The troubadour inclines his head. "Well that's something we will have to change then," he says and casts a furtive glance over at Emma who is still deeply concentrated on the wares being offered. "I was going to offer to sing a cancon or two tonight in the manor, if the Seigneuresse will have me. You are welcome," he offers distractedly, already forgetting who he is speaking to as he watches the lady.

Johann rides up, his eyes slowly taking in the wide variety of people-- merchants, craftsmen and peasants. After all his quiet meditation and his slow progress on the road, the contrast is somewhat overwhelming. Sports, stilts, swimming, la soule... This is a community with a lot of energy-- and they're using it up! Well, why not! Better all this than idle hands and sloth...

The two people who stand out to him the most are what appears to be another knight, and a large bearded man who is obviously formidable in all of the physical arts.

Curiosity leads Johann to approach the young knight. "...Good day," he offers in greeting...

Quin cocks his head to catch the accent on the fellow's Occitan, calm enough to almost make it seem like he's not using his full armoured weight to keep control of his stallion's head. "Good-" a stumble interrupts the greeting but Quin just grins, "-ah, good day."

The heavy gray rumbles and protests at not being able to interact freely with the other horse, snorting that if the animal is trouble, he's ready to meet it. The young knight manages, fairly impressively, to keep the walking wall in check for now. He gestures to a woman nearby whose clothing is beautifully adorned and whose fingers glitter with rings whose jewels likely have names in a family history: all things precious. "Will you dismount, sir? Lady de Trencavel is afoot. Etienne, hush."

This last seems to the horse, but since this visitor is clearly of some importance and far from home he turns and finally interrupts his mistress' picking of linen: "-my lady? Giraut de Bornelh and a foreign knight await your pleasure."

Johann smiles slightly. Gunther (his horse) is trained, but only barely. He dismounts and bows. "Lady de Trencavel," he says. "An honor to meet you."

The Seigneuresse finishes her business and leaves her servants to carry her bounty from the (mainly) cloth stalls. She smiles warmly at Quin and turns to the troubadour and the pious knight. She bows slightly, graciously acknowledging the men daring to approach her in the street. "Well met," she looks to Johann, "you have me at a disadvantage, Sir...?"

Johann bows sincerely. "I am Johann von Fulda, good lady. I have come here to pray before the relics of Volusian of Tours that lie in the saint's church here."

"A pious man indeed." She smiles. "Fulda? That is in the German Kingdom, isn't it? And you're on a pilgrimage? I would say there is quite some story to tell." She turns to Quin. "What do you say, Quintillian, should we invite him to the manor to hear his story?" The tone of her voice could be mocking or completely serious but the winkle in her eyes says she would perhaps enjoy some new company.

She casts a brief look at the troubadour. "Perhaps with some... tunes, as well, if that could be arranged, yes?"
This message was last updated by the player at 20:33, Mon 22 Aug 2022.

Quin gets the look of a hawk presented with something that may or may not be a lure, brows twitching into a slight frown of focus through he does not throw himself after the query immediately. His fingers wind into the bridle a little more firmly.

"I am sure von Fulda has seen many things worth telling of, my lady," he ventures once she has definitely stopped speaking, glancing from his mistress to Johann.

Johann bows his head. "It is a very simple story, in truth, good lady, but I would gladly speak of my journeys whenever you might wish."

"-de Bornelh might also have some tales of the Holy Land," Quin adds into the gentle lull of conversation, glancing over at his fellow knight. "More, at least, than last gathered from my brother's returning comrade: the brother-Hospitallier was loath to speak of much save the feud of practical jests with the nearby Templars, and very little of the landscape or the people."

"Are you but swiftly passing through on the way of Saint James, von Fulda, or will you stay on awhile?" he asks, as much for curiousity as to help his lady plan for visitors without so indelicate a query.

"I am as yet uncertain. I will do as the Lord guides me. I believe he has tasks for me here. More than that, I cannot yet say. It is my hope that I may be sent a sign-- perhaps while I am in prayer, perhaps otherwise."

A gangly boy with tousled blond hair dressed in dusty woolen work clothes and a torn leather apron comes running towards the Seigneuresse, shoving people aside to get through the throng. He looks like one of the mason apprentices and there is panic in his voice as he calls. "The builder! The builder! He... he..." the boy stops a few metres from the assembled party, doubles over with his hands on his knees and takes a couple of deep wheezing breaths before wretching on the cobbles.

