An Absent Wish [Open]

[Rhuryc]

Kova's Well, Dusk
65th of Summer, 510AV

Rhuryc never liked the well. Not the well itself, but what it represented. Questions. Unsure hope. Day after day the inhabitants of Syliras visited the street that was Kova's domain and tossed their coin in the hopes of some mystical guidance, an exterior force so mysterious that the name was a guess. Even the stones themselves were an unknown factor. They could have originated from anywhere; the other side of the world for all anyone knew. So it was that Rhuryc came to his decision, one that he had stuck to for several years - most of his life. Yet here he was. As usual the young man stood at the edge of the well, his eyes cast down into the deep, blackened pool filled to the brim with gold and silver. He mused on the wealth one would find at the bottom. Perhaps there was no spirit and the figure that appeared was just a lone, brilliant conman, guides as a ghost while he collected his due. Funny. He imagined that such a hoodwink might actually work.

With his borrowed bucket - taken willingly from his Master's forge - Rhuryc poured a healthy helping of fresh water into the flowers set atop the well. In the heat of summer the people often forgot to feed the plants that marked the well for its poison, a fact that Rhuryc was none to keen to forget. Once he had witnessed a foreign drink from the coin-filled waters and while he was quick to exhale the liquid the man suffered from some kind of unique illness. Consuming decayed gold had strange effects no doubt. When he finished his self-appointed duties Rhuryc turned away from the well and observed the declining traffic, his gaze sweeping toward the sky at the very moment of dusk.

The sun, on its final decent into darkness, gave way to night and shadow. Already the streets began to fill with the flicker of torchlight, the main paths illuminated enough for the common passerby to find his way. A few stars dotted the waning sky and the moon was high on the rise, a mark for the apprentice himself to find some shelter. A quick step brought him away from the well, but for some unknown reason he stopped. His attention was brought to the stones again and with long, hard stare, Rhuryc found himself with a queer feeling. He tucked his bucket under an arm and finished a hand into his coin purse, careful to avoid the hilt of the sword belted to the same waist. With little effort he produced a gold rimmed and Miza and stepped back, a flick issuing the currency into the well to never be seen again.

His wish, oddly, was absent.

[John Griffin]

John stopped at the well from time to time on patrol. Especially at night. He himself had had thoughts of rappelling down the well, even if it was just to see what amount of coin lay there. No doubt less honorable men pondered the same, intent on taking it. Such a waste of good money, thought John as he watched a bucket carrying man flick a coin into the well. Superstition. That's what it was. He knew that the gods walked Mizahar, but who really thought that they would answer wishes made at a well? He guessed for some it was simply tradition.

But this man was different. He had brought water and given it to the plants. John was moved by the man's actions, enough so to speak up. Steel groaned as he stood up straight from his perch on a nearby wall and approached the man. As armed as he was, in full plate armor with a longsword and dagger, he was not a strange sight here in the city of his Order. John raised a gauntleted hand.

"Hail, stranger. 'Tis surely a good man, I thought to myself, that waters these plants unbidden."

[Rhuryc]

He heard the creak of steel before the voice. As was such Rhuryc's hand immediately went the hilt of his blade, alert as ever - albeit one would rarely expect an assault within the walls of Syliras. The bucket, albeit a silly thing, was taken into the opposing hand of his sword arm, brought about to the front in some strange ordination of possible defense. Resourceful, maybe, but the young man was quick to discard his defensive hostility when he turned towards the source of his discomfort. A low, relieved chuckle escaped his lips, the thick baritone cross the grounds in a shallow echo. Neat trick, that. One could imagine Rhuryc's voice carrying even into the fields with the tone it possessed. Instead of brandishing his blade the man released his grasp and his arms fell harmlessly at his side. Who was he, after all, to be scared of a night?

"Hail, my lord." Rhuryc adapted a respectful posture, his head canting downward in a brief nod, one that carried a sign of trust as his eyes lowered with it. "Forgive me for my haste, one can never be to careful, when under the eyes of the servants of Syliar, eh?" A grin followed those words and Rhuryc found it within himself to remain jovial and upright, pleasant, and most importantly at ease. Some of the Knights that patrolled the darkness were a bit uppity themselves.

