Guy enters the great hall to find a knight and his ...squire? The boy in tow seems like a peasant, and a shy one at that, staring wide-eyed at the rich tapestries around the wall. A servant have just finished pouring a goblet of wine for Quin as the lord of the castle enters.

The knight is just thanking the servant, in fact, even if the moment she's turned away Guy catches him looking ruefully into the depths like a man who hasn't eaten enough to appreciate what he'll remember clearly of the taste of good stuff, and knows it. He looks up swiftly on catching the motion of Guy's entrance, expression mildly curious if there is anything at all.

The dim light of the braziers glitters on mail as he bows to his host with careful grace and waits to be addressed.

"Welcome, Sir Knight!" Guy exclaimed, striding forward with a wide smile and a welcoming gesture of his arms. "Welcome to my humble abode. I see you have a glass of wine. Excellent. Now what grave news brings a man clad in maille to my door at dusk? Are we at war? But first, pray tell, what is thy name?"

The knight pauses a moment, either too dense of a man to process such a barrage of subjects or merely waiting to see if that's the last question without interrupting his host. Either way his manner shows him to remain in balance, focused as a predatory bird. A faint, curious smile  had followed the tutoiement, though he dares not return it.

"Quintillian de Sérignac, lord." Quin watches in case he needs to respond to being twice-kissed like friend or kin, given the address and wide arms. "There is no need to arm yourself, I am but armoured to defend my companions from forest beasts and so as not to cause embarrassment to my lady by being taken in ambush," he assures Lord de Roquefixade.

"I am here because it is where my hounds and houndsmen led me, on the trail of one who killed my lady's architect," he adds with blank honesty, watching for the response.

Guy slowed, his bonhomie disappearing. A look of sorrow flitted across his face. "Ah. Well. I would speak of this, but not here."

He grabbed the bottle from the servan "Cherie, if you would, grab some cold victuals for these two, no doubt they are tired from the road. Have some beds made up.and ask de Courcey to attend me. And for the moment, say nothing to anyone else."

Clapping de Serignac on the shoulder, he smiled warmly. "Let's go somewhere more private. Follow me."

Leading them into a drawing room, Guy retrieved a goblet from a drinks cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. He waved towards some large chairs and waited for his guests to sit before sitting himself. He placed the bottle of wine on the low table between them and leaned forward, a serious look on his face."So. Tell me this story."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:39, Wed 27 Sept 2023.

Seeing the large chairs, Quin pauses by the door to hand his strange page his wine, taking back his cloak a moment to drape over his arm whilst he unbuckles his sword. He leaves the weapon with the boy, exchanging it and his cloak for the wine again. He murmurs something to the boy a little too soft to be easily caught by his host, though it sounds like a reassurance rather than any comment or command, innocent enough. [Private to Referee: "The Lord Roquefixade means thee to take a seat, I think...stay in sight, hold thy tongue as best thou might - nod or shake thy head to questions - and make free to use my cloak for blanket if thou wilt."]

Guy's guest crosses the floor and picks a chair with his wine still carefully held, glancing curiously at the cupboard providing the lord's antechamber with a fresh supply of wine. He settles himself, appreciating the nod to the tension of the situation in not being asked or offered to disarm himself at once.

Quin looks to his host when addressed. Some trace of Norman blood or a Germanic slave of Rome has given him pale eyes, though it's hard to tell their colour in the firelight. He turns over the question and speaks: "Not much of a story to tell: the architect was at the height of the castle, directing, I think, some work with winch and beam. The girl went up to that place for no reason known to us, and for no known reason cast him off. The several witnesses were too far off to catch her before she ran into the wood. Fearing she would come to harm in the forest before some explanation could be furnished, we tracked her with hounds."

Guy listened thoughtfully and continued staring at Quinton for several seconds after he had finished speaking.
"Well, a young maiden arrived here shortly before you did, terrified and trembling and saying that she was being pursued by bandits through the forest. I wondered at the time if she was fleeing some crime, but it didn't seem that way. She couldn't say why she had left the castle, she had no memory at all of the events of the day and was scared and confused. I thought perhaps she had hit her head or been involved in violence and asked her if she had seen any blood or had strange dreams, but no. I checked her head myself. She didn't know why she left the castle or why she was running, and, she was not lying,I am sure of it. She was telling the truth, as far as I could tell. When I suggested to her that she was probably being followed by people in the castle who were worried about her and that I would escort her back to the castle tomorrow,  she was much relieved.

