PM to join [Mithryn] Letters from Home(Xira)

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick sucked at the honey drop enjoying the sweet and lemony flavour, so like sweet tea. Only the loosening of his jaw and the soft clacking the hard candy made against his teeth betrayed the playful way he consumed his treat. With a quick snap of his jaw he clenched the amber jewel of sugar in his maw to encourage his charge to take his bunk. “Oi insist yeh take meh bunk. It’ll make yer trip tomorrah a more bearable task.” The Kelvic half hissed with a smile. “Oi’ll be foine. There are plenty o’ places folks don’ know about Oi can sleep tenoight. As fer emergencies, there are always Knights n’ Squoires on duty. O’ coarse Oi can’a go inta detail about rotations and numbers. Jest know yer safe here.” The Kelvic said with a wink. With a sigh he leaned back into his chair a moment and shut his eyes. “The denizens o’ Mithryn have left but once since her walls were built as far as Oi know, n’ it took the wrath o’ the djed storm teh make that happen.” As he opened his eyes he leaned forward in his chair making the old wood creak beneath his weight. “N’ yer naught a bit o’ trouble. Oi do indeed have a story or two to tell, and as yeh can see many ears teh hear it.” Marrick said with a humble smile. “However, as yeh’ve already found, Oi am always pleased teh share a bit o’ story n’ a bit o’ bread.” With his guest nearly ready Marrick stood up straight and still, a look of confidence about him. When Xira asked him about why he joined the knighthood the squire gave the man a sly smirk and a chuckle. “Tis a long story, moy friend. Suffice teh say, Oi have a debt that needs payin. Besoides, the better question, it seems, is definitely when is supper. Which should be nigh on now.” With a smile he gave Xira an inviting gesture to follow him out. When all was ready, the squire slung his sword from his belt and the pair made their way downstairs just in time to hear the supper bell clang with a staccato high pitched ringing. Squires and Pages both dropped what they were doing and lined up double file to leave the building. The children exited swiftly and silently as the Kelvic watched a moment in admiration of their discipline. “It’s an amazin thing. Discipline loike this at their age.” The squire said as the two brought up the rear of the two columns of children. “Though, Oi question the cost sometoimes. Children their age should be cloimbin trees, n’ playin tag.” He said with a somewhat hushed and sober tone. As they followed the little ones to the mess hall the Kelvic nodded toward the parcels and letters his companion held. “So Oi figure we’d get you a bit o’ food into yah, and we’d have a parcel roll call. Call out a few names, and get people to gather their parcels and letters from home or family.” Marrick said reflectively. As they walked, he hissed a tune through his teeth, the occasional tap of a beat against the pommel of his sword. As a possibility formed in his mind he halted his tuneless whistle and looked at the bag of parcels again. “Did yeh bring any official parcels? Oi’d expect official dispatch teh be broight boy roider, but yeh can never be too careful.” The Kelvic whimsically spoke as they ascended the stairs to the mess. When the pages and squires had made their way inside, the Kelvic took in the lay of the land. The long simple wooden tables lined with benches were already packed with squires, and their patrons not on duty. Even a few pages and apprentices were already seated and shovelling what looked like a thick venison stew. The Kelvics nose wrinkled at the strong scent of the spices. “Oh, its gonna be a good’n tonoight. Oi can smell the pepper n spoice.” Marrick said with an excited beaming grin. “Oi’m nae certain what yer aversion is teh gamey meat, but Oi think they’ve had this bit o’ stew basted n’ brewin since this mornin. The meat has prolly fallen straight of tha bone boy now.” His eyes took on a glazed over quality as he mumbled softly. “Noice n’ tender… sweet n’ spoicy.” The Kelvic could barely contain the excitement in his voice. The Honey Drop long since melted away and gone, he now tried to tear his attention away from the meal he was about to enjoy to keep his companion informed of the social hierarchy there in the mess. “Roight then. Food will come to us if we jest keep our heads n’ wait patiently in loine.” Marrick said with a shake of his head. “So if yeh look about yeh a moment, Oi’ll show yah a bit o’ the politics goin on.” With a tap of the shoulder and a nod to the head of a table where a large wooden chair with a high back stood empty the Kelvic began his tour. “That’s the chair o’ Sir Tristan Whoitevoine. He’s the Stewart here Knoight here. Unless we have a visitin superior officer. The two chairs next to him are often occupied boy his sons, Daniel, and David Whoitvoine. David is moy Patron. Oi think Oi see him sittin with a few o’ the men out at the end o’ one o’ the long tables.” The squire contemplated that interesting tid bit of information and stored it away in his memory. “Stewart Whoitevoine is loike teh be busy with work. He is loikly takin dinner in his offices tonoight.” The Kelvic spoke, almost to himself more than to his companion Xira. “The Knoights, Squoires, pages, n’ apprentices will sit mixed about teh speak on matters o’ trainin, and advoice.” The Kelvic said as the line shortened. “Yeh can tell a Knoight boy the insignia he wears. If their lapel bears a sword broche, their a Knoight. More swords, higher rank. Pages, Squoires, n Apprentices don’t have insignia, though age tends teh be a good indicator.” Marrick said casually as he eagerly grabbed a wooden bowl and a spoon. As they neared the squires on mess detail the Kelvic nearly bit his tongue in anticipation as one of them ladled hot thick salty deliciousness into his waiting bowl. “Oh gods, yeh aren’t fellow squoires, yeh are avatars o’ mercy sent teh feed the masses o’ starving mortals.” He said as he took a couple of rolls from a large bowl. “Squire Corvis, always with the dramatics.” One of them said with a grin as they ladled steaming stew into Xira’s waiting bowl. “Oi speaks only me heart at all toimes moy deary o’s” Marrick said with a wink as he moved along the line to get himself a tankard of cider. His food in hand, and his table awaiting, he guided his charge to their seats and he raised his glass to his companion. “Freedom and foine memories moy friend!” he said giving Xira’s cup a little tap before he took a sip of his wine and dug into his stew. It was everything that he had anticipated it would be. Spicy, with sweet flavoured meats. Little lentils and the occasional bean floated its way through the thick bullion fluid. He found himself unable to consider his manners as he filled his gob with spoonful after spoonful of hot salty goodness. When he felt he needed a break he’d dip his bread into the bowl to sop up the fluid that would remain. Feeling a might warmer, and a touch happier he stood up straight on the bench, fixing his companion with a contemplative gaze. “It’s naught a Bangor at the Rearin Stallion, but Oi’d take this over field rations any day.” He said with a smile. “Hows yer stew Xira? Yeh feelin a moight refreshed?”

