R
Rando
Guest
I
Rupert looked up and down the lonely leangth of street that seperated the east and west sides of Belton.
To his left the road headed North through rolling farmsteads and fresh, green lands. This was the direction he had traveld from, coming from the court of the King far off in The Royal City of Antheer, at the foot of the Ashen Throne. In that direction was the seat of his nation's power and authority.
To his right was the path South, and the blasted waste of the Savage Lands. There, the Sun wore at a man until his blood cooked thick and his eyes withered from the heat. There, strange beasts gathered in roadside shadows and waited for the foolish traveler to pass. It was a feral, lawless place, where no man held dominion.
Thankfully Rupert's buisness was in Belton its self.
Belton was a mid-sized town on the extreem edge of Antheer's Southern border. It was surounded on all sides by brown, dusty fields and rocky outcroppings. To the west was the Brekfol Mountains and the one local source of employment in the silver mines. To the east were scattered farms, each trying coax green from the failing earth.
Rupert was here to investigate rumours of an uprising agaisnt the king. As a minister in the Royal Court, it would be Ruperts duty to root it out should it exist. The rumors heard back in the Royal City were that several citizens from surounding towns were collecting at Belton and forming a revolution. It was said that the local mines stopped digging for silver and had turned attention towrds iron for the making of weapons. There was even talk of a heretic cult that was behind it all, though the more cool headed members of the court dismissed this as the fancy of active imaginations and the inate fears and prejudgeces of the established nobility.
Rupert paced uneasily for a few moments as his coach turned and headed back North. He fumbled with the pommel of the silvered dagger he carried on his belt. This was his first investigation alone and this was a strange and distant land, and he was nervous. He looked around and spotted an inn and tavern there on the main street called The Whistling Lady. Rupert dusted off his Royal Blue robes of office and headed in, thinking it as good as any place to start. And after all, he would need a place to stay during the coarse of the investigation.
Opening the doors to the inn, the rush of cool air that met him was plesently suprising. It was fragrent with spice and ale and purfume, and a song could be heard.
As Rupert's eyes adjusted from the hash sun outside to the lamplight indoors, he surveyed the scene.
Here gathered in the Inn's common room were about two dozen locals, all seemingly jovial and in good humors. They sang and danced. They played pipes and strumed strange little stringed instruments that Rupert had never seen before. The barmaids wore dresses of an exotic, forign make and apparently also acted as courtesans in addition to the serving of drinks.
Although it was hot outside, a fire burned brightly in the fireplace at the back of the room. To the right was the bar and doors to the kitchens, and to the left was a staircase leading up to the guest rooms. In the center was the majority of the patrons, crowding the tables there.
II
Rupert hung his satchel and hat on a peg near the front door and headed into the Whistling Lady.
Several of the local men and women eyed him as he picked his way through the crowded common room and found an empty table near the firepalce. As he took a seat and adjusted himself, he scanned the crowd.
Most were still singing and enjoying themselves. A few would glance at Rupert out of the corners of thier eyes and a few even went so far as to tip a mug Rupert's way and give a smile. But no one really seemed to mind that he was around.
A plump ale wench in a too-tight girddle and too-loose blouse ties plopped a tray of empty mugs on Ruperts table and leaned in close, almost nose to nose. She was blonde and red cheeked and a little drunk, and she beamed at him in a most friendly way.
"Ello there love. Aren't we dapper? We don't get many ministers in town, not often at all. What's yer name dearie, and what'cha doing in Belton?"
Not wanting to tip his hand this ealry in the investigation, and aware that anyone at anytime could be a servent of the enemy, Rupert only smiled a bit and said "Just passing through, and thought I'd stop in for refreshment."
The barmaid looked at Rupart askance. "Honey, no one, and I mean no one, passes through Belton on their way elsewhere. This is the end of the road."
With that she turned and walked away, taking her tray of dirty mugs but not Rupert's order.
Rupert bit his lip. He'd already been called out as a liar by a barmaid. Luckily, she did not seem to be kicking up trouble over it, because she was back to laughing and flirting with the other customers.
