Ophelia's Arrival - Chryril 25 MT

[Guido Cercatoro]

Ophelia’s calm voice, relaxed body and subservient pose appeared to calm the mare, for she slowed her steady advance and came to a halt a few paces from the girl. The injured horse still had a wide-eyed stare but the tossing of her head had been replaced by a quiet whinny. The mare regarded the woman’s outstretched hand with suspicion but sniffed it tentatively.

The small figure stepped down from the verandah and began to approach the horse from behind. After a few flickers, the figure began to whistle softly. It was an engaging, calming whistle that Ophelia could sense further settle down the animal.

As the small figure drew closer, it became apparent that it was not small boy but a diminutive human. A mop of unkempt straw hair framed a somewhat unusual face dominated by wide mouth that appeared fixed in the manner of a grotesque but apparently friendly smile. It was as if the man had had his lips sown open so that they would forever bear the smile. The delicate, soft whistle that emerged from the mouth was in direct contrast to the figure’s slightly unnerving appearance. He stopped just behind the mare, giving her rear a gentle stoke of his hand. The smile of the newcomer fixed itself on Ophelia but he merely continued to whistle.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Regarding the horse with renewed hope, Ophelia stretched out her fingers slowly following the tentative sniff. She rubbed the back of her hand against the soft, velvety nose. "There you are, girl.. shh.." The boy beyond the rump of the mare was barely considered, and the prone form was forgotten, as well as the yelling pair beyond the outside fence. Even Sam was an afterthought, as she watched the horse and listened to her whinny. "You're hurt, I know." It's ok. You're safe now. Though, as she made that internal comment, she realized it was likely not the case. This animal had been abused by someone. Ophy wasn't entirely sure if it was this 'Friendly' character, or the person who now laid on the ground, or maybe even the person who might've owned the horse prior.

It was perhaps this thought that brought her back to the moment at hand, and caused her to catch sight of the approaching grinner. His face made her uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than the noble's leering or the confrontational guard out front. "Theodore sent me," she said over the shoulder of the horse, taking in the visage of the shorter man. What are you? Halfling? Where Ophelia lived in Muchislie there were little aside from humans. It made her less inclined to understand different races, or even to recognize them. "I'm looking for a horse." Here, she looked back to the horse infront of her, and continued rubbing her nose affectionately as though he hadn't appeared at all.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The combined attentions of Ophelia and the diminutive man calmed the mare and she nuzzled her nose into the back of the woman's hand. With the animal soothed, the straw-haired man stopped his whistling and called over to the two men who stood nervously at the side of the yard. “Get Hardor and dispose of him.” He spoke in a high-pitched yet melodic voice. Indeed, the voice sounded as if emanated from a female bard rather than the strange figure that stood before Ophelia.

The two men responded immediately. Each took one of the fallen man’s hands and dragged him to the side of the yard before lifting him onto the back of a small cart. Meanwhile, Sam had moved from the gate to stand a couple of paces behind Ophelia.

The man with the strange grin moved around the mare towards Ophelia. “I told him to treat you well,” he murmured to the beast as he inspected the wound. “Stupid fellow. He deserved all he got.”

“So Theodore sent you,” he stated, directing a pair of brown eyes at Ophelia. As he spoke the lips scarcely moved, apparently fixed in their lop-side grin. “With a guide, I see.” He nodded at Sam who grinned in return.

“They call me Friendly,” continued the man, pushing one hand through his straw hair. “And I am the man you need to see. However, I only deal with those who treat their horses well. If I sell you one of my fine horses, will you treat him well? After all, you don’t want to end up like poor Hardor.”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

"He did this?" Ophelia shot eye daggers at the unmoving form on the ground which turned out to be someone named Hardor. She watched as he was taken away by Friendly's associates to be 'disposed' of, something she found quite unsettling indeed. Retracting her hand, and figuring the mare was comfortable enough, Ophy relented in her insistance on calming. "Then he did deserve it," she said and sighed.

His eyes dashing to Sam caused her to turn and give the boy a smile and a quick wave. He atleast looked less scared now, which was a good thing. "Yeah, I needed one. I'm new here. Plus, who would've protected me from your lecherous guarsman?" Her tone suggested what her words didn't elaborate on, but she was quick to move the conversation to the horses - he true reason for having come at all.

"Absolutely, sir. I'm Ophelia da Yrsa, my father, Ragnar so'Yrsa in Muchislie, he breeds Kislovani heavy horses," she wasn't sure if he'd recognize the name or not. There were few people breeding them outside of the boundaries of Kislovan itself, so it was possible. "And I've had much experience with them. I'm looking for a stallion, one capable of handling the rough. I can guarantee that no abuse will come from my hands, but he will be a work horse, so I don't need any ninny showhorse meant for carriaging or a shuffling merchant hitcher," she proclaimed as if both these things were distastful mis-uses of a horses power. "I want a runner, and a fighter." Her bright blue eyes flicked over to the barn and then back to him. "Maybe you have a few I could look at?"

