm he had returned on their first day in the village. He was fairly certain her husband Kaspar had been among those crushed or strangled by the daemon tree.

@ Pip: Funny that, in both of your games, my character is arguing whether to burn or bury bodies. This says something about WFRP in general, and your games in particular.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya gave a weary sigh. She felt as if she was trying to push through a wall with both hands.

Do as you please then... I have said what I had to say...

With a defeated look to her, Illiiya went quiet, taking up a place at Lothar's side. Even if her own group agreed with her, these people never would. She knew not what else she could do.

[LCP]

The wrangling over how they should dispose of Wulli's body continued as the others stood waiting in the sporadic drizzle. After a while, Pieter saw a lone figure in a fine rain-cloak traipsing up the slope towards them. Talberg looked tired – gathering his cloak up with his hands to stop it trailing on the earth, he took a seat on an old stone. From his face, he was either deep in thought or still half-asleep.

After a while longer, Esther appeared. Accompanied by the manor household, she took her place next to the assembled Faulebrands with a silent dignity, her moth-eaten mourning clothes seeming singularly appropriate. Hearing the interminable discussion about what should be done with the body, she brought it to an end, declaring that Wulli should be buried like his fathers.

Soons, spades were biting into the dark earth, piling clods of loam beneath one of the solitary trees that grew on the common. The assembled watchers looked on in silence as the pit grew deeper.

Someone cleared their throat discreetly next to Illiiya. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Aloysius Faulebrand standing next to her.

“...What you said earlier,” he said, in a voice low enough that only the two of them could hear. “About... jealousy.”

He looked sideways over at where Esther stood, the breeze tugging at her veil. Her servants keeping a respectful distance, the young woman looked like a statue in a cemetery, standing with her head bowed and her hands folded in front of her.

“You're sure?” he asked. It was queer to hear the fat man sound so genuinely unsure of himself. “What does your... your magic tell you?”

He was speaking in barely more than a whisper. Looking past him, Illiiya could see Leopold and Ricard, keeping their distance from each other a little way to the miller's left. Both seemed completely oblivious to their conversation, their eye fixed on the digging.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

I... Illiiya paused a moment, wondering if it was worth lying to the man. He had never done her any wrong, and for some reason dishonesty struck her as cruel.

The winds do not speak of guilt. She explained to him, voice hushed but grim, I can only see how heavy the winds of death are hanging here. If this is not stopped, everyone here may waste away. The shrine was all that was keeping it away.

She gave the heavy-set man an almost pleading look, as if he was the only one who would listen to her. He might be, in fact.

Someone called the doctor here. Someone sold this village to the lord of filth. I saw the note between them. If it was falsehood, who else here had reason to call this upon your girl?

[LCP]

Aloysius didn't answer, but looked harder at Esther. In the glitter of the miller's beady eyes, Illiiya thought she saw a reflection of the same reflexive, creeping suspicion that she was so familiar with when directed at her. It was almost strange to see it directed at someone else.

Jorgen Hass, the nearest thing the village had had to a professional carpenter, was among the dead they had left in the north woods. Bereft of a coffin, Wulli's body was lowered into the earth with a roll of blankets as a shroud, and a few unlearned prayers said over his grave. When the villagers' ceremony was said and done, the men with spades turned back to their work, and the crowd began to drift away.

Esther was one of the first to leave, heading off in the direction of the manor with her paltry household in tow. Many of the villagers were heading back to the Heartless Man, apparently intent on some kind of wake - but Aloysius Faulebrand was not among them. Pausing only for a few discreetly murmured words with Ricard, he headed back towards his own house.

With the crowd dispersing, Pieter noticed a pair of familiar shapes crouched on the branches of the gallows tree. Two crows were watching the diggers with a patient, hungry regard. Perhaps they were hoping the Hohlesbruckers would leave the job half-finished. Somehow, Pieter felt sure they were the same two birds who had watched him cremate the robber. This was probably their tree.

OOC:

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Can I assume you guys will return to the Heartless Man to wait for your rendezvous with Mrs Flycher?

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter watched Esther walk away, wondering what might be going on in her head.

You could have prevented this the very first day annd you know it.

