Flying is the fastest way to get anywhere, short of Teleportation, and nothing flies faster or further than a Winged Horse.  Well, okay, the Arctic Tern.  And certain species of geese.  Alright, nothing with passengers flies faster or further than a Winged Horse.

But then there is the problem of aerial navigation.  From above, most of Europa in November has a dull brown look to it.  Landmarks are few and far between, and over a long distance, a minor deviation in course can easily result in a flyer missing a target by too far to notice a city.  But Petra has the Dragon’s advice:  follow the river.

The Rhine is one of the great waterways of Europa.  Once, it was the great economic artery of Germania.  Settlements of every size lined its banks.  Several hours into her flight, Petra passes a great city- but she knows it’s not Basilea.  It’s too soon, and no sign of Dragons.  She keeps a distance.  It is the once mighty metropolis of Argentoratum, with sprawling, empty districts lying abandoned beyond the fortress-center of the city, held by the Huns.

Hermod needs to stop to rest a few times, and refill himself, grazing.  Each time, Petra keeps a wary eye, and they leave long before anything or anyone gets too close.

When flying, Hermod stays high and fast, above any chance of interception by Huns on the ground.  The air is cold and clear, and Petra would be frozen without her magic.

Seven hours past their departure from the ridge near Mogontiacum, she finally sees what the Absecon was talking about.  Ahead, the Rhine narrows and bends towards the east.  It seems to split a city in two, with the larger part on the west bank, and the smaller part on the east, which rises to a hill overlooking the river bend.  In the distance, to the south, she can see the peaks of the Alps.  And in the air, the unmistakable shapes of two Dragons, making high, lazy circles above the city.

Soaring high above the land on a winged stallion...about to initiate a chat with, not one, but a pair of dragons...this was what her life had become.

She reckoned that Heolstor was right.  She'd best get used to thinking of herself as something other than a simple Frisian woman.

Composing herself as much as one could for diplomacy with the draconic, she guided Hermod in the Basilean's direction.  Ensuring she and steed were well in open sight, so that no stealth-approach would be construed by them.

Hermod and Petra approach Basilea from the north, and from above.  As they close in, they see more of the city.  It looks very clean… or maybe that’s just the distance and the altitude.  Still, from what Petra has seen of big cities (not much) they tend to look dirtier.

The two Dragons both have scales with the deep yellow-brown gleam of Bronze.  They see Petra and Hermod, well, everyone does, the two are very hard to miss.  But the Dragons break out of their lazy circles and fly towards them.  The distance shrinks, and very soon the two Dragons pass.

Though they consider themselves the pinnacle of living creation, and perhaps they are, Dragons often have a deep respect for the other creatures that embody powerful magic, and Hermod is one of them.  Up in the sky, communication is difficult over the rush of wind, and the Dragons do not wish to humble themselves by resorting to shouting.  They make several close passes, and Petra is sure she saw one of them nod, and then the Dragons descend towards a large building below, looking back towards Petra and Hermod.

The priestess drew a deep breath, as she was able to make out more detail of this pair.

Bronze...metallic...supposedly the dragons possessed of better disposition, compared to the virulent and vicious chromatics.   They were majestic looking creatures, to be sure.

Understanding their intent, Petra had no back off in complying with it. She urged Hermod to begin their descent, toward the building the dragons seemed to have in mind.

Since leaving Frisia, Petra had learned that different regions had distinctive architecture.  It was a mix of local tradition, availability of local materials, and the specific needs.  Basilea had the soaring, bold architecture of the Romans- columns, domes, walls of stone and brick… but an unusual density of large, wide terraces.

The Dragons were aiming for one such terrace, on the river side of a large building.  It was the kind of building that showed its history:  different wings and extensions, clearly added at different times.  The scale of it was enormous.  There were only four lines of windows, but if each marked a floor, the ceiling heights would be at twice the height she usually saw.

Both Dragons set down on the terrace, rapidly folding their wings so that there would be room for Hermod as well- the terrace was big, but with wings outstretched, so were Dragons.  And Winged Horses.

Several Humans and a Gnome came out through doors onto the terrace, even as Hermod set down. For a moment, it looked like maybe they had seen Hermod and were curious, but it is quickly clear that they rushed out to greet the Dragons, and only saw Hermod later.