[Xira Hezmek]

Before the two of them left for supper Xira gathered together the letters into a stack and put it into his pocket. The packages he held in his hand, far too bulky to stuff into his pockets, especially with his coat laid out on Marrick's bed. Xira must have made an impression on the man, especially since he would be sharing his bed with him. Though, he smiled wryly to himself, it was all the better that Marrick wouldn't be in it; that would be rather uncomfortable.

He remained politely silent as Marrick guided him to dinner. Learning about the man was fascinating, his views on the world and the subtle hints of his past. He nodded along during the natural interstitial pauses, indicating he was listening. Life as a page, apprentice or squire must have been difficult. It kept the children and men alike in order, both in deed and will though. That was nothing to downplay.

"Yes, that sounds like an excellent plan Marrick." He gave the dark haired man a toothy smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I should have brought along rations, but happy chance has gifted me with a wonderful host tonight. So perhaps it is fate." His stomach growled again to punctuate the point. The smells wafting from servers' pots were tantalizing, each breath brought hints of spice and savory meat. The subtle scent of vegetables rounding off the scent that he could practically taste in his mouth, which watered profusely.

The courier was distracted from the food by delicious information. The all places where people congregated had an inherent politics to them and the knighthood was no exception. It could be said that there is no civilization without the vying for power. Whitevine. He had a letter for both Sir Tristan Whitevine and David. He frowned to himself in thought, wondering of the contents of the letter. He dismissed the thoughts and focused on the immediate, food.

Thick chunks of potato and carrots slid from the ladle into his bowl, thin strips of venison and meat accompanying the globes. The dark, rich brown broth was neither weak nor thin but a thick and hearty goo that splashed over the courier's hands. Xira flinched but held his bowl steady; hunger overrode survival. Up close he could smell the stew more acutely, pepper, spices and a delicious stock tempting the man's resolve to wait until he sat. Xira let his friend go on ahead and inquired for a pot of hot water and some tea leaves from a server. As it happened one of the knights was partial to tea as well and they had a cup for him in short order.

He smiled at his friend as the courier sat down, quirking an eyebrow at him, waiting for the typical heckling he got for his choice of dinner drink. Xira would on occasion drink wine or ale, but not when he had a job to do. He needed a clear head and Xira was definitely a lightweight when it came to his wine. He tapped the man's cup with his own and took a sip.

The first bite of the stew was absolutely fantastic. Every bite thereafter was barely tasted in the massive gulps that the courier took. What he did taste was everything that his nose promised him. As he ate and his stomach filled the pain of hunger ebbed and he was himself again. He let out a happy sigh and nodded to Marrick's question, "They say hunger is the greatest seasoning, but I assure you that this stew needs naught of it."

