An hour passes, as the mist outside grows brighter and begins to slowly lift. Calvorn returns not long after, carrying over his shoulder a sack of appropriated vegetables, including tomatoes, lettuce, carrots and turnips. In his other hand he carries a bucket of fresh water in which a wooden ladle rests, which he is doing his best not to slosh. He places these down beside the sleeping knights as he seats himself beside Aerendir, who sits with his back to a stack of hay, keeping watch. Erald still sits, wide-eyed and huddled in the rangers cloak. There is no sign of Falnis.

Calvorn opens the sack to pass Aerendir a turnip and a couple of carrots, which he appears to have washed, before settling himself down beside the elf. He glances across at the sleeping forms of the knights before addressing Aerendir in a low tone.

"So, I don't suppose you know anything about this contact who Marabir is so insistent on meeting?"

“Nothing I’m planning on telling you. Nosy,” Aerendir says, biting ungratefully into the turnip.

Calvorn seems to have figured this was a bit of a long shot, and gives a resigned grunt and a shrug as he pulls out a tomato and begins to slice it in half with his hunting knife.

"You don't need to sleep, lad?" he directs at Erald, following the boy's gaze to his tomato and extending a half for him to take.

Erald bites his lip, clearly trying to work out if future knights are allowed to eat or not. Apparently deciding maybe, he shuffles a bit forward and stretched out a grubby hand for the tomato.

Calvorn passes it to him, before taking a bite of his own half. He watches the boy eating for a moment, taking in his cracked lips before leaning forward to scoop a ladleful of fresh water from the bucket and extend it to Erald.

"Came from a well nearby," he explains gruffly in response to the boy's wide eyed stare.

Erald bites his lip before deciding that this is probably acceptable and takes it, swallowing it slowly at first, then faster, before passing back Calvorn the empty ladle. (The half tomato is gone just as quickly.)

Calvorn takes the ladle back, wiping it clean before placing it back in the bucket. He then reaches into the sack to pass the boy a final carrot.

"The rest will have to wait until Their Highnesses are awake," he states, more to Aerendir than Erald. "And after that, I suggest you get some sleep," this he does direct at the boy. "We still have a few hours ahead of us before we reach the woods this evening."

With that he lies back on the hay and closes his own eyes.

Erald crunches on his carrot and solemnly nods.

He seems to have decided it's his job to make sure no rats or mice eat Calvorn's hair in the night, his time as his uncle's captive having taught him these evils are things that exist and need to be guarded against.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:22, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

A couple of hours pass as the mist slowly brightens, and at length begins to rise. The sun shines brightly down in what turns into a brisk, sunny morning. The sleeping party are not disturbed during their rest in the barn, and aside from a wagon which trundles by around mid morning, Aerendir sees no sign of life, except of course the cattle which graze in the field nearby. Calvorn awakens around noon, rising stiffly and glancing out of the barn with a satisfied nod.

"Time to continue?" Tyronius inquires, seeming to shift from fast asleep to fully awake in a matter of seconds. He doesn't wait for an answer as he pulls himself swiftly up and begins to strap on his breastplate once more.

Marabir awakens as well, stifling a yawn as he pulls himself up and glances blearily about.

"That time already, is it?" he asks, stretching as he rises and makes his way over to join Calvorn.

Caln, who seems to have been woken by the others, attempts to sit up but falls back into the hay.

"I can't move," he mumbles hoarsely, sounding mildly alarmed.

Calvorn smiles ruefully at the guard captain.

"I suppose you haven't had a walk like that for a long time, and carrying a child on top of it. Your joints should loosen as we begin walking, though once we start you had probably best not stop again until we reach the forest. I shall carry the child today, unless one of our brave knights wishes to volunteer?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:03, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

As two of the brave knights are still fast asleep and the other two seem content to ignore this remark, Calvorn shrugs and sets about rummaging in his sack. Caln for his part does not appear to have any objections to Calvorn's offer, groaning as he manages to pull himself over and begin crawling his way over to the food and water.