"But something troubles me. Throughout that conversation I had the feeling that there was something else going on, some reason she couldn't remember. Something important. I still have that feeling." He regarded de Serignac inquiringly.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Wed 27 Sept 2023.

Quin's fairly lean frame visibly relaxes at the news the girl is still alive. He sniffs and considers his wine a moment, swirling it, then takes a fair sip as though the decision to drink is the same as the decision to trust de Roquefixade with what he says next: "...the architect is not the only falling murder. The perpetrator of the next attacked his man in the street, surrounded by market crowds, and threw him from a bridge within perhaps twenty minutes of Jehanne of the Laundry's action. That one I saw, and ran down the youth myself, but he would say nothing of his motives to me. There has been a curious sickness at the castle quarry also, limiting the amount of stone that can be brought to raise the walls."

He watches the bright sparkle of the firelight in his swirled wine a moment, frowning. "I don't know who should wish my lady so ill as to pay a price no Christian should consider for aid in the matter, but the events - and your tale in particular - suggest witchcraft. I would be curious to know the last thing she does remember, if she might have been given something to eat or carry, for instance. Is she kept close, and watched?"

"No, she is not. Given your arrival with such news, I have summoned my coutiller to put a watch on her door to see if she runs."

Guy toyed with his wine thoughtfully. "I understand some mushrooms cam cause visions. I wonder if it is something in the food. A dead animal in the water supply. This is something I wish to explore further, indeed, on the way to the castle on the morrow I intend to stop at her domicile and see this gruel she had in the morning."

Storm clouds came over his friendly face. "If she has committed murder and lied to me about this, then she must pay the price. If it is a witch, then we must find her, and Jehenne should be spared. But if it is food or something else, then even so, there will be those who call witchcraft. And they will find me standing in the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Wed 27 Sept 2023.

Quin nods to the precaution, but adds gently: "Less likely that she might run: my thought was more that should the fit come on her again, or the witch find her to renew a fell influence, she might be sent to harm you, or herself. No memory or description can return to a corpse, my lord."

He sips, listening with a grave little frown that might simply be hard thought. "Do these mushrooms cause a person to throw others from a height?" he asks, quite without guile and aware of many more prodigies in the world than he might wot of. "What other effects might they have, if less were consumed...and can you or one of your household furnish description of them, that more of my lady's staff might make search together?"

On the prospect of the girl's deliberate guilt or de Roquefixade having to stand champion for her in a trial by combat de Sérignac says nothing, even if the frown does not leave. He sits quietly, glancing to see how Guilliame is getting on, or if he boy is even still awake. Part of him wants to ride back by moonlight, heedless of all danger, an anxious itch awakened by the thought of all his lady might have ranged against her. The Lady de Trencavel had more and better knights than him, however, so he simply lets a silent prayer for her sake run through his mind as the lord of Roquefixade thinks.

Guy gave an expressive garlic shrug. "I would not know, I am no herbalist. I just know that they exist. Little mushrooms, purple, I think, can cause visions. I have been told this. But how many, exactly what type, do they cause death, are they a kind of poison, I do not know." He shrugged again. "But I do not think these mushrooms are the cause of this. Some silly son of a swine herd found halfway up a tree, perhaps, but two murders? Enough workers getting sick to delay the building of a castle? Non. But, you know, if this work crew all got sick, I would start looking with them. What did they eat. Do they live together, is there something strange about their dormitory. Did they all visit the same House of Love. I do not know. Something."

His mouth twisted into a mischevious grin. "But to turn it around, if you are so sure of witchcraft? What is the range of this spell? How often can she cast it? What other spells can she cast, can she change her visage, or turn into a bat? Then how would you ever find her? And how do you know this, are you a witch yourself? Was your mother a witch?

"Or are you just ... guessing?"

He took a deep swallow of wine while regarding Quinton.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:49, Thu 28 Sept 2023.

The soft reference to a brothel causes Quin to momentarily tense rather than shift in discomfort, though Guy catches an actual hint of a blush as his guest looks at the fire awhile. The pensive frown stays put.