At last another serving girl, this one younger, smaller and darker, brought him a mug promised to keep it full as long as he wished. Rupert leaned back and drank. As he began to relax a little he took in the sights and sounds around him.
Making a head count, Rupert determined that there were 26 customers in the inn besides himself, 4 serving girls and the bartender. Most of the customers looked disheveled and of low station. They had the cloths, rough mannerisims and speach of laborers. They mostly talked about working at the silver mine, and how much they hated the overseers there. Apparently none of the mine's overseers frequented the Whistling Lady. A few others complained about how difficult it was to farm the soil around here, and hoped they could someday move to the more fertile lands in the North.
Then Rupert noticed another group of men sitting a little away from the bulk of the Inn's patrons. They were dressed more richly and for the most part drank in silence. Each was in a red robe with an embroidered gold star on the chest. They were also all old, or at least older then Rupert's lean years.
There were 4 of them and every once in a while one would whisper something in the ear of another, or perhaps just exchange glaces that seemed to be a language in and of it'self.
At last one of the red robed men got up and walked over to Rupert, brining an extra mug with him. He was a bitter looking, stooped and white haired old man with one eye. He shakily set the mug in front of Rupert and then extended his hand for a shake.
"Hello sir. I am Murdock, councilman of Belton and all of the Southern Porvence. It is not often that this juridiction gets Royal Ministers in for a visit, but it is customary for a visiting minister to make his buisness and prescence known to the local magistrates. I and my ascociates were just leaving this establishment as we have further buisness to take care of, but if you would like to begin to acknowledge the aforementioned and usual formailities, we will be at the Provential Hall at the northern end of the main street. Good day."
Rupert sat motionless for a moment as the locals continued to more or less ignore him. Rupert thought about his track record. He had been seen as a liar by a barmaid and had offended the local magistrates. Not too good so far.
III
Rupert watched as the small group of magistrates, all huddled together in a little knot of red robes, moved out the door and onto the street. Rupert threw back the remainder of the ale the magistrate had given him and headed outside, leaving a crown on the table to cover his other drink and provide a nice tip.
Rupert grabbed his hat and satchel off the pegs on his way out and almost tripped over the stoop as he began calling after the officials.
"Good sirs! Wait! Mr. Murdock! Do wait, there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."
All four of the provential magistrates stoped and turned as one, and Murdock steped forward a bit, a sour look on his face.
"Yes young man, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Well, you see sir..."
Rupert went on to explain that this was his first asignment and appologized for his ignorence of the customs.
"Yes, yes...very well." said Murdock. "Why don't you follow us to the Provential office and we can discuss the issues which have brought you to Belton."
Rupert followed the old men down the main street and to the northern end. Here they headed down the first of the two cross streets in town and stopped at the large, white, domed building at the western edge of town.
It was a building far too grand for this dust pit. It was three stories of gleeming marble, with a grand and sweeping staircase leading ot the brass doors. Out upon the steps were four halberd bearing guards, each dressed in red.
The magistrates went up the steps and Rupert followed. The guards lifted thier weapons and gave a hearty "Ho, Hail to the Magistrates!" as one broke ranks and opend the doors for the old men.
One of the guards deftly put the point of this halberd's pike onto Ruperts cheast, until a glance and grunt from Murdock told him that it was safe to let him pass.
The group passed the threshold and were in a circular, gold-gilded entrance hall with a brass spiral stair case in the center of the room, leading to both higher and lower levels. All around the large round room were doors, dozens of them.
The magistrates led Rupert to one of the doors on the left side. Inside was a plush office like area. There was a semi-circle of high-backed, finely carved wooden chairs set upon little platforms.
In front of these was another row of smaller, much more humble chairs. Rupert shose on of these as the magistrates filled out the more grand seating.
Once they were all settled and comfortable, Murdock pulled a velvet roped dangling from the ceiling near his chair, causing a bell to ring deep within the building.
"Would you like some refreshment?" asked Murdock. "A drink, or perhaps something to eat?"
"No no, I had a bit of something at the Inn. I'm fine for now."
