Shaharazara led her horse from the nearby stables and began to clean her hooves. She lifted each and held it firmly between her knees as she removed the caked mud with a stiff brush, occasionally prying out a stone wedged beneath the shoes. Amansinaya snorted her complaints, but remained patient and still throughout the ordeal. Neither of the pair were very fond of the area, the surrounding woods and rivers being less than ideal horse country.

"Don't worry, love." The Shemite woman said, speaking the words to her horse, but loudly enough to interject herself into the nearby conversation that she had obviously been listening to. "Locked up in here, we're nothing but a supply depot for the Picts. We'll be sent out hunting soon enough."

"Khitai?  Far from home indeed Fan-Hee.  Are you with that group of scholars?" Abdul looked down where her wash was drying. "You seem more... practical... than those others."  He shrugged at the question of who might be stirring trouble. "The Picts are lurking just across the Thunder River from us.  They lust for the blood of all outsiders polluting what they regard as their land, this bit of war torn soil between Black and Thunder rivers.  We're too far south to be troubled by the Cimmerians so it would be Pict.  Unless..." and he spat again.  "Some noble would make trouble for Baron Trejanus here."

He might have said more before the soldier came up to them.  Straightening up Abdul shrugged.  "Come on then soldier," he nodded to Darakyn.  "Time to earn our keep."  Abdul smiled and winked at Fan-Hee.  "We'll see you soon enough lady of the exotic east."

Turning to the soldier Abdur followed.

Fanny nods her head, affirming that she was indeed with the group of scholars. She seems pleased that she stands out from the brothers, but her reply is cut off much to her disappointment by the Baron's man. She gestures a goodbye with a muted wave and steps aside submissively as the men march off. Longingly she stares after them wishing that she could go along.

I'll bet its about the missing cargo. Of course I'll be stuck right here as usual. she muses. "Right when things were getting interesting too." she fusses as she dutifully grabs the next garment in her basket.

As she prepares to scrub she takes notice of the confident looking woman with the horse. Fanny watches the woman for some time before she speaks. "So you are a hunter then?" she asks in perfect Shemitish.

The Baron's man pauses, turning back to the nomad cleaning the hooves of her horse. "Hunter?" he asks, looking her up and down. "You come, too, then."

The nomad began to brush her horse, shrugging in reply. "In the desert, everyone is a hunter, if they want to eat. And a warrior, if they want to stay alive." She stopped to scratch the horse under the chin, thinking to herself, "And sometimes, an exile, if they want to avoid marrying a fat city prince with a fine steel bride price."

At the man-at-arms' command, she shot a exaggerated glare towards Fan-Hee, thanking the Khitain for volunteering her for duty. It is quickly replaced with a smile and a wink as she tossed the brush to the other woman. "Extra duty for you, as well."

The man-at-arms walks ahead of the trio toward the Baron's residence and headquarters, a single-story rectangular structure near the center of the fort. He looks back occasionally to ensure the others haven't lost their way behind him. The fort isn't crowded, per se, but sometimes people enlisted for duties have a way of wandering off when you're not looking.

Fanny catches the brush against her chest and stammers, "But... But... hey wait!" Clearly nobody was paying her any mind. It occurs to her suddenly that unless she wanted to be on that tough looking lady's bad side she would have to take the horse in tow. She groans at the realization and glares at her new charge with uncertainty.

"What am I going to do with you?" Reaching out an unsteady hand she slowly takes it by the reigns and soothes, "Nice Horsey. Don't bite me..."

He leads the three into the squat, simple building, which is decorated slightly more nicely inside than any other fort building you've seen, given the Baron's presence and involvement. Other men-at-arms stationed at doorways nod as their comrade passes, recognizing that the small party is with him -- and looking you all over as you pass.

Soon, you are in the presence of Baron Trejanus. Initially seated at a large though somewhat rustic desk, he rises, smiling to approach you. "Welcome!" he says, extending his hand in greeting. "I am the Baron Trejanus. Thank you for responding to my invitation."

It had seemed more like a command than an invitation to Darkyn, but he'd been a soldier long enough now to know not to speak up. He just saluted and came to attention.

"Sir! Yes, sir!" just like the drill instructor had taught him.

Abdur glanced around the room and immediately recognized the baron.  He didn't salute but took the Baron's offered hand and returned the handshake.  "Thank you Baron, we understand that there might be some excitement brewing.  A little excitement is preferred to sitting around dicing."

The Man at arms named Epeus, had just come of guard duty. A few hours of walking the battlements of the fort with his bill. The only view was the distant trees, that seemed to always be watching him and his mates, in silent disapproval, for their temerity of invading the forest.

 Just as Epeus was heading for the barracks to get cleaned up, one of the Sergeants, stopped him, and informed the man at arms, he was required at some sort of meeting, and to make haste. The man hardly had time to stop by the armory to secure his bill, then double time it toward the place of the meeting.

 Epeus was headed for the residence where the Baron resided, and wondered if he had done something so wrong, it was the Baron that would pass judgement upon him. Never in his life, did he think, a resident of Tarantia’s slums, would end up in the same room with a noble, let alone a Baron. He was ushered into the building by the guard and was directed to a room with others from the fort.

 The man at arms was late to the party, as he came stomping into the room still  garbed for guard duty, sweaty and smelly. One look at everyone that stared at him, as he made his grand, and tardy entrance, Epeus, knew he was late, and looked a mess. But he did his best to put on the best face he could. The man at arms came to attention. “ Reporting as ordered, Sir…Err.. Milord... Sir.”

"Ah. You've arrived," the Baron says, as Epeus enters. "I'm glad the Sergeant found you." He turns his attention back to the party of three not in his employ.