"What should I know of these things, save that they are not of nature, and that their malice is levelled at depriving my lady of security on her land?" He responds after a while. "My father's peasants say that witches go about as hares and belfry-frights, not bats, but it might be that it stands only on their skill."

He sips, as though proving that good unwatered wine and the warm dulling of the edges of his senses it promises is not affecting him yet. "...and you go too far, my lord," he says, a chiding gentle as a churchman's despite the steel resolve beneath. "Were we just met outside your walls I would tip your chair and challenge you where you lay; I will stand to the honour of Raymonde now de Sérignac, my mother, with my life."

Quin looks up with plain sincerity, and Guy likely gets the notion that like a hawk on the hand the strange knight can probably be gently pushed and prodded to the point of hanging upside-down. If jabbed at, the one trying to unbalance him is truly at the mercy of the one that holds the jesses, however, whether that's God or the Lady de Trencavel. He simply gives his host some moments of attention and moves on.

"Besides, I believe I saw the Devil, once, in a field of wheat stubble," he says, as though it were a normal statement. "He is never so far off as you might think."

Guy was about to say something else, but he eyebrows went up at the last remark. "Verily? Pray, do tell."

"I don't remember how I came to be alone that day - some time in early autumn, that point when there is still some evening light but the earth is cool enough to be certain by the scent that summer's dead," Quintillian responds, the words coming low and even and chosen with care. "I would be around six years of age, and I came up into a field from which the stooks had been cleared, and the silence stopped me. I looked about and saw no birds but one, away across the field, and that...was not a bird, it was like a hole cut into the world."

He sips. "You might say it was a trick of the light, falling so strong one way as to make a particularly large raven seem shadowed by his own feathers, but how can I describe...the air did not touch him. The world came infinitely close to his outline, and did not touch him, and though I urged myself with all my strength to yell, to pick up a stone and hurl it to startle him away, it was as though the air closed over me and held my shape as exactly as it did not hold his, without him showing any effort or attention. He was talking with two hares - or witches, I suppose, I do not know which - too far away for me to know if he spoke in language or in some manner of the mind."

"They attended his instruction keenly, and then ran off two ways. Then whoever was minding me - my mother's maid, I think - called out, coming up, and the Devil took himself to a tree. I looked to the maid a moment as she seized my hand, exclaiming how could I have got so cold so fast, and that I was pale, and then realising I could move I looked for the Devil, but he was gone. Sickness seeped into the village soon after, a store of grain was hexed, and that winter a wolf walked into the street, drooling foam though clearly dead at a glance in its eyes." Quin looks at the flame-shimmer atop his wine and refocuses.

"...somehow I could not speak of what I'd seen until sickness took my second-eldest brother, and at length my mother listened and had the priest bless the field and cast holy water on the spot. We think that the boar who found that if he gored a man to death, said man would become a corpse good for fodder, had made his discovery before that was done, since there was a charcoal-burner fond of drink went missing long before shepherds and women out gathering started reporting attacks." He grins, the expression bright as sudden sunlight. "He was a pig, not a witch, though we burned his body in a pit rather than take the meat since he'd eaten a child. My first boar hunt."

Guy was silent for a long while, staring into the fire, mulling the knight's words. "I can see why you believe in witchraft" he said at last.

Then he looked at de Serignac."You were tempted to call me to a duel before. But that is a privilege only one of our standing can afford. Peasants cannot defend themselves in this manner, and when a witch hunt is called it is those least able to protect themselves who suffer most. Old women, living alone, those with no friends nor might of arms with good steel and the vigor of youth. If there is a witch, you have to have the right person, and you have to be sure.

If we are to defend our liege, we need to find out what is going on. As I said, follow that group of workers. Look for poisons. Look for hexes. Look for something strange, something different.

"You made a good point before, "What enemy does my Lady have?" Well, what enemies does she have? Is there someone with a grudge, or someone trying to take advantage while our Lord is in the Holy Land? But again, it would not be good to accuse a powerful neighbouring Lord of aggression and witchcraft. We would have to be sure."

"You said you have been investigating these murders and misfortune. What have you learned so far?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Fri 29 Sept 2023.