"Suit yourself. Now, what buisness brings you to Belton and the Southern Provence?"
"Well good sirs, " explained Rupert, "It seems there are rumours in the northlands that there those in this area unsatified with thier station and wish to throw down the king! Now, we have not had any kind of conformation, just suspisions at this point, but the court officials, at the behest of the king himself, wish me go and check on the validity of these claims...if only to ease the minds of the nobles back home."
"I see" said Murdock, now leaning back and stroking his chin. All four magistrates leaned in close the whispered to each other for quite a while. A group of fast moving servents rushed in the room during this conference and set up a tea service for the magistrates. They all but ignored Rupert both on entrence and exit. It seemed the magistrates had forgoten Rupert when at last they looked back up.
"Well we wish you well on this investigation, though we assure you that there is no such thing going on in our jurisdiction. None the less, we understand politics."
Another of the magistrates leaned forward at this time. He was younger then Murdock, though still twice as old as Rupert. He had silver hair and deep, black eyes. "As a sign of our good faith and willingness to help, we have decided to give you a gift. We will let you choose what you wish."
Without another word the four old men stood again and exited the room. Rupert guessed he was meant to follow and did so.
They led him across the entrence hall and to another door. Here they paused. "Avert your eyes a moment" asked Murdock. Rueprt did so and heard a series of clicks. "Alright" said Murdock. When he looked back up, the door was open.
Inside was a vault of some kind, cramed with boxes, bags, racks and shelves. All manner of things were here, from objects of art to gold and silver bars stacked in a corner to a nice selection of weapons.
In the center of the room was a large table covered over with a black sheet. Murdock took the sheet away, revealing a set of 5 items. Each was quite fancy and appeared to be of the finest make. There was a short sword, a stoppered jar, a small shield, a scroll case, and a single, white glove.
"You may have your choice of items here on this table. Each is of a magical nature."
"The sword was found in a ruined temple far to the south of here. From what we've seen, it's sharpness cannot be measured."
"The jar contains liquid fire, a large quantity."
"The shield was the last item made by our only local magus before his death last year and is suposed to offer protection from the elements."
"The scroll case contains three scrolls of protectin...one for animals, one for men, and one for demons. Thier protection only lasts a short while."
"The glove is a mystery. We know it is magical but cannot determine it's use. We also do not know if it is one of a pair. What we do know is that of these items, the glove's magical aura glows brightest."
"Which gift would you like?"
IV
Rupert grabbed the glove and examined it. It seemed to be made of silk, and embroidered in red on the palm was a strange symbol of a circle within a circle within a triangle. Although the other items on the table served obvious purposes, and even though Rupert had no clue if the glove was usefull without a mate, he picked it. Afterall, why take a sword of sharpness or anti-elemental shield when you can have half of a perhaps useless affactation?
Rupert turned to the magistrates and smiled, holding aloft his gift.
The four old men eyed each other, looking confused.
"Very well." said Murdock. "If that is what you wish, it is yours."
The magistrates turned and walked back across the entrence hall and into the office. There they took thier high seats again. Rupert sat as well.
"Now." said Murdock. "Where will you begin your investigation?"
V
"I think that I will go back to the tavern and get a feel for the local populace. Get to know them." Rupert stood and shook out his robes.
"You will inform us of anything you discover, will you not?" asked Murdock, now standing.
Rupert and Murdock moved towards the Hall's front doors. The other three magistrates stayed behind in their chambers.
"Oh yes sir." Rupert answered. "As soon as I find out anything usefull, you will be the first I report to."
"Excellent, my young friend." said Murdock. "We are after all on the same side in this. I serve the king. You serve the king. You have our full cooperation and I it is good to see that we have your's. I do not wish for us to seem the kind of bumpkins that detest interference from the outside."
As they stepped outside, Rupert turned back around. "Dear sir, thus far you have shown nothing but the utmost respect for my office. You can be sure the king will hear good things about the magistrates of the Southern Provence. I now take my leave of you. Good day."
"Good day". replied Murdock, and he went back inside.