[Guido Cercatoro]

Ophelia’s comment about the guard at the gate drew no response from Friendly. However, her revelation that her father bred horses resulted in a raised eyebrow and a muttered “how interesting” from the strange man.

“Well if you have a good deal of experience with horses, I have one or two that might interest you. Please follow me.” He strode over to the row of stables that ran along one of the side walls of the courtyard and unhooked a latch that held shut the top half of a typical stable door. A low whistle sounded from his lip and within a flicker, the face of a large, ebony coloured horse peered out through the open stable door. A white strip ran down the middle of the horse's black face ending at a pair of flared nostrils. The head was held high and erect with almost a regal bearing.

“Jaaz is his true name,” said Friendly. “He is a fine charge that carried his former master into many a battle. He pines since the death of his master but with the right rider, he would be whole once again. Would you like to try him out?”

The horse looked directly at Ophelia as if appraising her.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

The horse's appraising look was recieved with a smile as she, too, gave him a look-over. "Hello, Jaaz," she purred as a brave hand sought out the warm velveteen nose, rubbing it after having allowed the large animal to give her a proper sniff. "Is he gelded, or still intact?" She queried, but even as she asked, she was looking the animal over with the interest of a breeder. Her father had bred draft horses, and they differed in stature from fast riden horses, but they were more akin to what a war-horse ought to be structured as. "What happened to his previous master?" He had suggested he'd been killed, but not how. "Did he die in battle?"

As one hand affectionately rubbled his muzzle (and was also wary should he attempt to bite) the other ran down his neck, feeling the musculature beneath his supple fur. "You're a beauty, Jaaz.. and aren't you strong..." she whispered, but these words weren't for Friendly, they were for the mount, her fingers delicately tracing the definition of his chest and then down his front leg, feeling the structure of his knee. It could easily be construed as a very intimate gesture, the way her pale fingers deftly manuevered his exterior.

Her eyes appraised his pasterns, assuring they weren't too long or narrow, nor bulky and set too low to the ground before wrapping a hand around his leg to examine the frog for depth and sensitivity. "He's comfortable with shoeing?" She asked, dropping the hoof and watching as Jaaz readjusted his positioning, locking knees the way he ought to. The hand still remaining at his face was joined by the other, both her hands moving to rub attentively before inspiring Jaaz to open his mouth so that she might examine his teeth, and to guage his age upon it, it would be easy to tell if he were older than five, but beyond that, she knew only by the degradation of the teeth. She was not as much an expert as her father. "How old is he?" Ophelia queried once releasing his mouth, her fingers running through the forlock to check for hiden injuries.

Again, she was on the move, examining him. "Would you like to go for a ride, Jaaz?" Her hands moved over his back, feeling the muscles and softness of his spine, judging whether he would be a comfortable bareback ride, or if he needed saddling. "Have you a bit for him?"

[Guido Cercatoro]

“Surprisingly, he is still intact,” replied Friendly. “His former master must have wished to breed with him. As for the story of his death…it is not one we should discuss in front of Jaaz, for it saddens him to hear his master’s name. If you decide to buy we will seal the deal with a drink and I will tell you the story if you wish.”

Jaaz made no attempt to bite and appeared pleased with Ophelia’s attentions. The horse was muscular and strong, clearly bred well and with no obvious signs of any wounds or past injuries. As far as Ophelia could tell he was a magnificent animal. It was all the more surprising that such a beast should be found in a yard in the poor quarter. His teeth indicated that he was older than five but probably only around eight or nine years.

“He can be shoed,” confirmed the diminutive man. “As to his age, well, suffice to say that he is in his prime and will do for you for several years to come. But he is not a horse to keep locked up, he will need regular exercise and excitement.”

“There is a saddle, bit and other equipment in the stall. Feel free to ride him.” Friendly unlatched the door. At the rear of the stall an ornate saddle hung from the wall.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

"A drink and a story would be more than welcome," Ophy replied warmly, her eyes not leaving Jaaz while continuing to appraise him. As he opened the door and allowed her entrance to the rear where there was a saddle, she held no reservations and helped herself to the heavy gear which she settled onto the horse's back with practice. This was something she was more than familiar with as she strapped on the wooden contraption. Bit and bridle went on easily. "You don't mind the bit at all, do you? Good boy..." She rubbed his nose affectionately before taking alongside him to lead into the yard where she might get a better idea of how strong the beast was. "Let's see to some of that excercise right now, shall we?"