Quin had gone from his mild pensive frown to standing between his liege and the unknown runner without any conscious thought, hand on his hilt at the same moment. When the lad collapses into a recognisable if wretched state, he throws a glance to Ernst to suggest the woodsman take the fellow in hand as - ironically - a less intimidating option than himself, and waits for the apprentice's heaving body to let him speak. A simple fall from a height or onto some unfortunate edge was hardly a matter for the Seigneuresse, after all.

He takes a small skin of well-watered wine down from his horse and approaches a step to proffer it to the folded boy and attendant woodsman, never getting too far from his lady. Etienne has his head up now, ears forward.

"What of the builder?" he asks.

The boy gratefully takes the skin and downs a few gulps before he can speak. "The master builder, he... he fell. From the walls. The castle walls. Or pushed? I don't know. The mason told me to fetch someone."

Beside Johann, Gunther's ears perked up at the boy's words (Gunther likes children for some reason-- probably an association from when he was a colt), but figuratively speaking, Johann's ears felt the same way. A fall was a tragedy. Someone being pushed from a castle's walls bore investigation.

He had a feeling that at least one of his new acquaintances would feel the same. He tried to be patient-- this was not his land, and he wanted to seem polite. But...

But what if this was a sign of some sort? He'd just been speaking of one...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:55, Fri 26 Aug 2022.

The slight frown returns as Quin processes that. "Well...well done," he tries, since the lad has made the best of an extrememly vague instruction and actually suceeded after a long run. "Did he die on the spot, or does he need a priest?"

The boy speaks through wheezing breaths and eventually stands up, wiping spittle from his mouth. "I don... I don't know. The mason told me to get someone, they don't know what to do. The seneschal is away. Can you come?"

Johann is eager to go, but he is a visitor here-- he waits to see what the others will say first. (Anyone looking at Johann can easily guess his thoughts, though.)

Quin looks back to his lady for instruction, but looks back and answers the lad so as not to press her into a hurried return. "I am sure the good knight von Fulda will be happy to take you up behind him and be shown to the site of the incident - sir, if you will let-?" he looks to the apprentice for his name, "-guide you and wait for us, my lady and I will be there as soon as we might."

"Arnst, would you seek out a priest for us?" he hesitates, wondering if he should also send for a Perfect in case, but reasons a certainty of saving the man's soul is probably better than an uncertainty that comforts, though something in his mind resists.

Quin gestures Johann on ahead, leading Etienne out of the way, then looks to the Lady Trencavel for instructions.

"I will go with the lad," says Johann, and he goes...

Emma looks troubled and hesitates. Eventually she nods to Quin. "Go, find out what happened and see me at the manor later."

Her knight baulks a little, like a hawk held on a fist that gestures too suddenly. "I will wait upon your readiness, my lady: surely I cannot simply leave you in the marketplace."

Michal had received the knock at his door with surprise, for he was not expecting anyone.
The news of a man having fallen from the castle wall concerned him greatly, though ... and after grabbing his medical bag, he hurried after the youngster who'd been sent for Michal.

Soon enough, the two came to where the fallen, injured man was.

GM Edit: There'll be another IC thread for this coming up soon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:49, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

Emma nods, not quite managing to hide the relief from having to walk to the manor all by herself. "Very well, Seigneur de Serignac. Let's go then, I have everything I need for now. Almost." She frowns. "Where is Seigneur de Lyon? He should have the board of chess I ordered by now." She shrugs. "He can catch up."

She adresses Johann. "Seigneur von Fulda, I appreciate your offer. Please see what this is all about. Quintillian and Henri will meet you there shortly."

She gives Ernst no notice but turns and starts to walk away, calling over her shoulder to the troubadour. "Please come to the manor for supper, Monseigneur de Bornelh, we would love to hear some of your songs."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

[Private to GM: Chevalier/chivalier de Sérignac - le Seigneur, c'est mon père!]
Quin twitches an easy smile as he and the huntsman part ways, guiding his great horse about to follow his lady back to her servants, purchases and steed. He crosses himself and murmurs a brief prayer under his breath for the man who had fallen, then jogs a pace or two to catch up to his liege's speeded steps, speaking of de Lyon:

"He's probably found some sweet burning-wood and is haggling over price," he offers, keeping an eye out for the sworn-lord as market-goers part for the lady and heavy wall of horseflesh both. He follows, keen at heel and ready for command, thinking only a little of what it must be like to spend the last few seconds of one's life alive and wrapped in air, strangely freed from a man's natural habit of contact with the earth.