"So," Marabir speaks at length, "What was it you so desperately wanted to speak to me about?"

"I would not say I was desperate, Sir Varonil," Falnis objects mildly. "But I hope you understand that I do need the letters your friend stole from me returned, along with any other possessions of mine he saw fit to appropriate. I am assuming I am not wrong in thinking he took them on your orders, and that he would-- albeit reluctantly-- return them at your request?"

"And why would I order him to return those letters, Falnis?" Marabir replies evenly, "Surely they are not essential for your 'hunting trip'."

"I assume the answer, 'because it is illegal to steal even non-essential items just because you feel like it' is not the answer you are looking for, Sir Knight?"

OOC: Dalmar Argant rolled 15 using 1d20+4.  Knowledge (Bureaucracy) Check.

"There is as much proof of my friend's theft as there is of your murder," Marabir shoots back, "Tell me, who was he? Had he wronged you, or were you simply feeling vindictive?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:41, Thu 17 Jan 2019.

"Come now," Falnis objects. "That is a leading question: You will recall that I am very firmly not admitting that I put that crossbow bolt into him. But if I had, and if you had seen me do it the way I saw you smugly reading my private letters not ten minutes ago, I am sure we would not be having this conversation. Even you must agree there is a difference between merely suspecting me because I am a varim, and personally witnessing a crime. After all, you haven't arrested me yet."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:45, Thu 17 Jan 2019.

Marabir raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the varim.

"I may not have enough evidence to convince the rulers of Mereldinor of your guilt," he admits, "Hence I am not arresting you. I have more than enough evidence to consider myself justified in confiscating your letters."

"Very well," Falnis allows, voice hardening. "If that is how you intend to be, so be it. But do not claim later to your own rulers that I did not ask you nicely for my possessions before I resorted to less... amicable methods. Because I have now done more than enough to convince the rulers of Mereldinor, should they choose to delve into my memories, that it was you, not I, who started this feud."

With this ominous statement, the varim turns on his heel, moving towards the stables.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:41, Thu 17 Jan 2019.

Meanwhile, back inside the tavern, Aerendir (armed with three platters of stew, the largest of which he sets before himself) takes advantage of Falnis' absence to make certain facts plain to the two humans seated at the table.

"I am not sure which of you is responsible for inviting that varim to come and sit with us," he says, looking between Lyria and Nod, "but he is currently under suspicion of murdering a man not five hours ago by shooting him in the back with a crossbow, and leaving him to rot in the woods. We are short on proof, I admit, but all of the evidence points to him and it's the sort of thing his kind do. I would thank you to both make it clear to him when he returns that we are not in need of his company."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:25, Thu 17 Jan 2019.

Nod, who had been halfway through explaining to Lyria the intricacies of King Algandis III's reign, shoots Aerendir a peeved look as he seats himself.

Lyria, who looks visibly relieved to have been rescued from the coerced history lesson, nevertheless raises an eyebrow at Aerendir's warning.

"Short on proof?" she prompts, not hiding her scepticism.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Thu 17 Jan 2019.

"He means that Lord Falnis Orthran is a varim and happens to possess a crossbow," Nod answers for the elf as he nevertheless begins to eat his stew hungrily, "The first fact alone is apparently enough to condemn him for murder, and the second is just a convenient happenstance."

He shakes his head darkly, swallowing a mouthful of stew before pointing his spoon accusingly at the elf.

"Aerendir, any number of bandits, woodsmen or mercenaries could have killed that man. You can't just go blaming varim for every crime committed in Thane."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:25, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Aerendir watches both of them, unimpressed, before turning his attention back to the stew.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Fri 18 Jan 2019.

Marabir, meanwhile, reaches the guardhouse and approaches the mounts. His first order of business, after a wary glance in the direction of the stable, is to remove a pair of letters, a signet ring and a tiara from his own saddlebags, stashing them hastily into the pouch at his belt. He then untethers his stallion, along with Aerendir's, and leads the pair in the direction of the stable, keeping an eye out for Falnis.

He finds the varim inside the stable pointedly checking through his saddlebags for missing items.

Marabir strides impenitently past him, leading each of the mounts into an empty stall and removing their saddles. He pets them both, withdrawing an apple for each as he brushes them down, all the while ignoring Falnis. At length he departs once more to fetch Nod's mare. He does not tie up either of the stallions, but neither makes any effort to wander from their stall. Both stand, watching Falnis wary, giving an occasional snort.

"I will be tethering my beast in the forest," the varim calls after him as he leaves. "In case any other humans share your belief about what it is fine to steal from varim saddlebags. I will rejoin you in the tavern later. Do tell your high elf friend that if he uses any of the poisons he has stolen from me, I will be expecting their full worth of thirteen thousand carens in compensation."

Marabir doesn't glance back as he exits into the night.

Falnis and his horse are gone when Marabir returns with Nod's mare.

Back in the tavern, Nod has somehow managed to turn the conversation back to King Algandis Carendil III. Lyria stares at the wall behind the minstrel, chin resting on her hands, eyes glazed. Aerendir glances up from his almost empty plate of soup every now and again to throw the minstrel an irritated glare.

"...and to think, Aerendir, you were actually there!" Nod falls back into his chair, a dreamy, contented look on his face, before sitting up once more, "Tell me, Aerendir, what was he like? Did he really defeat Lord Cynorian I with only his dagger in the Battle of Haldaran?"

"I can't remember," Aerendir says dampeningly. "Are you going to eat that stew?"

Nod sends Aerendir a sour glance as he sullenly picks up his spoon and continues to eat his half finished stew.

Marabir returns a few minutes later. He glances about the tavern, which has by this time emptied considerably.

"Falnis isn't back yet?" he remarks idly as he seats himself and begins to eat his stew.

"Not yet. And may I request that the next time you feel like walking off to have a one-to-one talk with a varim assassin at night, you give me a bit of advanced warning?" Aerendir says, tartly. "I am not in much of a position to help you in a fight or even hear if there is one when I am stuck in the middle of a throng of farmers ordering stew."

"I can handle myself," Marabir replies with a grin at the elf, working his way through his stew at thrice the rate of Nod, "Did you secure us some rooms?"