One of them, a scholarly looking older man in long blue robes, looks at a Dragon.

”Lodi, a Winged Horse!  That’s a remarkable creature.  Have you brought it here?”

The other Dragon makes the Dragon equivalent of a grin.  “We brought it here, because this is the best place for the unusual and remarkable.”  Then the Dragon’s head turns towards Petra.

”Welcome to Basilea.  This is our Library, a place that is very important to us.  I am Hoboken, and that is Lodi.  These others are scholars and custodians here… Berelom, Haura, the Gnome is Pavlot… the others I do not know.”

Although being in the company of two dragons, and not to mention her own fantastical steed, might seem to preclude having any awe remaining for mere buildings, Petra found it was not so.

The scale of this structure was beyond anything built in Fabiranum, her homeland's greatest city.  Or anywhere she had journeyed since leaving.

That any terrace could be built that would support a pair of dragons was by itself a marvel.   But, of course, she was little familiar with Roman lands.  And they were renown as builders amongst Europa's peoples.

Even folk who interacted with dragons on a daily basis were moved by the sight of Hermod, it seemed.  And, indeed, dragons themselves were.  Petra could well understand.  He was a fantastic and beautiful animal. Being. It was still more than a little bewildering that she was his rider.  Or, perhaps, she his passenger, depending how one looked on it.

Petra inclined her head to all, in courteous greeting.  "Greetings, lords, custodians, and scholars of Basilea.  It is a pleasure to visit your renown city.  I am Petra Faust - in service of the Saxon lord, Heolstor Strang, and devoted cleric of the Vanir and Aesir. This flying fellow is called Hermod." 

Briefly, Petra informed them why she had come, and what sorts of activity Heolstor's forces were searching for signs of.

The Dragons look at each other, and exchange some deep, rumbling utterances.  They sound superficially like growls, but Petra can tell instinctively that each sound is laced with meaning, and complex shades of meaning.

The language of Dragons, they say, is beyond any Human, and even a Dragon takes decades to learn it.

But one of the Human scholars on the terrace, Berelom, seems to be following it.

At length he turns to Petra and says, "I am a librarian and not a general, my lady, I know little of the wars with the Huns... only that here, we are safe from it.  The Dragons see to our safety and always have."

Finally one of the Dragons speaks.  "I am afraid, if you have come in search of our aid in war, you will leave empty handed.  The Dragon of Basel has spoken on this; no matter how repellent the Huns, how vile their actions, no."

The other Dragon chimes in.  "You will have no stories that can match those of the Elves, anyway.  We have heard from Elves that survived captivity with the Orcs.  There are several here.  What they tell will tear at your heart.  The Orcs slay Humans and enslave them, and force them to work under their brutal and joyless command, but Elves... the Orcs enjoy seeing them in pain, the way a gourmand enjoys fine wine.  Nothing in the world seems to satisfy Orcs so much as that.  And yet still, for in the face of that, the Dragon of Basel speaks his law; we do not take part in battles"

Berelom speaks again, "My lady, the issue has caused some controversy among the Dragons here.  This is not the best place to speak of it.  Hoboken, is there a reason you brought her here?"

"It seems the best place," the Dragon says.  "I could not allow her to fly straight into the palace!  We are apart from their world, for the most part, but not our library.  Here, we embrace their culture, do we not?"

Berelom nods.  "We are very fortunate that the great Dragon of Basel possesses one passionate interest in the other races," he says to Petra, "and that is their books.  He has collected thousands here, from many lands, and when our emissaries go abroad, they please him by bringing back what written works they can find."

"Indeed," the Gnome says.  "We've been copying several treatises on plants brought back with the Argentus's last venture.  Phileas and Hylensia had a stroke of luck, they brought back a fair trove from a Human wizard, it seems.  You... you don't happen to have a book with you, do you?  It won't change his mind, but it would make him more favorable towards you."

"Ah, no, I fear not.  Garn the timing. I did have one...up until this morning. But it was returned to its previous holder."   In truth, she wasn't certain handing over the book of demonic lore would have been a good idea, anyway.   Though these folk seemed kind enough, she did not know them.