Rupert stood upon the steps of the hall for a moment and surveyed the town, tucking his gidted glove into the folds of his robe. He decided to simply head back to the Whistling Lady.
He made his was down the dusty streets. It was late afternoon by this time but the street was more or less deserted. Rupert recalled there being quite a lot pf people out and about on his arival, but now no one.
It began to unnerve him. Rupert stopped in the middle of the street and turned around. Behind him, just ten feet away, were six men he had not noticed. Each was in the raged cloathing of a peasant, but they also wore grey hoods with crude eye-holes cut into them.
Before he could yelp, the men were on him and wrestling Rupert into a near by building that turned out to be an abonadoned shop of some kind. They threw him onto the shop floor and all came inside, locking the door behind them.
They pressed him into the floorboards and all huddled around. One of them spoke.
"You are not welcomed here, regardless of what the magistrates will have you think. The king's prescious silver mine will not re-open. The steal will go through, and the king will have to deal, ON HIS OWN, with the ramifications of leaving us in this wasteland to rot."
With a rush they all exited, leaving Rupert there alone. He lay there a moment, until he was certain all of his assailants were gone. He stood up and peered out the smeared shop windows. No one was on the street.
VI
Rupert dusted himself off and tried to look dignified again. In truth, he was terrified beyond words.
Not only was this his first investigation on his own, but he had never been assulted in such a way either. This was all frighteningly new. He looked agian through the shop's window, making sure his assailants were gone. He could see only an old woman walking a child, both carrying large baskets of limp, wilted vegitables.
Rupert slowly opened the door and stepped out, peering both up and down the street. It looked clear, and the old woman and child ignored him.
He walked out onto the street and proceded towards the Whistling Lady, but this time keeping one hand beneath his robes, his fist around the grip of his dagger. Luckily, he made it to the taven without incident.
He found the inn mostly deserted. The large crowd that was there earlier had finished with their midday meal and gone either back to the mines or back to tend thier fields. All that was left was the two maids, the barkeep and one nicely dressed, older man sitting alone at the back of the tavern.
Rupert hung his hat and satchel by the door and started to make his way to bar. Suddenly, he had the wind knocked out of him by a very rude individual who rushed in, almost knocking Rupert down to get to the bar.
"Let's have that beer then, heh Nigel?" said the rude man as he approached the barkeep. Rupert froze in his tracks. He recognized the voice as being the one man who spoke in the gang that had assulted him. Rupert didn't think the man had noticed him when he rushed in, and his back was still turned.
"Right, right Hawther." said the bartender. "Did you get that errend done you were talking about earilier?"
"Rightly did, did I" said the man. "And now I'm going to be late getting back to the mines. But, hey! A man must sate his thirst if he's to put in a day's work, no?"
VII
Rupert sidestepped the bar, being sure not to attract the attention of either the bartender or his assailant.
He headed towards the rear of the bar and grabbed a maids arm as she passed.
"Well, now don't get fresh, dearie, I don't..."
"Shush." Rupert quieted her. He kept an eye on the bar and led the barmaid towards the stairs.
"You just hang on..." the girl protested.
"Please, be quiet. I need to ask you something and I did not want the gentlemen at the bar to hear me."
"Well, you've a funny way of striking up a conversation." The maid looked indignant, and none too helpful.
"Please, I need your assitance. You will be rewarded if you must. I need to know who the man is talking with your boss at the bar, but I don't want him to notice me."
"Some kind of trouble?" asked the girl.
"Something like that. Can you tell me anything?" Rupert pressed three silver coins into her palm. She noticably relaxed.
The maid tucked the coinage into her cleavage and straighened herself out a bit. Adjusting her bodice, she explained "That there is Jack Hawther. He's a forman in the mines. He comes in thrice a day for breckfast, mid day meal and drinks at night. Don't think he's got a family or nothin'. A stand-up gent, as far as I know. Never been any trouble."
Hawther was up and leaving the scene. "Thanks for your time" said Rupert. He noticed the stranger by the fireplace get up as well and follow Hawther out onto the street. Neither man paid Rupert any attention.