"There is enough for one tomato each, and a couple of carrots," Calvorn explains. "There are also a few radishes for anyone who feels like seconds. Fresh water in the bucket there."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:53, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

Marabir strides over to the bucket, but rather than taking a ladle to drink, he crouches to examine his reflection. He is visibly relieved to see that the last stains of the Gothin have indeed disappeared.

"Excellent work, Calvorn," he commends the ranger as he rises and moves over to seat himself beside him, then, after a moment, "Where's Falnis?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:58, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

"Admiring the Thanian cattle," Falnis almost certainly lies, from the shadows near the wall. "Are you admiring your three-day growth there, Your Highness?"

Marabir shoots Falnis an unimpressed glance as he bites into his tomato, being careful to avoid spraying any of the juice down his hands or onto his tunic.

The other two knights have by this time awoken, with Caled staggering over to seat himself sullenly opposite Calvorn, still looking half asleep. Larend, in contrast, appears to have a little more life in him than the night before as he limps over to seat himself between Caled and Erald.

"Once we depart we shall have to move swiftly," Tyronius asserts as he joins the others, fully outfitted in his armour. "I doubt it will be long before we are spotted by a farmer and who knows whose side they will be on."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:09, Sun 12 Mar 2023.

"Hopefully at least some are still loyal to us," Marabir frowns as he finishes the last of his tomato and begins on a carrot.

Tyronius shrugs, but his expression remains skeptical as he begins on a carrot of his own.

Larend meanwhile, holds up his tomato and carrot to Erald with a kindly smile.

"Which one do you like best?" he asks.

Erald points to the tomato.

"He's no fool," snorts Caled as he bites into his own tomato.

Larend grins, passing the tomato to the boy and ruffling his head as he bites into the remaining carrot.

This seems to be much more the sort of spoiling Erald is used to, as he takes Larend's tomato with a bit more confidence and boldly bites into it, doing his best to copy Caled and not let any juice dribble down his chin.

"You hungry?" Calvorn directs at the shadows where Falnis sits.

"Not for tomatoes and carrots, Calvorn, if that was you offering to share your fare."

"Not my fare," Calvorn grunts. "I suppose that makes an extra tomato and two carrots for whoever wants them."

Marabir looks as though he wouldn't mind taking up the offer, but nobly nods to Larend.

"You should have it, Larend, given that you gave up your own."

Tyronius seconds this suggestion with a curt nod of his own, and Calvorn tosses the tomato to Larend, who catches it with a grateful nod at the princes.

"I suggest this time, you pack enough water so nobody needs to get tempted by muddy puddles," Aerendir says, somewhat unfairly to Calvorn. "And I suggest that rather than only stealing what we need to eat now, you might as well steal what we'll need to get to the other side of that forest if you're stealing anyway," Aerendir says. "And make a note of what you do steal so we can pay the farmer at the end."

"Indeed, we do not wish to steal from any farmer, be he Caladormist or not," Marabir agrees.

"And have you somehow magically acquired waterskins while I was asleep?" Calvorn replies irritably to Aerendir. "You can fill up Lord Orthran's if you wish, but I have no intention of lugging a bucket halfway across Hyrond. And good luck stealing more vegetables now that the mist has all but cleared."

"Our intention is to arrive at our destination by dusk, and it is already noon," Tyronius interjects calmly. "That is only six hours or so of walking, and assuming my men were successful in reaching his fortress, Lord Ravalor will not be far behind, if indeed he does not arrive before us. As such we shall not require any more appropriated consumables from the local peasantry."

"I can't believe you had a whole night to steal food and full awareness we had a six-hour walk ahead and didn't think to get more than six carrots and six tomatoes," Aerendir says judgementally.

"Twelve carrots," mutters Calvorn defensively, though he decides that is as much as he wishes to argue the point.

"Well, I personally think that wasn't a terrible breakfast, all things considered," remarks Marabir as he finishes his second carrot, in the tone of one making the best of a bad business. He does not appear interested in having a turnip.

Fortunately for the prince, Caln and Aerendir seem more than happy to eat whatever the others do not want.