Already, however, seeing what a magnificent creature he was, she was getting her doubts over whether or not she could afford him. Her hand went to ruffle his mane before grabbing the high pommel to pull herself onto the saddle. With reins in hand she shifted and got her weight distributed appropriately. Giving a determined, but not overly sharp, dig of her heel, she spurned him forward with the intention of a stroll followed by canter and gallop to see what he was capable with movement. Should that prove easy enough (and she figured it would considering how lovely Jaaz had been so-far) she was ready to give him a real go of things. Her eyes scanned for something worth jumping in the yard. If there was such an object she dug in a bit deeper with her heel, encouraging bravery, and pulled her body in close to Jaaz's back while lining up to take a quick jump.

"C'mon, boy," she urged and sent the horse in the direction of said obstacle. Her body, though toned and fixed on holding onto the horse, was also prepared should he decide to stop early - as horses were prone to do - and as such, she held to him tightly with her legs, but tried to keep a good posture as to the rest of her body.

Should there be nothing of interest worth jumping (or after such jump might be completed [unless her jump ended dramatically]), she was more than satisfied to run him through the coral, stopping sharply to test his reaction and offering subtler cues via tugs on his reigns. At such a time as she felt satisfied to having gotten to know Jaaz a bit better, she turned him back in the direction of Friendly. "He's lovely! How much?" Ophelia approached, but didn't give signs of slipping from the saddle until necessary.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Jaaz stayed stock still as he was saddled and mounted by Ophelia. It was evident that the horse was extremely well-trained. The saddle was of high quality, with the leather decorated with a spiral motif, whilst the metal parts of the bit and reins were highly polished and also garnished with the spiral pattern.

The magnificent horse responded quickly to Ophelia’s movement of her heels and reins, cantering and galloping with ease. To her surprise, she instantly felt at home on the horse as if she and Jaaz were one fluid being rather than two separate entities. She had scarcely spotted the pile of logs in one corner of the yard before the horse had responded and leapt the obstacle with obvious delight. The rest of the exercise went equally well with the horse revelling in the physical exercise he was being given. It was obvious that the performance of the horse was as much, if not more, to do with the quality of the animal than any great skill on its rider’s behalf.

As she drew the horse alongside Friendly and asked her question, the strange man patted the horse. “Aaah, the price, yes. Please follow me and we will discuss this over a drink.”

When Ophelia had dismounted, Friendly would beckon for one of the men in the yard to take the horse. Sam had wandered over into another corner of the yard and was joking with one of the stablehands.

The diminutive human would lead Ophelia through a door in the building with the verandah. Immediately inside the building was a comfortable room with several plain chairs, a low table and a hearth over which hung a pan of boiling liquid. Friendly ladled out two mugs of the steaming liquid. “It is a fortifying drink,” he explained handing one mug to Ophelia. The drink gave off a pleasant, herb-like odour but the woman did not recognise the smell.

“Please take a seat”, continued the horse-seller. “But before we discuss price, you must tell me how you intend to use the horse and where you intend to take him. And then, if I am satisfied, I will tell you its story. If we are both happy at the end of these tales, we will find a price.”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

His precision and obvious enjoyment of the ride was not lost on the girl. She had a great fondness for horses, and enjoyed a good gallop, but she'd not had much practice at jumping, and the fact that the animal took it with such zeal proved his prowess. Slipping from the saddle when Friendly called over an assistant, she felt a sudden longing to jump right back into the saddle and ride off with the beast, as if to kidnap him from this place where he didn't belong. He needed space so that he could run and jump. Ophelia wanted very much to give him that space.

Taking in a slow and restrictive stride, so as to not out-pace the shorter man, she remained quiet but attentive as the passed through the grounds and into the interior space from which Friendly had emerged. Her nose too in the scents of fire, and something herbal and mysterious which she didn't recognize, but was soon offered in the tankard which her fingers wrapped around adoringly. The warmth felt good. "Fortifying?" She wasn't entirely sure what the word meant, but she assumed it had something to do with either not tasting entirely great, or being strong due to his explanitory tone. Seeing as she knew her spirits she was leaning more toward it being unpalatable. It did give off a pleasant enough odor, so she tentatively had a go at the unknown beverage.

(To think, she didn't even realize, she'd find herself taking an unusual beverage from a stranger the very next day. Whatever the potentsy or effect of this one, the next was curative in nature. Ophelia had been warned in youth by her mother to avoid putting anything into herself which she'd not fully understood the contents of for fear of poison - especially as she was leaving to travel alone [and as a woman no less!] to a foreign land. The words of her mother never seemed to stick.)

