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Turn 167.0: Rendhuran Klest

Posted: 12/1/01

Emma smiles back at the baker and his wife, drawing out her departure by appearing to fidget with her pack and the loaf of bread. In reality, she watches the action across the street, worried for her friends and prepared to take action if necessary. Seeing Storm already cuffing his daggers, her anxiety increases a notch as she knows combat could quickly ensue if the Caerloon soldiers press the issue.

Crayne looks at the soldier in a manner of annoyance. His previous concerns with just marching into Caerloon as travellers had been confirmed. The group needed some sort of disguise or some sort of story to keep them out of trouble. Furthermore, they should have stayed away from the tavern. Asking the questions they had in such a manner was foolhardy and now they had paid the price. Annoyed with himself Crayne ponders the current situation. He quickly acknowledges that causing any sort of trouble

here could be fatal to the group's plans to travel through Caerloon with as little fuss as possible. He knew that he had charm person at his disposal, and would use it, should it become necessary. However, the group needed some sort of story and they needed it fast.

"We wish for no trouble officer!" Crayne says in reply, "I am just a little startled as to why you would want to question us. We will answer your questions if you think it necessary." This time however, there is a different tone in Crayne's accent. He tries his best to adopt the Caerloon accent. He is careful and tries to be subtle keeping his responses short and to the point. He hopes that the rest of the group do likewise.

Silently, Emma waited to see what the others would do. As long as she remained in place, she could potentially aid them if the guards forgot about her. Of course, how likely would that be? How often does a northern-speaking blonde woman show up in this out of way town wearing a hand-crafted breastplate?

'C'mon guys,' she mentally urges them, 'Think of something. It's too cold to have to draw steel out here...and I really want to stay in a warm bed tonight...'

Hannibal eyes the guards suspiciously and says nothing. He wasn't looking for a fight and would prefer not to have to draw unwarranted attention to the Six at this point. He continues to look around for Emma as well as any other soldiers that may be moving up to flank the group. Otherwise he is quiet and waits...for now.

Storm stands tense, though, as the pro that he is, it's hard to tell. He very slowly takes two daggers--now mostly hidden with his thicker clothing--one on each side from his rear flanks, and cuffs them against his wrists, as he has done before. He is aware that Emma is across the street somewhere, but he doesn't look that way; he knows she sees what's going on, otherwise she would have come back outside. Toward the rear of the party as usual, Storm is fairly sure and safe in his knowledge that he removed his daggers without being noticed, and that Emma, if she's watching, could probably see him.

With this in mind, as the party moves to follow the Caerloon soldiers, Storm tries to send a message to Emma. He first crosses the two daggers briefly behind his back, an old thieves signal to do whatever the next signal is in stealth. He realizes Emma will probably have no idea what it means, but he hopes the somewhat foreboding motion carries a connotation of its own. 'If only it be Hannibal back there...." he thinks, but only for a second as the wish is really futile. He then signals to Emma to follow them by waving one of the daggers in an arcing motion, beckoning her to follow. No sooner has

he done this than he slides the blades back up his shirt-sleaves, again cuffing them against his wrists. He hopes that at least the following part of 'follow with stealth' goes understood. To be separated at a time like this would not be for the best.

'Damn' thinks El as the soldier faces them. 'I should have tied that boy up and left him hanging from the rafters in the stable.' That thought is immediately followed by a muffled curse. 'If only Emma could keep her mouth shut for once! Her royal highness thinks she can ask questions of anyone, anywhere, and get answers!' he thinks furiously. The guilt is quick to strike. Instead he simply scowls at the soldier and clenches his sheathed long sword. Waiting.

Emma frowns as she watches Storm motion with the dagger. She had absolutely no idea how to read the silent gestures he and Hannibal often shared during their scouting activities. Still, the last movement seemed to indicate he wanted her to follow along...but surely not in the open. She would just have to keep her distance to see what these Caerloon lackeys wanted with them. And she would need to be on her guard, too. If they were watching the rest of Rinder's Six, they'd no doubt be looking for her as well. After the party moves indoors, Emma smiles once more at the baker and his wife and opens the door again.