"Water is free." He began again, gesturing with his bucket toward the well. "Flowers, on the other hand, are not. Some fool is bound to drink if they die."

A keen eye kept a silent vigil on the man - or was it boy? - as the two exchanged words. Armed, armored, and dangerous, Rhuryc recognized that any combative exchange between the two would end in no such grace for himself. Although skill remained a questionable quantity, his singular strength was no match for a man sheathed in plate.

[John Griffin]

The stranger went for his blade, so John followed suite. He had his longsword several inches out of the scabbard before the other fellow realized he was a knight, and not some ruffian after his coin. Slowly John eased his sword back into place, holding it for several seconds before releasing it from his grip. He took stock of the man before him, scanning him carefully. Easily six or more inches taller than John, and likely ten pounds per inch heavier, John was still wary, eying the man's blade, and the quickness with which he had reached for it. Still, John had his armor, and other knights were oft but a yell away if things ever went sour.

He eased up when the man returned his greeting, but was ready for action, just in case. Crime wasn't prevalent in Syliras, but knights that let that ease them into complacency were a lot more likely to wind up dead.

"Of course, citizen. Was well within your rights to be alarmed at a voice in the dark. My apologies." He smirked haphazardly. Even in his home city John got nervous in the dark. One never knew what others were up from the fading light of dusk to the growing light of dawn.

"Well then. On behalf of some fool, I thank you." He took a step closer, the flickering light sending shadows across his face. "So, are you just a noble man, seeking to do some good? Or is there more to it than that?"

John was curious, as always. The man was armed, and clearly some sort of warrior, possibly shady; but here he was watering plants that might warn someone away from their death.

[Rhuryc]

Citizen? Rhuryc supposed he was. The thought was strange. Rarely did the man think of himself as the common peasantry - who did after all - and being referred to as such by one in authority sent the meaning close to home. A common blacksmith, really, was it even civil to make conversation with a Knight? Worse yet, did the two of them have anything common? The only soldier the man had ever known was his uncle, a being that in no gave a good example of what John represented. Maybe Rhuryc would draw his blade. At least that way he would not have to think of proper, civilized responses.

Combat was so much more honest.

Rhuryc waved the apology off, casual in his manner. "Noble? Maybe," he shrugged, not entirely sure how to respond. There was a reason he tended to the flowers at night when no one else was around. When he continued the man's voice was stoic, but still wreathed in some form of pleasantry. It was apparent that Rhuryc was doing what he could to not come off as a villain. Suspicious? Perhaps.

"Honestly? I don't really like the well, the whole concept is foolish. Tossing your money away that is." The man harrumphed in some fashion, neglecting the fact that he had done just that. "But if someone can find it within themselves to provide the flowers, I can't really say I'm busy enough not to take care of them." He finished with a shrug as he placed the bucket back under his arm.

"I'm surprised you Knights don't tend to them more often. Makes your lives easier."

[John Griffin]

The man was dismissive. That usually meant that he was up to no good, or simply disdainful towards conversation. Probably the latter, but you never knew. Then again, if he was up to no good, he might have ran, and would not likely spur the conversation further.

John didn't want to be antagonistic, especially on duty, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut at the man's hypocrisy. "I just saw you toss your own money away." His eyes narrowed slightly. He got a sneaking suspicion that he might be chipping away at a prepared cover story. I should proceed carefully, this character could be dangerous, John thought as he eyed the broadsword at the man's hip, hoping that it wouldn't come to blows, but confident in his skill and his armor.

"I'll be sure to pass that tip up. I'll let my Sergeant Knight know. I'll tell him..." Now was the time to press for more information, see if he could get a name, even a fake one. "Who shall I tell him watered the flowers?"

[Rhuryc]

"I never said I wasn't a fool." Rhuryc responded in kind. He could not help but feel like this man was testing him, perhaps suspecting his presence to be nefarious in intention. Funny. In all the city there were few so tied to the concepts of justice as Rhuryc and yet he found himself at the wiles and whims of a Knight. Perhaps, he mused, he would be arrested and sent to rot in a prison. For the night anyway. At least it would be a new experience.