Within half an hour the party have eaten, drunk, and packed up the little gear they have on them, and set out into the midday sunlight which shines down upon the land. Calvorn, true to his word, hoists Erald onto his back, his cloak still wrapped about the boy, as Tyronius and Caled walk behind him, followed by Falnis, whose cloak is once more pulled low to shield him from the sun, and then Marabir and Aerendir. Larend and Caln bring up the rear of the procession, both walking stiffly at first, but slowly loosening up. The set a faster pace than the night before, and waste no time in attempting to conceal their tracks. Calvorn does, however, guide them on as secluded a route as possible, steering them toward rows of pine trees which line paddocks, and down into pockets of trees which follow the banks of streams that wind across the farmlands.

"There is a certain charm to these lands, I must admit," Marabir remarks, after they have been walking for perhaps an hour.

"Yes, in a quaint sort of way," Caled agrees. "When there aren't a bunch of rebels trying to kill us."

They continue on, once or twice coming to a halt as a farmer comes into in the distance. But if they are spotted, there is no sign of it, and they meet no resistance on their journey. By late afternoon they climb to the crest of a high hill to see the Helard Woods stretching out in the distance.

"Time to find out what all this urgency is about," pants Calvorn, pausing to shift Erald's weight on his shoulders.

"Indeed," agrees Tyronius, making no effort to help.

"Are you all right there, Calvorn?" inquires Larend. "If you want I can-"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:25, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

"Larend, you are in no condition to carry a child," Tyronius asserts reprovingly. "Calvorn has the situation well in hand."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Your Highness," the ranger grunts darkly.

With that they set off once again, making their way down the hill and across the final farm before the forest. Within another hour they have reached the edge of the woods.

"How far is it to the cabin?" Marabir inquires, glancing at the sun which has begun to sink low above the trees.

"A few miles, perhaps?" Calvorn guesses.

"We shall have to hurry then," Marabir says, moving past the ranger to the head of the procession. "We do not have long until dusk."

Calvorn sighs, adjusting Erald once more before setting off after the prince.

The track through the forest is easy enough to follow, but not particularly well maintained, with various roots and branches obstructing the path, and at one point even a fallen tree. More than once Marabir offers a derogatory remark on rangers and it being their job to maintain forests for which they are paid by the crown. However, despite these obstacles, they eventually find themselves outside the decidedly forlorn building that is the ranger's cabin. It is a small, wooden building, partly covered in moss has dry leaves, and appears to be slightly lopsided due to a large oak nearby which over time has sent a large root beneath it.

"Well, here we are," murmurs Calvorn, placing Erald down as he peers out at the cabin from behind a large tree, motioning for the boy to remain quiet.

Marabir nods, his hand on the hilt of his blade as he advances warily toward the cabin.

Behind him, Tyronius motions for Caled and Larend to follow him as they draw their own blades, glancing warily about as they advance after Marabir.

Aerendir gives Caln his supply of turnips to mind along with instructions to climb that tree if he sees any wolves, and with that, Aerendir strides off after Marabir, whom he seems to agree needs the most bodyguarding.

Falnis seems to be eying off Caled's belt to see if now Aerendir's distracted is a good time or not to try acquiring a royal seal.

Caled's belt appears to be the least of anyone's concerns at present, as Calvorn draws his own blade, leaving Caln to protect Erald as he circles about the cabin, staying close to the trees.

Marabir reaches the cabin, taking a step up onto the porch outside before Caled places a hand on his shoulder.

"Allow me, Sire," he says curtly as he moves forward to give the door a firm kick and charges in.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 05:59, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

The others follow, only to find the place empty, save for a pair of field nice which scurry for one of the many cracks in the wall as they enter. The place itself appears not to have been used in some time. A noticeable layer of dust covers the bench and table, and the old soot from the hearth appears to have been blown across the floor. There are a good deal of rodent shaped prints in the dust, but no human ones save for those of Caled just now.

"Well?" says Tyronius coolly. "Where is this 'friend' of yours?"

Marabir frowns, peering hopefully under the table before rising.