She pulls her scarf tighter around her neck and face, as if to ward off the cold...but in reality, she intends to hide her features from anyone looking for her. Hopefully, her new armor and its bulkiness might pass her off as any other warrior or mercenary...though she'd need to cover the front of it to hide the rather anatomical clues that she was no ordinary fighter. A woman wearing custom-plate would no doubt arouse suspicion. So, she lifted her packages from the baker's shop in front of her and trudged across the street. Nervously, she continues walking past the tavern and then around the entire structure, looking for a rear entrance that might allow her to eavesdrop on whatever conversation the others were about to engage in with the Caerloon officer.

The party follows the officer and his soldiers up the stone steps of the looming building, upon the steps of which the soldiers had been seated hours before. Once inside, the air is warmer. Just inside the doors is a large, tall, atrium-like area. Hanging from the tall ceiling are long tapestries proudly displaying the colors and shields of Caerloon and, presumably, some of the Caerloon royal coats of arms.

The party is led to the right, down a corridor. The stone floor causes each person's footsteps to echo a bit, and there is no talking at the moment, so the clicks are all the more piercing. At the end of the corridor, they are led into a square room, inside of which are two more guards. There is a large wooden table, probably oak, surrounded by nice chairs. The walls are covered in tapestry and curtains, giving the room a somewhat regal look. Sitting at the head of the table is a tall man, dark in complexion, with lengthy black hair flowing down to just below his shoulders. He is clad in a particularly nice breastplate, indicating his station above all others in the room (at least on the Caerloon side!).

"Come, sit," he gestures as the group (sans Emma) enters.

Warily, Canter, Crayne, El, Hannibal, Skandor and Storm do that, filling all but two of the chairs around the table. For a moment there is silence.

"Welcome to the mighty and honorable Kingdom of Caerloon, gentlemen," the man seated at the table says in a deep voice, drawing out the end of the phrase. "I am Klest, and it is I who have brought you here." He then turns to the officer who led the group to this point, "Thank you Captain, that will be all. You may take your men back to patrol, my guards will handle it from here."

The officer, "captain," nods to Klest and snaps his fingers. His four soldiers exit the room, opening up the space considerably.

"Now, let me tell you why I have brought you here," Klest begins again. "We are, as you know, in desperate times. Our kingdom's very existence is threatened and we are fighting on many fronts for survival. There are battles large and battles small, and while in order to live we must fight each, we mustn't let the small battles grow larger, lest we become overwhelmed and desperate moreso.

"You six, here, are the famed 'Rinder's Six.' Hmm? Having infiltrated the north of our kingdom at a time of war, you are standing on the proverbial thin ice." He lets that word hang in the air for a moment, looking around the faces of the men (and elf and dwarf) in the room. "You are no doubt aware of the network of spies maintained by the Kingdom of Rinder and the Knights, even if you are not fully aware of its extent. Do you not think that his majesty the King of Caerloon wouldn't maintain his own such fleet, as it were? The difference being, of course, that our forces are better equipped to locate and follow small bands of spies like yourselves. Not that we would need much help, as you invariably announce your presence in every town and province across the land by word or by blade!"

Klest chuckles a bit, leaning back in his chair, his eyes scanning the curtains behind the opposite end of the table from him, where Crayne and Skandor are seated.

"The point, gentlemen, is this:" he states, growing more serious and leaning forward once again, "You are now in a position of relative powerlessness, and I am correspondingly in a position of increased power. You can be cuffed, stripped bare, and shipped like cattle south to Cahren to be tried and put to death in the King's court for espionage. Do not think I would hesitate to arrange it."

There is a moment of silence in the room. Crayne narrows his eyes, thinking. Canter looks to Hannibal, who glances toward Storm. Where was Emma?!

"Or," Klest continues, grabbing everyone's attention once again, "you can offer me something in exchange for your freedom to return to Rinder, where you will be traded for some of his majesty's own best spies, currently being held and tortured there by the brutish Knights. Offer me something that will afford me the same power as would your heads on platters delivered by my hand to the King of Caerloon."