Satisfactorily imbibed, Ophelia began with her explaination. "You see, I am a traveller, sir, and a bard. I plan to go to Pax, and there I'd like very much to help those that I can. I need to learn about myself, and this world, for I'm finding I'm very much sheltered of it." Naive Ophelia was, but not unknowing of her own failing. "I'm trained in some fighting, I can defend myself, and I know how to ride a horse - though I bet just about anyone could ride Jaaz, something I very much think is linked closely to his dead rider and him, which I'm very curious about for sure." She said, but switched gears to finish her intentions before he might suggest that she not need such a valiant steed. "But that is just the beginning of my story," she said. "Because I just need Pax as my beginning, so I can get my head on straight and maybe make a few friends and find a few backers. You see, my aim is for the Palace to the North." Her fingers, which had been laced lazily around the mug tightened just barely, and she settled the goblet in her lap comfortably. The heat from it's liquid contents spread across her thigh.

"There lies a great treasure there, and I plan to brave it's dangers to bring back not just it's gold and gems, but also it's stories from the very ghosts themselves who still reside there. It won't be easy, and I need an animal that can face what lies ahead." They were fantastic claims for certain, but it was her plan thus far. She hoped it was compelling enough, and, if the man had some money, maybe he'd be interested in some sort of claim in the would-be caravan.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The beverage met Ophelia’s expectations. It tasted awful, as if some unknown herbs had been watered down with stagnant water. Still, Friendly downed a mug quickly and smacked his lips. “It gives energy,” he said simply. Ophelia’s sip of the beverage had no obvious effect on her apart from leaving a foul taste on her lips.

The smiling horse-trader listened intently as his customer outlined her future plans. “A treasure hunter, how delightful,” he remarked when she had finished. “And you are to journey to Pax, most interesting, most interesting indeed. I may…” His voice trailed off and he sat back in his seat interlacing his hands. “I may have a proposition for you. But first I will tell you a little of the history of the horse that you have just ridden.”

“In his youth, before he came upon his fine mount, Jaaz’s master was an adventurer. It ran in his family, for his father was a great student of antiquity, forever venturing to far off lands in search of some great treasure or other. Some of his journeys took him far into the Border estates, as far as the Howling Ice mountains and even the Fire Canyon.” Friendly chuckled. “It most apt that you come seeking his horse, most apt.”

“Father and son found many a treasure but on one expedition they came across something they had not expected. They found a large group of wild horses, some of the most magnificent specimens that they had ever seen. Yet despite all their attempts they could not catch a horse. Until, that is one day, when the son came across an injured mare. He tended to its wounds and, for some reason he would never explain, let the mare free. The next day he awoke to find Jaaz standing by his camp. The horse was his from then onwards. A gift perhaps for his good deeds. A treasure indeed.”

“But tell me more about this palace that you seek?”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia, for all her talents, was just a budding actress, and as such, the taste of the beverage brought about a surprised expression betraying her thoughts on it's complex flavor. The fact that Friendly didn't drink it at all, but downed it as if a shot of strong liquor, suggested she ought do the same, and such, before responding to his query on the palace, she swallowed the remainder of the tankard with as much zeal as she could manage. "It better do something good with a taste like that," she commented with a grin plastered over her distaste. She was good-humored, after all, and wasn't above the jest particularly since he'd invited it by offering.

Jaaz was, she'd discovered, quite the catch. If she could manage it, and after she'd gotten her treasure and found a good number of stories, Ophelia now decided that she'd have to bring the stallion home to her father. A lineage such as his, from such beauty and strength, deserved to be bred into the strong stock Dagnar had been raising. Ophy wanted very much to ask Friendly more about Jaaz and his owner, but his question caused her to think on it rather than the mount.

"I'm headed for Trothgard," she said surely. "And beyond, to the Seven White Towers - the original capital of the Empire." The bard had been under the impression that many people would know it's story, but that was increasingly not the case. "After the great king was betrayed by his son, and the great demon struck out against his people, it was only by the gods themselves that our world stayed together." There was a dreamy quality to her voice. It was a story she could easily recall in greater detail if warranted, but she figured for her current company it wasn't necessary.

"Behind the Ice Wall there is great treasure. One need only gain the favor of the Ice Queen to pass." The muse, being one of the land, thought herself to have an easier time than the previous persons who'd passed the great obstruction. "I have a plan, one that would make it so that I and my group need only go to the city. Our return will be much swifter." Sparkling eyes suggested she would share the plan, with proper motivation.