"Maybe they haven't arrived yet? Or maybe they left another note?" he suggests, beginning to open drawers in the bench and nightstand, before tossing over the moth-eaten pillow and quilt, all to no avail.

"Or perhaps they are waiting in the forest to ambush us on our way out?" Tyronius suggests grimly, making no effort to assist his brother.

Marabir scowls at his brother, before turning to Aerendir.

"What do you make of it, Aerendir?"

"It was a shady note with no proof in the first place. Is anyone but you really surprised there's nothing here?" Aerendir says, poking into the pantry in search of waterskins and food.

"I mean, if I were a shady assassin thinking about luring somebody gullible off and murdering them, I would wait until they were on their own and not surrounded by four bodyguards to reveal myself," Falnis offers, not seeming to need to be briefed on what's going on to contribute his thoughts here.

Aerendir does find a serviceable waterskin in one of the drawers, though it appears any food left behind has long since been eaten by rodents.

Marabir does not seem to appreciate either Aerendir or Falnis' contributions, and decides not to grace either with a response, instead making his way out of the cabin once more.

Aerendir appropriates the waterskin, seemingly feeling a place so devoid of food can hardly be in need of it.

It is as the party exit the cabin once more that a gruff, baritone voice sounds from somewhere in the oak whose root stretches beneath the cabin. Glancing up, they become aware of a bearded man in perhaps his late forties perched on one of the branches. He is dressed in the dark greenish-brown tunic and cloak of a ranger, which blend almost seamlessly into his surroundings.

"I must say, Prince Marabir, you have a decidedly strange notion of the phrase 'trust no one'. A Vard agent? A varim assassin? Morfion's brother? Not to mention all the knights, peasants and children you could find, by the looks of it. I almost didn't reveal myself. Fortunately for you, time is short and revealing myself is a risk I am forced to take."

"Aldaran?" says Calvorn, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, hello, Calvorn," sighs the man perched in the tree.

"How are you...?" Calvorn stammers, before recovering himself. "All of Vard's men believed you to be dead."

"Not for much longer, I'll warrant," replies Aldaran grimly as he slides adroitly down from the tree to land before Marabir.

Caled takes a step forward, raising his blade as Aldaran lands near Marabir, but the prince raises a hand for the young knight to stand down.

"Can somebody please explain to me what is going on?"

"Remember that Vard agent I was telling you about who had that record of eighty four amethysts from that varim shell game?" begins Calvorn.

"Eighty six," corrects Aldaran with a hint of smugness.

Calvorn rolls his eyes.

"Well, this is him. Aldaran was one of our best agents. That was, until he never returned from a mission roughly ten years ago. As I said, everyone believed him to be dead."

"Which was doubtless for the best," replies the other darkly. "Is that you, Dalmar Argant?" he adds with a quizzical glance at Falnis. "I must say you are the last person I would have expected to find keeping company with Prince Marabir."

"Dalmar Argant?" repeats Calvorn, glancing sharply at Falnis, though no one else save perhaps Aerendir appears to recognise the name.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 18. Knowledge (Mereldinor).
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

"Lord Falnis Orthran, actually," Falnis corrects him with a lazy smile. "Eyesight not what it used to be, Aldaran?"

OOC: Dalmar Argant rolled 30. Bluff Check.

"Hmm," mutters Aldaran, eying Falnis for a moment longer before shrugging. "Orthran, eh? I suppose you know old Cormyan, then?"

OOC: Aldaran Enlain rolled 22. Sense Motive.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:53, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

"Who in Mereldinor does not know Lord Cormyan?" Falnis says evasively, before steering things back on track with a firm, "However, I very much doubt you came here to reminisce about the fair lands of the north."

"Who is Dalmar Argant?" murmurs Larend to Calvorn behind them, seeming to feel the reaction to this name warrants some kind of explanation.

"Oh, only the most infamous assassin in Mereldinor," Calvorn murmurs back, staring at Falnis with a look of newfound comprehension.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 31. Sense Motive.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 08:07, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

Tyronius ignores the pair, his attention on Aldaran.