He passed near the crows and gave them the sign of Ranald (crossed fore and middle fingers) with his left hand rather than his right; a gesture used by Ranaldite cultists to recognize each other, as laymen considered it unlucky. "Show me the way, brothers, for I fear I've lost it," he whispered. "I don't see how to end this without offending our master with even more violence." He paused, staring at the birds for a moment.

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I'm well aware these are Nurgle crows, not Ranald crows, but Pieter isn't. The bit about crossed fingers on the left hand is mentioned on p.88 of Tome of Salvation.

I hope these aren't the villain's animal spies again, because that's just unfair.

The initiate walked over to Talberg and cleared his throat. "There's something I must tell you... I don't know if it's useful to us, but I think it bears mentioning." He lowered his voice. "There was a banner inside the tomb, laid out neatly on the wall; a golden panther's head with a collar, over a cross, like the one you described to me last night. As far as we know, the knight who took the magic sword and became... that thing we just met, was the only knight who entered the tomb."

He paused. "It's not a big stretch to conclude that, yesterday, we fought what used to be Reinhardt Anhame."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Unless his name gives us power over him, that helps us not. Illiiya said with a soft sigh, And no one here will listen to us. I don't know what to do, Pieter. I promised the goddess I would not abandon these people but.... I am lost.

OOC:

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No real reply needed, though it would be nice. I'm game for advancing things to the meeting with Ms Flycher.

[Exeson]

Ithelus watched the ceremony in silence, mulling his thoughts over. Pieter had made it clear that he would have no part in hurting the doctor, and Illiiya was far too unstable to risk bringing with him in the middle of the night. Lothar, however, seemed to have decided much the same as him, the doctor would need some encouragement to talk.

Moving over the the ex soldier the elf lowered his voice, 'We need to have a talk about our kind Doctor. It seems that a certain amount of force will be required to gain the truth.'

[LCP]

“What?” asked Ricard, looking up at Pieter with the bleary expression of one who'd not had much sleep. He looked like Pieter felt.

It took the nobleman a few moments to parse what Pieter had said; when he did, the change in his expression was startling. The colour drained from his face like water out of a bathtub.

“What – no,” he said. “No, that can't be.” He scrambled for other explanations. “I mean, how could – how can you be sure? Even if it was his company, he might be one of the others – one of the dead ones...”

Talberg was clearly in the grip of a sudden terror.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar had his hands clasped before him, silently watching the burial. There was the shadow of an old grief across the soldier's face - a shadow that men often bore, who returned from war.

He listened to Ithelus's whisper with no change in his expression, then nodded. "Aye. I'll keep the others distracted, if you want to go have a quiet sequence of words with him."

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Lothar got the hint that Ith wants his help, but is quietly trying to insinuate that he doesn't want to go himself. Poor man lost an eye; needs to sleep.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter had not been expecting such a strong reaction from the pistolier. "Well... Anhame was the banner bearer, wasn't he? So unless he got replaced..." His voice trailed off. He went on: "I'm not sure this changes anything. There mustn't be much left of Anhame in there. You saw that knight; it survived Lothar's sword through the heart. It's nothing human." He raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Was the situation between you two... even worse than I was led to believe?"

[LCP]

"Well... Anhame was the banner bearer, wasn't he? So unless he got replaced..."

“Someone else could have picked it up!” said Ricard. “One of the beasts could have taken it as a trophy! I – I didn't see the banner, how can you even be sure it's the right one...”

On that last point, even he sounded like he was having a difficult time convincing himself. Forcing himself to close his mouth, he stopped talking before his voice could rise into a shout. People would see.

"I'm not sure this changes anything. There mustn't be much left of Anhame in there. You saw that knight; it survived Lothar's sword through the heart. It's nothing human." He raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Was the situation between you two... even worse than I was led to believe?"

Ricard gave a hollow, croaking laugh – a nervous, fearful sound. “You didn't know him. Honour, that was Anhame. Honour this and honour that. Ought to have been born Bretonnian.” He stood up to his full height, looking over Pieter's shoulder. “What do you think he'd say if he knew about... if he knew what had happened to the engagement?”

Talberg swallowed.

“What if he's come back for me?”