Meanwhile, outside, Emma bundles herself against the cold. She slowly circles the large stone building, disappearing around the side just as the soldiers return to the front steps to watch over the main road running through town. There doesn't seem to be a door anywhere along the side, but as she turns around the back, she quickly stands herself against the wall and observes the scene: Three carriages, each with four horses and two drivers. They seem to be standing at the ready, as if they were waiting for something. Standing around the carriages, posted about eight- to ten-foot intervals around the perimeter of the area, are armed guards, crossbow in their hands.

'Something big must be happening here,' Emma thinks, looking over the scene, especially the particularly ornate carriage in the middle of the three. 'Someone high up. Is it because of us?'

She continues to look over the area, scanning the rear facade of the building for doors. Indeed, there are three: a large set of two double-doors in the center of the building, just near the carriages. Then there is a single door near the edge of the building on either side, including one just near Emma's position. Smiling, she waits until she is sure that none of the guards is looking in her direction, then she darts into the doorway. With a little effort, and some brute force, she breaks the door open, sending a small white cloud of snow into the building.

She closes the door behind her, hoping that nobody noticed the sound of the door banging open, inside or outside. Then, she observes her new surroundings. It was some kind of small foyer, perhaps six by eight feet, with another door opposite the one through which she had just come. There is a small candle along the wall by that door, providing just enough light for Emma to see what else is in the room: to her right, about six burlap sacks, one of which appears to be spilling grain. Then, eight chests, all closed and locked, save one. It must have been recently opened, because it was--probably accidentally--left open a crack. Emma immediately goes toward it, opening it up with a quiet creaking noise.

Much to her disappointment, Emma finds the chest almost completely empty. All that lies in the bottom are three items: one gold coin, one sheet of parchment, and wrapped in the parchment, a small cylindrical piece of wood, black except for a small ring of red painted on either end. Curious, Emma goes first for the parchment, opening it up and holding it so she can read it by the light of the candle:

"Rendhuran Klest -- Andoran forces continue to advance on Cahra Outpost. Captured and interrogated messengers reveal the Andorans have deciphered his majesty's code and will continue their offensive beyond just Cahra. I fear they will pursue my men and I in our retreat back across the sea. I fear they have the means by which to continue to threaten the King's lands. I fear the Central Kingdom, itself will come under direct attack within weeks, certainly before the dawn of spring. In your last message you alluded to the great power of the Rings of Damacht, and the newly available means to acquiring them. I implore you, Rendhuran, to seize whatever opportunity Nesfharu has granted you, for I fear the power of the Rings of Damacht, yet I fear more that their power may one day be our only means of defeating the Andorans."

The message is signed, but Emma cannot make out the signature, nor the seal, though she does recognize the word "Cahra" in its broken wax. "This may be useful," she whispers to herself, folding up the parchment and placing it in her pocket. She then looks into the chest once more. Picking up the coin, she murmurs, "A tithe to Anhur on behalf of the Kingdom of Caerloon, how uncharacteristically honorable!" Then, with a moment of hesitation, she reaches in for the small wooden object, no more than a foot long and a quarter inch in diameter. 'I don't know what this is,' she thinks, 'but my gut tells me it may be useful someday.'

Suddenly, Emma hears voices and footsteps outside the inner door. She scrambles, putting the wooden object tightly in her belt and re-closing the chest, then positioning herself along the wall next to the inner door, lest someone try to come through. From her position right next to this door, she can hear the conversation on the other side. The voice is instantly familiar: the officer from outside. He and at least two other men (judging from the footsteps in the hall) seemed to be walking away...back toward the center of the building.

She hears the officer say: "I knew it, Mordigen. Rinder's Six. Klest will be pleased with my work today for sure."

"But what will he do with them?" another voice, perhaps Mordigen's, asks.

"Don't ask me, I don't want to know. We do our part, let the Rendhuran do his. You know those Rendhurans...shifty types. We probably wouldn't want to get mixed up in his business anyway."

And with that, the voices are too far away to be heard clearly.

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