"Yes, much as I hate to be in agreement with a varim, I also presume you did not summon my brother all the way up here to discuss varim personalities?"

OOC: Tyronius Carendil rolled 19. Sense Motive.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 08:12, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

"Indeed," replies Aldaran, turning his attention away from Falnis. "I actually summoned Prince Marabir here to speak with him in private," he says pointedly. "So, if you have all satisfied yourselves that I am not a threat, I shall ask His Highness to accompany me a little deeper into the forest where we shall be able to converse away from prying ears."

"We have satisfied ourselves of nothing of the sort," Tyronius sneers back. "A rogue Vard agent who fakes his death and shows up randomly after a decade? You could be working for any one of our enemies."

"And you wonder why you have so many, with an attitude like that?" snorts Aldaran.

"I don't wonder anything," Tyronius retorts coldly.

"Nor does anyone else," Falnis (or, as Calvorn has correctly surmised) Dalmar, murmurs.

"We didn't come all this way to argue," Marabir says firmly. "I have no qualms in accompanying you deeper into the forest. Aerendir can accompany me," he adds to Tyronius. "He will be able to see if I'm walking into any kind of trap, but we can find somewhere where he is able to see us, but not hear us, agreed?"

"You may be surprised at the capability of eleven hearing," Aldaran replies with a suspicious glance at Aerendir. "But very well."

"Fine but leave your weapons behind first. I'm fine standing back as long as you aren't an assassin, but if you are, I'm at least going to make it effort for you to assassinate him."

Aldaran sighs, unslinging a bow and quiver from his back and withdrawing pair of what Dalmar recognises as varim longknives from his belt, all of which he places at the foot of the tree.

"Satisfied?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:20, Mon 13 Mar 2023.

"I think so," Aerendir says, picking up his bow. "If he tries anything, Marabir, signal to me and I will shoot him."

"That bow is handcrafted eldarwood, so do try not to damage it," Aldaran directs darkly at Aerendir as the trio set off into the forest.

"Yes, I was thinking of using it as kindling but then I decided not to snap a bow some overpriced elvish craftsman probably made for you," Aerendir says sourly.

The trio make their way through the forest in silence for perhaps a half a mile or so, where they come to a steep slope leading down to a shallow stream. Aldaran instructs Aerendir to wait on one side while he and Marabir cross over to the far side. By this time the sun has set, though a pale light lingers in the sky above, where dull, pink tinged clouds glide slowly by.

Aerendir does, but it’s clear his opinion of anyone who would choose to use varim longknives willingly is not high.

"All right," says Marabir gravely, once Aldaran finally seems to feel there is enough distance between them and Aerendir. "What is it that you wished to tell me about my mother's death?"

Aldaran spares a final, suspicious glance at Aerendir, moving a few more feet away before he begins his story.

"You mother was always headstrong, and was never shy about expressing her views and opinions. In the years leading up to her death this had come to a head, with her championing an alliance with the elves of the Great Southern Forest, and also pushing your father to insist on a number of ethical amendments to the concordat with Mereldinor, such as the outlawing of slavery. The varim held staunchly to the original terms agreed to by King Halandis III and stated that many of the changes she proposed were integral to their own culture and values. An alliance with the elves was also not popular. A good number of the Thanian lords were opposed to it, as well as the kingdom of Morne, who hold a particular animosity to the high elves. You mother stood on a good many toes and made a significant number of enemies."

Marabir frowns, crossing his arms.

"Go on."

"We then come to the night of your mother's death," Aldaran continues. "The royal physician at the time, Arand Saldur, claimed that the cause of death was eclampsia, which came on shortly after your brother Protarius' birth. However, two years later, Saldur paid a visit to a certain priest of Camendur in Carendisal. Saldur confessed to this priest that in the days prior to the birth, an aide of the Morne ambassador had approached him and given him a vial of poison, which he was to administer to your mother during the birth, resulting in fatal seizures which he was then to blame on natural causes. If he refused, or attempted to divulge this to anyone, he would never see his wife and children again. He waited until your brother was born, and then did as he was instructed."