VIII
?
Rupert looked up and down the lonely leangth of street that seperated the east and west sides of Belton.
To his left the road headed North through rolling farmsteads and fresh, green lands. This was the direction he had traveld from, coming from the court of the King far off in The Royal City of Antheer, at the foot of the Ashen Throne. In that direction was the seat of his nation's power and authority.
To his right was the path South, and the blasted waste of the Savage Lands. There, the Sun wore at a man until his blood cooked thick and his eyes withered from the heat. There, strange beasts gathered in roadside shadows and waited for the foolish traveler to pass. It was a feral, lawless place, where no man held dominion.
Thankfully Rupert's buisness was in Belton its self.
Belton was a mid-sized town on the extreem edge of Antheer's Southern border. It was surounded on all sides by brown, dusty fields and rocky outcroppings. To the west was the Brekfol Mountains and the one local source of employment in the silver mines. To the east were scattered farms, each trying coax green from the failing earth.
Rupert was here to investigate rumours of an uprising agaisnt the king. As a minister in the Royal Court, it would be Ruperts duty to root it out should it exist. The rumors heard back in the Royal City were that several citizens from surounding towns were collecting at Belton and forming a revolution. It was said that the local mines stopped digging for silver and had turned attention towrds iron for the making of weapons. There was even talk of a heretic cult that was behind it all, though the more cool headed members of the court dismissed this as the fancy of active imaginations and the inate fears and prejudgeces of the established nobility.
Rupert paced uneasily for a few moments as his coach turned and headed back North. He fumbled with the pommel of the silvered dagger he carried on his belt. This was his first investigation alone and this was a strange and distant land, and he was nervous. He looked around and spotted an inn and tavern there on the main street called The Whistling Lady. Rupert dusted off his Royal Blue robes of office and headed in, thinking it as good as any place to start. And after all, he would need a place to stay during the coarse of the investigation.
Opening the doors to the inn, the rush of cool air that met him was plesently suprising. It was fragrent with spice and ale and purfume, and a song could be heard.
As Rupert's eyes adjusted from the hash sun outside to the lamplight indoors, he surveyed the scene.
Here gathered in the Inn's common room were about two dozen locals, all seemingly jovial and in good humors. They sang and danced. They played pipes and strumed strange little stringed instruments that Rupert had never seen before. The barmaids wore dresses of an exotic, forign make and apparently also acted as courtesans in addition to the serving of drinks.
Although it was hot outside, a fire burned brightly in the fireplace at the back of the room. To the right was the bar and doors to the kitchens, and to the left was a staircase leading up to the guest rooms. In the center was the majority of the patrons, crowding the tables there.
II
Rupert hung his satchel and hat on a peg near the front door and headed into the Whistling Lady.
Several of the local men and women eyed him as he picked his way through the crowded common room and found an empty table near the firepalce. As he took a seat and adjusted himself, he scanned the crowd.
Most were still singing and enjoying themselves. A few would glance at Rupert out of the corners of thier eyes and a few even went so far as to tip a mug Rupert's way and give a smile. But no one really seemed to mind that he was around.
A plump ale wench in a too-tight girddle and too-loose blouse ties plopped a tray of empty mugs on Ruperts table and leaned in close, almost nose to nose. She was blonde and red cheeked and a little drunk, and she beamed at him in a most friendly way.
"Ello there love. Aren't we dapper? We don't get many ministers in town, not often at all. What's yer name dearie, and what'cha doing in Belton?"
Not wanting to tip his hand this ealry in the investigation, and aware that anyone at anytime could be a servent of the enemy, Rupert only smiled a bit and said "Just passing through, and thought I'd stop in for refreshment."
The barmaid looked at Rupart askance. "Honey, no one, and I mean no one, passes through Belton on their way elsewhere. This is the end of the road."
With that she turned and walked away, taking her tray of dirty mugs but not Rupert's order.
Rupert bit his lip. He'd already been called out as a liar by a barmaid. Luckily, she did not seem to be kicking up trouble over it, because she was back to laughing and flirting with the other customers.