For just a moment Rhuryc considered assaulting John for nothing more than to see what the dungeons looked like.

The two met stares. Furrowed brow met narrowed gaze in a queer battle of wills, Knight versus Blacksmith, a battle that had no real purpose. Rhuryc was a law abiding citizen. Better than that. He had never even broken so much as a single sub section of a law let alone do anything worthy of attention from the Knights. Yet here they stood, both stubborn perhaps, and unwilling to make the simplest gestures of understanding. How strange these mix signals were.

"Rhuryc." He said, his voice stoic and his tone withheld. The man was confident to say the least. "Rhuryc Naravane." While his uncle had been a soldier of Syliras Rhuryc did not expect the Knight to recognize the name. The man was known for his rowdy behavior and shirking of duties. It was at that point that the young man realized a lie might have fit the situation better. He could only hope that John was too young to have heard it.

[John Griffin]

Five gold Miza. That's what John would have paid to know what was going on in the tall man's head. He chuckled, but not the friendly sort. "No, you didn't." Now it was word games. John liked exercising his mind with such, but not by a stranger.

The entire situation was weird. The man had not done anything wrong, but John could not dismiss the feeling that he was up to something. Good or bad was irrelevant, John just wanted to know what it was. He could not legally detain the man without a reasonable cause, but then most citizens would not walk away from a conversation with a knight either.

He had a name. He had never heard either, Rhuryc or Naravane. It mattered little, it could easily be a false name anyhow. Courtesy, however, dictated that John now return his own name. "Well met, Rhuryc Naravane. I am John Griffin. And I am curious as to why exactly you water these plants?" His words read would imply a certain cordiality, but heard they were cold and almost accusing.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc sighed. He could feel the irritation as it built. This was ridiculous. Perhaps no good deed did go unpunished. In a small exercise of patience the man grasped the bucket in his left hand again and began to squeeze the handle. The motion was subtle, but the movement seemed tense. The stress relief made it easier to to think and, with his typical habits, Rhuryc stuck a thumb through his belt, his right arm dangerously close to the hilt of his sword. There was no cause for alarm, of course. Habits were habits.

"Sir Griffin, then. I already told you why I watered them." He said with a defeated countenance. Rhuryc did not like to repeat himself. And the boy's tone was not one he appreciated, Knight or not. "And it is no nefarious plot of which to overwhelm the whole of Syliras. Or you." That last sounded like an accusation itself. The man could feel his temper getting the better of him. Was he really going to pick a fight with a Knight? An armored Knight? While the wisdom could only classify as foolish, Rhuryc was not opposed to the idea at this point.

"So. Unless you're going to arrest for Intent to Water or something similar, I believe there should be no hostility between us."

OOCOn a side note you should totally arrest him for harassment or something. Not only would that be awesome, but it would be double awesome =P

[John Griffin]

OOCI'll see what I can do. John's not to that point...just yet

Indignant. That was how John felt. His own habits had his left hand gripping the base of his scabbard, ready to help his sword arm pull the blade free. "No, you did not. You told me the intent that made you water them, but not the reason you had that intent. For instance, perhaps someone you knew grew grievously ill from drinking from that well. To say you told me your reason is similar to saying, 'I hit him because I didn't like him.' Such is likely obvious, but WHY you didn't like him is unsaid." He huffed just a little. So much trouble for such a little answer. Why must some civilians be so stubborn? Perhaps he was part Isur? Nonsense, he's much too tall, though he surely acts like one.

"I have no such desire to arrest you, and if you think back, you initiated the hostile setting, nearly drawing on me." The grinding of John's nerves over days and days of patrol were coming to a culmination. He wanted something to break the tedium, even if it meant some trouble with a stubborn but good intentioned citizen. He almost wanted the man to draw his blade, and be done with the tense conversation. But then, he'd be obliged to kill or arrest him, and that was never something John took lightly. Maybe if he just threw the bucket at him or something?