"And, no - I come not asking any aid of you.  Only leave to survey your land.  We have had rumors of the enemy's activity, here.  Though I realize you must guard your territory well, the enemy is far more crafty and resourceful than one might think of orcs.  It would not be the first time they have surprised us in that way."

  "Enemies?" Pavlot the Gnome asks, sounding a little worried.

Berelom looks thoughtful.  "The library does attract many, and we are open to those who bring donations of books, from wherever they may be."

"Orcs do not read books!" the Human woman, Huara, says.

"Maybe some do.  They do have some that can use magic, we know this.  And Humans in their service... it's not unknown.  Maybe even others.  I believe our visitor is thinking of discrete enemies, not the kind that appear in armies."

"Infiltration, from those who support their cause..." Huara considers.

Lodi speaks up, as if suddenly bored and wishing the Humans to settle the matter and stop going on with their speculations.  "One hardly needs to infiltrate," the Dragon says.  "We’ve never closed our borders to those willing to know their place.  Yes, there may well be those here who favor the Huns.  Very possible."

The Dragon gives the equivalent of a shrug, as if to imply, infiltrators may be her concern, but we're secure.

And then the Dragon continues, speaking to :  "If she wishes to know Basel, why don’t you show her some hospitality.  There is a place the Library uses for visiting scholars?"

"Is she a scholar?" Berelom asks.

" She could be," Lodi says.  "And you know the Library has often been used for other Humans of interest, which she is.  She certainly did know how to make a grand entrance."

The other Dragon, Hoboken, adds:  "Put her up.  Here.   We'll not have a grand creature like this winged Horse in a tavern's stable!  Petra has a purpose here, it should be examined.  At least, in the interest of scholarly curiosity.  That is why we have a library."

The Dragons shuffle back and prepare to leave, having passed off Petra to the library staff.

Prior to coming under the tutelage of High-Priestess Kandralde, the concept of a vast hall filled with written works would have been quite alien.  Well, it yet was, truth be told.  The temple of Eostre at which she'd studied had its share of tomes and scrolls; but nothing of the magnitude for which the great library of Basilea was reputed.

Nonetheless, at Her temple a rural ranger-priestess had learnt that she could learn from books. Though she had needed to brush up on her reading skills.  Her clerical training in Frisia had been delivered in oral tradition, as much or more as the study of scrolls.  And her mentor had been in possession of no books whatever.  Rare things in her homeland, those.

But it appeared she had leave to do what had been requested of her, as well as a bit of study.  Perhaps that by itself would prove valuable.  If this place had any peerage as a repository of knowledge, she had never heard of it.

She thanked the custodians and dragon-lords for the opportunity.  And, with a little hesitation, gave Hermod over to them to be stabled.  She might have returned him into the menagerie.   But, as ever, because of her oath given to young Aura, she did not wish to call the attention of strangers to the artifact.

And...on the topic of that...perhaps she could learn something of it here.  She believed it might help, if she could understand its nature, and origins, better.

They settle on a place to Hermod’s liking- not the stable with the other horses, but one of the grand terraces of the library.  Hermod is happy with this.  Winged Horses are wild creatures, and at home with the outdoors, and heights, and mountain air in wintertime.  With Pavlot the Gnome getting things settled for Hermod, Berelom turns Petra over to Haura.

“Me, Berelom?”  the woman asks.  “I was copying those new treatises on plant magic.”

“It can wait,” the make sage says.  “After all, it is not proper for a man to attend to a distinguished lady guest.”

He turns to Petra.  “Seek me if you need me, lady, Houra knows where to find me.”

Houra waits until he is out of earshot.  “It is not proper…” she says in a mockery of his voice.  “As if half the men here wouldn’t be eager to, anyway.  But Berelom is, well, henpecked.  I’ll show you around, at least, and settle you in where we have space for invited visitors.”

Petra gets the five copper piece tour.   The Library is a large, red stone and brick building, four stories tall, with a wings enlarged and added to over time- resulting in evident shifts in architecture as they walk along.   There are a lot of “specialty” rooms.    In addition to books, the library houses some collections that would more properly be called museums, if the concept of the museum actually existed here.  There is a large room that houses thousands of preserved insects, along with drawings, notes, and even models of insects.  Another room has mineral samples, one has tapestries, weavings, and carpets, and another has a collection of architectural drawings.  The one thing the Library has never been interested in collecting has been art.  There is some, but it is for decorative purposes only, or in the case of the tapestries and carpets, collected as illustrative examples of technique, and not for esthetic purposes.

