Private Tales Door to Door

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
door to door
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The old knight couldn't help but sigh as he took one look back at the jewel of the continent. His trip to Alliria had proved to be somewhat discouraging. The memory of those who dwelt in the city was growing ever shorter. Too busy attempting to grow their riches to remember the small, but not insignificant, deeds of the past. The revelation hardly came as a surprise to Dejan, who visited the city on a regular basis. He no longer felt the sharp sting of disappointment but was not so jaded to be entirely bereft of hope. The last thing he wanted was for the young members of the Order to think their efforts were fruitless.

Thus Dejan turned his thoughts away from the city and towards his road ahead. There were a number of smaller towns and settlements that the knight would visit before eventually making his way back to the monastery. He expected that his reception would differ with each place. There were those who saw them as protectors and others who saw the knights as charlatans. Folks in the outer reaches tended to remember the Order's deeds but it was not always a given. Time had not only eroded their presence but also their resources. Patronage was required if they were to survive, let alone thrive.

His path finally brought him to the outskirts of Hertstead. Once nothing more than a small outpost, now it had grown to be almost unrecognizable. There were a number of factors to which this growth could be contributed but one stood at the forefront. The Order had not had any dealings in this area for a long time, he doubted there were any who remembered their name. Still, he sensed that now marked an opportune time to reestablish the old connections.

It only took him a few questions to find himself at the gate of true power of Hertstead, the Arladi estate.

"I am Sir Dejan Damir of the Knights Anathaeum. I've come to seek an audience with the Head of the Arladi family," the knight explained in a gruff but otherwise nonthreatening tone. The majordomo glanced at his missing appendage but otherwise said nothing as he went off to relay the request. Now it was simply a toss of a coin as to whether he would ushered into the estate or out of the city.
 
The Arladi estate was described best as a ghost of Alliria. In the vaults of its doorways the whispers of grandeur could be found, and in the interlocking patterns of blue slate that covered the domed roofs hid the faint memories of the mother city that had birthed the ambition of Hertstead. So far from the quarry of gleaming white stone from which Alliria had sprung, however, the buildings of the young city did not reflect the sunlight, but instead, were built with sturdy sandy grey walls that seemed to greedily swallow it. The estate was no exception. Each hall through which Dejan was led was an opulent skeleton, all Allirian-made.

Murals adorned the doors, woodland scenes, depictions of fables and of mundane life. Carved into the rich, polished wood of the study’s portal were a pair of bears, locked in battle. To enter was to separate them. A feat the majordomo made no fuss of completing.

“The mistress is within,” he explained with another passing glance at the knight’s missing arm. Then, turning to the woman who sat behind a desk that swallowed her, he spoke as if Dejan was not standing beside him. “Iseppa, there is a Sir Dejan Damir seeking audience with the Head of the Arladi family.”

Honey eyes set beneath serious brows turned upward, the quill in hand lifted from where it scratched, and a furrow appeared on her forehead.

“Sir Dejan Damir.” The name felt foreign on her tongue. A knight. A knight with- All thoughts paused, her measure of him lost for a moment. Iseppa’s eyes, too, caught on the empty space where an arm should have been, though they did not linger there. Her quill was returned to the small silver holder and the woman stood. With ink-stained fingers, she motioned to the chair across the desk from her. “Please, sit.”

A single nod to the majordomo and he bowed in return. Behind Dejan, the bears were forced to battle once more, leaving the guest and the Arladi mistress to their conversation.

“If you have come expecting my father, I offer my sympathies. He died some years ago. I now see to all Arladi affairs. You may call me Iseppa.”
 
Dejan found some solace in the fact that he had not been immediately kicked out. Of course, there were those who wished to handle such matters personally due to their unending pettiness. The knight, however, did not sense any hostility from the man who currently lead him through the estate; only a mild annoyance that something had interrupted his other work. Dejan was intimately familiar with the sentiment at this stage in his life.

He paused for a moment as the majordomo made to open the study's doors. They had been intricately carved with scenes that caught the knight's eye. As a man schooled in the magic of the wilds, he gave an appreciative nod to the twin bears before stepping into the room. There he found a woman who seemed well in her work. Dejan did feel a moment of regret for the interruption but such things could not be helped. He had also found that a distraction could actually be helpful at times.

The knight bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of the invitation. He slung the scabbard that rested at his back and laid it beside him as he took his seat.

"My condolences for the loss of your father," began the knight. "I do not believe our Order had any relationship with your father and I have only come to meet the current head." Dejan was indeed a knight but he spent much of his efforts in the political realm. There were often things that one could only achieve with words rather than steel. A lesson that was proving difficult to teach to the young squires back at the monastery. "First. Let me thank you for meeting me on such short notice. Time, it seems, is not a completely scare commodity here as it is in Alliria."

Taking measure of the lady once more, Dejan continued. "I sense that you would prefer to get straight to business so I will only ask one thing in preamble. Have you heard of our Order, Lady Iseppa? That is, the Knights Anathaeum?"
 
“Ah,” came the soft response, a twinge of melancholy hidden within. “For your condolences, you have my thanks, sir knight.”

Only when Dejan had taken his seat with his sword resting across his lap, did Iseppa return to her own seat. She took the time to wipe at the ink on her hands with a kerchief that had been folded and set aside for that purpose. Though it had been washed time and time again, the blots and smears of black remained, some faded and others fresh. Silently, she listened, folded up the kerchief and set it aside, and waited for the knight to say his piece before she spoke again.

“Time is a scarce commodity for all men, I think. It is only that, unlike Allirians, we know to dedicate a small measure of it for those who call upon us.” A slight smile followed that crinkled the corners of her sleepy eyes. “I am sad to say I have not heard of your Order, though perhaps you might tell me of it.”