He took another sip of his tea, it had mint and something else added to it and complimented the stew very well. "Ahh.. Only thing missing is perhaps a biscuit to help mop up the broth." His satiated smile switched to a full intensity appraisal of the squire, dripping with unabashed curiosity. "Tell me Marrick, you aren't from around these parts. Are you?" He wiped his mouth with a napkin and awaited the man's reply.

Words from me to you

Words from you to me

[Marrick Corvis]

The Couriers returned smile warmed the Kelvics heart. ‘Bloody nature of a Kelvic.’ He thought comically as he considered how a huge part of his drive was to make people happy. Though there were always times that conflict would strike at that nature. Marrick spooned another mouthful of the stew into his mouth and chewed at the soft cooked bits of vegetable and meat. The phenomenal warmth filling his bones, and exciting his thirst. The Kelvic thought that he could have run a double shift on the food they fed him here. After swallowing his blessed mouthful, he washed it down with some of the cold tankard of cider. The Kelvic was beginning to really like this traveler. Xira had a wise mind, and kind words to express its thoughts. He seemed a man who saw with his eyes, and felt with his heart. A Rare gem. As he spoke about the stew and hunger, Marricks memory was sparked with the light of many cold nights of starving in a cage, or cell and the amazing gratitude he would have when finally fed. The memory was a complicated feeling of disgusted anger and relief that that part of his life had passed. “Aye, hunger is the greatest seasonin.” Marrick said with a far off look. Then with a little smile that hinted at the corners of his eyes he continued. “Truer wards have naught bin spoken this eve.” The Squire said as he cracked smile, just before he spooned another slurpingly delicious mouthful of stew into his gob. The Kelvic knew that he must not have been the only one as the mess hall was very quiet for a meal time, which meant that most folks were eagerly filling up on the hardy stew. When Xira mentioned that he was missing a biscuit the Kelvic eyed the remnants of his own. Without even thinking it through he tore what was left of his piece of bread in half, making sure to give Xira the piece that was clean of stew. With a friendly smile he offered the bread to Xira. “Please take it. Oi Insist. There’s more where it came from n’ Oi’m feelin a moight peckish still. Oi’ll loikly go back for another helpin. Oi can get another.” The determined, yet friendly look on the Kelvics face reinforced the idea that he would not take no for an answer. When the courier asked him where he was from though, the Kelvic paused in his eating a moment and wiped his mouth. “Yeh have a keen ear ser.” Marrick said, a strange look of concern on his face. “Tis naught somthin Oi loike teh dwell on often.” His answer was weak and the look on Xira’s face told him that he had only peaked the courier’s curiosity. “Oi’ve told a few folks about where Oi’m from n’ it hasn’t been all thrown roses and parades.” The Kelvic took a long pull on his tankard to help gloss over some of the uncomfortableness of talking amongst the knights and squires about his ‘history’. “Farst thing ye’d want teh know about me Xira, is that Oi was born a slave.” His spoon made little circles in his stew as he thought of what to say to Xira. “The other thing…” Marrick hesitated, his face a contortion of complicated emotion and the memories of his time in Ravok filling his mind. “Is that Oi came from the City o’ Loies.” The Kelvic rushed the last piece of his sentence just before he tried to cover up his discomfort with a mouthful of stew. At the mention of Ravok, the squire sitting to Marricks left gave him a sidelong glance and picked up his tray. As he stood, the man gave the Kelvic a lastly accusing look and left his empty seat behind. Marricks pale blue eyes gave the man a furtive glance over his shoulder as he watched the other squire leave. When the tension had passed he turned his attention back to Xira and gave him a subtle smile. “Ravok isn’t the most popular o’ places here ‘bouts.” The Kelvic was distracted to the point that he didn’t even realize that his Patron had stealthily approached him from behind, and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Marricks reaction was stiff, but David Whitevine’s gentle squeeze made the squire relax at the realization of who it was. “No surprise Marrick, Rhysol was the God that slew Sylir.”The Kelvic smiled at his patron as the man took a seat. Not wanting to be rude, Marrick tried to give his charge a proper introduction, and perhaps subtly deliver his report. “Xira this is Ser David Whoitevoine. Ser, this is Xira Hezmek. Courier hailing from Syliras. He brought a horse, fer yeh or one o’ yer kin. A Tiaden OI believe. Oi had one o’ tha pages take charge o’ her over in tha stables.” With a sigh he sopped up a bit of his stew with the remaining bread in his hand and continued. “He bears letters fer the men and familes o’ Mithryn, including one fer yerself, and yer father Stewart Whoitvoine, bless his heart.” Like a man waking from a dream, Marrick shook his head and took a bite of stew covered bread. “Well met, Xira Hezmek!” David said with a smile and a nod. “I’ll take the letters for my father and myself if you have them sir.” The knight said, his commanding voice exuding confidence. “We were goin teh make an announcement and hand out folks letters in a moment ser. The couriers been roidin out all day, on an unfamiliar harse.” Marricks words were dripping with empathy. The sentiment was not wasted on his patron as the man fixed him with a little smile. “In that case, bring the letters to me when you two are done little brother. I’m counting on you to make sure they get to me in pristine condition.” The hawklike gaze that Marricks Patron fixed him with felt strangely proud. Yet there was an under tone of irritation, and the Kelvic knew that he should not have stepped in on the couriers behalf. It would have likely only take a couple of minutes out of their meal to give his Patron the letters. Yet, the Kelvic felt that a man deserved to eat. As Ser David Whitevine began to leave earshot the Kelvic let out a long sigh. Like a dog spying a squirrel, the Kelvic whipped his head back around to his stew an odd look on his face. Then out of the blue the oddest question crossed his lips. “So yeh know Oriah? Did she give yeh the parcel herself? Is she well?” The Kelvic practically felt that he was overloading his new companion with questions, but the sudden concern that filled his mind was overwhelming his common sense.