At last another serving girl, this one younger, smaller and darker, brought him a mug promised to keep it full as long as he wished. Rupert leaned back and drank. As he began to relax a little he took in the sights and sounds around him.
Making a head count, Rupert determined that there were 26 customers in the inn besides himself, 4 serving girls and the bartender. Most of the customers looked disheveled and of low station. They had the cloths, rough mannerisims and speach of laborers. They mostly talked about working at the silver mine, and how much they hated the overseers there. Apparently none of the mine's overseers frequented the Whistling Lady. A few others complained about how difficult it was to farm the soil around here, and hoped they could someday move to the more fertile lands in the North.
Then Rupert noticed another group of men sitting a little away from the bulk of the Inn's patrons. They were dressed more richly and for the most part drank in silence. Each was in a red robe with an embroidered gold star on the chest. They were also all old, or at least older then Rupert's lean years.
There were 4 of them and every once in a while one would whisper something in the ear of another, or perhaps just exchange glaces that seemed to be a language in and of it'self.
At last one of the red robed men got up and walked over to Rupert, brining an extra mug with him. He was a bitter looking, stooped and white haired old man with one eye. He shakily set the mug in front of Rupert and then extended his hand for a shake.
"Hello sir. I am Murdock, councilman of Belton and all of the Southern Porvence. It is not often that this juridiction gets Royal Ministers in for a visit, but it is customary for a visiting minister to make his buisness and prescence known to the local magistrates. I and my ascociates were just leaving this establishment as we have further buisness to take care of, but if you would like to begin to acknowledge the aforementioned and usual formailities, we will be at the Provential Hall at the northern end of the main street. Good day."
Rupert sat motionless for a moment as the locals continued to more or less ignore him. Rupert thought about his track record. He had been seen as a liar by a barmaid and had offended the local magistrates. Not too good so far.
III
Rupert watched as the small group of magistrates, all huddled together in a little knot of red robes, moved out the door and onto the street. Rupert threw back the remainder of the ale the magistrate had given him and headed outside, leaving a crown on the table to cover his other drink and provide a nice tip.
Rupert grabbed his hat and satchel off the pegs on his way out and almost tripped over the stoop as he began calling after the officials.
"Good sirs! Wait! Mr. Murdock! Do wait, there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."
All four of the provential magistrates stoped and turned as one, and Murdock steped forward a bit, a sour look on his face.
"Yes young man, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Well, you see sir..."
Rupert went on to explain that this was his first asignment and appologized for his ignorence of the customs.
"Yes, yes...very well." said Murdock. "Why don't you follow us to the Provential office and we can discuss the issues which have brought you to Belton."
Rupert followed the old men down the main street and to the northern end. Here they headed down the first of the two cross streets in town and stopped at the large, white, domed building at the western edge of town.
It was a building far too grand for this dust pit. It was three stories of gleeming marble, with a grand and sweeping staircase leading ot the brass doors. Out upon the steps were four halberd bearing guards, each dressed in red.
The magistrates went up the steps and Rupert followed. The guards lifted thier weapons and gave a hearty "Ho, Hail to the Magistrates!" as one broke ranks and opend the doors for the old men.
One of the guards deftly put the point of this halberd's pike onto Ruperts cheast, until a glance and grunt from Murdock told him that it was safe to let him pass.
The group passed the threshold and were in a circular, gold-gilded entrance hall with a brass spiral stair case in the center of the room, leading to both higher and lower levels. All around the large round room were doors, dozens of them.
The magistrates led Rupert to one of the doors on the left side. Inside was a plush office like area. There was a semi-circle of high-backed, finely carved wooden chairs set upon little platforms.
In front of these was another row of smaller, much more humble chairs. Rupert shose on of these as the magistrates filled out the more grand seating.
Once they were all settled and comfortable, Murdock pulled a velvet roped dangling from the ceiling near his chair, causing a bell to ring deep within the building.
"Would you like some refreshment?" asked Murdock. "A drink, or perhaps something to eat?"
"No no, I had a bit of something at the Inn. I'm fine for now."