"But, first I must know what happened to Jaaz, and his former master, and why it pains him to even hear his name." She had heard of strong bonds between man and beast, but never anything to that level. "And I should like to know what, exactly, happened to that mare out there. Do you often let horses under your care be so mistreated?" Skeptisism begged him to say he hated such abuses so that her faith might not be shaken in the curious little man who she was finding to be quite interesting.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Almost as soon as the liquid hit her stomach, Ophelia felt a pleasant warm sensation spread throughout her body and a brief surge of a great feeling of well-being. The sensation dropped in intensity but left her with a feeling of great energy, just as Friendly had promised. The horsetrader smiled, obviously perfectly aware of the impact of the drink. “I have a friend who is a great herbalist,” he offered by way of explanation.

“Behind the ice wall,” muttered Friendly. “What a great adventure that would be. I am envious of your ambition.”

"And I should like to know what, exactly, happened to that mare out there. Do you often let horses under your care be so mistreated?"

“I regard the mistreatment of horses as a great crime,” replied Friendly with obvious sincerity. “I employed the man whom you saw as a favour. He betrayed my trust and he had paid the penalty”.

“Many think that I steal the horses I sell here. That is not the case. I liberate them from ill treatment and find them a home when they are lost. I only sell to those that I or the horses themselves deem suitable, such as yourself.”

"But, first I must know what happened to Jaaz, and his former master, and why it pains him to even hear his name." She had heard of strong bonds between man and beast, but never anything to that level.

“Jaaz’s master’s father died on one expedition and his son lost the taste for exploration. He joined an army and fought in many wars with great distinction. Many tales are told of master and horse. During one battle, Jaaz and his master came across a tribe of horses of the same breed as Jaaz. The story goes that Jaaz fell in love with a mare and deserted his master for a short time. Yet, his love proved false and he returned to find his master dying beneath another horse whom he had taken to replace Jaaz. It is said that the warrior was reckless in battle and no longer wished to live.”

“Now I have told you of many things. So, before I finish my story, you must tell me more of your plan to obtain the treasure, for I am most intrigued."

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia's eyes widened just slightly as the warmth spread over her body. At first she thought it might be due to alcohol. Heated alcohol, such as cider and grog, had the same sort of effect. It didn't come with the overall feeling of goodness that this particular drink did, though. "What's he call it?" She asked, setting down the emptied tankard.

"Yes.. a great adventure. I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait to explore Trothgard and beyond," she said with a smile.

"Your own ambition is something to be admired," Ophy replied after he explained his position on horses. Liberate was another one of those fancy words. This one she took to mean borrowing, or perhaps rescuing. Maybe even a bit of both, but she wasn't entirely sure. Either way, Friendly seemed a friendly sort. His name was quite fitting. He also had the best interest of beautiful animals in mind. That made him all the better according to the young woman.

Jaaz's story was heartbreaking. Ophelia couldn't help the shine that came to her eyes - a shine she was quick to blink away as if it hadn't been there. "That's so sad..." Her fingers laced together. "I wonder if his mare foaled or not," she mused aloud.

But, Friendly was interested in hearing more about the Seven White Towers. Ophelia couldn't blame him. "I plan to use the portals," she said surely. "The people in the old capitol created them. They had a different name for them then, Golden Arches or something," she shrugged losely. "Maybe it was Golden Gates, anyway... not everyone realizes they had them at all - which works just fine for me." The beautiful blonde grinned broadly. "I'd like to re-open one of the portals there, and from it I'll be able to bring back things from the Seven White Towers." It was a simple plan. Travel to the Towers, scoop up the goodies and then go home. Ophy had found that simple was often best. No need to get everything all fussed up and complicated.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“We call the drink Folly – it is a private joke,” replied Friendly, his fixed grin perhaps widening a little as he spoke. “In truth, is a simple energy booster with no side effects apart from its unusual taste.”

The strange trader continued to listen to Ophelia’s plan for the future. When she had finished, he sighed. “I envy you this journey, for I would love to embark on such a venture. But now, I must finish my story.”

“Jaaz must have wandered alone for some time after his master’s demise. Eventually, he came upon a recluse – a hermit who lived in a small cottage in the Downs. Jaaz and this man became friends and stayed together for many years. But men succumb to the winds of time. The hermit became ill. Jaaz carried him to a nearby village close to Kings Court where the fellow lay ill for some time. This is where I came across them. I ensured that the man had a comfortable last few days, arranged for his funeral and Jaaz attached himself to me.”

The horseman paused for a few flickers as if to give dramatic effect to his next words. “According to the hermit, Jaaz was with him for forty years. And yet, the horse appears less than ten yahren old. Rather strange if it is true.”