They pass in the corridor… four men, who seem as out of place here as anyone can possibly be.  They have unkempt hair and beards, and are dressed in simple furs and hides, and each is carrying a wooden shield and a large ax.  The nod and greet Haura, and her “new friend”.  Haura greets them back.

She waits until they pass before explaining them.  “Ah.. The Librarian Horde.  You know how some powerful kings with many wives had Eunuchs to guard the harem?  By the same reasoning, our guards are those who can never appreciate the knowledge here.  The Librarians are great fighters, but none of them can read.  But never, ever, damage a book.  You have no idea how dangerous a Librarian can be in a rage.”

Then she gets to the business of Huns, having been suppressing curiosity.
“They hate to bring it up, but the truth is, we’ve had visitors from the Huns.  Even Orcs.  As long as they follow the rules, the Dragons do not permit us to turn people away.  Here, everything else is subordinate to the collection of knowledge.  If an Orc Mage brings us something for the collection, he has the same privilege as anyone else.  And you are here about Huns, aren’t you?”

It bordered on the bewildering, to Petra.  Not in any bad way...it was all very impressive and grand.  Just very different than anything that would have ever been built back home.   Or other places that she had traveled.

She fought down an impulse to laugh at the so-named "Librarian Horde."  It actually was quite good sense.   But it was still wholly whimsical - odd, to see such men striding the halls of this place, as its staff.

The priestess bridled inside to learn that Huns had come here, and were treated as any other patron.  Yet, she had sufficient wisdom to grasp the Basileans view on it.   But she still didn't like it.  She prayed such knowledge they acquired wasn't used toward their hateful agendas. Yet almost surely it was.

"Aye. That is so.  We had heard some had been in your territories.  I think, we had thought more covertly so...but, what you have just told me likely explains their presence here. Does the library contain many wizardly books?"

"Magic books, really?"  Haura looks surprised.  "You didn't strike me as the... wizard type.  Mostly, there's not much difference between a wizard and a scholar, and putting all that time into studying like we do... well... "

Haura glances at Petra's body, and her own.  Haura's body is sagging in places where Petra's is not.  Haura makes a sad face.

"You just don't look wizard," she sums up without further explanation.  "Magic books... magic books... we actually have two kinds.  There are books about magic, quite a few of those, I think every great philosopher who ever wrote had a thing to say about.  You can read from Aristotle and Euclid here, if you like.  And then.. there are books that are magic.  Not so many of those, and the contents are a little more... well, special.  They don't get read at all, normally.  One of the rules here is that to take knowledge, you have to bring some, and you don't have anything with you... on the other hand another rule is that the Dragons make the rules as they go along, and I have a feeling that with the entrance you made, they may be a little indulgent."

Haura muses as they walk along, in between pointing out the rooms with books about magic, and the well guarded door to the books that are magic.

"They're probably wondering already, what you can do for their book rescuing schemes.  With that horse of yours... That's what they think of it, you know. Rescues.  As if every book they don't collect is going to be lost or burned somewhere.  They put a lot of effort into it.  Phileas Argentos... when he goes out, he always brings some back, so they support and indulge him.  No one makes that much money just running a circus."

Having done a fairly thorough tour, they arrive at last at the wing built for accommodating invited guest scholars.  Petra gets a small turret room, roughly octagonal, with a view of gardens and quiet side streets.

She nodded to the commentary. "I can understand how precious the books must be, to those who have devoted their lives to them. And, no- I am certainly no wizard.  I inquired because I am curious what the Huns might have gained access to, in coming here. Spells that they might not otherwise have knowledge of..."

Whatever neutrality Basilea espoused, she dearly hoped they were not effectively arming the worst scourge on the face of Europa.

After her last question was answered, Petra made her way back to the central library, for a little research of her own, noting who was about as she entered.