Iseppa did not take the man before her to be one for wasting words. He had enough sense to move to business without small talk of pointless things and he spoke with confidence and ease. She felt no need to hurry him along; he’d not need it.
 
"While it is unfortunate you do not know of us, it is not expected," the knight admitted. The slight disappointment in his tone was not for lady Iseppa but rather for the current state of the Order. They did not seek fame but it certainly had its rewards. Good deeds were said to be rewarded in kind but it was not always a given. One could not maintain an effective fighting force without proper provisions. A starving knight was no good to anyone.

"Our Order has helped to protect the Reach and its people for centuries. Not just from the mundane, but also the arcane. Knights sworn to protect those who are unable to protect themselves. There was a time when we enjoyed the patronage of many families, not unlike your own. As you may have surmised, time has not treated us kindly." Dejan could do nothing but offer a small shrug with his explanation. The Order's woes had come about long before he was sired. The knights' fall from grace had been a slow and painful process. "Yet we continue to follow our oath. That may be why there are those who still welcome us openly."

Dejan took a moment to stretch his good arm, as days of riding had made him quite sore. His age was certainly beginning to catch up to him, though he was loathe to admit it. He had left his explanation there as he did not feel there was purpose in going any further. There were those who wished to be regaled with tales of heroics or smothered with flattery; such an approach had never suited Dejan. He believed that mutual respect with a measure of tact was sufficient to handle these types of affairs.

"I can recount our deeds of the past but I am here to help ensure our Order's future. My hope is that you and your family will be able to assist us in this endeavor," Dejan stated simply, but even then there was conviction in his tone.
 
It was a romantic notion: an honor-bound Order clawing desperately away from its twilight. Who better to tell the tale than a knight who, by Iseppa’s estimation, did the same? She gave him the whole of her attention as he surmised the Knights’ plight, her body still save the slow pass of her curled finger over the back of her thumb, following along the rise of her knuckle.

“I am surprised,” she stated simply when he’d finished. “That I have not heard of your Order. From your telling, they have done much for the Reach and are deserving of recognition.”

He came looking for patronage. For coin. It could be assumed that was what he needed, she thought. Most who saw the inside of the solar did the same. To their luck, coin was a thing she had in abundance, and to their dismay, she was loath to part with it without reason. The finger halted, pressing against her nail as the woman drew in a breath, collecting her thoughts so that she might give the knight an answer.

“Allow me time to see what I might spare. I will need to ensure we are poised to make recurring endowments.” Between the other mouths Arladi fed and the city itself, Iseppa considered herself a busy mother bird. She would need to research these Knights of Anthaeum to know if they were worth taking into her nest. “How long did you intend to stay in Hertstead, Sir Dejan?”
 
Dejan was pleased to see that the lady had provided her full attention. He would not have been surprised should she have merely returned to her documents. This did not necessarily guarantee a favorable response but it was a welcoming sign.

"Not all deeds are written in song," replied the old knight with a shrug. He did not sense any sarcasm in her words, merely ring of reality. The knights had never sought fame and therefore had no reason to begrudge its lack thereof. Dejan was was glad to hear that his request for aid had not been rejected outright. Truthfully, he would have been skeptical had the Lady immediately offered to help. There were few who would readily part with coin, and that was doubly true for a merchant.

"Your consideration is much appreciated, Lady Iseppa," Dejan offered with a small bow of his head. "Well.." he began as he mulled over her question. "I had planned to set off at sunrise tomorrow. I have been away from the Order for some time and have need to return."

The knight looked to the numerous parchments strewn about the Lady's desk and even to her ink-stained hands. This was clearly a woman who took the burden of responsibility rather seriously. He had also immediately encroached upon her time by showing up unannounced. "However, I have been on the road for some time. An extra day or two of rest would be welcome before the long journey."
 
Sir Dejan was correct. Not all deeds were written in song. Most were not written at all, left to be forgotten by those who did not witness them. Humility such as his could very well be the reason his Order sank into obscurity. Such was the way of knights, though.

It was not a trait the two of them shared.

“Allow us to host you for your stay, then,” Iseppa offered, her hand lifting and her palm turning toward the ceiling in a gesture of offering, as if the words were rested there. “At the very least you will be well rested when you set out once again on your journey.”

Dark eyes followed the knight’s gaze down to the desk and its mess of papers. No move was made to hide anything. There was nothing to discover amongst the parchment aside from numbers and the mundanities of trade. She would have allowed him to look for as long as he liked.

“I understand the urgency of your return and assure you that I need only tomorrow to have your answer. That will be time enough.”
 
"I shall gratefully accept your hospitality," the knight replied with a bow of his head. He knew that there were members of the Order who would not look kindly upon this decision. Those whose beliefs were tied strongly to the ascetic origins of the Anathaeum. Dejan did not necessarily disagree with that line of thinking but the world of politics was not so simple. It was possible that he could offend the Lady by rejecting her offer. He did not believe that would be the case in this instance but erred on the side of caution.

"Then I shall not take any more of your time," he said as he slowly got to his feet. Dejan slung his sword over his shoulder and back into its scabbard, bowing once more before being ushered out of the study.

His thoughts turned to the meeting as he was led through the halls of the estate. He doubted that the Lady would offer aid without some thought to what she might benefit in return. Dejan had been prepared to explain what potential boons could have been garnered but it appeared that would not be necessary. A skilled merchant would understand how safer roads would be better for business. Of course the benefits were not limited to just that but it provided a strong foundation.

Dejan would have to wait until the morning to see whether this long trip had all been for naught.