“Well, that is the end of the story and so on to my proposition. Jaaz is worth many crowns, more than you can afford. And yet, I will give him to you for a nominal sum. In return, all I ask is that when you visit Pax, you search and find Jaaz’s tribe and report their location to me. I am sure that Jaaz will lead you there once you are close. You see, I yearn to find this tribe and, if I am worthy, claim one of his brother’s as my own.”

“So, what do you think of my proposition?”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

As Friendly continued his story, Ophelia continued to listen. When he went on to say that Jaaz had travelled for many yahren, and that he lived with the hermit for some time, the girl was beginning to wonder at the integrity of his story. For, upon examination of the horse it didn't seem as if he could've been battle hardened only to see his master die as well as become close to another. She was about to comment about thus, in the fashion of suggesting he rework the tale, when he almost explained it thanks to the comment from the 'hermit'.

Why not believe it? Truely, there was no reason. Ophy was a girl with her head often in the clouds, and stories about magickal horses who lived forever were the sorts of things she ate up. "You just want one?" She questioned. The way she figured, he'd want atleast a mating pair. Maybe he just meant to stud the one. It would be enough. Though, retrieving a female and matching it to Jaaz would be the most suitable arrangement. "I believe I can do that, sir," she said. "If Jaaz is willing to lead me to them then I shall give yourself the ability to find one. If they are as strong willed as you've suggested, I wish you the best of luck in working an arrangement with the wild steed."

Reaching to her side she checked for her bag, only to remember that it was back with her young companion. Thankfully she still had her coin purse attached to her belt. After the horse merchant gave a final price Ophy paid as appropriate and gave him a generous handshake to go with it. "Pleasure doing business, Friendly, but, I'm afraid my time for tales has drawn short, I have another meeting to get to before the day is over." She stretched her limbs from their relaxed position and felt the wonderous potion giving life to her tired appendanges.

If he had no other queries or comments she showed herself out of the building back into the open yard where she beckoned Sam to come closer. "Let's get moving, then." The way back to Jaaz's stall wasn't difficult in any regards, so she made a short journey of retrieving the beautiful mount and presenting him to Sam with the proud face of the kid with the cookie. "Sam, meet Jaaz, Jaaz, meet Sam," she said with a grin and went to grab the bag from the young boy. "Can you get up there?" She asked, and assisted him if necessary.

"Scoot your butt forward," she said, putting her own foot in the stirrup and mounting behind the streetsmart lad. Clicking she nudged Jaaz onward toward the large door where they'd come in. "You mind opening up for us?" Her voice carried down toward the gatekeeper.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“I doubt that I will be able to obtain more than one of these fine horses,” said Friendly with a sigh. “More would be greedy and possibly unwise.”

“As for the price, one crown will suffice.” He pocketed the coin. “However, I should caution you that I am a man of my word and I trust that you are a woman of your word. I expect you to find this tribe and report back to me. To do otherwise would be Folly.” The trader’s eyes glanced momentarily towards the two empty glasses. Was there a veiled threat contained in his words?

“I have a contact in Pax whom I will tell of your arrival. He is a well connected man who may have information to help you in your search. You have no need to look for him, he will find you.”

Ophelia made her farewells and within a short time she was riding out of the yard mounted on her horse with Sam clinging on for his life. “You must be rich to afford a horse like this,” the young boy murmured in admiration. If she looked over her shoulder, the horsewoman would also see another admirer… the gateman was watching her exit with considerable interest. The leer had gone and was replaced by a thoughtful look.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

"I am a woman of my word. No threats necessary. I'll be on the look for your man. How will he give introduction so that I might know it's him?" She waited only for that question's answer before depositing the coin into his small hand.

-=-=-

Sam's suggestion at her wealth caused the Muchislie native to laugh. "No, Sam... not rich, far from it. Jaaz picked me and Friendly was good enough to offer me a deal," she said. "Thing is, Sam.. you'd be amazed what people will give if you're honest." To the gatekeeper she gave a quick nod, and she appreciated his new appraisal of her as well as the reflection on her person it offered. No simple whore now, am I? She might've said. But, there was no reason for such comments. Ophelia didn't need to boast. She was content to have a mount, and to have Sam as guide.

"So... time for us to head to Hugo's wouldn't you say? We have some money to collect," she whispered into the lad's ear by-way of leaning into his narrow back. One arm wrapped around his midsection protectively, that insistant maternal instict kicking in again. "No falling off. I need you to direct me." Ophelia allowed for him to give directions which she then passed along to Jaaz by way of gentle steerings. He was the sort of ride that seemed to need little in the way of encouragement, and she thought that the ride to Pax wouldn't be that bad afterall.