The library, as Petra already knows, is not merely a library of books- it has rooms with collections of other things as well, all stored for their scholarly value.  Even the "books" are not all books.  There are walls with cupboards for scrolls- hundreds of them.

One could research a great many subjects in here- if one could find what one was looking for.  There seems to be three different "modes" of organization here.  Some shelves are devoted to a subject.  Some are devoted to a particularly well known author.  There are large collections of works by Galen, Pliny, and Aristotle, for example.  A few shelves have "collections", groups of books and/or scrolls that were donated by one source, who generally insisted that they all be kept together for one reason or another.

Several codexes attempt to provide a working index to the whole thing, but Petra sees that most people fall back on just asking one of the more experienced scholars for help.

Petra also learns that the library organizes "book retrieval quests", and those with a reputation for accomplishing this are held in high esteem here.  Bringing in some books, especially valuable ones they thought lost, wins high praise.. and certain unspecified benefits.

She also learns, just be casual conversation, who this "Phileas Argentos" is.  He is a circus impresario.  He and his wife Hylensia are the owners of one of Europa's larger and more elaborate "traveling shows", a troupe of entertainers that wanders from place to place each year, performing.  They are in town now, as winter is coming and it is the "off season" when they rest, train, and refurbish their equipment.  Phileas is regarded as an expert book retriever, and more- he seems to be the unofficial ambassador for the Dragons, as they would never humble themselves by making a journey just to talk to a Human.

It was Phileas whom Absecon exhorted her to seek. She had thought perhaps to look for something about the enchanted stable, from which Hermod and his mystical stablemates all emerged.   She felt it highly important to understand more, both for practical reasons, and also because her curiosity was fairly killing her at this point.

However, as she contemplated doing so now, she acknowledged the amount of time involved in looking, or the necessity of revealing more than she wanted to a member of the staff.

Best that she get on with the main objective, and pursue other things after, if there was still time.

"Where in town may I find the show of Phileas Argentos?" she inquired of the closest librarian.

The library staff directs Petra to a place called the "Argentos Court".  They are not putting on a show at the moment, it being the "down time"- although they will have something for the Solstice and the Turning of the Year, Petra is assured.

The Argentos Court is a mansion.  If one were generous, "palace" might almost fit.  It is two stories of stone wall to the stone shingled roof, and then another story under the peak of the roof.. but they are all grand stories, with windows and doors much higher than they usually appear.  The building is a rough square, with a gated portcullis leading to a grassy courtyard within.  There are delicately carved stone florettes and dragons' heads, and at the windows are ceramic flower boxes, each a work of art in itself.

The portcullis is open, though, and through it, Petra can see the elaborately decorated wagons a traveling show would use. There are a few workmen repainting them, and a young woman is exercising horses.  It does seem all out of proportion with the splendor of the building- Petra has never thought of entertainers, even the owners of large, well known shows, as becoming that wealthy.  No one does- the accepted wisdom is that the life of an entertainer is one of travel and struggle, and getting by... not riches.

Either being a book-retriever paid awfully well, or entertainers were more highly valued than elsewhere, or the master of this enterprise had some other source of wealth.

Well, it was time to see just what sort of man this Phileas character in fact was.

Petra entered through the portcullis, and made her toward any reasonably available worker.

"Pardon me - most sorry to interrupt.  I am priestess Petra Faust, of Eostre's temple, here to speak with master Argentos, if I may." She smiled reassuringly. "And, please understand - I am not here to ask for donations, nor to acquire converts."

Because of Basilea's stance of neutrality, Petra elected to start with the religious angle, rather than the military one.

And she felt Eostre was a good position.  Having a sandal in the pantheon of Rome as Aurora, as she did.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Mon 13 Aug 2012.

The workman painting the wagon is wearing a heavy leather tunic- his hands seem just as thick and worn as the leather.

He pauses in his labors when Petra approaches.

"Eostre's Temple... they're a nice bunch.  I've never been there, but we were visited, a few times... they're nice."

She can tell at once he is a Germanic, and he confirms it a moment later.

"Hergor, your ladyship... I'm Thuringian."