[Xira Hezmek]

At this point, Xira was warming up to the squire who was hosting him. If he hadn't already. The man was charismatic, cheerful and considerate. He watched the man's movements as he ate. There was something... bird like about him, the quick movements of his hands or perhaps the quick quizzical motions he made with his head when something unusual caught his attention. Xira smiled in the case that he was caught staring.

He accepted Marricks biscuit when offered gratefully. To refuse hospitality a second time would be an insult. Even so, he could not imagine where his own biscuit fled off to or even if he picked one up. It was a perplexing mystery that distracted him even as he tore into the biscuit and used it to soak up some of broth. The taste of the two together made his tongue savor the flavor and his jaw eager to swallow as much as possible down. He gave a weak smile to Marrick, his mouth stuffed with bread. He had given into to an undignified impulse.

He took a large swallow that made the stew and bread get stuck in his throat. It was only alleviated by washing it down with tea and it was only after that moment that he registered the words the squire spoke. "Ravok?" Xira was shocked. "No I imagine not." He said mildly to the statement he followed it up with. "You seem to be a decent fellow th-" He was distracted briefly by a large man coming up from behind Marrick.

With Marrick's introduction he inclined his head respectfully, "A pleasure Ser Whitevine." He then fell silent and let the two talk. As they spoke he watched the two. David appeared to be a kind man, taking the consideration of an underling such as he did. Marrick on the other hand seemed to either adore the knight or respect him greatly; Xira could not tell which was the case. It made no difference to him whether he gave up the letters and packages then and there. Indeed he was reaching for the letters before Marrick cut in. But it was the sigh that the man let out that Xira was interested in the most. Something was happening that he didn't see.

Xira jumped at the man's quick movements. Then came the questions, all out from beyond the castle walls, as they said. He began with the first question and went from there, " I do know Oriah! See got lost in the castle and I helped her find her way to the 'Swan. She gave me the package herself and she was well the last I saw her. She seemed anxious to get that package to you." He grinned broadly, "Must be nice to have a sweetheart in the city to send you such things." He teased lightly, "Pretty lass that one, you are a lucky man, my friend." He chuckled to himself good naturedly, enjoying the inevitable change of expression on the man's face.

He dipped his spoon into the bowl and brought it back to his mouth, but was astonished to find it and his bowl empty. How quickly the time had past. He was finished with his food then, so that meant it was time to work. He pushed the bowl and spoon off to the side, making room. If the other man was expounding at length, the courier was listening politely, but also reaching for the letters and sorting them out on the table in front of them. In a few quick moments, he had the names by surname alphabetically. "Alright, I think I am ready."

My words

Their words

[Marrick Corvis]