As they rode, she pondered after the well-being of the young boy. She thought it might be rude to ask, but under the circumstances, they were naught but two travellers together at this point - even if it was traversing his home-town. "Sam...?" She began slowly. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" This was, of course rhetoric, and meant only to buffer her query as she internally attempted to come up with the right words. "Are you cared for? I mean to say - you have parents, don't you?" She hoped he did. She dreaded the thought of such an adorable little scrap left to his own devices. But, there were many orphans, particularly with the wars raging and the constant raids. Perhaps the orcs had taken them? She shuddered at the thought, and waited as patiently as she could for his response.

[Guido Cercatoro]

"I am a woman of my word. No threats necessary. I'll be on the look for your man. How will he give introduction so that I might know it's him?"

“He’ll find you, don’t you worry,” said Friendly cryptically , refusing to comment further……

********************************************

Sam’s eyes widened at the news that Jaaz had “chosen” Ophelia, yet the young boy appeared more awed than surprised. He readily gave directions to Hugo’s and the horse responded fluidly to his new mistresses’ urgings. The magnificent mount received countless stares of admiration and envy as they traversed their way out of the poor quarter. Jaaz was clearly not a horse to go unnoticed.

“Are you cared for? I mean to say - you have parents, don't you?"

“M’ folks are dead. Missy,” said Sam in matter of a fact tone. “I cares for meself doin’ odd jobs fer merchants and acting as a guide fer newcomers. I does alright for meself.”

It was only a short while before Sam, Ophelia and Jaaz arrived at Hugo’s.

Set on a small side street just off the Avenue of Trade, Hugo’s has become the dining place of choice for many of the nobility in King’s Court. Outside, the establishment has a modest appearance with only a simple plaque to the side of the door proclaiming the name of the business. Hugo’s is named after its owner Hugo Montmorency whom, together with his brother Algernon, also runs one of the more exclusive tailoring shops in King’s Court.

Anyone who knocks on the door will find themselves confronted by an elegant doorman resplendent in a black jacket, leggings and white shirt. The establishment is expensive, has a strict dress code and reservations are normally required. Once inside patrons may leave any coats or baggage with the cloakroom attendant and then proceed to the main dining room. A number of private dining rooms are also available for more intimate engagements.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia's grasp on the street boy tightened just barely as he informed her that he was an orphan. She frowned, and was thankful that he couldn't see it. Ophy, for her part, couldn't imagine not having her parents - even if they were way back home in Muchislie. Atleast she knew they were safe. "I'm sorry to hear that." It sounded awkward and fake, just another phrase one was taught to say politely when faced with a person's loss. "Ih--is it just you, then, Sam?" She asked quietly. "Where do you live?" How could someone not want to take care of him? With a proper bath and some clothes he could be an adorable little scamp.

Upon arrival to their destination the horsekeeper slid from the saddle and hitched Jaaz to a nearby post, leaving Sam atop granting him a much better view of the city around him. Ophelia gave her new mount a gentle nose-rub. "Keep an eye on him," whether she was speaking to Sam or Jaaz was difficult to tell. Inching her pack from her shoulders she rummaged about inside until procurring the interesting object covered in carvings. "Here we are," she held it up proudly so that her young friend might admire the token they were about to sell. "Tah-dah!" She announced. "Wish me luck," and then she was off headed toward the door.

"I hope they let me in, this place looks like a pretty big deal," she commented under her breath as she approached and couldn't help that her fingers fussed over her, and tussled through her tangled mane. I need a bath... I smell like ocean and fish and horsebarn... None such scents were welcome among nobility. She gave a tentative knock, and smiled brightly to the greeter. "Afternoon," she said and swallowed. "I was told to come looking after the gentleman in room two?" Her voice had an unsteady questioning tone, but it was mixed with excitement over the adventure of her first day in King's Court.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“Oh, I ‘as a place where I sleeps,” replied the young scamp. “Me and some others and Rat, of course.” Sam grinned as Ophelia produced the carving and stood by Jaaz, stroking the horse with one small hand. “I ‘ll look after ‘im missy,” said Sam proudly. The horse lifted its head and darted a glance at Ophelia as if to say…Don’t worry, I’ll look after the boy.

The knock on the door immediately produced a response and Ophelia found herself faced by an elegant doorman resplendent in a black jacket, leggings and white shirt. The man sniffed as his eyes inspected the new arrival from head to toe. The look on his face was one of disdain as if the girl was a bad smell that he was forced to endure.

“Well you are not really properly attired,” he began, “but I have my instructions. Please follow me.”

The attendant led the woman to a large, plain but elegant dining room. The walls were entirely covered with dark oak panelling and a number of small lanterns created a shadowy but pleasant ambience. A number of polished wooden tables were well-spaced throughout the room, allowing guests to have conversations that were unlikely to be overheard. Towards the rear of the room was a small bar behind which a small, rather dapper and moustached man surveyed the room as if it was his own private domain. Several doors on each side of the room led into the private dining rooms.