He looks at each one in turn before addressing you again, and you are able to look at him longer -- and not from a distance -- than you have been able to be before. "I need your help. As you know, Fort Drethil is a new fortification on the edge of what was once wilderness. And I am a new Baron.

"And, as you might have heard, our supply train is late. It hasn't yet arrived. Now, normally, that wouldn't be a concern." He shrugs lightly before smoothing the fabric of his tunic, leaning against the edge of his desk. "We can, in fact, go several more weeks without new food or supplies. But..." His eyes drift to Epeus.

"My men cannot go without their pay if we are to keep the peace in the fort and against the wilds outside these walls. And my men's pay -- contained in a strong box -- was also among those supplies that have yet to arrive. Without that, I have few options. So I turn to you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:15, Tue 30 June 2020.

The Shemite had kept quiet while the baron made his introductions, assuming that he, like most nobles, preferred the sound of his own voice hers. And, as the old proverb went, "You can learn more by listening to the desert than by talking to it."

The mercenary perked up at the talk of the payroll, though. "Assuming your strong box contains enough funds to cover my meager fee, I would not refuse your offer of employment."

Abdur regarded the baron and nodded in approval.  The noble was manly, straightforward and confident much as were the chieftains of his own people.  He looked around at the two men and the woman who had come into the room with him.  "I'll gladly seek the raiders that seized the caravan.  Do you think it is Picts or a civilized foe." He paused.  "Why send us though, strangers rather than your own men?"

The Baron turns his eyes to Abdur, his gaze passing over the nomad as he nods subtly. "If my men-at-arms and mercenaries knew that my cash flow was so precarious, their faith in this... relatively dangerous experiment at the edge of the wilderness might wane," he says soberly. "They cannot know of this pinch in my... finances, lest our stability -- or perceived stability -- falter."

His eyes then turn to Epeus. "This one alone do I trust not to endanger the step up my patronage and employment might offer him."

He pauses to gather his thoughts. "I do not know for sure that it was the Picts, but that's a reasonable suspicion," he says. "I expect whatever happened... happened to the east, perhaps along the road from the east, toward Aquilonia."

"Is that where the wagon was coming from?"

Darkyn has not been stationed here long enough to know the usual routines of such things.

Then another thought struck him.

"Stealing food and supplies is something the Picts might do, but a payroll? That's a more civilized crime, and implies that someone knew about the shipment and when to expect it. Who did know about the shipment other than you?

"My lord," he managed to squeeze in at the end.

"Yes, it was coming along the Kings Road," he says. "My quartermaster knew of the incoming supplies, but no one other than my steward and bursar knew about the strongbox. It contains a modest sum, hardly worth targeting for a crime, and I trust my close staff impeccably.

"If you agree to this... errand, and return the strongbox intact to me, I will remunerate you each with 10 golden lunas and a letter of recommendation." His eyes take you each in, in turn, gauging your reaction and commitment to the cause.

Abdur regarded the baron evenly as they spoke.  The hillmen of the Himelayas were fierce and rowdy proponents of freedom and even their chiefs worked to maintain the respect of the free men and women in the villages.  "Mercenaries and soldiers value their silver."  He nodded.  "I'll aid you in the task and keep my mouth shut.  Were the soldiers escorting the wagon trustworthy as well?  What do you know of them?"

Darakyn nodded his agreement with the offer and listened as Abdur asked his question.

Following the Baron's response, the soldier will ask if they may requisition horses to ride out along the Road of Kings to search for the missing wagons. He also looked around at the others gathered in the room.

"Do any of us have skills for hunting and scouting?" he asked. "We will need to follow trails, I expect, and look for hidden signs."

His own skills were more along the hit it hard until it stops moving vein of things, but even in his short time in the army he had seen scouts follow trails across trackless deserts, and had a high regard for them.

"I appreciate that," he says. "The merchant transporting the goods is trustworthy enough, for all I know. With Fort Schondara and Fort Thandara nearby, dishonesty would be a career-limiting behavior, at least in the Westermarck."

Abdur nods slowly.  "I can ride and track.  I have served as mounted and scout afoot.  My skills do not match the Picts in their own forest but I can manage."  He met the eyes of the baron for a moment.  "Good, treachery is the worst of failings."

He looked to the others. "We'd best waste no more daylight.  We may need food and sundry supplies Baron if we are going to be out for a few days.  If you can spare a bow it would be helpful as well."

"A fine enough offer, my lord." The Shemite answered. "Confidentiality is included in your price, of course. I'll even provide my own horse and bow, with no extra charge." She mercenary paused for a moment, as if considering something important.

"If I may suggest," She began, "The Khitai girl... Feng Shui? Something like that. In any case, she has shown herself to have knowledge that my prove useful for our task, without the... inscrutable motives of her elders." It wasn't true, of course. At least as far as Shaharazara knew. But the girl deserved a chance to make her own fate before her elders bound her irrevocably to their own traditions.

 The man at arms seemed at a loss. At what he was hearing." Scuse me, m'Lord, are we Royal Army types included in that bounty you offered?"

"Of course, Epeus. You will receive a bounty, too, if the party succeeds," the baron says. "Unfortunately, with supplies such as they are, I cannot arm or equip you beyond your current means." -- he shrugs slightly -- "But perhaps the trading post or smithy will have what you need. As for this Khitai you mention. If you need to add one or two more to the party to be effective, you may do so. I rely on your discretion, however. They needn't be as informed as you are."

He pauses, checking the day's light from a narrow window high in the wall. "Whatever you do, I would leave soon. Daylight's burning, and time is of the essence."

Abdur took the lack of aid in terms of weapons and equipment in stride.  A man made due with what he had and no more anyway.  "Well then Baron, we're off for it."  He looked around at the others.  "Let's gather up this Khitan girl if she's come and not be a burden and seek the caravan's fate."