"The most frightening thing in hindsight was that no thought of prayer came into my child head, like the presence had eclipsed my awareness of God," Quin remarks. "I am now sure that if I could have remembered to call for strength and help from Heaven I could have shooed the Devil with a stone, even as a child...but that idea was never there. You see perhaps why I would urge to have one already influenced to deadly harm guarded even from meeting with a gentle bat, if it may be she cannot pray for her own protection."

He sits and absorbs the laying-out of the principles of justice, neither objecting to them nor the implication that a matter of liege law might be undertaken in the manner of a peasant mob hunting out werewolves, simply frowning a little. "You speak truly," he acknowledges, "-but there is little I can do to follow this evidence and defy rumour tonight, save bring it to your attention."

Quin gives a rueful half-smile, beginning to actually relax a little. "What Lady of our liege's standing does not have a pack of grudges, half-buried feuds and men who seek to bring her into disrepute? It's a broad choice that perhaps she herself can only narrow down."


[[unless you'd like to give us some kind of roll for specific names here?]]

"The matter has only been given into my hands since this morning, though I have not stopped or eaten since," Quin says honestly. "I have not even reached the quarry, though I did suggest to send a priest."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:18, Sat 30 Sept 2023.

Guy frowned. "Perhaps... no... what about...

"Non" he said decisively.  "Perhaps I could name some names, but they would be blind guesses. It doesn't matter. You need a trail that leads to their door.

"Two murders? Today? And you have been asking questions all day without stopping to eat or sleep? Then what have you seen? What have you found? Tell me!" he exclaimed.

"Mostly I've seen the trees and shrubbery between here and St. Volousien, tracking our fugitive maiden," Quin answers, "- but yes, both murders today. Jehanne of the Laundry's victim breathed for over an hour after the fall and was taken to the manor in hopes that if he was opened and bled correctly he might wake, but to no result. I had left to the building site before the other victim was pulled out of the river, but since he made no cry or struggle in the water I assume his death was due to striking the bridge lower down: two men fallen from a height, two skulls cracked, yet two different youths. It might be coincidence save for rumours of a general fractiousness in the marketplace having grown of late. I fear there may be bodies we do not know of."

He sips, thinking. "I got nothing out of the youth, as I said. He had been acting as though the victim was his enemy, though the man seemed confused and unwilling to fight with him. As far as I know, he had nothing to do with the building of walls, but I was at the site of the new fortifications by the time he would have been recovered and a name put to him. Perhaps it was enough that Lady de Trencavel saw the death: a warning, of sorts, or a taunt."

"From those building I gathered that no-one had noticed the girl in particular until she was oddly high up. The architect was of good reputation and well-liked. The knight von Fulda, a pilgrim, discovered by his ability to interpret letters that the first instances of sickness at the quarry dated back two weeks, though such information was not common knowledge at the manor or on the site. That is as much as I know for certain. The doctor-surgeon who attended the architect volunteered himself to inform and question Jehanne's family, and will have brought  what he knows to the manor by morning if not before."

"Is the girl asleep?" he asks, glancing again at the boy he'd brought with him, well aware that it had been a hard afternoon and early evening of walking for those afoot. Possessed, set under influence or not, it seemed unlikely Jehanne of the Laundry would have much strength left after so long a run.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Sat 30 Sept 2023.

"Yes, she is asleep, and we should too. It is getting late. I don't know what has happened to your supper, it should be here by now. Your man looks almost asleep."

"Our lady is of good reputation, and well liked. The architect also, a good reputation and well liked, being assailed for no reason anyone can fathom. I do wonder if this is an attack or ... something else, a wave of misfortune  sent by God or the Devil or who knows what, a season of famine and floods and madness. We see the devils face in hares, so we kill all the hares and crows, we think this was the fault of the deformed or the gypsies, so we kill them or run them out of town; a black  cloud that goes on and on until one day it passes and afterwards is as a black dream and no one truly knows why it came or why it went away. The killing of hares and crows and the burning of gypsies, did that work, or was it part of the madness, and would it have gone eventually even had we done nothing at all?" Guy sighed and put down his glass. "The news and the wine hath made me morbid and melancholy.