The Thuringians, Petra knows, are an "old school" Germanic tribe, a people of the dark forests of southern Germania.  While the Franks and Burgundians and to a strong degree the Frisians and Saxons are becoming the heirs to civilization, the Thuringians are on the losing side of history.  Where they have settled lately it is not as conquerors or even immigrants, but largely as refugees. They've taken what they can.

Hergor wants to be helpful... who, in his position, would want to be on the bad side with the Temple of Eostre?  He directs the other workmen to keep at it, or the paint will dry in the bucket.

"A wagon like this," he says, admiring his own workmanship.  "the children must love the sight.  Come, I will take you  to the master of the Traveling Show."

On one side of the courtyard is a big stable.  The over-sized doors could accommodate a horse with a rider, and the rider wouldn't have to dismount.   The Argentos Traveling Show, like many of its kind, has a small portable menagerie of exotic animals, brought in by traders from great distances.  Phileas Argentos is an older man, in his fifties, maybe even sixties, but he has thick silver hair and the look of a man who has aged but kept his health.  He and several of his crew are in the process of cleaning a strange looking beast- something like a horse, drawn by someone who couldn't keep his hand straight, and had never actually seen a horse.  There is a strange hump rising from the middle of the bizarre creature's back.

"A visitor, sir, from the Temple of Eostre," Hergor says.

Phileas pauses and introduces himself, but stops short of shaking hands.  "I have been cleaning a camel," he says.  "I am sure you understand."

The priestess thanked the pleasant Hergor for leading her in.

To master Argentos' ending statement she nodded, in order to be agreeable and friendly. But in truth she did not understand.  She had never heard of such a beast.  It was fully as bizarre as Tugdual's Frikorneg, from out of the enchanted stable.  It looked as if it belonged amongst those eldritch and odd animals.  Where had it come from?   Certainly no land with which she was at all familiar.

On the other hand, she was hear at the behest of a talking dragon, arrived on the back of a winged steed.  Who was she to judge..?

"Salutations, master Argentos.  My name is Petra Faust, of Fabiranum originally, and understudy of High-Priestess Kandralde, of Eostre's order."  She paused, then- "Lately, I have been in the company of one Absecon.  Who advised me to seek you."

She waited his reaction to the last, before preceding any further.

The priestess thanked the pleasant Hergor for leading her in.

To master Argentos' ending statement she nodded, in order to be agreeable and friendly. But in truth she did not understand.  She had never heard of such a beast.  It was fully as bizarre as Tugdual's Frikorneg, from out of the enchanted stable.  It looked as if it belonged amongst those eldritch and odd animals.  Where had it come from?   Certainly no land with which she was at all familiar.

On the other hand, she was hear at the behest of a talking dragon, arrived on the back of a winged steed.  Who was she to judge..?

"Salutations, master Argentos.  My name is Petra Faust, of Fabiranum originally, and understudy of High-Priestess Kandralde, of Eostre's order."  She paused, then- "Lately, I have been in the company of one Absecon.  Who advised me to seek you."

She waited his reaction to the last, before preceding any further.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:11, Tue 14 Aug 2012.

Phileas looks stunned.

”Absecon sent you to me…” he says, not as a question, just as a kind of vague reaffirmation.  “Now there… there is a peculiar old Dragon.”

Phileas decides now would be a good time for a break, and leads Petra to the main part of Argentos Court.   Off to one side of it, actually.  There is a small, pleasant, glassed over conservatory, with several plants inside happily blooming in defiance of the cold weather outside.  It’s a good place for a discussion.  He sends a servant out for some drink- but not alcohol, a tisane made with aged imported herbs and steeped in hot water.

In the warmth and comfort of the conservatory they are soon joined by Hylensia, Phileas’s wife, a happy, helpful looking woman of the same age and general demeanor as Phileas- even similar rich silvery hair.

”Absecon is a rare and unusual Dragon,” Phileas explains.  “Slightly… well.. off… even for a Dragon.  An exile from a distant place.  Not a great believer in the structure created here by the Dragon of Basel, but,  not exactly an hostile creature, if you understand her.  She and the Dragon of Basel do not see eye to eye.  Close enough, but not close enough for either to be comfortable with the other.  Now, a great many Dragons know who I am, and they know that I know many things.  And the way it’s been, when a Dragon wants something done with Humans, without calling attention to the fact that a Dragon wants something done with Humans, often they choose to do it through me.  I will assume, then, that before Absecon told you to seek out me, you approached Absecon with a problem of some kind, and so Absecon decided on a roundabout way of aiding you without appearing to aid you.”