Xira knew Oriah personally. The Kelvic felt the most amazing and strange sensation of being next to her, even if it was vicariously. She had gotten lost and this kind traveller had helped her get to the White Swan. Oriah had been anxious to get the package to him. Inside the Kelvic felt a tickle in his heart that made him smile over his cup. He had missed Oriah far fiercer than he had even realized. Xira’s grin at his question made the squire’s own smile reach the corner of his eyes. Though, the courier’s comment on Oriah being his sweetheart sent a touch of crimson to his cheeks, or perhaps it was just the cider he was sipping at. “Oi am a lucky man, even teh have met her, as are you Mr. Hezmek.” Marrick said through his genuine smile. “Though Oi don’t know if she’s meh sweetheart. Syna knows Oi have feelins fer the girl, but Oi’ve naught much teh offer a pretty lady loike her apart from a’ loife o’ heartache.” The feelings of loneliness for his Benshira companion dampened the smile that had been growing on his lips, yet it would not leave entirely. A short sigh escaped his lips, and he sipped at his cider again to try and warm away some of the damp he felt. Though, just as it always seemed to, a new job had to be done. Marrick nodded to his companion and stood on his stool pounding down the last of his cider. With his spoon as a tipper and his cup as his drum he beat the cup till he had the rooms attention. “Roight you lot, we have a special guest this evenin’! Xira Hezmek is here tenoight with letters fer some o’ yeh. Wait fer yer name teh be called and come forward teh collect yer wards and parcels!” The conversation in the room rose in volume a little with the occasional shout of “Anything for me?” causing the squire to raise his hands in defence. “We’ll call yer names, please be patient and quiet. Get a second helpin’, er sip at yer drinks please. That’ll make it all a bit faster Sers and Seras.” With his message delivered, Marrick took his seat again and gave Xira a wink. “The floors yours Xira.” Like an angel of mercy the page the Kelvic had given the honey drop to dropped a couple fresh bowls of stew in front of them with a little smile. “Thank ye wee one.” He said with a short tussle of her hair, which she responded with a smile and a gentle shove. “It looks like you’ll be here a while. Wave at me if you need anything else Squire Corvis. I’m hoping to get a letter from my aunt Samantha tonight!” the page said with a smile sweeter than clover field honey. “Samantha? Yer Aunt is the cook at the White Swan?” Marrick asked a look of astonishment on his face, to which the child nodded vigorously. “Oi’ll be.” The squire said with a shake of his head. “Well lets hop to it Mr. Hezmek.”

[Xira Hezmek]

"Nonesense!" Xira replied to the squire's claim that he had nothing to offer Oriah. He smiled cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulder. "You have plenty to offer and plenty to give. You are a squire after all, that means one day you will be a knight. A knight is sworn to uphold the laws of the city, and in return he is given a home, food, an education, and a decent sum of gold. All of which would make any lady happy with security. Come now. If you are talking personality, though. You are right, you and she are not meant to be. You are far too humble and kind and too much of a good person." He said the last bit sarcastically, playfully winking at the paler man.

He scooped up the letters, making sure to set the Whitevine letters aside. Then Marrick got everyone's attention. Many pairs of eyes looked at the two of them as they talked. Naturally everyone wanted to get a parcel or letter. Sure Syliras was only a day's walk away, but for those posted to the outpost, it might as well be the outer ocean's distance away. He started with the Whitvine's letters, them being the highest ranking officer. Let alone that they came and asked for it personally. He stepped towards the open places of the room and called out the big man's name. David gave a tight smile and thanked the courier.

Then he went down the list of knights, squires, pages and apprentices by their given names. One by one they came up and sat back down and after each one the volume of the room buzzed as knights exclaimed over news from loved ones. Xira projected his voice as the conversations swelled and rippled. He smiled as one of the squires thanked him profusely, her eyes watering with joy. He could not imagine who her sender was, he was given this job by a sergeant and thus did not have contact with most of the senders, but he was happy for the squire.

At last all the letters were doled out and he had only the packages and those for the farmers of Mithryn left. He read out the names of the packages and those few lucky knights and squires jumped up to receive their goods. He then asked if anyone knew the names of the farmers. Squires and apprentices, family members and friends agreed to take the letters to them as soon as the dinner was completed. All done he told the noisy room, "Thank you M'lords, please enjoy the rest of your supper." He bowed and returned to his seat.

"Alright my friend. Where were we? Ah! More stew, Marrick you are an excellent friend" He smiled at the squire with heartfelt appreciation.