"Suit yourself. Now, what buisness brings you to Belton and the Southern Provence?"
"Well good sirs, " explained Rupert, "It seems there are rumours in the northlands that there those in this area unsatified with thier station and wish to throw down the king! Now, we have not had any kind of conformation, just suspisions at this point, but the court officials, at the behest of the king himself, wish me go and check on the validity of these claims...if only to ease the minds of the nobles back home."
"I see" said Murdock, now leaning back and stroking his chin. All four magistrates leaned in close the whispered to each other for quite a while. A group of fast moving servents rushed in the room during this conference and set up a tea service for the magistrates. They all but ignored Rupert both on entrence and exit. It seemed the magistrates had forgoten Rupert when at last they looked back up.
"Well we wish you well on this investigation, though we assure you that there is no such thing going on in our jurisdiction. None the less, we understand politics."
Another of the magistrates leaned forward at this time. He was younger then Murdock, though still twice as old as Rupert. He had silver hair and deep, black eyes. "As a sign of our good faith and willingness to help, we have decided to give you a gift. We will let you choose what you wish."
Without another word the four old men stood again and exited the room. Rupert guessed he was meant to follow and did so.
They led him across the entrence hall and to another door. Here they paused. "Avert your eyes a moment" asked Murdock. Rueprt did so and heard a series of clicks. "Alright" said Murdock. When he looked back up, the door was open.
Inside was a vault of some kind, cramed with boxes, bags, racks and shelves. All manner of things were here, from objects of art to gold and silver bars stacked in a corner to a nice selection of weapons.
In the center of the room was a large table covered over with a black sheet. Murdock took the sheet away, revealing a set of 5 items. Each was quite fancy and appeared to be of the finest make. There was a short sword, a stoppered jar, a small shield, a scroll case, and a single, white glove.
"You may have your choice of items here on this table. Each is of a magical nature."
"The sword was found in a ruined temple far to the south of here. From what we've seen, it's sharpness cannot be measured."
"The jar contains liquid fire, a large quantity."
"The shield was the last item made by our only local magus before his death last year and is suposed to offer protection from the elements."
"The scroll case contains three scrolls of protectin...one for animals, one for men, and one for demons. Thier protection only lasts a short while."
"The glove is a mystery. We know it is magical but cannot determine it's use. We also do not know if it is one of a pair. What we do know is that of these items, the glove's magical aura glows brightest."
"Which gift would you like?"
IV
Rupert grabbed the glove and examined it. It seemed to be made of silk, and embroidered in red on the palm was a strange symbol of a circle within a circle within a triangle. Although the other items on the table served obvious purposes, and even though Rupert had no clue if the glove was usefull without a mate, he picked it. Afterall, why take a sword of sharpness or anti-elemental shield when you can have half of a perhaps useless affactation?
Rupert turned to the magistrates and smiled, holding aloft his gift.
The four old men eyed each other, looking confused.
"Very well." said Murdock. "If that is what you wish, it is yours."
The magistrates turned and walked back across the entrence hall and into the office. There they took thier high seats again. Rupert sat as well.
"Now." said Murdock. "Where will you begin your investigation?"
V
"I think that I will go back to the tavern and get a feel for the local populace. Get to know them." Rupert stood and shook out his robes.
"You will inform us of anything you discover, will you not?" asked Murdock, now standing.
Rupert and Murdock moved towards the Hall's front doors. The other three magistrates stayed behind in their chambers.
"Oh yes sir." Rupert answered. "As soon as I find out anything usefull, you will be the first I report to."
"Excellent, my young friend." said Murdock. "We are after all on the same side in this. I serve the king. You serve the king. You have our full cooperation and I it is good to see that we have your's. I do not wish for us to seem the kind of bumpkins that detest interference from the outside."
As they stepped outside, Rupert turned back around. "Dear sir, thus far you have shown nothing but the utmost respect for my office. You can be sure the king will hear good things about the magistrates of the Southern Provence. I now take my leave of you. Good day."
"Good day". replied Murdock, and he went back inside.