"On the morrow I intend to vist the village herbalist. Perhaps she can tell us more what foods can cause strange dreams and  madness. Also, and I trust you will not intrude upon this, but I mean to ask her about hexes and spells and the like. I know nothing of this! But I do know peasants put up charms to ward off the evil eye and keep the devil at bay. But I could not tell the difference between a charm and a curse and I need to know what I am looking for.

"Then I wish to go to Jehenna's domicile and look for myself.

"Then we will proceed to our Lady. Is there anything further you wish to do? You can question the maid on the road."

Standing, he said "I shall have supper sent to your room."

Quin and Guy hear a brief knock on the door and then Normina enters, followed by an unknown man. "Seigneur..." she starts, then adds "...s," when she sees that Guy has company. She bows and continues. "I was told you need me, lord. If it is not pressing I thought I would introduce my cousin, William FitzAlan. He showed up on our doorstep just a while ago. His occitan is terrible but I think he can tell you of his travels himself. I thought he could stay on a while, make himself useful. We're short-handed as you know since old Guiral broke his neck." She falls silent.

"It is not given to us to know or choose our time of living," Quin had been remarking to Guy, words quiet and a little dozy from long riding and good wine on an empty stomach, "-but our hands and force and will are given to us in our time, that we should use them well and not against justice..."

He looks up at Normina and her cousin when they enter, giving them a toasting salutation with his goblet as he finishes the contents but leaving greetings to his host. The newcomers might note that this young knight is armoured, though the hood of mail is thrown back with the arming-cap sewn in, his gauntlets off and sword in the care of a very skinny and dusty page dressed like a peasant, who honestly seems asleep in his master's cloak.

Guillame don't seem to notice anything of this but snores gently. Quins sword is slowly sliding off the boys lap and not even the clattering as it falls onto the floor wakes him up.
This message was last updated by the player at 10:29, Sun 01 Oct 2023.

"Greetings, good sir, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I wonder whether your Occitan is better than my French. But unfortunately, mon seigneur, this is not the best time to arrive. Or perhaps it is." He smiled a tired smile.

"Normina, I need you to put a watch on Jehenne's door, female, a maid would be fine.
Next, first thing in the morning send a runner to the village herbalist, or midwife, or whoever women see when they want or don't want babies to expect a visit from me.

"Tomorrow morning we leave for Volusien. I need you to prepare. Also, prepare a list of business we need to do in Volusien. What matters need to be discussed with Lady de Trencavel, what supplies does the castle require. Jehenne can ride the donkey down the mountain and we can swap it for Reynold's palfrey when we reach his estate. You will be in charge here while I am gone. This is a small, unplanned visit, not an expedition. Speed is of the essence."

He turned back to FitzAlan. "You arrive at a chaotic time, my lord. Pray tell, where  have you been recently, and what madness have you seen?"

William gives a slight bow to Seigneur de Roquefixade, saying, "Well met, I hope my arrival has had nothing to do with the chaos."

He listens as the man gives orders and devises a plan for an expedition. The part about finding a local woman specializing in the birthing and taking of babes does not startle him, as it's still very much an active practice in his native Ireland. Though he is of Norman stock on his father's side, a petty lord, his mother's side are Gaels through and through, hanging on to much from their pagan past.

"I come from Aragon, and the wars there are as gruesome as anywhere at present. The Saracens have been pushed back to the south a-ways, but they hold fast in their massive cities. Perhaps I may accompany you in your travels, if you wish, and we may speak more of my experience then. My mare is in need of fresh shoes however, unless you have a spare mount I may use."

Quin, very much beginning to flush at the notion he's included in what sounds like a casual request to a servant to arrange matters for a mistress, sets his goblet on the table and quietly moves across to Guilliaume, stooping for his sword. He scoops it up and buckles on the belt, listening with curiousity to the newcomer's account.

He looks at his scrappy page for a moment, then bends and picks him up, cloak and all, holding the exhausted boy against his chest. He comes near enough to the others to be heard and cuts in: "...it would be well to let her rest and have her hooves seen to: my destrier is in training and lies in your stables, Lord Roquefixade."

"Quintillian de Sérignac," the armed knight offers William, with a half-smile that says he would clasp his hand but for being otherwise occupied. "I shall go set this down, if I may." He nods towards the doorway.