OOCShort post

My words

Their words

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick thought on Xira’s words. He was right. A knight did have a stable life, a home to live in, and perhaps raise a family. But no matter how much the Raven Kelvic hoped, those hopes would always end with a good dashing against the rocks of reality. However, the messenger’s genuine words were from his heart. Was there even a chance that Marrick and Oriah could live happily? Like a mist disappearing with a gust of wind to reveal the sunlight, the Kelvic’s smile returned to his face at Xira’s sarcastic remarks about Oriah. To the Kelvic she was a ball of energy, and that suited him just fine. Marrick helped Xira pass out a few letters and parcels any time there was an overflow of traffic near his battlement of deliveries. The little page who had been expecting her letter ran off with hers like a squirrel with a nut she’d just found. His Patron David Whitevine seemed genuinely pleased to get his letter and Marrick gave him a slight bow of his head. The look and nod that Marrick received made the Kelvic aware that he wanted to speak to him. As Xira carried on with his parcel delivery he left Xira to his work and sat with his patron a moment. “You did fairly well Marrick. You found out a lot of basic information about your charge.” His patron whispered to him over the wisps of steam from his bowl of stew in front of him. “What do you think of him little brother?” Marrick nodded in though for just a moment and looked his Patron in the eyes. “Xira Hezmek is a good man. He seems like he has some secrets, but who doesn’t have a few ghosts in their past?” For a moment the Kelvic considered his evening companion. “He spoke to me without hesitance, which tells me he is without guile, Sir.” The Squire finished. For a moment, Sir Whitevine seemed to chew over his squires words as he chewed on the hard bits of stew in his mouth. As he swallowed the man seemed to reach a decision and nodded to his squire. “Well done Little Brother. Your Mission is complete, and I believe your shift has been over for over an hour. You need to get some rest. We have a lot of work to do in the morning.” With the last of his days orders given he gave the Kelvic a nod, which Marrick saluted in return. XIra’s mission was successfully completed, as was Marrick’s. With a feeling of graciousness in his heart the Kelvic returned to his seat by Xira and spooned a fresh mouthful of stew into his waiting maw. As Xira was completing his hand out of parcels and gave his good evening and thank you bows, Marrick was casually sipping at the remnants of his cider. “Aye, after that Oi’ll bet yeh could do with another helpin o’ the stuff.” Marrick said reciprocating Xira’s smile with a grin, as he gently pushed the second bowl that the little page girl had given him toward his companion. “Waitress service n’ all it cost me was a honey drop n’ a koind ward.” The bowls the little girl had given them, had come with bread rolls dipped in the stew. They floated like little delicious puffy boats in a sea of brown beefy broth, meat, and vegetables. With his mission complete and his day almost done, Marrick felt a second wind of energy fill his proverbial sails. With great gusto, he devoured his stew, until at last it was naught but dribbles of broth to be mopped up with his bread. As he nibbled on the last tufts of his bread Marrick slouched in his chair and sighed. “Well, the wee ones will loikly tackle me tomorrah if Oi don’t tell em a story afore their loights out order. Care teh join me Xi?” Marrick’s accent had a hard time pronouncing the new nickname he had just given his friend. But Xi seemed to fit the man well.

[Xira Hezmek]

In some respects, squire food was rather simple. Meat, vegetables, broth, some spices and a hank of bread. But it was enough. It filled and nourished the body and soul. If he had to live on it, Xira would not be complaining. He dug into the second bowl and nodded to the squire's comment about the youngling waitress. He did not trust him to speak without flinging bits of stew from his mouth. Instead he ate with renewed vigor.

A heavy burden was off his shoulders. While he was on the job, had a package or letter to deliver, the courier always had his charge and duty in the back of his mind. It was important to him to complete his job first rather than get hung up with personal issues. Most of his employers understood if something got in the way, but they also expected an effort for a speedy and timely delivery. Now that he was finished, he was free to enjoy some time for himself.

Fortune had it that he made a friend of Marrick. Truth be told, Xira did not make friends very easily. Yet somehow Marrick and he were rapidly becoming a pair of friends. He shoveled down the food, his belly filling with warmth that hardly was registered by his tongue. At last his bowl was empty again and the man had no heart nor stomach to attempt another.

He sighed and yawned, the content feeling spreading from his belly leadening his limbs and eyelids. "A story? I would love to join you and the young ones." He fought off the encroaching weariness by standing up, now finished. "If you have duties to attend to, I'll meet you back at the garrison. I am going to retrieve my coat, I suddenly feel a draft." He offered a hand to the squire, "Until then."

The next was up to the squire. He could shake his hand and either accompany Xira to the garrison second floor or part their ways in favor of something else entirely. Either way Xira's destiny was to garrison. He left the mess hall and retraced their steps. He took the steps too at a time and found himself not moments later at the cot that belonged to the squire Marrick.

Coat in hand he returned downstairs and found a great crowd of young ones, apprentices and pages. They sat and stood and lay in beds. All their eyes were on one man.