Petra nodded.  "It would make sense, sir.  My other allegiance, aside from the temple and the Gods, is to lord Heolstor Strang of the Saxons.  I am a part of his forces, in opposing the Hun threat.  Absecon has become something of an ally in this.  Because of compatible goals with us.  We had heard rumor of Hun movement within Basilea, and I was assigned to reconnoiter.  Absecon advised me to consult your own knowledge in this."   

"Hun movement here?" Phileas says, sounding surprised.  "Do you mean armies?  They've suffered their first defeat not far from Basilea, when they lost the town of Cambete.  It's abandoned, now.  The Humans fled.. after the Orcs there were beaten, and the town was sacked.  But the Huns have not moved to retake it.  I suppose that means they have other priorities."

Phileas realizes that troops aren't the whole of the threat, and Petra's words may have another interpretation.  He shifts course...

"Of course, perhaps you mean spies.  It wouldn't surprise me.  They've done it before.  Not often.  It's easier for us to spy than them, since spying takes a diligence and wit the average Orc lacks.  And now I understand Absecon.  She knows...  One comes across a great many things, shepherding acrobats around Europa.  One meets a great many people."

Phileas looks around, as if he might be overheard.. which seems strange, here in his own home, in company as safe as one could possibly expect.  Maybe it is merely instinct.  But he lowers his voice before continuing.

"Cambete was the second act of a play.  The first act was an Elven town called Beda.  It was obliterated by the Huns.  Surrounded, and crushed, the trees torn down and burned, and every last Elf who did not escape was killed or taken prisoner.  It was beyond words, their suffering, and all the more horrific for the way the Orcs find such joy in that.  But in the end, it was that which motivated the other Elves, the Black Forest Elves, to launch their attack on Cambete and there they repaid the Huns , in some small part, for Beda."

"I have a theory, Petra, about where the third act would be.  I can offer no proof.  Just my musings.  You see, with every race I have encountered, there seems to be some flaw of character  most given to that kind.  The rage of Orcs, the avarice of Dwarves... those are legendary.  For Humans, I would say it is lust, because that seems to be the motive behind most of the stupidest things Humans do.  For Elves it is grief.  Grief can tear at them and weaken them.  The foul masters of the Huns have done their research.  They know this.  And they know the Elves still grieve terribly for Beda.  I strongly believe the Huns intend to use this.  The third act will see the stage set in Beda, again.  I cannot say how or even when."

Petra listened in silence as Argentos expounded upon what he both knew and surmised.

She'd heard about the razing of Beda, while she'd still been living in Frisia.  Horrifying news it had been -- surreal almost.  Hard to even conceive of, carnage of that magnitude.  And a gory underscore as to why the Huns must be defeated.

Elves and grief...she thought immediately of her mother.  Whom she generally held as an aloof and largely unfeeling individual.  Yet...Petra remembered.  Remembered several instances, where she'd encountered her mother up late at night. Sitting alone, by the light of stars and moon...with such a profound look of sorrow on her face.  Asking into it, she had only received the usual rebuff - 'Go away, child, I am fine I tell you,' - which had both hurt and angered the girl she was then.  As if saying she were unworthy to share any significant feelings with.

But, maybe, just maybe - it had been a grief that her mother reckoned her more human than elven daughter would not - could not - truly understand?  Certainly, she could understand her mother having grief, in general.  With the way she had chosen to live.  Or - had she chosen?   For perhaps the very first time, Petra wondered on that point.

Not the time for much wondering, though.  Argentos didn't have the information she'd come for.  However, she considered his last statement.  It gave her a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She couldn't help but feel she'd just learned something direly profound.  That Heolstor and all those similarly engaged against the Huns ought to know.  That it was nothing at all concrete, nor simple to convey, notwithstanding.

"Do the dragons have much concourse with the Elves?"  she asked, thinking that the Elves ought to know of this, if they did not.  Who it involved most, and who would be less likely to scoff at such intuitions.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:11, Mon 20 Aug 2012.