The attendant led Ophelia to one of the doors which he opened without knocking. "Please take a seat, he will be along shortly. Do you require a drink whilst you are waiting?” Once again the attendant sniffed as if he could barely bring himself to ask the question. When Ophelia had replied he would depart closing the door behind him.

Ophelia found herself in a small dining room containing little more than a dining table laid out for a meal for two, two chairs and a side table with a tray and glasses. A small door led out of the rear of the room in addition to the door through which she had entered. Several exquisite paintings were displayed on the walls.

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

"I'm sorry, sir," she said plainly and followed with the uncomfortable shuffle of one felling like a bull in a room full of crystal. Her shoulders knitted together, but her eyes were wide and aware as she took in the resplendant atmosphere, her mouth opening slightly as if it somehow might recieve some of the visuals.

The jacketted man was quick to deposit Ophelia in the private dining room - which made perfect sense. She didn't look like the sort of woman who should be in such a place and thus it was easier to stow her into the rear room. When he suggested a drink her mind went to the potion Friendly had given her, the taste of which still clung to her palette. "Only if the gentleman is having something," she started. "And then I'll just have the same as him." The idea that whatever it was that he would drink might be well beyond her means hadn't occured to her. Infact, she was fully prepared to allow her darkly unnerving gentleman pay for her beverage without asking if only to return his excessive kindess from their first meeting.

She gave the servant a polite smile, hoping not to offend his sensibilities overmuch. As soon as he left the room she was busy inspecting each thing in it. Her fingers wove over the intricate filigre on the silver and then in turn to examining the glasses on the side table. Ophelia took in the texture of the chairs until her eyes wandered over to the paintings. She'd never seen real paintings, only tapestries and decorated jugs. Nothing like these, though. And so, she stood with the stance only comparable to a child - her eyes wide and open, and her face serene. Her arms hung at her sides as if unecessary and she fell into the canvas drinking up it's beauty.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“I am sure that your gentleman friend will wish to take a drink,” smiled the attendant before leaving the room.

It was clear from even a cursory examination that the tray and glasses were of fine quality and probably worth a not inconsiderable sum of money. The same might be said for the paintings which consisted of several landscapes depicting the Downs. The paintings were signed with a large V.

Ophelia had scarcely finished her examination of the paintings when the rear door flew open. However, the figure that swept into the room was not her earlier acquaintance but rather an imperious looking young, blond-haired woman wearing a deep red gown with a plunging neckline. The woman looked startled for a flicker but then an amused sneer settled on her face.

“What do we have here, then? A thief come to steal Masters Velasquez’s paintings, perhaps? Or a whore plying her trade? From the look of you both are equally likely. Shall I call out the guard?”

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia nodded to the servant's assessment thinking that he was undoubtably correct. She made no further comment to him as he headed out the door, but was immediately lost in the intricacies of the painting. Her eyes wandered over each brush stroke to take in the work of the artisan. She held similar fascination whenever one played a piece of music around her as her mind began to break down the whole into smaller more manageable parts so that she might reproduce the sounds herself.

It was dwelling on the dots of lighter color used as highlights over the countryside that Ophy was discovered. She whirled around quickly and immediately went for a weapon. Her boomerang was tucked neatly at the small of her back, but her morningstar she'd left with Sam and Jaaz. Steely fingers were swift in wrapping around the weapon of Muchislie, but she didn't draw it as the woman made her unfounded accusations. Do I have some sort of brand on me that would suggest that I'm a whore? Honestly... According to those of King's Court any woman who looks any different from the rest must be a prostitute.

Wide eyed and surprised, the girl responded effortlessly and shook her head violently. "No, no, I'm not a thief or anything like it.. not a whore either, ma'am. I was supposed to meet a Lord here, I'm not sure if it's this Velasquez or what." She hadn't made the assumption that the V which had signed the paintings could be meant as symbol for the man she spoke of now. "You don't need to be goin and calling any guards. I'm just waiting here," she tried to smile, but felt awkward in the presence of the well dressed woman and her angry attitude.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“Oh, I very much doubt if it is Velasquez that you were to meet here,” said the woman icily. “But if you are no thief or whore, as you say, then what possible business can you have with this Lord that he invites you to Hugo’s when he is due to dine with me? I should be most interested in hearing what you have to say.”

The noblewoman drew closer to Ophelia, giving every appearance of a snake circling around her prey. Yet, for all this, it was clear that she was an exceedingly beautiful woman and, given the quality of her attire, a rather wealthy one.