My words

Their words

[Marrick Corvis]

“Aye.” Marrick said with a grin, as he took Xira’s hand. The squire used the couriers strong grip to help himself to his feet, and gave it a firm shake before letting him go. ‘Xira Hezmek’ The Kelvic thought to himself as he stood and waved him on. “Oi’ll be around in a couple o’ ticks.” He said with a smile. For a moment he watched Xira leave, and began plotting the story he was going to weave for the pages and apprentices this evening. Not wanting to keep the little ones waiting, the Raven Kelvic busied himself with securing a glazed stone wear cask from one of the shelves in the mess and filled it with what remained of the hard cider. “Your bringing that back right Marrick?” came the hennish cluck of one of the squires on mess duty. “O’ coarse Marrian. Oi’ll bring it back in the mornin. Oi’ll clean it me’self too. So no need teh worry.” Marrick said fixing his fellow squire with a wolfish grin as he wrapped the cask in cloth. The other squire nodded to him satisfied with the promise that he had given her. With no other obstacles in his way, the Kelvic made for the door, pressing out into the brisk evening. There was a nip in the air that was flowing off the Cobalt and Marrick was looking forward to few cups of hot hard cider. A good evening of story. As he entered the barracks he watched with a bright grin as the children began to find places by the fire, leaving the best place for Marrick. It was an old easy chair, ripped and torn. Stained by oil, and time, with the occasional burn mark on it from when a wayward cinder from the fire would make its way into the old piece of tinder. The room was filled with a soft buzz, as he made his way over to the chair and laid the cask down by the fire. It was warm and cosy in the great room of the barracks, filled as it was with eager little faces. Even a few of the knights and squires had gathered at the edges to listen to an evening of story. Marrick even caught the gaze of his Patron as he lit his pipe. After a few long puffs, he blew a puff of wreathed smoke into the rafters, letting the remains exhale mistily from his nostrils. The Kelvic got a strange enjoyment of watching him smoke, even though he didn’t enjoy the activity himself. It reminded him of his dear lost friend Gypsy in a way. Shaking the distracting memory from his head he took his seat, and unbuckled the front clasps of his armor, letting the little metal bits clink together in a gentle tapping. He smiled back at the crowd that had gathered, taking a moment to fill a horn cup with a measure of the hot hard cider. Marrick was about to take a sip when he noticed his friend Xira descend the stairs and look for a seat. The squire raised his glass to their guest and gestured to an open spot. After a short sip, the Raven Kelvic smacked his lips and cleared his throat. Ready at last, he lifted his voice and began. “Thank ye all fer comin.” With his first words the room grew quiet and still. “Tenoights tale begins a long way from here in a toime nigh forgotten boy folk loike you n’ Oi. We foind ourselves in ol’ Suvan. Near the border o’ Alahea. The land was tamed, yet the warld was at war.” With a simple tilt of his horn cup, Marrick took a sip of his cider. “Now near the border o’ the two great empires there was a moighty desert, filled with perilous n’ shiftin sand. Where the only way teh travel safely was teh guide yerself boy the stars.” Marrick lifted his hand up toward the rafter and grasped almost as if he could see the night sky with its twinkling lights. With a deep breath he brought his attention back to his audience. “In the center o’ this desert a hidden oasis rested green n’ safe. T’was this place o’ rest n’ safety away from the war that two lovers met, one from Suvan n’ one from Alahea. Ferbiden boy lord, land, n’ god their love struggled n’ flourished.” The squire shut his eyes gently almost as if he had borne witness to the fiction he wove. “Their names, were Zasar, the black wing, and Lahsa the kissed.” “Why were they called that?” a little boy said near the front, his eyes filled with curiosity. “Why?” Marrick said with a little smile. “Zasar the black wing, was a fierce spearman of the Suvan empire, and it was said that when his dark banner flew over the phalanx, that ravens would always follow it.” Marrick said burying his little smile in the depths of his cup, sipping at the hot cider. “What about Lahsa the kissed?” a little girl said, setting a few of the other little girls to giggling. “Lahsa, was Kissed boy Syna, an exotic beauty. Skin loike the froth on a cup o’ hot chocolate.” The Kelvic said with a smile, as he spread his hands wide. “Now where was Oi?” He said as he brought his hands back together around his cup. “The Oasis!” David Whitevine said with a chuckle, as he puffed little rings of smoke into the air. “Roight!” The Raven Kelvic said with a grin. “The Oasis was the only place the pair could meet and be safe. T’was this very place the lovers rested one beautiful evenin when the heavens rend n’ the skoies fell. Bringin with them the wrath o’ the gods. The Valeterian was upon them.” “As the world was torn apart and made anew, the desperate lovers escaped the Oasis just before it was destroyed. Only teh be turned out inta the desert. They held hands for a long toime. Walkin. Troyin teh make it out. But sadly, the world was not as it used teh be. All the landmarks were gone. Even the stars didn’ shoine quoite the same.” Marrick’s last words were filled with a somewhat believable sorrow. “At last, naught able teh walk any further. The pair held each other close, n’ wept their end.” The squire said softly with a bow of his head. “As the sun set on their last day, they shared a vision. Of a woman, beautiful and sad, yet full of light and joy. They pleaded with her to help them, and their prayer was answered. Though not in the way they expected.” The squire said as he poured a fresh cup of steaming hard cider into his cup. “What happened?” Said a rather dreamy looking fellow squire who sat at the edge of his seat. “Just as, the cider Oi pour inta moi cup changes shape as it leaves the cask it was once in. So did the shapes o’ the two lovers change. With the doyin loight, Lahsa became a new oasis, n’ Zahar, became a raven.” The crowd gasped in surprised and disappointment that the ending was not a happy one, even a couple of the pages gave each other reassuring hugs. A few stifled sniffles could even be heard from the edges of the room. “That’s a terrible ending Marrick!” the Raven Kelvics Patron said with a little knowing grin, as he tapped out his pipe. “Who said that was the end?” Marrick said with mock offense, and a little grin. “For yeh see, as long as Syna shoines in the skoy, the Oasis will bloom. Lahsa is there still giving rest to travellers and helpin those in need, jest as Syna did fer her.” “What about Zasar?” came the timid voice of a rather young looking apprentice in the front row. “Well, even though he could fly away from the Oasis, Zasar stayed and tended to her needs. He would tend her loike a garden. Keepin vermin away, n’ guidin lost travellers teh her safe shelter.” Marrick took a little sip of his hot cider and continued. “Some say he’s there still, guiding wanderer’s lost n’ the desert, as the sun sets, teh safety.” “So moy little pages, n’ apprentices. If’n yeh ever are lost. Watch fer a raven at Syna’s settin. Oft toimes, he’ll lead yeh teh safety.” Marrick said with a smile before he polished off his cup. As he lowered his gaze once again to the crowd of story sated faces, he felt a tug at his chauses, only to look down into the most doe eyed face of any apprentice he had yet met. “Is that story true Mr Marrick?” The little girls voice whispered in awe and wonder. Marricks brow rose, and his smile blossomed into a grin. “Loike any story choild, It holds in it a grain o’ truth. But no. T’isnt true wee one.” He said as he tossed the little girls hair.