[-Sentinel-]

"Hmmm." Pieter thought about it. "Not sure the knight's in a position to listen to Hohlesbruck gossip. Besides, it's got a weird way of fighting for Esther's honour, what with killing her father. No, I'm pretty sure that thing has either few memories of its life, or little in the way of free will."

Was Talberg's fear a manifestation of his guilt over the broken engagement? It was something, at least.

[LCP]

"Oh?" asked Ricard, in a biting, brittle voice. "Oh, you're pretty sure, are you? How's that? The study of, of... of daemon knights, is that something you teach you when you're a cobbler's son?"

Pieter's words had clearly done little to alleviate Ricard's fears.

"I was engaged to Esther, and Esther fell ill. I get engaged to Alexa, and Alexa falls ill. And now you want me to believe that that... thing, out at the barrow, the knight of Chaos, that is Reinhardt Anhame, and that there is no connection? That it's just, what, his armour?" Pale-faced and wide-eyed, he leaned in close to Pieter, trading a shout for a wild whisper. "You're not making any sense!"

Stepping back, Ricard breathed out. Thinking for a moment, he raised one hand, one finger outstretched towards Pieter. Illiiya could see that it was shaking a bit.

"No," he said, clutching at a thought that passed through his head. "No, you're right. It killed Mils. I was there. It could have gone for me. It went for him." He repeated the words like a mantra. "It's someone else! Someone else took the banner. That's what they do, when the banner falls. They have to pick it up."

Turning away, he began to stride down the slope back as fast as his legs would carry him, as if physically afraid of whatever counter-argument Pieter would muster.

"It's not him!" he called back over his shoulder. "It's not! It's not him."

A few of the villagers who had lingered watched him go with quizzical expressions. This was strange behaviour even for a nobleman.

[-Sentinel-]

"Oh?" asked Ricard, in a biting, brittle voice. "Oh, you're pretty sure, are you? How's that? The study of, of... of daemon knights, is that something you teach you when you're a cobbler's son?"

"Candlemaker's son," murmured Pieter, still trying to maintain the lie of the Hoch family from Altdorf.

"I was engaged to Esther, and Esther fell ill. I get engaged to Alexa, and Alexa falls ill. And now you want me to believe that that... thing, out at the barrow, the knight of Chaos, that is Reinhardt Anhame, and that there is no connection? That it's just, what, his armour?"

There was a connection, Pieter opened his mouth to say, but the pistolier was clearly in no state to listen, and walked away almost immediately. The Ranaldite had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Were they losing one of maybe three people in Hohlesbruck who stood any kind of chance against the knight?

"Get some rest," he called after the young nobleman. "Of all those who survived the battle, you're the one people will listen to. Like it or not, you're the closest we have to a leader."

Yeah, I don't like it either.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar twisted his head, watched the nobleman flee the scene.

"Hrn."

"Of all those who survived the battle, you're the one people will listen to. Like it or not, you're the closest we have to a leader."

"Hah."

Mouth twisted into an expression halfway between a sneer and a smirk, the one-eyed soldier returned to watching the burial.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya watched the young man as he went off on a frantic rant that would have made her proud.... were she the type to do such things. Frustrated as she was, she found little amusement in his sudden reaction, simply narrowing her eyes and giving a weary sigh.

Sometimes I think you are the only human alive without at least a touch of madness... Illiiya said to Pieter in a deadpan tone, Some use he will be, hmm?

[-Sentinel-]

"Hah."

Mouth twisted into an expression halfway between a sneer and a smirk, the one-eyed soldier returned to watching the burial.

Pieter gave Lothar a tired smile. "I think you should be in charge, but convincing the locals of it is another matter. Oh, by the way, I found this in Yilese's hut..." He handed the soldier the false eye and shrugged. "If you feel you need it. I'd recommend waiting for the eye socket to heal, though."

Sometimes I think you are the only human alive without at least a touch of madness... Illiiya said to Pieter in a deadpan tone

The initiate snorted. "My sanity's questionable. I'm still here, am I not? Morsleek's bell must have messed with my head."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar rolled the ball between his fingers, staring at it for a long time. "Hmm." He looked up at Pieter, his mouth twisted into an unreadable expression. "I'll... consider it."

Putting the ball away in a pouch, his hands busied themselves instead with lighting his pipe.