"Why the confession and change of heart?" Marabir asks, frowning.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:51, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"His family had been travelling by ship when a terrible storm struck and they all perished. His part in your mother's death had already been tormenting him constantly during those two years. This was the final straw, and what he saw as a sign of divine judgement from Camendur. The priest urged him to confess his crime to the king and free his conscience, however, before he could do so he supposedly committed suicide by leaping from his tower in the castle. 'Driven mad by grief' was the claim. I later discovered that Vard had ordered his assassination."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:52, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"You think Vard was behind all this?" Marabir surmises.

"I don't know about the death of your mother," admits Aldaran. "Though I know he was not at all impressed with the political waves she was causing. But he certainly didn't want Saldur souring already turbulent relations with Morne by pointing the finger at their ambassador's retinue. This priest was an old friend of my father's, and as such he came to me for assistance, not knowing to whom to turn. I did some digging, and, as I said, discovered fairly swiftly that Vard had ordered Saldur to be silenced. I also discovered that the aide who he had claimed had coerced him had been summoned back to Morne shortly after your mother's death and had died himself, shortly afterwards. And there the trail went cold. I discovered he was a highly corrupt individual who had no shortage of shady contacts, but none I could link conclusively to your mother's death. My digging eventually caught the attention of Vard, however. One day I learned that the priest had been killed. Supposedly a burglur's attempt to rob the offering bowl gone wrong. The following day I received an order to eliminate a rogue varim sorcerer in one of the southern provinces. I have no doubt it was designed to result in my death. I was just fortunate that he also happened to be susceptible to amethysts and I still had a few from my Mereldinor days. He put out the report that I had perished in my attempt to kill him and I've spent the last decade tracking down leads. I have a contact in Morne who may be closer than I've been in years, but I am still waiting to hear the results."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:55, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

Marabir scratches his head, clearly trying to process everything he has just heard.

"Assuming what you say is true, why choose to wait until now to tell me all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:49, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"In truth I had hoped to wait until my investigations had yielded more tangible results," Aldaran confesses. "But then I heard of your pending betrothal to the Princess of Morne. Your mother was a good woman, with a strong conscience and a care for common people. I don't doubt Thane would have been a better place if she'd been in it for longer. There are many corrupt lords who have their claws into your father, both here and in Morne, and your mother was right about slavery in Mereldinor. Like anywhere, there are some masters who treat their slaves with tolerable care, especially valuable ones. But some varim are the most sadistic beings you will ever meet, and I have seen the horrors of the pits deep beneath the city, where slaves are whipped and starved and shown less concern than worms. You are young and seem like a decent man, and I do not want you to be moulded and conformed by Vard and the lords of Thane or Morne to merely keep the status quo and do their bidding. Your betrothal to the Princess of Morne would see you begin down a path from which I can see little hope of return. We humans do not have long here in Verun, and I would hate to miss an opportunity to perhaps steer you in the direction I am sure your mother would have wanted."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:10, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

Marabir doesn't appear to be entirely convinced that marrying attractive princesses and being a conscientious ruler are mutually exclusive, but he chooses not to voice this opinion. Instead, he frowns, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You mentioned in your letter not to trust Morfion?" he prompts. "However, he has been nothing but loyal to my father and our family, and you have failed to mention how he fits into all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:38, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"I have not found any evidence of his involvement in any of this," Aldaran admits. "But it is no secret that he has a hatred for his fellow elves, and is a close friend of Vard's, and I did not wish you to risk putting this information into his hands. Although, it seems it is a little late for that..." he adds resignedly with a glance back at Aerendir.

"Indeed," Aerendir says, not bothering to hide the fact that he heard all that.

Aldaran sighs, though from this distance Marabir himself does not seem to hear Aerendir's response.

"Dratted elvish hearing," mutters the ranger. "Well, it seems you are about to find out whether or not Morfion can be trusted. For your sake I hope you are right..."