Rupert stood upon the steps of the hall for a moment and surveyed the town, tucking his gidted glove into the folds of his robe. He decided to simply head back to the Whistling Lady.
He made his was down the dusty streets. It was late afternoon by this time but the street was more or less deserted. Rupert recalled there being quite a lot pf people out and about on his arival, but now no one.
It began to unnerve him. Rupert stopped in the middle of the street and turned around. Behind him, just ten feet away, were six men he had not noticed. Each was in the raged cloathing of a peasant, but they also wore grey hoods with crude eye-holes cut into them.
Before he could yelp, the men were on him and wrestling Rupert into a near by building that turned out to be an abonadoned shop of some kind. They threw him onto the shop floor and all came inside, locking the door behind them.
They pressed him into the floorboards and all huddled around. One of them spoke.
"You are not welcomed here, regardless of what the magistrates will have you think. The king's prescious silver mine will not re-open. The steal will go through, and the king will have to deal, ON HIS OWN, with the ramifications of leaving us in this wasteland to rot."
With a rush they all exited, leaving Rupert there alone. He lay there a moment, until he was certain all of his assailants were gone. He stood up and peered out the smeared shop windows. No one was on the street.
VI
Rupert dusted himself off and tried to look dignified again. In truth, he was terrified beyond words.
Not only was this his first investigation on his own, but he had never been assulted in such a way either. This was all frighteningly new. He looked agian through the shop's window, making sure his assailants were gone. He could see only an old woman walking a child, both carrying large baskets of limp, wilted vegitables.
Rupert slowly opened the door and stepped out, peering both up and down the street. It looked clear, and the old woman and child ignored him.
He walked out onto the street and proceded towards the Whistling Lady, but this time keeping one hand beneath his robes, his fist around the grip of his dagger. Luckily, he made it to the taven without incident.
He found the inn mostly deserted. The large crowd that was there earlier had finished with their midday meal and gone either back to the mines or back to tend thier fields. All that was left was the two maids, the barkeep and one nicely dressed, older man sitting alone at the back of the tavern.
Rupert hung his hat and satchel by the door and started to make his way to bar. Suddenly, he had the wind knocked out of him by a very rude individual who rushed in, almost knocking Rupert down to get to the bar.
"Let's have that beer then, heh Nigel?" said the rude man as he approached the barkeep. Rupert froze in his tracks. He recognized the voice as being the one man who spoke in the gang that had assulted him. Rupert didn't think the man had noticed him when he rushed in, and his back was still turned.
"Right, right Hawther." said the bartender. "Did you get that errend done you were talking about earilier?"
"Rightly did, did I" said the man. "And now I'm going to be late getting back to the mines. But, hey! A man must sate his thirst if he's to put in a day's work, no?"
VII
Rupert sidestepped the bar, being sure not to attract the attention of either the bartender or his assailant.
He headed towards the rear of the bar and grabbed a maids arm as she passed.
"Well, now don't get fresh, dearie, I don't..."
"Shush." Rupert quieted her. He kept an eye on the bar and led the barmaid towards the stairs.
"You just hang on..." the girl protested.
"Please, be quiet. I need to ask you something and I did not want the gentlemen at the bar to hear me."
"Well, you've a funny way of striking up a conversation." The maid looked indignant, and none too helpful.
"Please, I need your assitance. You will be rewarded if you must. I need to know who the man is talking with your boss at the bar, but I don't want him to notice me."
"Some kind of trouble?" asked the girl.
"Something like that. Can you tell me anything?" Rupert pressed three silver coins into her palm. She noticably relaxed.
The maid tucked the coinage into her cleavage and straighened herself out a bit. Adjusting her bodice, she explained "That there is Jack Hawther. He's a forman in the mines. He comes in thrice a day for breckfast, mid day meal and drinks at night. Don't think he's got a family or nothin'. A stand-up gent, as far as I know. Never been any trouble."
Hawther was up and leaving the scene. "Thanks for your time" said Rupert. He noticed the stranger by the fireplace get up as well and follow Hawther out onto the street. Neither man paid Rupert any attention.
VIII
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