[Xira Hezmek]

There was something to be said about the primal sensation of gathering around a storyteller as Leth rose to hold court among the stars and his celestial subjects. It harkened back to the days when men sat around fires, not unlike the hearth, and told stories: happy ones, sad ones, fearful ones, all to keep the shadows and the monsters at bay from their thoughts. The courier looked about and watched every small child's face and even some older one faces rapt with wonder.

Marrick was not the best storyteller. He did well enough though. Mithryn soldiers were not trained to entertain young ones or each other, they were there to protect and serve the city and their fortress. Xira would admit that either the story was moving, or the squire simply had the talent of keeping one's attention on him. If it was the latter, then someday he would make a great knight. Not that he knew any knights personally.

By the end of the story Xira found himself wrapped up in his coat for warmth. The stew had an interesting effect on him. Two servings of it had him full and drowsy, the day's aches and pains beginning to tug on his mind for sleep. He yawned again and clapped politely. He would probably be the only one to do so, but he did not mind that, the man deserved his accolades.

A voice from the back yelled to the front "Another? Can we have another?" This had the lot of them chanting, "More, more more..." Over and over. The courier watched his newly made friend's expression with amusement. The young ones were a voracious bunch.

Xira laughed heartily as they chanted to get their storyteller to spin more tales. How could the man deny them? There would be a riot if did. The courier looked about him again and realized that there was a healthy gap between him and the young ones. Of course, he was an outsider to these folk. What was he expecting? Children leaning against or seeking protection from a stranger?

His mirth was quickly doused. Temur had warned about this, going to places beyond the walls was a quick way to get one's self excluded. In Syliras it was different. The sheer press of humanity and otherwise meant that they simply had to accept you unless you were an obviously an outsider. No one person could keep track of fifty thousand others. Smaller communities, which Mithryn certainly was, or the other city-states were... xenophobic. They would see Xira as an unwelcome influence.

In that moment he could see himself in a future of wandering and loneliness. He would always have Syliras to return to but even there he struggled with the uncaring attitude of the people there. People were numbers, and rightly so. Yet it did not mean that they were quick to reach out to a stranger. He gave a half sigh. He was full, he was tired, and he certainly wasn't thinking right.

Perhaps he would go to take the squire's cot.

The man was an interesting fellow. Unlike many others, he reached out to the courier in friendship. Perhaps it was because of a common acquaintance... but the friendship was nice all the same. He knew very little of Marrick, but he seemed like a decent sort. Funny that Ravok could bring Syliras a decent man when the entire place was steeped in lies of filth.

He gave a soft smile to Marrick, waiting to see if he would give into the demands for another story.

My words

Their words