Back at the ranger's cabin, in what is an example of an even greater feat of elvish hearing, Dalmar sits perched in the large oak, his head tilted to one side. Beneath him Tyronius paces restlessly, glancing every so often in the direction in which Marabir and Aldaran departed, while Caled lounges against a tree nearby. Larend and Erald sit perched on the step leading to the porch, while Caln limps stiffly about, insisting that if he sits down he won't get up. Calvorn stands at the foot of the tree, his gaze also in the direction Marabir departed, though his surreptitious signing, behind his back, is directed at Dalmar.

So, Dalmar Argant, eh? That certainly explains the body count you've managed to rack up in the past 48 hours. I won't ask what an assassin of your calibre was doing on this 'hunting trip' of yours before your little run in with our valiant prince of Thane...

Dalmar does a credible job of pretending he’s paying attention to Calvorn and not the conversation between Marabir and an agent currently assigned to be dead.

Sensible of you, Calvorn, since obviously I would say that even assassins enjoy holidays sometimes and Thane has far fewer people who slip poison into one’s wine than my fair homeland.

Calvorn suppresses a wry smile.

Indeed.

A moment later Dalmar's keen ears pick up the sound of approaching hoofbeats in the distance. Calvorn detects them a few moments later, his brow furrowing, and soon even Tyronius and his knights are able to hear them as the prince motions for his men to get Erald and take cover behind the trees. Not long afterwards a line of horsemen canter into view along the track leading to the cabin, the leader of which is a tall, wiry man in perhaps his mid forties. He is clean shaven with a hooked nose and proud bearing, and his mount is a black destrier stallion.

Tyronius, peering warily out from behind the large oak, sword in hand, visibly relaxes when he spots the rider.

"Lord Ravalor," he says, stepping out from behind the tree and sheathing his blade as his men do the same. "I am glad to see that my men were successful in reaching your fortress."

"They were indeed," agrees the hawk nosed man with a thin smile as his riders continue to pour into the narrow clearing. "Along with a rather persistent lady whose brother I assume is that boy over yonder?"

"And where is Lady Veldorn?" inquires Calvorn, not seeing her amongst the riders and seeming to feel that there is something off about this.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 23. Sense Motive.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:24, Thu 16 Mar 2023.

"She remained at my fortress," replies Ravalor, with just a touch of evasiveness. "Both she and your men had a long ride to reach me, and are resting there while my men and I escort you back."

OOC: Lord Calryan Ravalor rolled 21. Bluff.

"Indeed," Tyronius nods, not seeming to feel that there is anything odd about this. "I presume my men also informed you of the treacherous actions of her uncle, and what we suspect is a full scale Caladormist uprising behind him?"

OOC: Tyronius Carendil rolled 14. Sense Motive.

"They did," Ravalor responds, a certain guardedness coming over his features. "They also informed me that your brother, Prince Marabir, was with you?"

"That is correct," Tyronius asserts. "He is currently engaged in the forest over there, and I think he has been so for quite long enough. I shall go and fetch him."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Ravalor responds in an nonchalant but firm tone. "My own men can locate him, I'm sure."

He waves a hand for several of his men to dismount as he says this.

"I know roughly the direction he went," Tyronius insists, beginning to lead the men in the direction of Marabir's departure. "He shouldn't be too far away."

"I'm afraid I really must insist, Tyronius," Ravalor says, his tone taking on a distinct steeliness as with a gesture a dozen of his riders raise crossbows, directing them at the prince and his men.

Tyronius frowns in bewilderment, which morphs swiftly into indignation.

"Lord Ravalor, what is the meaning of this?" he demands.

Calvorn gives a resigned sigh as he places a hand to his forehead.

"You are the lord backing the Caladormists," he surmises grimly.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:32, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

Tyronius still appears to be having trouble believing what he is witnessing.

"Lord Ravalor, he cannot be serious? You've fought alongside my father and I in dozens of campaigns. You saved my life in the battle of Drulnor's Pass."

Ravalor's own smile turns grim as he surveys Tyronius.

"You are a valiant warrior, Tyronius, and there is nothing personal in my actions. In many respects we both fight for the same thing. The glory and strength of Thane. I simply believe that a true heir of the Caladorms should be our king, and I am afraid the time has come for the reign of the Carendil usurpers to end. As such, I am afraid I must insist you accept my hospitality for the foreseeable future. Stand down, and you have my word that neither you nor your men shall be harmed, both those here and those in my fortress."

"I am ready to die for my prince and king, if need be," Caled says hotly, his own blade drawn as he surveys Ravalor's men, awaiting Tyronius' decision.

"I would expect nothing less from an Aravor," Ravalor nods, his expression remaining even as he watches the prince. "Well, Tyronius?"

Tyronius still appears to be trying to process what has just transpired, but at length he recovers himself.

"Very well. On the added condition that neither Marabir nor the boy here shall be harmed."

"You have my word," Ravalor agrees with a solemn nod.

Calvorn, meanwhile, surreptitiously signs at where he hopes Dalmar can still see him in the tree.

Warn Prince Marabir and get him safely out of here. You still have 24 hours left of service. See that he is far away by then.

I am not sure you're paying me enough for this, Calvorn, Dalmar signs back. But then, I'm sure Vard does not pay you enough either.

Despite his words, however, either the varim takes mercenary duties seriously once hired or has some other reason for choosing to keep his word right now, because he does move, travelling via the treetops in the direction of Marabir, and is soon lost from Calvorn's sight.

Erald, meanwhile, promptly (and loudly) bursts into tears.

Ravalor looks as uncomfortable as any of the warriors present, both Caladormist and Carendil, and waves a hand in the direction of the group of his men unfortunate enough to be nearest the boy.

"Someone, er, calm him down, will you?"

Marabir, meanwhile, continues to converse with Aldaran and Aerendir, who has crossed the brook to join them, figuring there is no longer much point in pretending he isn't listening.

"What about the song you quoted at the end of your letter?" Marabir queries.

"Oh, that?" Aldaran shrugs. "I heard your mother singing it to you sometimes on the occasions I was assigned to protect you when you were a child. I figured it might lend some sort of credence to my letter and make it seem less like something written by a random assassin or rebel lord. There was no-"

He breaks off as Dalmar steps into view from behind a nearby tree.

"I do hate to interrupt anyone in the middle of a dramatic reveal," Dalmar says, not sounding particularly sincere, "but unfortunately for you, Prince Marabir, you have a situation. Lord Ravalor-- it transpires-- is a Caledormist. You understand, I trust, that this makes it unfortunate that he has turned up with a small army, and that this means you will be fleeing in some direction other than towards his crossbowmen if you would like to enjoy a long and prosperous reign as ruler of Thane one day? I suggest that way," Dalmar points. "since Calvorn tells me I still have 24 hours of service left owed to him, and I have no desire to fight a group of Thanian malitia. I assume you weren't in on this, Aldaran?"

"I most certainly was not," Aldaran says tersely, beginning to move swiftly off in the other direction. "I shall try to draw them away by leaving some fairly obvious tracks and hopefully buy you enough time to escape the forest. Aerendir, I trust you have the skill to conceal His Highness' tracks at least until you are far enough away from here that no one will be looking for them?" The glance he sends Marabir tracks suggests this might be a difficult feat. "Think on what I have said, Your Highness," he calls as he departs, taking care to kick as many leaves and twigs as possible. "Remember your actions and decisions affect the lives of a great many people, both in Thane and beyond."

With that he disappears through the trees and is gone.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:25, Thu 16 Mar 2023.

Marabir frowns, glancing at Aerendir and clearly wondering if the whole thing is some kind of elaborate prank, but Aerendir seems to be taking the warning seriously, and so, after a moment of hesitating, he mutters a curse and begins to sprint off in the direction indicated by Dalmar, not particularly feeling like his actions are likely to have a significant affect on many people's lives anytime soon.

It falls to Aerendir to bring up the rear, which Aerendir does with the grim bitterness of an elf who left his turnips with Caln and isn't going to now get to go back to get them.

OOC: End of Chapter IX...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:39, Thu 16 Mar 2023.